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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan qiren #original characters #my fic #my fics #children's day #some untamed elements

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lindsey-laufeyson · 3 years

Text

Texts from Tom Hiddleston

Masterlist

19. First Fight

(If you can even call it that)

A big thank you to @justseewherethisgoes for helping me with this one 🥰 Go read her stuff!

You woke up around 2am with a splitting headache and plenty of shame to match. You looked over at Tom who was fast asleep next to you. He looked as perfect as ever and all you could think about was how much you didn’t deserve him. You took the aspirin on your bedside table and chugged the glass of water beside it. Wanting to make sure to rehydrate, you got up to get some more water. When you got back to bed you noticed you had a text from Chelsea.

“Everything alright?” Tom mumbled sleepily. You put your phone down and settled back in under the covers.

“I’m good, baby. Go back to sleep.” you told him, stroking his hair.

He pulled you close to him, your back to his chest. “Who is texting you at this hour? Is it that chaperone you fucked yesterday?”

You giggled at the memory. “Actually it was Chelsea. We talked and we’re good now.”

“I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay mad at you long. How are you feeling?” he asked as he rubbed your upper arm affectionately.

“I have a horrible headache, but a few more hours of sleep should be enough for me to function at work tomorrow,” you sighed.

“Get some rest, darling,” he said, snuggling closer to you.

—————————————————————

The next day at work you were sluggish, but also relieved that you and Chelsea had worked it out. When the children were asleep for nap, you checked your phone and saw that Tom had texted you.

You felt your heart rate rise as you tucked your phone away. You didn’t know if you were more anxious or angry in that moment. Chelsea finding out about your relationship was one thing, but you had no idea how Emma would react if she found out that her daughter’s teacher was dating her brother. You were fretting about it the rest of the afternoon, and when Emma picked up Annalise you did your best to pretend you were fine, hoping she couldn’t see through you like she could Tom.

After work, you went home to let your dogs out, and feed them. You looked in your kitchen for your own dinner, but you were too anxious to eat, so instead you took the dogs for a walk before dropping them back off at home and heading to Tom’s.

—————————————————————

As soon as Tom opened the door, you momentarily forgot why you were upset. He looked so handsome in his jeans and black sweater with the sleeves rolled up. His bright blue eyes were filled with concern, his eyebrows scrunched together, one slightly higher than the other. Then you remembered your conversation from earlier.

“Hey, thanks for coming over,” he said in a timid voice, as he gestured for you to come in. “How are you?”

“Not great, to be honest,” you replied with a sigh, walking past him into the foyer. “Thought I was going to have a panic attack when Emma picked up today. I hope she couldn’t tell.”

“Even if she could, how could she know what it was about?” He tried to reassure you, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into a tight hug.

“I mean, if you were acting weird last night and you told her you are seeing someone, and then she finds me acting weird the next day, she might put two and two together,” you said as you pushed back to look at him.

“Y/N, you make it sound as if Emma’s my wife and you’re my mistress,” he said, laughing at the ridiculous idea.

You pushed him completely away this time. “Tom, do you not get the gravity of this situation?”

“I do, but—“ he started but you cut him off.

“If parents, or the other teachers, or my boss ever finds out about us, not only will I lose my job, but I will never be able to teach again, because no one is going to hire the slut who sleeps with the families of students!” You were practically yelling by the time you finished your sentence, tears flooding your eyes.

Tom’s face fell and his eyes became dark as he looked at you. “Don’t you ever call yourself that again,” he said in a more commanding tone than you’d ever heard from him before. It completely caught you off guard and you felt your temperature rise in more ways than one.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” you spat back at him. “All I had to do was keep it in my fucking pants, and I couldn’t even do that! I’m a fucking slut and you know it!” You pushed him again as tears streamed down your face.

“Y/N, that’s enough,” he yelled. You froze and looked at him with wide eyes. He stepped toward you again and took your face in his hands. When he spoke again his voice was much softer. “This is just your anxiety and insecurities talking, but I need you to listen to me, not them. Do you understand?” You nodded your head as more tears fell. He wiped them away with his thumbs. “Emma does not know it’s you that I’m dating. If she did, then she would have said something already. That being said, I will make sure to throw her off the scent, okay? You mean too much to me to let this eat away at you like this.”

“Thank you,” you managed to choke out as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his chest. His hands moved to your back, rubbing it gently.

“Of course, my sweet girl,” he whispered and kissed the top of your head. You stayed like that for a few minutes as your tears subsided. It wasn’t until then that you realized how tired you were.

“Fuck, I’m exhausted,” you said as you rubbed your puffy eyes. “I should go home and get some sleep.”

“Why don’t you sleep here?” he suggested.

“Because I left the dogs at home, and I think they’re starting to think I’ll abandon them for you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we? Just text me when you get home so I know you’ve made it home safely.”

“I will,” you told him, before kissing him softly and bidding him goodbye.

TFTH tag list: @darkacademicfrom2021 @lokiprompts @blackwidownat2814 @immersed-in-mischief @anonymousfiction211 @theaudacitytowrite @naniky @stars-and-moondust7 @d1a2n389 @maevetriesart @ice-queen-of-music @donttouchmylaevateinn @likeitloveitblogit @high-functioning-lokipath @tiredmamamac @owldwagitoutofyou @vampire7595 @1marvelnerd3000 @abraodwaystateofmind @pescadoavocado @nadderlover1

#texts from tom hiddleston #tfth #tom hiddleston #original content #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston texts #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years

Text

49%

Title: 49%

Summary: If there’s one thing that Spencer hates more than rejection, it’s spontaneity. But sometimes the things (and people) we love outweigh the things that we hate. AKA a series of events leading up to a weekend wedding between the BAU’s finest Dr. Spencer Reid and his partner in crime, Y/N.

Word Count: 1365

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I hope that you enjoy reading this! I really appreciate all of the support and kind words :)

49%

Spencer Reid is terrified. Nothing could compare for the pure fear that courses through his veins in this moment. Not even the times he’d run into hostage situations without wearing a Kevlar vest or even in the most lonely parts of his life. He figures that he’s terrified because he has so much to lose. Never in his life did he have someone that loves him as much as Y/N does. And that terrifies him. Somehow, when Spencer is with Y/N he’s simultaneously a man numb with love and a little boy shaking with fear. He knows that he should have gotten over this fear of rejection years ago. He knows that Y/N would never intentionally hurt him. He knows that she loves him more than anything.

So why? Why is he so terrified to ask her to marry him? Logically, there’s no reason for her to say no. They’ve been together for 3 years, which is long enough at their age to enter into an engagement. It’s not like she doesn’t want to get married; he’s seen her Pinterest wedding moodboard. She talks about their children, almost like they're already here. She wants to get married and she wants to have kids, but the question that bounces around in Spencer’s mind is does she want that with him?

“Next!” the barista calls Spencer forward to the counter to order.

“Hi, I’ll have an extra large black coffee with 6 Splendas, and uh, a large iced green tea with honey,” Spencer orders, pulling out his credit card to pay for the drinks. Coffee is probably not the wisest choice, but what can Spencer say the heart wants what the heart wants.

Spencer awkwardly waits for his drinks, trying to ignore the small box that burns a whole in his pocket. He’d bought the ring a couple of months ago, right after a case that both of them almost didn’t come home, or worse almost came home in a casket.

“Two drinks for Spencer!” a barista from behind the counter calls, telling him that his drinks are ready. Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, the sweet liquid burning his tongue. Taking a look at the time on his watch, Spencer decides that it’s time to head to the park.

It’s a short walk to the park, but it seems like it’s the longest walk of his life. Maybe if he wasn’t so nervous or terrified, he'd be able to enjoy how beautiful was. Spencer might be a complete ball of nerves, but he’s a romantic at heart. He wants this to be a perfect start to their perfect life. He finds the park bench that he told Y/N to meet him at. He sits there, waiting for her to show up and waiting for their life to start.

Spencer’s leg bounces up and down. He should have worn a different pair of shoes. These Converse are so old and ratty, he thinks. He thinks he looks ridiculous in his cardigan and corduroy pants, what was he thinking? He can’t actually expect that she’s going to yes to him.

While his thoughts are occupied by the constant inner commentary of rejection and ridicule, he fails to her the leaves crunch behind him. His vision goes black when his eyes are covered by a pair of familiar feeling hands. Y/N’s laugh gives it away instantly, but Spencer’s constant vigilance does cause him to yelp in a high pitched squeal.

“Spencer! It’s me honey,” Y/N says, wrapping her arms around his neck and peppering his cheek with quick kisses. It’s the kind of kisses that say “I’m happy to see you” and “You’re the only one I want to see”. It’s at times like these that he doubts his doubts; maybe he can have faith and hope and lean into the romantic side of himself. The side of himself that sees them walking in the park with a baby stroller, playing on the playset with their children, teaching their kids how to drive in the parking lot and sitting on this bench when their backs hurt all the time and their faces have a few more wrinkles.

“I’d know that laugh anywhere, Y/N” Spencer says, watching her move to sit next to him on the bench.

“Ohh, thanks for the iced tea!” She says, taking a sip of the cold drink. Even though it’s barely winter, Spencer still can’t believe that she can drink iced beverages in any kind of weather below 50 degrees. He nods and kisses her on her cheek, which causes a small giggle to emerge. Spencer is still kind of surprised that his affections can elicit such happy responses from her.

“So,” Y/N starts. “Why did you leave our house at 7:00 AM and text me to meet you here?”

“Umm,” Spencer says, the nerves bubbling to the surface. You can do this, Spencer, he thinks. You can do this, she’s not going to say no. She can’t say no. At this moment, Spencer is really wishing he had his passport with him and a getaway car to jump in, just in case Y/N says no.

“Did you know that only 3% of weddings happen in a courthouse?” Y/N asks at a completely stunned Spencer.

“Yeah,” Spencer says timidly, not entirely sure where this is panning out, but grateful to listen to his girlfriend. It beats the alternative, him saying something stupid and her laughing at him; him fleeing the state and ending up a magician in a Las Vegas casino.

“Yes, courthouse weddings are a great alternative, they’re affordable and efficient for couples who just want to get married without all that fuss,” Y/N adds, looking at Spencer.

She’s profiling you, Spencer thinks. Don’t make eye contact. He knows (and she knows) that the moment he looks into her eyes, he’s done for. Las Vegas here he comes….

“And 51% of marriages end in divorce,” Spencer tells her, before he can even think about what he’s saying. Great he thinks, the day that he’s supposed to propose to her, he’s talking about divorce statistics.

“You know that I failed statistics in college, Spence?” Y/N asks him.

“I think I remember you mentioning that,” Spencer says, now thoroughly confused as to where this is going.

“I have an evil plan to seek revenge against statistics, so I think that it’s my life mission to prove them wrong,” Y/N finishes, pulling something out from her bag.

Spencer can feel his heart beating in his chest. He’s even more terrified than he was before. Suddenly all those songs that Y/N made him dance to late in the middle of the night make complete sense.

“But, I also think that it’s my life mission to spend the rest of my life with you, Spence. So, I know that it’s not alway the case for the girl to propose marriage, but I think that you deserve someone to propose to you,” Y/N says, very quickly.

Spencer sits there on the bench with Y/N sitting right next to him, utterly speechless. Did she just….

“You want to marry me?” Spencer says, dumbly.

“Of course I do, Spencer! Give me your hand, I got you an engagement ring and-”

Spencer, suddenly fearless, cups her face in his hands, effectively making her quiet. He works on the surge of confidence, leaning in and kisses Y/N on the lips. It’s like he’s kissing her for the first time in his life. It’s like his first kiss ever, but it’s the first kiss of all the kisses of the rest of their life.

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” Y/N says, breaking apart from Spencer.

Spencer lets out a laugh, completely forgetting why on Earth he was so scared to propose.

“So you’re not the only one who had this idea, Y/N” Spencer tells her, reaching into his cardigan pocket. He hands her the velvet box and reveals the vintage ring that he picked out from the second hand jewelry store.

“Spencer? Is this why you told me to come here? Oh God, I ruined your proposal!” Y/N says, embarrassed that she messed with Spencer’s plans, knowing how nervous he can get.

“On the contrary Y/N, I’m sure that this is the best possible proposal,” Spencer tells her, as she lays her head against his shoulder.

“Spencer,” Y/N says, suddenly serious.

“Yes, fiance?” Spencer teases.

“How would you like to be in the 3% of marriages? Like as soon as possible. Like tomorrow? I don’t think I can wait another second not being married to you,” she confesses.

“As long as we’re in the 49%, I’ll do anything you want.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n fluff #spencer reid gets a happy ending #mgg

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #bucky x sarah #Sarah Wilson

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olivyh · 3 years

Text

TWST FAMILY HCS PT2) Savanaclaw and Octavinelle

Feel free to tack on your own Hc’s too!!! I love reading what other people think and how their view of the characters and of Twisted Wonderland in general change from person to person!!!

Savanaclaw:

Leona:

-Farena: We already know Leona describes his brother as being carefree and relaxed, but deep under that I think he’s a deeply intelligent man (how can you run a kingdom and be stupid?). He tries his best to make time in his schedule for his wife and child, and even try to get bonding tike with his younger brother (which never works out well). He tries to teach Cheka as much as he can, often giving him little life lessons while they play games. He’s a very kind and straightforward man, often being blunt when he doesn’t mean to. He stands a little taller than Leona, with Orange hair similar to Chekas. He keeps his hair tied out of his face as much as he can.

-Sister-in-law Kingscholar: A strong and confident woman, not afraid to speak her mind when she wants to. She’s blunt and she’d let you know about it. She’s also very kind in her own way, often dragging Leona off and trying to have serious talks with him, which he appreciates but doesn’t show. She adores Cheka and often spoils him without meaning to, and will spoil Leona too (but indirectly in a way similar to Ace’s father’s). Also very intelligent and good at reading people. I think she stands a little shorter than Leona, but she holds herself higher, and he slouches, so it looks as if they’re the same height. She has long yellow hair (again, similar to the ends of Cheka’s) that she often ties back as well.

-Cheka: We already know him, so heres a few Hcs!: He sometimes asks his mother to do his hair the same way as Leona’s, and tries to do everything like him (such as standing like him, trying to deepen his voice to sound like him, throwing sand at various objects in the castle yelling “King’s Roar!!”)

Ruggie:

-Grandma Bucchi: As he said himself, a stern and prideful woman. I think she’d be on the stricter side, having to teach Ruggie how to survive rather than him having to face those hard truths alone. She likely stands a lot shorter, likely 5’0 (sorry to anyone whos that height), than most other beastwomen. She’s a lot physically stronger than she looks, often still trying to pick Ruggie up at his age. She tries to spoil him when she can, trying to make him relax after working and taking over the household chores (which he declines, still cleaning up when she’s not looking- which earns him a smack to the head with a broom). She’s also a prankster, quietly jumping out from corners and scaring Ruggie or one of the other children. I think she feels a lot of regret over seeing Ruggie grow up so fast in the environment that he had, but she’s the proudest grandma ever. Whenever he sends pictures back she boasts to everyone at home (“See that! That’s my grandson’s school! See that there! He plays magift and is one of the best on the team! Look there! He’s got those nice ceremony robes!”), and even boasts about him with what little baby pictures they have (“See him walking at such a young age? Isn’t he so strong?”) Will never stop talking about her grandson, ever.

-Neighborhood kids: I think they’re like little siblings to Ruggie, so I’m adding them. They try to tale over what Ruggie did when he was at home, helping people fix up their houses or entertaining the baby hyenas when their mothers have other things to do. They also leave gifts to Ruggie when he comes back, between little dolls they made, bracelets they thought he’d like, charms, or pretty rocks and leaves. He keeps all of the gifts, no matter how small.

-His mom (bc the poor woman deserves a spot)(Poor meaning unfortunate)(The more i think abt it, both. It means both. Bad time?): I think she looked a lot like him, but with brighter blue eyes than his. She was definitely a prankster at heart, leaving clever traps behind for any poor soul to get stuck in. She was a very hardworker much like her son, taking on any task she could find to help out her mother. I think she’d try to leave as much behind for Ruggie as she could, which would include little notes and scribbles about how she was feeling throughout her pregnancy and how excited she was for him. Ruggie also kept all of those safe and sound, in a small box he keeps in the corner of his room.

(Can you guess who my fav chara is?)

Jack:

-Grandma & Grandpa Howl: A very loving couple, who always make time out of their schedule for their grandchildren, whether it be for school events, emergencies, or if any one of them want to come by and talk. They met when Grandpa Howl got lost and wandered by Grandma Howl’s family’s cabin (which happens to be the one they, and the rest of the family, still live in to this day) and he spent the night. I think they fell in love at first sight :’)

-Mama Howl: A very soft and loving beastwoman who is willing to sacrifice anything for her children. She is often strict, and sometimes a chatterbox, but she always reminds her children to stay safe and that she loves them. She always pats their head or cheek when she walks by, even if she has to reach a little to plant a kiss on Jack’s forehead. I think her hair would be a little darker grey, and she’d definitely be a little more muscular and taller, reaching six ft one when standing straight up. She’d have the same yellow eyes as Jack, and her hair would be cropped shorter due to her still moving around a lot.

-Papa Howl: Very similar to Jack personality and appearance wise. He stands an inch or two shorter than Jack, but is still very muscular due to working around the house and in the woods (chopping wood for the campfire, dragging around tools, carrying three wolf pups at a time in his younger days (only one now wants to be carried, which hurts the poor man’s heart a bit)

-Baby brother Howl: Huffy and a little moody, but a hard worker even if he complains while doing it most of the time. That’s often with his parents, but when he does something with Jack he doesn’t complain a bit. He’s very attached to his older brother, looking up to him for his strength and strong morals. He often compares him to superheroes and star athletes in his mind, but sometimes it slips out, resulting in one very embarrassed wolf boy and another very flattered wolf boy, ignore their wagging tails, it means nothing. I think he stands pretty tall for a preteen, around 5’7-5’8 and growing taller by the day. Same hair and eye color as Jack. Acts like he doesn’t like to play games with his younger sister but will never turn down a game of tag.

-Baby sister Howl: An absolute sweetheart. She just wants the best for her family and will do whatever she can to make what they want happen. Jack is hungry? Good thing she made her special dessert (it’s a poptart with whipped cream messily piled on top with sprinkles and literal sugar cubed wedged in it, but don’t tell her you don’t like it, please she’d actually bawl). Her other older brother is tired? She can get him extra blankets! Mama needs help cleaning? She can mop (she really just throws water on the floor and praises herself for a job well done). Papa need to cut wood? She can- no, she can’t. Please don’t give her an axe. She’ll cheer him from the sidelines with a song she made up just for him instead! She has their mother’s grey hair and father’s dark brown eyes, and loves to do her hair like the princesses she sees on Tv! (Yes, Jack will wear a too-small dress and Tiara if his sister wants to play princess. No, he will not let anyone take pictures.)

Octavinelle:

Tweels:

-Mama Leech: At first glance, a very kind woman with soft eyes. Willing to open her arms to anyone who might need help. Then, a terrifying grin similar to Floyd’s as that poor unfortunate soul realizes the trap they’d been thrown in. She’s very kind and patient towards both her boys and husband, as well as their friends (even of she is on guard near their friends, throwing a few hollow threats to see if it’d scare them away)(She doesn’t like to share her babies). She dotes on the tweels as much as possible, indulging im whatever curiosity they may have. Floyd wants to know what going through riptide is like? They leave tomorrow to find one. Jade wants to know more about life on land? She’ll find as many books as possible and ask (threaten) people for their land belongings. She knows when too far is too far though, and is very skilled at reeling the boys back in if they get to that point. Will always call them her little guppies, no matter how big they get. I think she’d have a teal bob on top, with the underside of her hair being black (which makes her hair look color changing when she swims). Im her human form shes only a few inches shorter than her boys, ranging around the same as Jack’s mother.

-Papa Leech: The definition of old Hollywood New York mob boss. Strict and blunt about his interests and problems, and not afraid to cause any problems if provoked. When the tweels were younger and they’d wrestle and bite at him, he’d throw them off him easily, telling them they need to work to beat him, even if he was impressed by their teamwork at first. Will die to protect his family, and was likely put in that position many times in the past due to his uh… business. He values his wife and children more than anything, and has done everything in his power in the past to protect them from harm. When they went to NRC at first, he felt defeated and almost wanted to beg them to stay safe with him (not that his pride would allow it).(Both the tweels can see through his facade easily)

Azul:

-Grandma ‘grotto: A very stern and prim octomermaid. What she says goes in the Ashengrotto house, and she often catches herself making unnecessary comments. She does apologize. Also a very loving grandmother towards Azul, often babying him whenever possible (doing the classic “you’re not eating enough here take some more” grandma move)(She will smooch his face whenever possible when there are no business clients nearby). Tries to boost his confidence since she knew about what was happening to him (Chances are she went through the same thing- being an octomer as well) and dod her best to protect him and make him happy. She taught him how to write with his tentacles and encouraged him to do his best in everything he does.

-Mama ‘grotto: Another businesslady in the front absolute softie in the back situation. Adores her son and is incredibly proud of how far he’s come.I think she looks identical to Azul, but more heavyset and, of course, female. She coddled Azul as much as possible, which worked out well with baby Azul’s clingy nature. She had no shame in walking around with the little guy stuck to her (unless he smacked a tentacle to her face when she was working on her restaurant), and made sure everyone knew what a good boy he was. She would show pictures to everyone (similar to Ruggie’s grandma), but respects his wishes in wanting to hide pictures of his past. She still shows anyone who asks pictures of him at NRC (compliments to the twins, who send her updates when her son is busy), and will tell everyone how smart he is and how much he’s grown.

-Step-Papa grotto: A very professional man in every aspect of his life, which stretches to his relationship with his stepson. When he learns about the contracts and Azuls UM, he’s over the moon with how happy he is. He swam around with a little more pep than usual, flicking his tail and flaring out his fins the more and more Azul told him. He helps him reword and format his contracts to his advantage, and is always willing to talk with him about Mostro Lounge or (on rare occasion) some memories before Step papa Ashengrotto met Mama Ashengrotto (which always make him happy that Azul trusts him enough). I think he’d be a pretty generic looking Mer, with an average looking tail and such

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rayshippouuchiha · 4 years

Note

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way. He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain. Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action. He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook. That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it. And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count? Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy.

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now. And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it. And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them. An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale. But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow. “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then. But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear! I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face. At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk. “Bullshit. No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all. But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration. “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him. One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without. “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go. For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything. Their nightmare yes but not their favorite. Especially not a child. Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him. And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

#BnHA #Anonymous #RayRambles #The Principal's Unexpected Protege AU

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mitsungo · 3 years

Text

　∧＿∧

（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。

⊂　　ノ　　　・゜+.

しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨)

　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)

(¸.·´ (¸.·’* ✫⌒*･ﾟ

　　I didn’t expect the second part to become more popular! It honestly shocked me! I kinda have an idea of where I’ll be going with the ending—kinda don’t. Idk. We’ll just wait and see how this progresses! Also just go with the flow on this please 😵‍💫

　　✧༺🔥༻∞　🌸　∞༺❄️༻✧

Kyojuro had never wished for nothing more than to live a peaceful life with Y/n after retiring from the demon slayer corps. She was a wonderful person, ever since he had met her, he had known that she would be the girl he would one day call his wife, and she would call him her husband. He and his fellow hashira, named Uzui, would talk about marriage and occasionally talk about children and retiring. Though Uzui would get carried away when it came to the children part, adding more to the conversation about making the children and not imagining how the children would be like. When Uzui talked about that topic, Kyojuro would get startled and start sweating, before he would change the topic as fast as he could. But heaven knows that Uzui would pick up the idea that Kyojuro was still, pure, as Uzui would put it. So what if he was? He and his fiancée agreed that they would consummate their marriage duties once they got married. But then again, Uzui would tell him about how wonderful it felt to, be intimate with a partner.

“Y/n, may I ask you something?” Kyojuro asked, his eyebrows furrowing a bit, to show off that he was going to be serious in the conversation. “Of course Kyo, what is it that you wish to know?” Y/n replied gently, her eyes now fixated on his own. “Have you ever thought of, being intimate…on another level?” Kyojuro felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the question he had just asked his fiancée. Y/n abruptly stopped sewing, she didn’t move for a good minute, before she put the needle and kimono down on her lap. “Well, if I am completely honest. I don’t really know what you mean by that dear. What do you mean, ‘on another level’? Are you trying to say…” she paused, her cheeks turning bright red as she realized what he meant. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by asking you that. But I just, wanted to know. You know? I mean, the farthest we’ve gone to is kissing and occasionally leaving small marks on one another.” Kyojuro said, he really hoped he hadn’t made y/n’s opinion change on him. What if she thought he was a pervert now. How embarrassing. As he was lost in thought, y/n burst into laughter, starling Kyojuro in the process. “You could have just asked me if you wanted to make love Kyo. No need to be shy with me! We’ve known each other since we were children darling!” She let another fit of giggles escape her mouth as she desperately tried to cover it with a hand over her mouth. How cute. “Guess you’re right! I’ll try to be more straightforward next time!” He shot her a bright smile, causing y/n to stop giggling and stare at him in awe. Kyojuro made his way over to y/n, kneeling down in front of her and taking out a small picture of her and him together in kimonos she had made for them. “Always and forever, my beautiful wife.” He felt y/n gently put the picture back into his pocket, her fingers entangling with his own. “Always and forever, my handsome husband.” Kyojuro looked into his future wife’s eyes, those beautiful shining orbs of life and color. She leaned in closer to his face, her lips touching his. “Let’s get married here now then. And we can consummate the marriage before you depart tomorrow for that mission of yours.” Kyojuro closed his eyes, placing his forehead onto her own, smiling gently at her, “Very well. I will marry you here. And you will marry me here. Together, we will bring our two families and more importantly our souls together.” She nodded, smiling back at him with a warm smile like the sun. They both leaned in, closing the gap between them. Just how lucky was he to have such an amazing woman in his life? He would never know.

Now looking at the situation he was in, with upper rank 3’s arm piercing through his stomach, he wished he had married y/n sooner. They had only spent two months secretly married together, he was hoping to be spending his entire lifetime with her. He couldn’t give up now, not without a fight, not until he cut this demon’s head off. Kyojuro knew y/n would want him to fulfill his mission, just as his mother would too. He had to do it now. “I WON’T LET YOU ESCAPE! NOT UNTIL I CUT THAT HEAD OF YOURS!” He yelled at the demon, who had began to panic due to the sun rising. “LET GO! I SAID LET GO!” Akaza screamed, but to no avail. Kyojuro could feel his body start to succumb to his wound, no, he had to continue fighting. His mind started to get a bit fuzzy his vision on his right eye following right behind. Kyojuro felt Akaza rip himself away from his grasp, so this was it. The fight was over. He could finally rest. He had also lost the picture he always kept near his heart of him and y/n, how much he wanted to cry from not being able to see her face one more time.

“You will, live on without me. I will see you again.”

The day after Kyojuro’s funeral, she locked herself up in her room, ignoring her aunt and uncle’s plea for her to come out and eat or be in the garden. How could she eat or do anything when the man she loved had just died? Y/n undid her hair, throwing the pin away in a corner of her room. The sound of it hitting the wall harshly, she didn’t pay no attention to it, nothing mattered anymore. Nor she, or anyone. Her eyes started to tear up again, she looked up and saw one of the unfinished kimono’s in her room. Y/n grit her teeth in anger, yanking the kimono from the rack, grabbing a pair of scissors and tearing it apart. The one beautiful piece of fabric was now a torn up piece of cloth. She fell to her knees, her head starting to hurt from the anger and grief.

“Kyojuro! Why did you leave me all alone? Now who will be my other half if not you? Gods, what have I done to anger you enough to take away my husband from me? Please, take care of him for me until I go with him and my parents. Who am I to judge you for your decisions? Even then, I can not live without Kyojuro!” She proclaimed to no one, her hands gripping tightly on the kimono she had just shred into pieces. Why was this world so cruel to her? To everybody? She knew others had gone through much worse, and only now did she understand those who have lost their entire families, friends, and even themselves. How tragic. Her uncle and aunt were shocked when she had come down later in the night to the garden. Y/n looked up at them, her hair a mess, eyes red and a shredded kimono in hand.

“I renounce my title as a seamstress.”

A whole month has passed since Akaza had met Y/n. The two have gotten closer to one another, almost as if they were best friends. He had just arrived for the night at her home, the scent of her perfume in the room.

“Oh, Akaza. You’re here. Please. Take a seat.” Y/n said, gesturing for him to sit down in his designated spot. As he walked over to the small tea table, his eyes caught a certain picture frame that was placed in between a small shrine. Akaza picked up the frame, glancing behind his back to make sure y/n was not there, he studied the picture, it was Y/n and Kyojuro. Both of them smiling softly with their hands intertwined. It made him a bit jealous seeing kyojuro there with her, he didn’t deserve a woman like y/n. “So, are you going to teach me how to sew details into a kimono today or are you just—.” He stopped mid sentence, his mouth covered by y/n’s hands. She leaned into his ear and said, “I know you were the one that murdered Kyojuro.” He felt his eyes widen. “But don’t worry, I do not hate you. Humans and demons are sworn enemies. One may say that you are evil, doing unspeakable things to mankind, but even so, you are still a living creature, as I know you do not age, and you can be killed. Any living thing can be killed, though your morals are different than ours, I understand. What you think you do is righteous , and what the demon slayers think they do is righteous, it will in the end be the same. Killing one another because of different perspectives.” Y/n pulled her hands off his mouth, and backing away slowly. Akaza turned to face her, his face written with confusion and thoughtfulness. “You truly are an odd woman.” Was all he said in response. “They say the best people are a bit odd.” She giggled, taking his hand into her own. “Come now, let me show you how I do these details.”

The wind had began to pick up more now. With the petals of fallen wisteria flowers being taken away by the air and into the unknown. Akaza had just had a hard night, first he was summoned to an upper moon meeting, it seemed that an upper moon had died and their master was not happy at all, then that idiot with the blood stained hair had to go and bother him. How irritating, if only he could beat that parasite. But at least he would be going to go visit y/n today, since he didn’t have much do to. Akaza arrived in a matter of time, he poked his head into her room, his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed y/n’s scent was different today, sickly almost. He began to panic.

“Y/n? Where are you?” He took another look around the room and ran towards the end of the hall. “I’m downstairs, in the study room.” Akaza heard her say, he quickly made his way down to the room she said she was in. He slid open the door and saw y/n sitting down with her hand over her stomach. “Akaza, I found out, today, that I am pregnant.” His jaw dropped at the news, what the actual fuck? “How are you pregnant? I mean, is that even possible? Who’s baby is it? Have you been seeing men behind my back?” He started asking her, though he knew that couldn’t be the answer, as he would have smelt the scent of another man sooner. “I’ve only ever slept with you and kyojuro. This is very hard for me to even understand.” Akaza frowned when he realized that the baby growing inside had to be Kyojuro’s, it irritated him, now this day has truly become the worst one. As he was lost in thought, he snapped back to reality when he felt y/n’s soft hand tightly grip his. “I do not know why, but I have a feeling that there are two babies in me. And you are the father of one of them. You don’t need to stay by my side anymore. I understand. I wouldn’t stay either.” She happily said. Akaza’s eyes widened at her words, could that be a possibility, and would he actually want to keep staying here with her? Perhaps it was, or not. Only time will tell. As for staying with her, he didn’t know how to feel anymore. Y/n looked at him, her gaze slowly breaking away from his own, as if she was getting the aura that he wasn’t so sure anymore about anything. Y/n felt a smile creep up on her face, she pulled her hand away from his and slowly got up. But Akaza quickly yanked her back and embraced her, not too tightly, as he was worried he would hurt her and the babies. Akaza closed his eyes as he felt her arms wrap around him. This was a familiar feeling. He opened his mouth to finally give a response,

“I will stay with you no matter what.”

#demon slayer #rengoku kyoujurou #akaza x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x you #fanfic #akaza kimetsu no yaiba

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sixth-light · 4 years

Text

for everybody who was asking about Nicky’s PoV in Explaining Is Losing (set during the fourth chapter):

The first time Joe said “I love you,” to Nicky, Nicky knew he wasn’t really thinking about it. It was two weeks after Nicky had moved into his flat. Joe was on his way out the door to an early meeting he hadn’t been able to reschedule (Nicky had learned over the last few months that he was not an early riser) and he’d poked his head back in to ask, hastily, “Did we decide what we were doing about dinner?”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Nicky said absently; he was sitting on the couch and reading a journal article, which was something he preferred to do at home, where – until recently – he could be guaranteed a lack of interruptions. “You’re cooking tomorrow, though.”

“You’re amazing, I love you, I have to run,” Joe said, and slammed the door. Nicky sat there frozen for five minutes, waiting for Joe to reappear. He didn’t.

If anybody had asked Nicky, which they had not, because Nicky had gone to quite extraordinary lengths to make sure nobody would – if anybody had asked Nicky how long he’d been in love with Joe, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them. It had, perhaps, been the day when Joe had come back to his office and dragged him back into the storage closet and got down on his knees and said I don’t like leaving things uneven, and Nicky had nearly spontaneously combusted on the spot. Or, no, that hadn’t been love. It had been nuclear-blast levels of lust, but not love. But certainly it had been there, in some degree, by the time Nicky had invited Joe over for dinner and Joe – instead of laughing, or awkwardly leaving – had sat down and eaten dinner and it had been…nice.

Nicky genuinely hadn’t really, really, been expecting that. His rivalry with Joe had been maintained largely because pride was his overwhelming sin (as his confessor knew all too well), and his personality included a level of sheer ingrained pettiness that had prevented him apologising to Joe even though it was deserved and, actually, was compounding the offense the longer he didn’t. There was also a kind of mean pleasure in it; Joe was fun to spar with, smart and witty and willing to be dragged down to Nicky’s level.

The fact that Joe was far and away the most attractive person Nicky had met in his life (and kind, and generous, and pleasant…to people who weren’t Nicky) had only somehow made it worse. After the incident – incidents – in the storage closet, Nicky had kept pushing because he knew that at some point, Joe would reject him, and then he could comfortably hate him for a reason that wasn’t entirely and unquestionably Nicky’s fault. That would be its own kind of terrible compensation.

Except he hadn’t, and he hadn’t, and Nicky had woken up the morning after that dinner with Joe wrapped around him, in Nicky’s very terrible and barely big enough bed, and known that he was in love and had no idea what to do about it. And now they were living together and he still had no idea what to do about it. Not because he thought Joe didn’t care about him; Joe just didn’t have the personality to use somebody like that. But because they had spent all this time not saying anything important to each other and Nicky didn’t know where to start. The very first thing he’d ever done with Joe was blow him in a storage closet on the very thin excuse of having lost a bet that Joe hadn’t even agreed to. He couldn’t just come out and declare his love now. Their affection for each other had always lived in the silences.

He gave up on reading the article because it wasn’t going to happen, and went to work, where he taught distractedly through two lectures, then sat through a committee meeting and contributed precisely nothing. This was still more useful than the very annoying (and badly-dressed) Vice-Chancellor who’d come to speak to them. At least he and Joe could be united in hating the administration (to be strictly separated from the administrative staff, who were the glue holding their departments together).

His oldest brother Franco called him at three o’clock. Franco felt the need to maintain a sort of patriarchal role in the family, which was funny because Nicky’s father was unfortunately still alive (he had been fifty when Nicky was born; he wasn’t young) and Franco was the only child who was still speaking to him. Giovanna hated their father because of his views on what women should do, Bernadetta was in the irredeemably queer basket with Nicky, and Marco had just enough family feeling to side with the majority of his siblings. Nicky tolerated Franco keeping up the tie because he knew it did come from a place of Franco caring for all of them, but knowing that anything and everything he said would eventually make it back to their father tended to temper how much he shared.

Franco told him all about what his children were doing before wanting to know what was new in Nicky’s life. Nicky did care about that, at least a little, as Giulia and Francesco were close to his own age and he had more or less grown up with them, but then on the other hand he also knew it all already because of Facebook.

“I moved,” Nicky said. “I’ll send you the new address. It’s not very far away, only a couple of streets.”

“Oh, why? Your flat was fine. Dark, but fine.”

Nicky thought about the disapproving curl of Franco’s mouth when Bernadetta had defiantly mentioned she wasn’t the only gay one in the family, more than a decade ago, and the way he never asked if Nicky was seeing anybody, and Joe saying You’re amazing, I love you, and thought: fuck it. “I’ve moved in with someone.”

Franco sounded startled. “Oh! Oh. Someone, like…I know rent in London is very high…”

“Someone I am in a relationship with,” Nicky said, feeling guilty because he didn’t know if that was what Joe would say, but it was true, wasn’t it? It was some kind of relationship. “A man. Since I know you’re wondering.”

“No, no, of course I know –” Franco made a impatient noise. “Don’t be difficult, Nico. Nobody is oppressing you. So tell me about him. How did you meet?”

“We work together. He teaches art history.”

He could hear Franco frowning. “Wasn’t there some art history professor you didn’t get on with –”

“Oh, no, that was someone totally different,” Nicky lied point-blank. “Joe and I have a lot in common.”

“Joe, huh. Is he English?” More frowning. “I suppose that’s not so bad…”

“Dutch,” Nicky said, and waited a beat. “But his family is from Tunisia. He’s Muslim.”

He clenched his left hand around his thumb, but all Franco said was “I would have thought you’d have enough trouble with the Church without that as well.”

“Well, I didn’t pick him out because he wouldn’t be trouble,” Nicky snapped, and had to reel it back. “You’d all like him. He’s one of the nicest people I know.” Joe would be, to Nicky’s family, he knew it. Even Franco, who did not at all deserve it.

“It must be serious, if you’ve moved in with him,” Franco said, thoughtfully. “I know you wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t.”

“I – yes,” Nicky said, and felt like he was baring his soul and lying through his teeth at the exact same time; a very strange feeling. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Another breath. “It’s…it’s been about a year and a half.” At least if you counted from the storage closet; since he wasn’t giving any details, Nicky supposed he could do that.

“You should tell us these things, Nico!” Franco admonished him. “That’s forever! Giovanna got married in less time than that!” Nicky took the lecture quietly and made his excuses to end the call, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure why.

He took a breath, and dialed his mother’s number. He couldn’t let Franco tell her this.

Nicky had to chase Joe out of the kitchen when he got home. “Am I cooking, or not?”

“You’re cooking, and I won’t be in the way,” Joe said at once.

“Yes, you will. Go.”

“Why are you so mean to me?” Joe laughed.

“Because I love you enough to want to feed you something edible, which it won’t be if you keep distracting me. Out,” Nicky said, all in a rush. Joe laughed again and kissed him. He didn’t say anything. Nicky wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.

Late that night, after they’d turned the lights out, Joe sighed into the back of Nicky’s neck.

“What?” Nicky said.

“This evening,” Joe said. “In the kitchen. Did you say you loved me?”

“Does that sound like something I would say?” Nicky could feel the part of them that took over when they sparred doing the talking, and he hated it; why did he do this to himself? And to Joe.

“No,” Joe said, but gently. “No, of course not.” He kissed the back of Nicky’s neck, and said something Nicky couldn’t understand. It wasn’t even Arabic.

“I don’t know what that means,” Nicky said, wrapped up in Joe, dizzy with it.

“Yes you do,” Joe said, quiet, insistent. Nicky turned over in his arms, so he could lean their foreheads together.

“Yes I do,” he whispered. Joe held his hand in the quiet warm dark, and they breathed.

Nicky hadn’t expected it would be like this, being loved. His whole life was words; their whole dislike of each other had been words; and now, in this moment, he found he didn’t need them at all.

#the old guard #my fanfic #kaysanova #joe x nicky #nicolò di genova #I love these idiots

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haechanniesunflowers · 4 years

Text

NCT 127's reaction to your kid misbehaving with you

Warnings: bratty kids, disrespect, smoking, weight conscious theme, a lil mention of blood, just spoiled kids idk I can't stand bratty and spoiled kids if my future kids ever misbehave with y'all let me know I'ma handle them

Requested by @glossiiipeach

Taeil

Taeil knows how to be a good parent, he's the oldest hyung of 22 other boys. Can't nobody tell him how to handle his kids because he's dealt with Haechan.

He wakes up in the middle of the night and stretches his hand out to hold you, he doesn't feel you there. Getting out of bed he goes to look for you but hears faint voices and follows the source. He's standing outside his 17 year old daughter Jiwoo's bedroom. He's about to knock on the door when he makes out what she's saying.

"mom didn't I just tell you that we're being careful? we're young and don't want a child of course. Why can't you understand that. Now give me back my pills and get out of my room"

"you're 17 Jiwoo. I'm worried about you. What if something goes wrong? And he's not the type to settle down. I don't want you to get hurt please"

"my God mom you're so annoying stop it please leave I'm getting angry"

Taeil can't believe what he's hearing and it's making him lose his mind. He enters Jiwoo's room making her and you shocked. He sees the pills in your hand and looks at Jiwoo. She's beyond embarrassed. Taeil tries his best to contain his anger, taking deep breaths. Nope he can't handle it.

"what's going on?" he asks, not actually wanting confirmation.

"Taeil honey, let me handle this" you say

"does she deserve your compassion y/n? She doesn't even know how to respect her mother, why should I go easy on her?"

Everyone goes silent.

"tell that man to come over tomorrow, I want to meet him. Let's hope he's got some manners because you clearly don't" he says to Jiwoo and leaves the room taking you with him.

Johnny

Johnny is a great partner and parent. He's like a friend to his 14 year old twin sons David and Jacob. They share everything with him, tell him their secrets, their relationship with you guys is built on trust so you guys are cool with each other. But that doesn't mean that they can do anything they're not allowed to do.

You're in the kitchen preparing dinner, Jocob helping you not only because he's closer with you but because he's a member of the family and he knows helping around the house won't make him any less of a man (yes I said equity) you guys taught your children well I'm so proud of you. Johnny comes home an hour early and sets the table (I love this family so much ugh) while Jacob brings the dishes. You go upstairs to wake David up since he said he'll be asleep. You softly knock on the door several times but he doesn't answer so you quietly open the door only to see that he's not in his room. Johnny comes upstairs too to change into comfortable clothes before dinner.

You see the bathroom door open to you wak over and just as you're about to call David's name you see him leaning against the shower wall, smoking a cigarette. In a state of anger and shock you stomp towards him and slapping it out of his hand.

"what is your fucking problem mom" David screams.

Did Johnny hear it right? Are his ears playing tricks on him or did he just hear 14 year old David not only just raise his voice at you but also use a curse word with you. He's there in an instant, face twisting with anger. Someone please save David from Johnny now.

He takes the cigarette from your hand and examines it before turning towards his son. "did you just curse at your mother?" Johnny is scary man. No one says anything.

"we'll talk about the cigarette later. I can't have my boys disrespecting my wife, under my roof. So why don't you repeat it for us, I want to hear it up close". He says.

"no I'm sorry, she scared me" David says quietly.

"oh that's not what I overheard" Johnny says, he won't let him get away with this.

Taeyong

You and him only have one child and have planned to have another when your first born is older. So naturally your 12 year old son Minho was loved and spoiled by everyone around him. He could get away with almost everything. Almost. And disrespecting anyone wasn't on the list of options. You don't let him indulge in technology a lot and send him to the playground instead. You and Taeyong don't realize it sooner that he's surrounding himself with older boys who teach him bad things just for the fun of it.

He comes home one day and straight up yells for you to make him his favorite chocolate shake. "mom make me my favorite drink right now".

You look at your mother-in-law who is visiting you for the weekend and excuse yourself. "Lee Minho where are your manners? Go meet your grandparents" you say glaring at him. He rolls his eyes in return.

"umm no I don't want to right now, and where's my chocolate shake".

"Minho what are you saying, what's wrong with you. I'm telling you to go and-"

"and I said I don't want to. I'll meet them when I want to meet them. Got it?" he says angrily.

Taeyong hears the commotion from his room and comes to see what's going on. He hears the last sentence Minho said and quickly comes closer to you two.

"what was that Minho?" Taeyong asks, his aura dark.

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now and she's forcing me, tell her to stop" Minho is just asking for trouble now.

Taeyong looks at you apologetically and then to his son angrily. "come with me" he says, taking his son by his arm to his room. He's gonna talk some sense into that spoiled kid, oh and he's grounded and Taeyong will personally have a word with those boys Minho's been playing with.

Yuta

We all know our man is woke af and got big brains. He's a friendly but strict father, his sons Hiroto (15) and Fubuki (10) know better than to make him angry. But his daughter Ayame (13) is his weakness and he goes easy on her. Maybe that's why she thinks she can trash talk to you without consequences.

You guys are going to meet Yuta's parents in Osaka and everyone is told to be on their best behavior. Hiroto and Fubuki comply but Ayame has an attitude because she would rather hangout with her friends. Yuta is driving the car and you're in the passenger seat.

"move omg you're touching me" Ayame complains and shoves Fubuki towards Hiroto, the latter sending her a glare.

"Ayame sweetie be nice to your baby brother" you say.

"ugh I don't get why we all have to go. I had to cancel my plans with Aoi and Natsumi. I could meet grandmother and grandfather some other time when I wasn't busy" she complains. You, Hiroto add Fubuki all look towards Yuta to check if this sudden outburst made him angry because it's his parents she's talking about. You can tell by the way he cocks his eyebrow for a second and the way he's gripping the steering wheel that he's getting annoyed. So you decide to tell her to stop.

"Ayame stop complaining, it's not like we meet them every day. They're very sweet and you kids know they love you so much".

"this was your stupid idea wasn't it mom" and with that Yuta stops the car and faces his daughter.

"what makes you think you can talk to her like that" he asks rhetorically. Ayame is speechless, she wasn't expecting this. Yuta thinks the world of you, he's seen you being sick during your pregnancies and the troubles of carrying his children. He's noticed how your body has become weaker and changed. If anything, he loves you even more for being strong and going through it. He's in awe of you and he can't let anyone disrespect you. His brain can't accept it.

"take your words back and say you're sorry right now" he says in a serious tone.

"I'm sorry mom" your daughter apologizes immediately.

Doyoung

Doyoung and you put in extra effort to teach your children the best manners. You guys did succeed but weren't prepared for this surprise. Your daughter Yuna (12) got into a fight with your son Hyunjin (14). It started with them arguing over the remote and escalated to the point where Hyunjin hit her in the head with the remote and pulled her hair. Yuna screamed for you. You and Doyoung were asleep in your room when you heard her scream. You quickly got out of bed and ran to see what had happened. Yuna came running into your arms, crying hysterically. Doyoung followed you, confused and scared. He sees Yuna in your arms crying her eyes out and you're scolding your son.

"Hyunjin how dare you hit your sister"

"it's not like she wasn't a part of it, I was watching the game and she tried snatching the remote from my hand"

"does that mean you hit her head and pull her hair? You're so mean apologize to your sister"

"no shut up" he says annoyed and immediately covers his mouth.

"hey! you shut up and go to your room, you're grounded until I say so" Doyoung says before you could say anything.

Hyunjin runs to his room with his hands still covering his mouth and spilling apologies to you.

Doyoung picks Yuna up and takes you both to your room, calming her down and promising her that he will scold Hyunjin.

"I'm sorry" he says to you, squeezing your hand feeling embarrassed that your son disrespected you.

Jaehyun

Such a loving husband and father and an only child, he did everything in his power to make you two happy. He spoiled not only you but his daughter as well. Ever since Jisoo was born, she has been the apple of everyone's eyes. Your parents, Jaehyun's parents and you two all loved her to no end. She got whatever she wanted. This soon got to her head and now she was 15 and asking for a Prius. It was an absurd request because 1, she doesn't know how to drive, 2, she's not legally supposed to drive and 3, what does she even need the car for. You both turn down her request. She's not having any of it.

She's stopped eating and stays in her room all the time. You're both very concerned but you know her wish can't be granted so you try to cheer her up.

You two are in her room sitting on her bed, she's on her phone. You start talking.

"Jae the lobster you prepared looks amazing and I bet it tastes perfect too, if only Jisoo could accompany us at the dinner table, we could taste it", you say.

Jisoo sighs "all I hear is blah blah blah"

"come on y/n, let's have lobster for dinner because Jisoo clearly doesn't have enough appreciation for the hard work put in and she doesn't have proper manners so we'll leave her to think about what she said and when she's ready to apologize, she can come join us at the dinner table" he says taking you out of the room with him.

Winwin

What did I say about OT10 hmm? We have no choice but to stan.

He's the sweetest most gentle man ever I swear just look at him. Everyone loves him so much. He doesn't look like the type to get angry so it really takes a lot to get him there.

He's sitting on the couch reading his group chat texts and you're sitting on the floor with you 16 year old son Minghao, playing a video game. You're better at it than him and you aren't gonna lose just because he's your son. You're about to win when he throws his controller and unplugs the game, making you let out an annoyed cry.

"what gives" you say

"mom can you stop, you're being annoying ugh"

"hey watch it" you warn him and he pushes the books off the shelf in annoyance.

"y/n let's go out for a walk. It'll give Minghao enough time to think about his actions and clean up the mess he's made".

Yup you both really left him to clean it.

Jungwoo

You guys have a pretty strong relationship and everyone can see that. You're there for each other and help the other whenever they need it. Plus you have two beautiful daughters Chaein (16) and Dami (14). Your family is cute, soft and savage. Yikes

Your daughters are very very close with you and won't dare to disrespect you and they often joke around with you.

Ever since you had your girls, you've struggled to lose weight. Your body had gotten weak after child birth so you needed everything to stay healthy but you couldn't seem to lose weight, you didn't have the energy to. You sometimes felt conscious standing next to your husband but he always reassured you that you look perfect and he's maintaining his weight because of his job. You didn't need to be conscious but you couldn't help it.

You had a lot of work to do that day so you constantly had to go up and down the stairs. At one point you had had enough so you stood there trying to catch your breath. Your daughter Dami also came down and was using her phone so she bumped into you.

"my God mother move! you've really let yourself go"

"that's not very nice of you Dami" Jungwoo says coming up the stairs to help you.

"I was joking dad" Dami says.

"we don't joke about these kinds of things in this household" Jungwoo informs and Dami says she's sorry to both of you.

"ooo busted" Chaein comments from her room.

Mark

You and Mark had a similar nature. You both found it hard to get angry but it was easy when it was at Haechan lmao let the boy breathe

Mark was pretty chill with his family and you guys joked around a lot but nothing too serious.

You were currently in the kitchen losing your marbles over Mark destroying the eggs and using a metal spoon on a non stick pan yup he scraped it alright.

"just watch me do it y/n I think I finally got it"

You're sitting still, internally crying over the ruined pan.

"see? I told you I got it" Mark says proudly, putting the destroyed egg on the plate, sprinkling some salt and pepper on it.

"Mark what is this supposed to be, and you ruined my pan. You said you were going to be careful with it. I'm physically in pain just looking at it" you say jokingly. The damage had been done you why not joke about it.

"oh come on mom it's just a pan stop being so over dramatic about it" says your 12 year old son Levi.

"hey don't be sassing around got it? Especially not with your mother and me" Mark says in a serious tone with his finger pointed to his son.

"sorry mom and dad" Levi says.

Haechan

If you thought he's annoying, you've got another thing coming. Say hello to your sons Changmin and Subin. A combination of Haechan and you.

You love them to death but sometimes it gets too much and you need your husband to control them. It's one of those times. They're running around the house with sticks in their hands. You're trying to stop them to keep them from hurting themselves because those sticks are pointy but they're not listening to you at all. You try stepping between and Subin (10) accidentally runs into you with the the stick pointed towards you. It pierces the skin of your leg, drawing blood. You let out a yelp and clutch your wounded leg. Changmin (12) screams for Haechan once he sees the blood. He immediately comes running and gives you first aid. He asks you how it happened and Subin answers it himself.

"I was playing with Changmin and mom decided to butt in!"

Haechan glares at him and is about to school him but you hold his wrist and shake your head no. He sighs and thinks of better words.

"that's not how to speak about your parents kids" he says, disappointed.

385 notes · View notes

jawabear · 4 years

Text

Online Match (Marcus Moreno x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: this was suggested but the lovely @bensolobutterflies who suggested about Marcus falling for Missy’s teacher. And this is such a Marcus trope so I had to do it! I hope this is acceptable. I got a little political about teacher somewhere in the middle but hopefully it’s not too bad. The messaging parts might be laid out a little weirdly. I didn’t really know how else to lay it out but I tired to make it decent? Again, I used Spanish but I don’t speak it so it may be wrong. I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: Fem!reader, Marcus being a soft boy, Missy and Anita being match makers, nerves, just whole lotta fluff

Summary: When Missy signs him up for online dating, Marcus wonders whether the girl he really likes will be on there too...

The first time he had met her, it was her first week. She had hosted a parents meeting, not just do discuss the wellbeing of the children she taught but to introduce herself to the parents.

Now Marcus wasn’t one who believed his love at first sight. He had always said that you don’t fall in love with someone before you even know them. But when he first saw (Y/N), he fell deeper than he ever had before.

Perhaps it was just his want to be with some that was lurking deep deep inside him that caused him to fall for her so quickly. Or maybe it was because she just seemed so...perfect. Everything about her was just perfect. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her smile, the way she spoke, the way she dressed. All of it was just perfect. And he liked her. A lot.

But he thought it would be complicated. Dating his daughters teacher was sure to come with complications. No doubt there was a rule against it somewhere. Most likely he would come out okay, but he didn’t want to risk her possibly loosing her job. Not that he would ever admit his feelings for her. He wasn’t brave enough to jump back into the dating pool. Although both Missy and his mother had been hounding him about it for months now.

They had both noticed how lonely he seemed. Of course he would always say that he didn’t need anyone so long as he had them, but they both knew he needed someone. He needed to start dating again. Missy was making that very clear to him.

“So Dad, I was thinking that we sign you up for online dating” she said nonchalantly as she munched on her dinner. Marcus nearly chocked on his coffee at her words.

“Missy” he said, wiping his mouth to ensure no coffee had spilled “have you and Abuela been discussing this again?”

“We’re just trying to make sure your happy, Dad. You deserve someone to love and someone who loves you back”

“I have you, honey” he smiled “I love you”

“I love you too. But seriously. You deserve someone. You’ve had to be both dad and mum. It would be good to split it” Marcus didn’t respond to this, so Missy carried on “so, we signed you up for online dating”

“You what?” He almost yelled.

“We signed you up for online dating” she repeated. “Here” she grabbed his phone from his hand and went about downloading the dating app do his phone. He watched in interest as she signed him in. “See”

“Why would you do that?”

“Maybe this will be a bit easier for you to get back into dating instead of doing it the old fashioned way of actually going out and talking to people. I mean, get with the times dad”

“The last time I dated someone, going out and talking to people were the times” he chuckled as he took his phone back. “It’s getting late Missy” he said looking at the time on his phone “hurry and finish your food” he told her. He stood and took his now empty coffee mug over to the sink and washed it out before placing it on the side.

It wasn’t long before she had finished and brought her plate over to the sink, he could clean it tomorrow. “Up to bed” he told her whilst rustling her hair. She sighed and dragged herself up the stairs to her bedroom.

Marcus headed upstairs a short while later and peaked his head into her room to see she was just getting into her bed “you got everything you need?” He asked her. She nodded in response “okay. Night Missy”

“Night Dad” she yawned before rolling over and pulling the covers over her. He pulled her door shut and made his way to his own room, where he stripped off his shirt and jeans and grabbed his pyjamas bottoms and slipped those in before climbing into his bed.

Try as he might, sleep never seemed to come easy to Marcus. He tossed and turned for ages and still sleep didn’t come. Even when it would, it would last long. He was a light sleeper thanks to his job as a Heroic. He was quick to give up on trying to get to sleep and reached for his phone instead. Hoping that somehow that could make his tired.

Marcus lay in bed holding his phone staring at his profile on this dating app that he had been signed up too. He had to admit, they did a good job at making it. It definitely did show his best features, but it wasn’t like people didn’t know who he was. But it showed perhaps a more unknown side of him.

Even so, most of the people who messaged him only really did because he was the Leader of the Heroics. He wasn’t about that. He didn’t want to be with someone just because of his title. As cheesy as it sounds, he wanted someone who would like him for him.

Marcus bit his lip as he thought. He wondered. Wondered if (Y/N) would be on there. It wouldn’t hurt to check right? There’s no harm in just seeing if she was in there. But he hesitated. He thought it was a little weird. But it wasn’t like he would have to message her if she were on there.

He bit the bullet and searched her name. Surprisingly to him, there were actually quite a few on there. He scrolled down and down looking at each profile for her. He wasn’t holding on to much hope that she was on there, but she was. The second to last profile was her. He clicked on it and was put into a trance by her profile picture. It was a sweet picture of her with what he guessed was her dog. He didn’t know she had a dog. Not that that was a problem. He loved dogs.

His thumb hovered over the chat icon on his screen. He debated with himself for a solid minute about whether he should message her. Would it be weird? It was late, she would probably be asleep. But he could say hi. Right?

So he did. He wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to do it. The few seconds it took him to type out his message of ‘Hi (Y/N)’ and send it just seemed to be a moment of black in his memory.

“Shit” he swore audibly. He messed about trying to figure out how to delete the message but he couldn’t. “Shit shit shit” he whispered sharply as he sat up and threw his phone to the foot of his bed in embarrassment.

He buried his head in his hands, filled with instant regret. How would he be able to face her now? Surely she would hate him. Think he was weird. Now he would never have a chance with her.

A soft ding came from his phone to indicate he had a notification. To be honest, at first, he didn’t twig that it could’ve been from her. He just assumed it was from something else. But when he looked at his phone he saw it was a notification from the dating app.

She had replied.

(Y/N): Hi Marcus. This is a surprise

What did that mean? Was she happy he messaged her? Was she just being nice? Was he looking too deep into this? Yes, probably.

Marcus: a good surprise?

(Y/N): Yes. A good surprise :)

Marcus smiled at her message.

Marcus: it’s pretty late. Why are you still up?

(Y/N): I’m lesson planning

Marcus: lesson planning at 10:30?

(Y/N): a usual night for me. Why are you still up?

Marcus: I’m used to not sleeping. My job often required all nighters.

He felt like such a teenager. Staying up late talking to the girl he liked. They spoke all through the night. It was nice. He didn’t feel obliged to say anything particularly to her. They were just talking. Getting to know each other better from what they already did.

Marcus was smiling throughout the whole of their interaction and was wondering if she was doing the same. He wondered if she was as happy to be talking to him as he was talking to her.

She was.

She had completely abandoned her laptop for her phone. The lesson planning being forgotten. He was all she was thinking about. He was all she wanted to think about. Because he had reached out to her, she began to wonder if maybe he liked her back. Surly he must’ve right? Other wise he wouldn’t have messaged her in the first place.

Then she thought that he must’ve looked for her. She thought it was unlikely that she would just happen to pop up on his app. This made her heart flutter and she smiled brighter. Even though it was over messages, she hadn’t had as nice a conversation as that one in a very long time. She wasn’t the most sociable person, which made any one who knew her question as to why she became a teacher. She didn’t really have much of a life outside the classroom (so she matched the classics idea that students had about teachers).

They talked until gone midnight and Marcus decided to call it there for the night. He knew that she probably needed to rest before having to teach the next day. But he didn’t want to stop talking to her. He was really enjoying himself. But he had to be fair to her. Just because he couldn’t sleep, didn’t mean he had to stop her from sleeping too.

Marcus: it’s really late (Y/N). You should go to sleep.

(Y/N): I didn’t realise that was the time!

There was a slight pause before she messaged him again.

(Y/N): I really enjoyed talking to you Marcus. Like...really enjoyed it. It was nice to just talk.

He smiled brightly at this, knowing she felt the same about their conversation as he did made him happy.

Marcus: I’ve enjoyed it too (Y/N). I don’t really get the chance to just talk to people now really

There was another pause. This one was longer than the last and it made him a little anxious.

(Y/N): can we talk again tomorrow?

He had to hold back his cheer. His heart leapt with joy in his chest at her words. It didn’t seem anything extravagant really, but it meant she wanted to talk to him. Maybe she did like him back. It was now that he was kind of thankful that they weren’t talking face to face. He could hide his initial reaction from her.

Marcus: of course. I’d like that

(Y/N): I’d like that too. I better get some sleep. Goodnight Marcus.

Marcus: goodnight (Y/N)

Marcus dropped his phone to his chest and beamed up at the ceiling. He hadn’t felt that happy in a very very long time.

Over the next few week, they continued to talk. They got closer and closer. And they learnt more about each other with every message. And with every message, they feel more for each other. But if they saw each other in person, because of the school setting, they didn’t show that they had been talking.

But Missy was becoming suspicious of Marcus. He was on his phone a lot more often than usual. But any time she tried to ask what he was doing, he would always just say nothing and put his phone down.

And then the fateful day came where he finally asked her out. They had been talking throughout the day but Marcus thought it was time they actually move the growing relationship further. After all, that’s what the site was for.

Marcus: (Y/N). I’ve been thinking...

(Y/N): about what?

Marcus: well...This is a dating site. So would you want to go on a date with me? An actual date?

There was a long pause. A very long pause. Marcus’s heart sank. Maybe she didn’t want to go any further than a friendship. Had he made things awkward now? Had he completely ruined his chance with her?

(Y/N): Absolutely!! I’d love to go on a date with you Marcus! xx

The two kisses at the end made his cheeks burn slightly. He felt relief in his heard and went about making plans with her for their date. They decided on dinner. A classic first date. It wasn’t to anywhere overly fancy, god knows teachers don’t get paid enough to eat in fancy restaurants. They set a day and a time and Marcus couldn’t contain his excitement.

He couldn’t hide it from Missy anymore.

“Okay” she said annoyed, filing her arms as she stood in the kitchen door way as he leant on the counter next to the sink. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird. You’re way happier than normal. Tell me Dad”

Marcus turned to look at his daughter and set his phone down. “You really want to know?” He asked.

“Yeah!” She exclaimed.

“Alright. Fine” he drew in a deep breath and pushed himself up so he was standing up straight “I’ve...met someone”

“What?!” She beamed “you have? This is amazing! Is she nice? Is she pretty? Are you going on a day with her?”

“Yes, yes and yes” he said quietly “Friday. At 6. Will you be okay is Grandma comes and looks after you while I’m out?”

“Only if I get to meet your new girlfriend!”

“I wouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend just yet” Marcus laughed nervously “but she’s coming here first before we go, so yes, you will get to meet her. Just...don’t be...disappointed or weirded out by who it is”

“I won’t be! She must be something to make you keep smiling all the time! This is so awesome! I have to go tell Abuelita!”

“Wait you don’t have to-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence before she had run off upstairs to call her grandma.

Marcus shook his head and looked back at his phone.

Marcus: Missy seemed pretty excited that I’ve got a date

(Y/N): did you tell her who it was? xx

Marcus: no. I wanted it to be a surprise. Do you want me to tell her?

(Y/N): I don’t mind. If you want to wait, it doesn’t bother me. I’m just excited for Friday!! xx

Marcus: I’m excited too. I’m so excited. I know it doesn’t really seem like it. But I’m still it very good at the whole technology thing

(Y/N): oh Marcus! You make yourself out to be so much older than you are! But I can tell you’re excited. Xx

(Y/N): I’ve got to go. But I’ll try and talk to you a little later xx

Marcus: okay x

The days between then and Friday seemed to drag on. The world just wanted to make them wait it seemed. They talked their nights away when they could, in hopes that would speed up the time. And then finally Friday evening rolled around. And Marcus was freaking out.

“You’ll be fine, mijo” Anita told her son in a knowing voice as she held up her hand to try and calm him as he messed with the sleeves of his shirt “when you see your beautiful date all your worries will fade away”

Marcus glanced up at her but then looked back down at his sleeves “Espero que tengas razón Mamá” (I hope you’re right, mama) he muttered.

“por supuesto que tengo razón! He estado mal antes” (of course I’m right! I’ve never been wrong before) Anita said almost proudly making Missy laugh quietly. This is turn cause Marcus to smile. But that smile fell when the doorbell rang.

Marcus’ face paled. Was it 6 already?

“Dad!” Missy called to him, pulling him from his trance. He looked at her and she motioned for him to head for the door. He stood abruptly and walked towards the door. He took in a deep breath before pulling it open to reveal (Y/N). She flashed him a bright smile and he looked her up at down to see she was wearing a long light blue dress. It wasn’t overly fancy but it looked beautiful.

“Hi Marcus” she said quietly.

“Hi...(Y/N)” he said slowly trying to regain his composure (not that he ever had it in the first place). “Y-You look amazing!”

“Thank you. I’m not too over dressed am I?” She asked looked down at the dress she had chosen.

“No, you’re fine. More than fine. Beautiful actually” he said quickly.

She blushed slightly at his compliment and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear “thank you Marcus” she said “you look nice too. Very handsome”

He couldn’t really say anything. He was too flustered. He let out a small noise and stepped to the side “come in. I um..I need to grab my jacket” she nodded and stepped inside his house, awkwardly following him as he walked into the kitchen.

She stumbled backwards a little when she saw Missy and his mother sat there. She had met Anita on a few occasions, she came to pick Missy up from school a few times. They both looked a little in shock to see her stood there whilst Marcus rooted around for his jacket.

“Miss (L/N)?!” Missy exclaimed.

“Hey Missy” (Y/N) said. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so nervous. It was just weird to be seeing her out of the school setting.

“It’s you? You’re the one my Dad is going on a date with?” She asked.

“Um...yes. I am” (Y/N) said. She looked over to Marcus who had managed to locate his jacket, slipping it on. “It’s not...weird...is it?”

“No!” Missy smiled “this is great! This is awesome! I knew it would be you!”

Both (Y/N) and Marcus let out quiet breaths of relief “she’s a beautiful girl Marcus. And I know she has a kind heart” Anita said with a gentle smile. (Y/N) felt Marcus’ hand on her lower back. The small action spread a comforting warmth through her body “now go! Have fun!”

Marcus briefly left (Y/N)’s side to kiss Missy’s head before walking (Y/N) back to the door. They left the house and he walked her to his car “well I think that went well” she said with a nervous laugh.

“It went better than I expected” he said “I thought she would be a little bit weirded out”

“Me too. But I’m glad she wasn’t. And I’m glad your mum took a liking to me too”

“I doubt anyone could not like you (Y/N)” she got in the passenger side of his car whilst he got in the drivers seat. “I, for one, like you. A lot”

“I like you too Marcus. A lot” she leaned over with the intention of kissing his cheek, but he turned at the last second making her lips land on his. That had to have been a scripted event. But neither of them was complaining. They both smiled into the kiss before she pulled back and pulled on her seatbelt.

“Shall we go?” He asked, an ear to ear grin on his face.

“Definitely”

10/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fanfic #we can be heroes #fluff #pedro pascal #fanfic

176 notes · View notes

ambertea · 3 years

Text

fatherhood

Tentoo prepares himself for the birth of his child by trying to become the perfect dad.

It was strange, being a human.

It wasn't just that he had to watch his sugar intake now, or that his hair was receding at a worrying pace. It wasn't even the extraordinary amounts of drinking and eating he had to do, the peculiarity of human existence that forced him to constantly shovel things in his mouth.

(Read on AO3)

It was a culture shock, more than anything else. He had lived among humans for years, shared hundreds of years of his life living with their habits. But it was different, somehow. It was as though he was living abroad, rather than simply taking a holiday, and he often found himself struggling to untangle their bizarre social norms.

“Are you listening to me?”

He looked up, his eyes darting around the room. He had been engrossed in the newspaper, ticking off inaccuracies or improbabilities, and drawing tiny TARDISes in each white square of the crossword puzzle.

“Yes.”

Rose looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So, what do you think?”

He hurriedly scanned the room, looking for something to have an opinion on. The walls were the same colour. The curtains, too. Even the windows looked just the same as yesterday.

“Good.” He nodded forcefully. “Good. Very good.”

“Great.” She grinned, and he relaxed.

She threw herself on the sofa next to him and stroked his shoulder.

“So, when should we start trying?”

He kissed her forehead, trying to gain some precious thinking seconds.

“Uh. Tomorrow?”

She held her head in his lap, gazing up at him with some strange human emotion.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

Oh.

He wanted to have a child. He really did. He loved kids, enjoyed their brutal honesty and vivid imaginations. He had had children before, of course he had, and although he didn't spend an awful lot of time thinking about it, he still thought of himself as a Dad.

The responsibility of being the father of Rose’s child, though, was something else.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a beautiful face and an equally magnificent soul. Hell, she had literally been a Goddess at one point. What if his silly genes were more dominant than hers, and rather than the wonderful baby that she deserved, she ended up with a child just like him?

The only solution, really, was to just become the perfect dad. So far, Netflix had told him it included a lot of DIY, and sometimes crossing his arms. He could do that. His last body had been a wonderful mechanic, and he was sure he’d folded his arms at some point in 900 years.

The drill looked a bit scary. He would have felt better using his sonic screwdriver, but it wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool. Rose was watching him, looking concerned.

“Do you have to hold it in your mouth?”

He tried to talk, and spat the drill out, exasperated.

“Yes! I need to be holding your hand too. The baby needs to feel how good of a dad I am.”

She squeezed his arm and leant into his body.

“I’m sure they’ll know either way.”

He doubted it. Probably, they would be watching perfect Simon next door, with his massive toolbox and fancy shed, wishing that their dad could be equally handy.

“What are you drilling, then?” She asked, and he looked around the garden in panic.

He hadn't thought about that bit yet. He'd been flabbergasted by the sheer amount of attachments, and then annoyed over the stupid power chord that needed at least 3 extension leads to go anywhere useful. He'd had a vague image of himself drilling a bit of wood, and Rose clapping at his brilliance. But there wasn't any wood out here, the garden empty but for a few gnomes.

One looked up at him judgmentally, and he made a mental note to kick it when Rose wasn’t around.

“Uh – I thought I would practise, for now.”

“What, like just…turn it on?”

“Yep,” he said frantically. “A test run. See how, um, spinny it is.”

Rose dropped his hand, and he turned to her, offended. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes lit with – was that fear? Happiness?

“Rose? Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, a small, gentle smile growing. Retaking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, and he felt his single heart jump when he felt it.

“They’re kicking,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear against her stomach. The baby kicked him straight in the head, and he stared in wonder.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Okay, so maybe the drilling thing had failed. It was no wonder, really, he was a highly intelligent part-time lord, who couldn’t be wasting his time standing around all day just pointing hand tools at walls. His baby was unlikely to be properly impressed with that, anyway, being of superior intellect themselves.

Perhaps he needed to talk to an expert. An actual parent, one that had managed to raise an impressive child.

He thought about Jackie for a second and instantly squashed the thought.

Pete wasn’t laughing at him, exactly, but he certainly had a strange little glint in his eye that the Doctor didn’t appreciate.

“You want me to teach you how to…parent?”

The Doctor groaned. This had been a stupid idea. He turned to go, but Pete quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was a mess when Jacks was pregnant, so I guess this is no different.”

“It is different!” The Doctor said, offended. “It’s Rose.”

“So just be there for her. Help her with things. I’m sure the baby would…respect that.”

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed. Pete was right. The baby was going to love Rose, just like everyone else who met her, and if he could be seen helping her…

“Thanks, Pete, bye.” He yelled, legging it out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned, offended, and the wooden spoon rolled off his tongue and onto the floor. Rose eyed it, eyebrow raised.

“How are you doing today, my darling?”

“When did you start calling me that?”

“I can call you something else!” He offered desperately. “Sweetie? Sugar? Love? Babe?”

“Do not call me babe.”

“Honeybunny?”

She was looking at him as if she was slightly concerned for his health.

“I’m making dinner.” He said quickly, gesturing to the wok. She walked over, suddenly interested, and peered down with a look that he couldn't decipher.

“Malteasers?” She asked faintly. He nodded.

“And bananas. And tea, too, for the sauce. All your favourites!”

She kept her face down, shoulders shaking. Probably, he thought, stunned in the face of his great generosity.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She finally choked out between gasps, patting him fondly on the shoulder. He puffed out his chest and went to go sort out the crockery.

“I think we should start buying things.” Rose said one day. Her legs were draped over his lap, his hands massaging her feet.

He looked at her in shock. He hadn’t even thought about all the things the baby would need, being more focused on Rose and her ever-changing moods. They were going to need so much stuff, and it was all going to have to be perfect, as well, lest the baby grew unhappy with its drab surroundings.

He knocked her feet off his lap and set off into a run.

“Why,” Rose asked, her hands on her hips, her stomach peeking out under her bottom, “do we need five cribs?”

“The baby needs options!” He insisted, gesturing at the cradles circling the room. They were all in different shades of white, with tiny little mobiles hovering over them. He had made the mobiles himself, fashioning tiny little Earth, Gallifrey and TARDIS charms to hang over the crib.

He frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have gotten some different colours—he knew humans' fixation on pinks and blues for their offspring. Perhaps he should have picked up a few more.

“You don't think the baby will like them?” He asked, feeling a bit crushed.

Rose smiled, and hugged him, her round bump pushing into his belly.

“They’ll love them.”

Rose was in labour, and he was having a heart attack.

He didn’t like only having one heart on a good day. As a Time Lord, he’d loved Rose, but he’d also loved space, and the TARDIS, and pretty much any fascinating person he met. Now having only one, it felt like his whole body was focused on just her – everything else seemed so less important, less crucial for his day-to-day survival.

What if one heart wasn't enough? What if he couldn’t love their baby properly? What if the child grew to be unloved and unloving, unable to feel the wonderfully wide spectrum of human emotion, all because he had one, stupid heart and it was already used up.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor,” Rose moaned, and he hurried over to clutch at her hand.

Rose was holding her baby.

No—his baby. No, theirs.

She looked up at him, her face pink and drenched in sweat, a soft, beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Do you want to hold her?” She whispered, rocking the pile of blankets gently, and he nodded, dumbstruck.

Carefully, the baby--his baby!-- was settled into his arms, and he gazed at her, tears trickling down his face.

“Hello,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Her tiny, pudgy little arm stretched out to him, reaching out towards his face, and his singular heart stretched and grew.

"She's perfect." He told Rose, who nodded, looking at him with yet another expression he couldn't untangle.

He looked back down at his daughter and ran his finger over her cheek, marvelling over how soft, how precious she was.

"I'm going to look after you," he choked out. "I'm going to be the best dad on Earth. You'll see."

The baby looked up at him, eyes filled with trust, and he thought that maybe, if he tried really, really, hard, he might just be able to do it.

#my family are in town and i have 0 time so please forgive any editing errors!#tentoo is a baby who must be protected at all costs #fics

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hello-everyfandom · 4 years

Text

“I never said I was good at picking names, for all I care we could call them Bob.”

Warnings: Baby fever

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Summary: Seeing you with a baby in your arms gives George baby fever.

(I want a baby so bad. I’m only 19, but I just want a baby sooo bad!)

If George could capture any moment of his life, he’d snap a photo of you. You. All he could think about was you sometimes. He found himself amazed that someone as beautiful and kind as yourself had decided to love him, a poor boy of seven children who loved jokes and pranks. He watched you across the makeshift dance floor that the Weasley’s had put together in preparation for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. You wore a simple green dress with short puffy sleeves, on your neck adorned a small locket that George had gotten you for your eighth anniversary about a year ago. He could barely even place words on his tongue as you seemed to render him speechless, you were so carelessly beautiful, breathtaking, and stunning. He watched you laugh cutely, your nose wrinkled and eyes sparkling as you picked up Fleur’s cousin’s baby. You seemed entrenched, holding that small child in your arms. You bounced her on your hip, making wide eyes and speaking in a hushed voice, likely telling her how adorable she was with the blue bow on her head. You lifted your finger so she could grasp it with her small fat hands as you cooed and continued to talk to Fleur’s cousin. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. George swallowed thickly as your eyes caught his, send him a smile. You raised the small baby’s hand to pretend to wave at George. He could see you mouth to the baby, with a happy delight on your face,

“Whose that? Whose that? That’s George!”

It was no secret that George wanted children, he thought about his future and enjoyed daydreaming about teaching his child how to play quidditch or how to play a silly prank on Uncle Fred. But, seeing you with that tiny baby in your arms nearly made George faint. He had seen his future in front of him and he was more than happy with it. George had been certain he was in love with you the moment he met you, but he was for certain now you were the only woman he wanted. George managed to shake himself out of his trance and sipped on his glass of Firewhiskey whilst Lee Jordan and his twin made conversation, probably laughing about something silly.

“Excuse me, boys. I think I should see my lady over there,”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Don’t need to brag about it, mate, we all know you have a wicked girlfriend.”

“Yeah, bloody hell is it annoying,” Jordan joked but then asked with a straight face, “how did you do it?”

“Charm and wit and, well boys, I’m afraid you’re straight out of luck as you also need to be devilishly handsome and you two seem to lack that.” George heard Fred laugh whilst Jordan calling him a prick as he walked away. George made his way across the reception tent, placing himself at your side as you continued to speak to Fleur’s cousin.

“Don’t you look just absolutely enchanting,”

“Thank you, love.” You turned to face George, the baby babbling away happily in your arms.

“Actually, how awkward, ‘was talking about the little darling in your arms there.”

You let out a bark of a laugh before shoving his arm, “Oh, you little sod,”

“Oi! Should we be using that type of language ‘round the baby?” George placed his large, rough hands on your hip, cooing at the baby as well whose eyes seemed to widen at the sight of George’s red hair.

“I think she likes you, Georgie,”

“What can I say? I’m a ladies man,” George grinned, bending his head down to greet the child, “Hello you! She’s quite adorable don’t you think?” George asked you. You hummed in response, steadying her on your hip before reaching on your tippy-toes to slightly pull George’s bandages into a better position. You frowned softly and patted his cheek.

“What’s that look for?” George’s hands didn’t leave your hips,

“I don’t think I like seeing you hurt, actually, I forbid you to get hurt from here on end.”

“Yes Ma’am,” George looked at you so tenderly, so in love.

“Would you like to hold her?”

“Hell yes, I’d like to hold her!” George said excitedly, you scolded him before handing her off into his arms. He raised her above his head and making a wooshing noise with his lips. “Look at you, you’re a natural in the air. You’ll make for a good chaser, maybe even a beater if you bulk up a bit, but it seems you’ve got quite a bit of muscle there.” He squeezed the baby’s tiny arm. George seemed to be in his own world, with nothing but adoration in his eyes. You watched, reaching out your hand to place comfortably on his abdomen. If anyone were to look upon you two, they’d surely assume you were a young family, happy and loving as ever. You desperately wanted a family, despite the war storming onto your futures, you wished for a child.

“What do you think about having one?” George asked, making you blink.

“Having...?” You trailed off, also reaching to fix the baby’s bow on her head.

“Having a baby, of course.” George bit his lip to hold back his smile as he watched your eyes trail to look at his. You were simply so beautiful, it actually began to hurt.

“I’d love to have children, you know that.”

“I mean, with me.” Your boyfriend clarified. His voice seemed to portray humor however he couldn’t help but become nervous. Maybe you weren’t planning on staying with him? God knows he didn’t deserve you. Maybe you wanted children but wanted a rich boyfriend or husband or just, in general, didn’t want him. George’s worries were squashed as you blushed and looked down at the child in your arms,

“Of course, who else would I have children with? Fred?”

“Please don’t put that image in my head,” George groaned.

“Sorry, sorry.” You laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I mean it, I would love to have children with you, one day.”

“One day?” George exclaimed, “How about now?”

“Nope.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mmm, no.”

“Next week?”

“No.

“This year?”

“No.”

“Next year?”

“Maybe.”

“Really?”

“No.”

George chuckled, handing off the sweet child back to her mother. He held his hand out in front of him, motioning to you to join him in a dance. Night settled around the burrow as guests chattered and danced, all joyous in celebrating the love of Bill and Fleur. George held you in his arms, towering over you as he slowly swayed to the enchanted instruments that played. His hand placed softly on the small of your back. He could smell the perfume he so loved on your neck and could see the gloss you had placed on your lips just minutes before the wedding. He daydreamed about your children, wondering if they’d have his eyes or yours. If they’d be smart little arses or be more like their mother.

“Okay, maybe.” He heard you mumble against his chest,

“What’s that, Love?” George asked, lifting your chin with his thumb.

“Maybe we can have a baby... this year.”

George nearly jumped, rocketing into the sky and leaving nothing but his trousers and his shoes, he smiled wildly, “Really?”

“I’m just hesitant, I suppose. A baby is a big responsibility, Georgie.”

“I’m well aware, you seem to forget I have two younger siblings who so happened to have been babies once in their life.”

“That’s different! This would be... would be our child. I’m just a tad bit nervous.”

“Don’t be, we both want children, we both love each other, why not?”

“We’re quite young, George.”

“Mum had Bill young. Not much older than us, actually.”

“Yes but, the war-”

“Mum had Bill during the war as well. Really, Darling, your excuses are slacking quite a bit.”

“But the shop-”

“Is doing quite wonderful, now how else can I diminish your worries? I love you immensely, and I assume you love me, or at least tolerate me enough to be dancing with me now.”

You were silent for a bit, laying your head back on his chest. “What would you name him or her?”

George thought for a bit, “Well, I’d never name him after Fred. He’d surely grow a big head if I ever did that. ‘Sides, that’s something you only do after someone dies.” George thought a little longer. “Maybe something old fashioned like Geraldo or Hubert.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth, “Oh Georgie, our poor child.”

“I never said I was good at picking names, for all I care we could call them Bob.”

“Yes, well, that’s exactly what we won’t be doing.”

“If you’re so smart, why don’t you pick a name all of them, then.”

“Them? As in multiple?”

“Yes?” George asked confused, “Were we not going to have multiple?”

“How many were you thinking, Weasley?”

“How’s seven?”

“Seven!?”

“My mother had seven,” George said defensively,

“Yes, and I’m not nearly as strong as your mother. I’m not even sure how she raised you lot without pulling out her hair.”

George beamed and kissed your forehead lightly, “Alright, six?”

“Let’s try for one, and then go from there.” You laugh, pulling away from his chest to look up into his brown eyes.

“Fine with me,” George held your chin leaning in to press a kiss on your sweet lips. Before he could, a white orb flew into the tent making the guests gasp. Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice rang out,

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

For a beat, everyone was silent as if they weren’t sure what to do. Then, chaos ensued. Tables were flipped and frightened screams rang. People began to disapparate in a hurry as black flashes apparated into the tent. George held your arms as you stared up at him in horror.

“Y/N, go!” He shouted, grabbing his wand from his pocket. You searched for your wand that you had stupidly placed somewhere. You could hear George spit a spell at a Death Eater, yelling in your ears to return to the Burrow or at least apparate to safety. Realization flooded your bloodstream cold as you felt your entire self shiver with fear. You turned to George who had successfully disarmed the Death Eater and ran towards you, attempting to drag you away.

“George!” You yelled over the screaming,

“Y/N. It’s not safe here, Love. Go, please!”

“George!” You yelled louder, panic-stricken, “The baby, George!” Before he could do anything,

George watched you dash across the tent, your green dress leaving his eyesight.

“Wait! Y/N, your wand!” But you couldn’t hear him. George cursed, before throwing another spell at another Death Eater and chased after you, dodging the people and the flipped chairs. He was terrified that once he crossed the tent, he’d find your limp body. However, he found you helping up Fleur’s cousin who had fallen, the baby in your arms. You whispered panicky, pushing the baby in her arms.

“Leave! Run, quickly!” The mother looked at you and then George before nodding quickly and disapparating away with her child.

George sprinted over to you, you searched him for injuries as you held each other’s forearms. The eye contact you made was frantic and worried but glad you had found safety in each other. You nodded at your boyfriend with a knowing look before the two of you apparated away together, hand in hand.

#george weasley #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley oneshot #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter

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lunechante · 2 years

Text

Work

Ever since my first work-related burn out - I had an other one years later that led to a car accident -, I only managed to implement 2 tools to try and keep me from losing it again.

6 years.

And I only found two tiny tools not to get overpowered by my job.

I don’t work after 8:00pm anymore. I try to avoid it from 6:30 but it’s not always possible. The later I work, the harder it gets for me to sleep. First because I need all that time for my brain to cut off. So it can slow down and feel sleepy. But also because the longer I spend on an activity in a day, the bigger space it takes in my brain. It’s here. Whenever I close my eyes. When I sleep. Until it suffocates me. And that when work goes well and on a normal schedule. The extra hours, projects and meetings don’t only mess up with that, but they also bring anxiety of their own.

My other tool is writing down in my planner all the hours I work. I’m a teacher, I’m not on the clock. But I need clarity. I need to see I’ve worked more than my share and deserve the break that I need. Or don’t realise that I need.

The thing with teaching is that you usually get the same grades. You can reuse the stuff you have experimented and know work. 4 years I’ve been in the same middle school. 4 years with the same 4 grades (that’s actually a lot, most of my colleagues in other middle-schools only have 2 or 3). Many things I do reuse. But most need improvements. Or I get bored with them, so I switch to something completely different. 4 years I’ve waited for that moment I’ll rely on all of my previous hard work to get some free time. To engage in my hobbies. I’m still not there. I don’t think I will ever be.

Because you have all the other stuff. All the extra work you are more or less pressured to take upon. There has to be an IT go-to person. You’re the only one who know how to handle computers and tablets, can you do it? Otherwise there’s no-one else. We don’t have enough class teachers, you must step in. We need teachers among the administrators. You are single, don’t have any children and live right next to the school, it’s not a big deal for you to enrol. We need teachers to sit at the student meetings. You enjoy organising festive stuff, can you please come? I found half an hour lacking in your yearly timetable. You are going to give some kids you were not supposed to teach at all this year some methodology workshops according to their needs. Even though you suck at methodology and have to press your colleagues to consult them about what to do with who. You are going to step out of your class in the middle of a lesson tomorrow to attend a meeting with a mum and plenty other important people and then go straight back to teach an other class without any transition (I’m autistic, I simply cannot do that). You really love cinema, you should build up a project about animation film (I did, because it’s thrilling, but also it’s way too much right now, but I just can’t let the chance go).

One of the things in education is that it’s a public service. My employer is the state and work regulations don’t apply to the state as an employer. I never signed a contract. There is no job description. We are constantly ‘invited’ to meetings and training, whether they are mandatory or not. Of course no one lets us know which ones are mandatory. We have nothing to refer to clear that out. For a many months, my headmaster mastered the art of making us assume things are mandatory so we all attended everything and he could brag about how diligent his team was. Everyone around me is tired about it. Some are, like me, getting annoyed. But I seem to be the only one to get insomnia from not being able to figure out what is expected and to what extent.

Not to mention that most of us teachers (not all obviously, but at least 70% of the people I have worked with, to different extents, since some actually know how to set boundaries - or just don’t give a shit) are meticulous, assertive swots who only aim to be the best we can. That haze is the best way to keep pressing us like lemons. And we’re aware of it. But our sense of duty is so exaggerated, we keep playing the game. Until we break.

1. - 3.

#teaching #teacher burnout #burn out #burnout

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

ripples. (kita shinsuke)

➵ you take up a part-time holiday job as a miko at the local temple. little do you know, you have the same face as the woman kita once loved.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: f!reader, reincarnation!au, kitsune!au

a/n: remy my love, this one is for you! i love you so so much, and i hope this feeds your need for more inarizaki content.

A storm pelted against the wooden roof, the sound melting with the tinkle of a woman’s laughter.

An August storm, late summer, heady and heavy.

Kita used to hate weather like this; it meant that everyone else stayed inside, that the swaying fields were out of reach, that tomorrow would be stained with mud. But recently, he’s been enjoying the storms. They meant that, if she was with him, she’d stay.

She sat across from him, her long dark hair pulled behind her shoulders as she bent over the chawan. The little black bowl had seen much use, but it stood strong. In her hand was a little whisk, kneading the matcha at the bottom of the chawan.

Dark splotches under dull eyes. A vacant expression. Rehearsed, mechanical actions. A kosode arranged a little more haphazardly than usual. Her entire form was damp from running through the beginnings of the storm on her way here.

But she had a warm smile for him. She always did.

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Kita asked, straightforward as always.

She sighed as she raised her head to look at him. She was trying to smile with her eyes, but the light wasn’t quite reaching them. “I am quite fine. Thank you for your concern.”

Kita’s features softened with concern. “You do not have to be so formal.”

“Ah, well,” she smiled, returning her attention once more to the whisk. “I hope you can forgive me.”

There is nothing to forgive, he thought. But he’s sure she’d laugh at him for saying something like that.

“How’s your family?” He asked, grasping for some topic of conversation.

She nodded slowly, eyes still on the bowl. “My younger sister is engaged to be married.”

“Is this something to celebrate?”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed, the slightest of trembles in her hand. “But father is pleased with the match.”

“Rich?”

“And powerful,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “Father expects that this gentleman will be very influential in the coming months.”

Kita knew things were changing, outside his little shrine. By how much, he wasn’t sure. The human world was beyond him, a realm of blood and darkness that he didn’t quite understand. A world that hurt her. Part of him hated it for that.

“Will he expect you to get married?” The question escaped him before he could think about it.

She caught his eye, smiling. “Not as far as I know.”

He breathed out slowly.

“I can stay with you, for now,” she murmured, reaching over and placing her hand over his.

Something was wrong. Something was off. She’s tired. She’s distant.

And he was afraid.

That fear grounded him for a moment in eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧

Kita was better at handling loneliness than most. But even he suffered under the weight of four hundred years. Especially when he’d known what it meant to love.

When she passed, he had taken the time to travel. He only moved during the night, dodging humanity when and where he could. But as the years rolled on, the night began to get blotted with lights – first by fire, later by bulbs.

So, he’d crawled back to his little shrine, hiding himself away in the nooks and crevices. This was his place, and it always would be. His duty was to remain here, as something of a guardian spirit. So he would do just that, even if it brought him little enjoyment.

Sometimes, he let children catch a glimpse of him. Usually, he could mirror their joy, their wonder. But even that hadn’t been lifting his spirits as of late. He’s been reticent, perhaps even melancholic.

But he hung around the shrine anyway, letting the days ebb on into an endless eternity. It hounded him, that never-ending existence that stretched out before him. He’s wise enough to recognise the irony in a kitsune feeling existential, but he’s always felt more human than most.

Today, he made his way to the shrine, slipping through cracks under doors and the gap where wooden planks meet each other. It’s easy for him to move around in his spirit form, more a mist than a man.

He slipped into the central shrine, duty-bound as always, to accept whatever offerings had been laid forth.

He hadn’t expected what lay in wait for him.

A miko, dark hair drawn back in a ponytail and red hakama tied over a white kosode.

You were sweeping the floor, mind seemingly somewhere else. You were humming to yourself, and Kita couldn’t help but feel this was awfully familiar. Something about your shrine had the echo of what he’d seen long ago, one of the dances the miko at his shrine would perform.

The miko had made a return, apparently. In the last few decades, they’d become something of a cultural icon. A lot could change in four hundred years.

You turned around, and Kita finally caught a glimpse of your face.

He froze.

It was her face. The woman he’d loved, adored, mourned. The woman who had left such an impact on him, who had engraved herself so deeply into his very being that he still felt the ripples of his love for her all these centuries later. The woman he had spent so many stormy afternoons with, cooped up in each other’s warmth.

He was more keyed into the secrets of the universe than most, being a kitsune and all, but even he was dumbfounded.

Kita took a deep breath, settling into his fox form. You most likely wouldn’t trust some random man coming up to you and insisting that ‘yes, actually, I am the patron spirit of this place.’ But he was sure that his fox form would grant him some authority on the subject.

He padded to the centre of the room, sitting himself down on his haunches. He wasn’t really aware of it, but it was quite regal. His four tails swished around him with a slow rhythm, each one tipped with black. His pale grey fur gave off a brilliant shimmer in the sunlight that fell between the window slats, creating a real sense of grandeur as he sat there.

He stared at you for a long moment, blinking his large brown eyes.

You stared back, gormless.

Maybe he should say something—

You thrusted the broom forward, waving it in front of his snout. “Shoo!”

He jerked his head back, stunned.

Had you not noticed his tails? Did you think he was just some average fox, scuttering in from the cold? Would he have to show you his human form?

It’s worth a shot, he thought.

He transformed in a flash, body morphing into something adjacent to humanity, fur knitting itself together as an edo-style haori.

You watched him change with wide eyes, knuckles blanching as you gripped the hilt of the broom.

Kita gave you a little wave. “Hello.”

You screamed.

Kita flinched. Why were you screaming? Wouldn’t people come running?

He took a step towards you, hands outstretched. His first instinct was to comfort you, to let you know it was all okay – after all, you had her face. “It’s okay, I—”

You whacked his hand with the broom.

Kita faltered, staring at you with wide eyes.

You… hit him? A kitsune? With a broom?

You blinked at him.

He blinked at you.

He traced your face with his eyes, his mind swirling with images of her. A beauty as fresh as the petals that bloom in spring, as clear as a spring, as bright as the morning dew.

Her face. You had her face.

You made a solid jab at his chest. Kita stumbled back, eyes wide. What were they teaching mikos these days?

He didn’t get the chance to ask. You fled, dashing out of the room with a small billow of your hakama.

He stood in dumbfounded silence, unsure of how to process what had just happened. You were the spitting image of her. But, you weren’t her. If you were, you wouldn’t have screamed. She had never run from him, never screamed. She had always treated him with respect, with a sense of reverence that came with her role as a miko. You… well, you were quite the opposite.

But you had her face. Her voice. Eternity shuddered to a stop, blocked by her – or was it your – face. Each memory flashed through his mind with startling vibrancy, coupled with a swell of emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Oh, he realised. I’ve made a terrible mistake.

✧ ✧ ✧

A dozen web articles and a trip to the library later, you’d come to the conclusion that you had most definitely done something quite heretical on sacred ground.

Presuming, of course, that the man you’d whacked in the shrine was, in fact, a kitsune.

Your immediate instinct had been to run far, far away from that place; maybe even skip the country for a week or two. But then you’d considered the consequences of that. Would you be cursed? Did kitsunes inflict curses? You certainly hadn’t treated him very well. You’d hit him, actually. You thought that, at the very least, deserved an apology.

So there you stood, in the middle of the shrine, wrapped bento box in hand.

You weren’t quite sure why you’d come back. Maybe to prove to yourself that it was real, and that you weren’t just seeing things. Maybe because it might’ve been a practical joke, and you wanted the closure. How someone could’ve pulled such an elaborate ruse, well… that was beyond you, for now.

But going from seeing… that, to trying to pretend that everything was normal? That didn’t feel possible.

You’d only taken up this position as a holiday job. The extra cash didn’t hurt, and you thought it was an interesting way to spend the winter…

“Hello.”

You flinched, turning around. How on earth—

No, you shouldn’t be so surprised that he’d managed to sneak up on you. Not when a real kitsune was standing right there. A kitsune that you’d hit with a broom.

You bowed, almost at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “I am so sorry.”

The kitsune blinked at you for a moment, but you don’t see it. “It’s okay.” His voice was soft, perhaps even comforting.

You stood up and held the bento box out to him with stiff arms.

The kitsune raised his eyebrows at you.

“I, uh… I did some research, and…” You swallowed, hoping you weren’t about to make a fool of yourself. “Kitsune like inarizushi? Apparently?”

He stared at you for a very long moment. It was a little rude, truth be told.

You stared right back. Was this the right thing to do?

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, giving you a small bow. “Thank you.”

“It’s an apology,” you blurted out, your face feeling a lot hotter than you would’ve liked it to.

“What for?” The kitsune asked, tilting his head at you.

“For… for hitting you.” You could feel your cheeks growing hot. God, this was already a bit of a disaster.

“Oh,” he smiled softly at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d…” You took a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes. “If I’d known you were actually some kind of yokai.”

An amused glint sparked in his eyes. “You’re at a shrine. What did you think I was?”

“Well I…” You opened your mouth, braving a look at his face. “I don’t know.”

He was smiling now. And it made him quite beautiful. “You’re a miko.”

“Well, not really…” You bit your lip, glancing down at the bento box. Your arms were starting to ache, stiff as they were. “I didn’t really… believe in any of this before a couple of days ago. I just needed a part-time job over the uni holidays.”

He stared at you.

That was certainly different. She’d been deeply spiritual, seeing her role as intensely important. And yet you, the girl with her face, did not.

“I see,” he murmured, glancing at the floor. Uni holidays… was that university? Sometimes he struggled to keep up with the evolution of language. And that was to say nothing of the spattering of English words he heard people use. That was a whole other beast.

But that was of no matter. He looked back at you, a gentle smile on his face. “What do you study?”

You stared at him, silent.

He tilted his head at you. “Are you alright?”

“Well I—I guess I just didn’t think that, you know…”

You bit your lip.

He’s a kitsune. A yokai. Oh shit, did that mean Inari existed, too? Was this guy linked to Inari? What if he was Inari? Was that possible?

“Oh, the inarizushi,” he murmured, his eyes now on the bento box. You’re not sure why he suddenly decided to focus on that, almost as if to give you a reprieve in your little verbal breakdown, but you were more than delighted for this opportunity to change the conversation.

“Yes!” You sounded more enthusiastic than you would’ve liked, but hopefully this would smooth things over. But if anything, you needed appeasing more than he did.

You handed it over tentatively, deliberately trying to not let his fingers brush against yours. This was a whole new world for you, and you didn’t understand the consequences of such things. Better not tempt fate.

The kitsune settled himself down on the floor, folding his legs beneath him.

You raised your hands to shoo him off, driven by instinct. You weren’t going to let him leave crumbs.

The kitsune blinked at you, brown eyes round and quizzical. “Is there a problem?”

You paused, hands raised in front of you. Well, it was his shrine…

“Sit with me, if you’d like,” he smiled softly, nodding at the floor next to him.

You let a moment pass, watching his face closely. He gazed at you, tilting his head to the side. He looked genuinely confused. Did he… want you to sit with him?

You sat yourself down on the floor with a sigh. You thought it best to adopt the seiza position, knees on the floor as you tucked your legs underneath you, folding your hands in your lap.

“Please, relax,” he nodded at you with a smile. He unwrapped the bento box, picking up the chopsticks with a certain kind of elegance.

He smiled down at the inarizushi in his lap. You had no idea that he was comparing them to the ones she used to make him. Hers were neater, more delicate. Yours had all the signs of inexperience; rice was spilling out of one of them, and the casing looked a little too thick. But, you’d put in the effort, and that was enough to touch his heart.

You were just observing him quietly, your mind wandering off in its own direction.

If you’d told your younger self that you would be talking to a real, breathing kitsune, you would’ve spun some romantic fantasy of what that kitsune would be like. Skin like lily petals, hair white as snow and soft as silk, elegantly pointed ears, a face with all the sharpness and grace of a fox. That’s what you would’ve expected.

It wasn’t that he was a disappointment. It was just that there was a gravity to him; and yet, a sense of ethereality that you’d never seen before.

“So,” he hummed, picking an inarizushi up between his chopsticks. “You didn’t think my kind existed.”

You blinked at him for a moment. “Honestly? No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” He popped the inarizushi in his mouth, chewing at an unhurried pace.

You didn’t really have an answer for that. “I just… didn’t.” Frankly, you just hadn’t thought about it. Nothing more to it.

He gazed at you, tilting his head. There was rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. “And now?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think now?” He said, gesturing to himself.

“Well, you’re…” You looked him up and down once. “You’re certainly real.”

He smiled at that. “Anything else?”

Was he asking for your opinion? “I guess you’re… different. From what I might’ve expected.”

“And what is that?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice.

“I… I don’t really know,” you admitted, twiddling your thumbs.

The kitsune just smiled as he picked up another inarizushi. “These are good.”

“Thank you.” You give him a half-bow, relieved that your efforts paid off. At the very least, you hadn’t angered him. Although, you weren’t quite sure if you could imagine this man as anything other than composed.

“Could you make me more?” His voice was gentle, halfway between a command and a question.

“Uh… not… not right now…”

“I meant for tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh.”

Right.

“Could you, please?” He leant forward, and you caught your breath.

There was such sincerity in his voice. Quite honestly, you still weren’t sure how to process everything that was happening. Kitsunes were real. One was sitting right in front of you. And he’d enjoyed the lunch you’d made him. So much so that he wanted you to make more.

Was it right to deny a spirit?

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists in your skirt. “Well, if I’m going to be bringing you lunch, then I may as well introduce myself.”

He smiled, tilting his head to the side. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

You made your introduction quick, trying your best not to stutter through your own name.

But he smiled, repeating it back to you in a melodic cadence.

“What… what should I call you?” You asked.

A certain softness entered his eyes. “Call me Kita.”

✧ ✧ ✧

“Would you like some?” Kita held the bento box out to you, tilting his head to the side.

You were sat across from him on the ground, safely shrouded by a wall so that no-one else would see the two of you. He’d implored you to sit with your legs crossed this time, and you’d complied.

But, you certainly weren’t comfortable enough to intrude. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to take away from your—”

“Please,” he nudged the box towards you. “You seem hungry.”

You tilted your head at him, unsure of how to respond.

“You’ve been glancing at my lunch ever since I opened it.”

“Oh.” You lowered your head, suddenly embarrassed. “Right.”

“Are they not feeding you?” Kita frowned, looking around the room.

He’d shown up, without any warning, while you were preparing omamori. Trying to explain to your superiors why such a piercing shriek ripped from your throat that didn’t involve the sudden appearance of this strange kitsune friend of yours had perhaps been the most challenging part of your entire miko experience.

“No, it’s not that!” You waved your hand at him. “They treat me quite well.”

“But you’re hungry.”

“I just… forgot to eat lunch, that’s all.” It was the truth – you were hungry only because of your own mindlessness.

Kita held the chopsticks out to you, placing the bento box on your lap. You took the chopsticks from him tentatively, giving him a half-bow. “Thank you.”

You picked up an inarizushi with the chopsticks, popping it into your mouth. Even just the feeling of food in your mouth gave you a sense of relief. You nodded at him again, smiling.

He smiled right back, his hands folded in his lap.

“Hey,” you swallowed, your gaze flitting downwards. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Thank you, Kita.” You gave him another small half-bow.

He blinked at you. He hadn’t expected hearing you say his name would make him feel so… odd. But, you’d said it just as she had, all those years ago, inflection and all.

“How are kitsunes born?” You asked, shovelling some rice into your mouth. It was the opposite of elegant, but Kita almost found it charming. Almost.

But, your question made him blush. “I… would prefer not to answer that.”

Your own cheeks burned in response. Maybe that was a bit too much. “Okay… how long have you been alive?”

“Do you remember how many tails I have?”

“Uh…” You frowned, trying to remember that very eventful day. “Four, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So… four hundred years?” That’s what those many hours trawling the internet would indicate.

“And a half,” Kita smiled.

He’s just happy to be talking to someone. To be seen, heard, felt by someone.

He’d been warned against reaching out to people by some other yokai, but Kita had been unable to quell that curiosity. There was much delight to be found amongst humans and their lives, and Kita had always enjoyed observing them. And they really were delightful to speak to, whenever he could. Besides, was it not his duty as a spirit to maintain good relations between the two worlds?

But ever since she had passed away, he’d been reticent. He’d gained more understanding of where that advice came from. Advice that perhaps, came out of a profound sense of loss. Something he now understood much too well.

Maybe it’s foolish of him, sitting here and talking to you so frankly, simply because you looked just like her. Was this some kind of reincarnation? A coincidence? Maybe it was just a cruel trick of the universe – or an expression of its fundamentally uncreative and cyclical nature.

“That’s… a while,” you nodded slowly.

“Some kitsune may say that I’m barely an adult,” he chuckled.

“Really?” You frowned.

“I’ve much more life to live if I want to be considered wise,” he said.

You gazed off for a moment, blinking slowly. Four hundred years sounded like an awful long time to you, but… well, you weren’t immortal. And this man sitting with you likely was. An uncomfortable feeling crawled its way through your chest, your mind circling with thoughts and questions you didn’t feel quite ready to grapple with.

The conversation needed to move on.

You frowned, tapping your lips with the tip of the chopsticks. “Okay, so.”

“Yes?”

“What’s been your favourite decade to live in?”

He paused, doing some quick fact-checking in his mind. “The fifteen hundreds, I believe.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Kita murmured, looking away from you. How would he even begin to explain that? ‘I was in love with someone who looked and sounded exactly like you?’ He prized honesty, but perhaps that was too honest.

You blinked, biting your lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” He turned to give you a weak smile.

A tenuous silence stretched between you, and he almost regretted being so terse. Almost.

“Are other yokai real, too?” You asked, poking at the rice.

“Some of them.”

“Only some?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“If you ever get yourself a cat, you better keep an eye on its tail.”

You swallowed, unsure if he was joking or not. “Are… ghosts real?”

“Perhaps it’s best if you don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Uh…” You turned the thought over in your mind for a second. “I’m not sure.”

You turned your attention back to the inarizushi, popping a few more into your mouth and chewing away contentedly. After a few moments, you gestured to the bento box, your mouth full of food.

Kita nodded, holding his palm out.

You placed the chopsticks in his hand, blushing as your fingers brushed against his.

“Tell me about yourself,” he hummed, setting the bento box in his own lap.

You swallowed, your face growing hot. “There’s not really anything interesting to say.”

“Why did you choose to be a miko?”

“It’s just a part-time job,” you shrugged, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“But you could have chosen from a whole range of jobs,” he persisted. “But you’re here. Why?”

You paused, turning the question over in your mind. “I don’t know… it seemed interesting?”

Kita nodded. “Why?”

“I… I guess I thought it would be a fun way to connect with the culture,” you shrugged. “Because it’s… very traditional.”

“Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“I have.” You could answer that question confidently, at least.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” he smiled softly.

“I should get back to work,” you sighed, rising to your feet.

“Be sure to take care of yourself,” he nodded, getting up himself. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

You cocked your head at him. “Huh?”

He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Those were the words he’d say to her, all those years ago. Words that she never heeded as much as he wished she would.

But, he had to remind himself, time and time again.

You’re not her.

✧ ✧ ✧

“You’re very good at making those.” Kita sat on the floor next to you, watching as you arranged little omamori into the categories of a large wooden box.

“What, these?” You held one towards him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking it from you gently. He turned it over, the sky blue silk soft beneath his touch.

“Thank you,” you blushed

“I don’t recognise this colour,” he murmured. “What are they for?” He asked, deciding that he’d hold on to this little omamori. You’d made it yourself, after all.

“That one’s a love charm,” you nodded at his hand, smiling as you organised a set of gold silk rectangles. “Apparently they’re very popular during the New Year.” You pointed at another group of pink and blue charms in the box. “The one you’re holding is for single people, but these ones are for couples.”

He swallowed, turning it over in his hand. A love charm. She had made him one, all those years ago. Albeit, she had given it to him with a lot more intention.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tucking it into the sleeve of his kimono.

You grinned at him, eyeing his sleeve. “Hoping it’ll help you out?”

“I—” His cheeks bloomed red as heat crawled up his neck. Perhaps he’d been thinking about love more often, these days. But he wasn’t quite ready to process all of that. Was he so obvious?

“I’m just teasing,” you giggled.

He fought back the urge to pout. He was glad, at least, that you felt comfortable enough to say something like that. But, it saved him at least a little bit of embarrassment.

You’d been visiting him for the past few weeks, bringing him inarizushi every shift you’re in for.

And it made him so, so happy. He’s being seen. Being noticed. And, he liked talking to you. Maybe more than he should. More than he wanted to.

“When was the last time you’ve been to town?” You wondered, looking at him.

Kita frowned. “Uh… a couple hundred years, maybe?”

You gaped at him. “What?”

“Well, I…” He stopped, tilting his head at you. He didn’t quite know what to say. Yes, it had been a very long while, but he’d only just found the strength to open himself up to the human world like he once had. He’d been an observer for the past few centuries, but it had been quite a long while since he’d engaged like that. And besides; ‘town’ must be very, very different.

You scratched the back of your head. “Do you want to?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to go to town?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m going to a festival this Friday,” you said, smiling at him. “It’s nearly New Year’s.”

Oh, right. New Year’s.

Would you leave him, once the year turned over?

He swallowed the thought back. No, he wouldn’t think about that. He didn’t want to.

“Come with me on Friday,” you smiled, placing your hand on his shoulder.

Kita froze, feeling a certain kind of warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. A type of warmth he hadn’t felt since her. A type of warmth that was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” You beamed. If you’d noticed his reaction, you didn’t give him any indication.

“Okay,” he mumbled, suddenly much more interested in the omamori in his sleeve than before.

“Yay!” You clapped your hands together, your face full of joy. “I’ll see you Friday!”

Kita swallowed roughly. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. But he didn’t want to say no to you. Not when you were smiling at him like that.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Are you alright?”

Kita blinked, looking at you. “Hm?”

“You look… uncomfortable,” you said, tilting your head at him. “I mean, I think that’s discomfort on your face.”

He swallowed, looking down at the ground. “It’s just… there’s a lot of people.”

The two of you were stood at the edge of the crowd, just out of the light of the lanterns. Kita knew that there was going to be a large throng of people, but he hadn’t expected it to be so busy.

“We don’t have to go if it’s too much,” you smiled, folding your hands behind your back.

“No,” he shook his head. “I want to try.”

You nodded, looking over the crowd. “We’ll go when you’re ready, okay?”

Kita gazed at you for a moment. He was glad that you shared her kindness. But, it was also very much your own; a sense of compassion that you’d cultivated yourself.

He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. A myriad of scents flooded his nose – lanterns burning, tea brewing, fish cooking. It was almost overwhelming, the entire area laced with such dense, powerful sensations.

“I’m ready,” he murmured, opening his eyes.

“Wonderful,” you cheered, hopping into the lamp light.

“Try not to get lost,” you said to him, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your face was bathed with golden lights, your eyes glittering in a way that made his heart ache.

Kita nodded, gazing over the crowd. There were so, so many people; more than he’d seen for centuries.

There was life in front of him. Humans, chatting, laughing, glowing. Each of them was a ripple, a reinterpretation of someone who had come before. But they were also individuals; people with their own lives, dreams, hearts.

Kita took your hand, an action taken partly on instinct, partly on desire. He didn’t want to lose you in this crowd, to watch you disappear into the mass of heads milling around the street and leave him alone. But he wanted to be close to you too. To feel your warmth.

You turned and smiled at him, and his heart felt light. Lighter than it’d felt for centuries.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew why.

He felt seen. Understood. No longer a ghost flitting between the corridors of a shrine, full of aimless yearning.

You were smiling at him with her face, her eyes. But, you were not her. No, you were someone else entirely – someone just as wonderful.

The feeling of your hand in his. A sharp memory, yet something new. Something that felt like a possibility.

This little affection, this small gesture, anchored him to the present. Even if just for a second, you chased away eternity.

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x you #kita imagines #kita shinsuke x you #haikyuucreations #this one is unbeta'd please forgive hhhh

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