#but it’s broken and might be too small now since I grew a bit

[miss-floral-thief]

Shame I don’t have heelies or a skatebaird lll

[m-jelly]

Ulterior Motive - Chapter 1

Levi x reader Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, mafia, Gangs, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Gangsters, Yakuza, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, True Love, First Love, Yandere aspects, Protective Levi Ackerman, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Tattooed Levi Ackerman, Blood and Violence, Eventual Smut, Childhood Friends

The story: Levi longed for you for years, his obsession and love growing deeper and stronger. After finally reuniting, he proposes a job to you that would mean he could keep you close. Be his fiancee at meet-ups and occasions to protect him from mob leader's single ladies. It seems like a simple enough job to do, but everyone seems to have an ulterior motive from the other gang leaders to new friends you've made. Even Levi has one. Without you knowing, Levi's love for you is obsessive and possessive and borders on yandere-like. However, your growing love for him is beginning to get just as possessive as his. What Levi doesn't realise is you might have an ulterior motive too when your feelings develop strongly, being his fiancee is something you both want as real. You both just have to remember, you're not alone with ulterior motives and things get dangerous.

This chapter: Reuniting and Protective Levi.

Ao3

Part 2

Levi

That sweet voice that called out to him always plagued his mind.

Levi

It’d been years since he last saw the beautiful owner of that voice.

Levi

He longed to see the sweet woman again. He grew up in a small town and befriended the cutest girl close to his age. The two grew up together and when they became teenagers, the obsessive love grew strong within Levi. It was clear that the feelings were mutual, but not as obsessive.

Levi!

The day he left broke his heart and no matter how hard he tried to move on, no one could compare to his first love. Levi knew deep down in his heart his first love was his soulmate. He cursed the day he left, but there was no choice in it. His father’s family needed his father, so they returned to the city to fix everything and now business was booming but the family name people loved and feared had changed to Ackerman.

As Levi walked through the city his mind was fixed on the beautiful voice calling his name. The slight squeeze of his finely pressed suit brought him no comfort. In fact, he felt incredibly irritable today. He tugged the coat resting on his shoulders which looked a bit like a cape. Everything felt like it was prickling him.

His gloved fist clenched tightly as he softly said your name out loud. It was like he was trying to will you into existence. For years he had tried this but it never worked. He wanted you as his, he wanted to marry you, he wanted to spoil you, he wanted to keep you all to himself and he wanted to most beautiful children with you.

“Cheating asshole!”

Levi felt lightning strike him when he heard your voice, but it was mature. He turned his head to see you in an adorable outfit with tears in your eyes as you shouted at a man who had a woman at his side. The difference between you and this woman he was with was clear, she was your typical high-maintenance woman with work done to her. The cheating man in question looked the type to fuck around with his cheap show-off outfit.

Your boyfriend smirked at you but you could see in his eyes he was panicking and embarrassed. “Look, doll.”

You poked his chest with your finger. “Don’t you doll me! If you didn’t want me you should have broken up with me!”

He let go of the woman he was in. “I do want you. You look after me, feed me, care for me and you’re an incredible fuck. Why would I wanna give that u-.”

You slapped him hard across the face. “I am not some woman who mothers you during the day and then sleeps with you at night. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you and you can have this…this…”

The woman pouted. “This what!? Looking at you now, I fully understand all the things he told me.”

“You knew he was taken?”

She flicked her hair. “Yep.”

Rage rose inside you as you fought everything inside you not to do worse than you already had. So, you fought dirty. “You have a small weird dick, you last only two minutes and I didn’t cum once!”

Your boyfriend went bright red. “You! You bitch!”

“I hope your dick rots and drops off! I’m done. I’m throwing your shit out.”

He hurried after you. “Come back!”

The woman on the side chased him. “Baby! Don’t go.”

He snarled at her. “Fuck off. You’re just a cock warmer, this is my doll here. She’s better than you!” He grabbed your upper arm and yanked you closer. “You’re not leaving me! No one leaves me.”

You yanked your arm, but he wouldn’t let you go. “Get off me!” An image flashed in your mind, an old dear friend who you had loved. Levi. You wished he was here because he always fought bullies for you, but you were on your own and had been for many years. “Get off!”

He squeezed tighter. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

You winced in pain. “Stop it. We’re over!”

He hit you hard. “Enough!”

You glared at him and felt ready to hit him back, but something shocked you. You watched as a leather-gloved fist connected with your boyfriend’s face. You marvelled as his cheek squished and his head tilted to the side. The force of the hit was so strong, you were sure his jaw disconnected or broke. His head moved first to the left and then his whole body flew with him. The vice grip on your upper arm was gone and you watched in pure delight as your now ex slammed against the floor and rolled a little.

“Tch, asshole!”

You watched in awe as the most handsome man you’d ever seen stormed over to your ex on the floor, grabbed a fist full of his shirt and started shouting and threatening. As soon as everyone saw this handsome man and two people with him, the crowd seemed to go and the police who turned up to save you decided to leave. It was becoming clear to you that the man who saved you was incredibly powerful in this city. You were lucky.

Levi turned to his men. “Get him and that woman off my streets.” He stood up and yanked his gloves off. “Tch, filthy.”

Your eyes widened as you took him all in, some tattoos on his neck peeked through above his shirt collar. His stunning undercut raven hair was messy and no longer tamed back. “Um.” You gulped hard as his attention moved to you. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you, it was intense and loving. You’d never been looked at like this before, it made you breathless and feel like you were a goddess. “Ah…”

Levi walked closer to you, his smart shoes tapping against the stone floor causing a shiver to go up your spine. He was sure of it, you were his first love from his childhood. You were so damn beautiful and it made his heart sing with joy. “Are you okay?”

You flinched at his deep voice, it caused something deep within you to move and melt. You gasped and rummaged in your bag. “I-I have h-hand wipes f-for your gloves.” You ripped out a few and smiled. “Are you okay to hand me your gloves? I can clean them up for you.”

He felt his heart burst, you looked so adorable to him. “Bunny.”

Your eyes widened. “Bunny?”

He cleared his throat as his cheeks got pink. “Thank you.” He offered the gloves to you and watched you clean them. “You’re good at that.”

You hummed a laugh. “I guess…” You looked up into his dazzling steel blue eyes. “Thank you for saving me.”

He reached over and caressed your cheek. “I should have done better. You got hurt.”

Your cheeks burned as your heart raced, his touch was incredible to you. “I-I’ll be okay.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. “Come with me. Let me fix you up.”

There was just something about him, like there was a magnet that pulled you close. “S-Sure.”

He put his arm around you with his hand on your waist. “Stay close for your safety.”

You nodded. “Mm.”

As the two of you walked together you noticed people were staring at you in awe. A few people whispered asking each other if you were the Mrs of the man next to you. The man next to you was a bit of a celebrity to those around him, so he was powerful, influential and he’d saved you. It didn’t fully register in your mind what was going on until a bit of pain came from your lip.

You winced. “Ow.”

Levi pulled back from you. “Sorry, I just need to clean the cut on your lip. Bear with me, okay?”

You nodded as you gripped the skirt part of your dress. “Mm.”

You glanced around the room, it was clean and incredibly spacious. It looked like it was rarely lived in and was closer to a penthouse someone did up to sell instead of live in. When you looked back at the man before you it flustered you. He was no longer wearing his coat and blazer. His sleeves were rolled up to show tattoos all over his arms. The waistcoat was tight on him so you could see he was slim, lean and muscular. The shoulder strap holsters had a spot for two guns and a knife, but all were removed meaning he’d taken them off for you. Your eyes fixed on his neck, he’s taken his tie off and buttoned down his shirt so muscles and tattoos were peeking through.

Levi pulled back and sighed. “There, all done.”

“I appreciate it.”

He released a long sigh. “You haven’t changed much. Always getting into trouble and me having to save you.”

You frowned a moment as you tried to figure out what he meant. “Always…”

He said your name making your heart burst. “Have you forgotten my name? You used to shout it so much as a kid.”

Your eyes lit up in pure delight causing Levi to blush hard, you were so beautiful to him. “Levi!”

Levi felt his world become whole again. Hearing you call his name made everything better, his life and world were brighter. “I haven’t heard you call my name in so long.”

You giggled. “I guess I used to shout it a lot, huh?” You grinned at him. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too. Are you new to the city?”

You nodded. “Yeah, recently moved for my jackass ex.” You slouched on the sofa. “Guess that’s over with now. Oh well.”

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have a job?”

You hummed. “I do.”

“What do you do?”

You smiled at him. “I’m a hostess! I start tonight. I’m rather excited.”

Levi clenched his fist as he felt irritated again. He owned host and hostess bars because people paid big money just to sit and talk with someone pretty. Levi owned countless things in the city from bars, clubs and restaurants to shops and hotels. Knowing that you were in a host club upset him because he wanted your attention on him and only him.

Levi sat back and narrowed his eyes at you. “Which one?”

You frowned in thought. “Uh, it’s called fox tails?”

Levi’s brow rose, that was one of his so it meant he could keep an eye on you. “Interesting. I own it.”

You gasped. “Oh, that’s exciting. It’s like we were meant to meet again.” You hummed a laugh. “Well, I better get ready for work.”

Levi followed you to his door. “Wait.” You turned to him and felt your heart skip a beat, he was so close and he smelt amazing. “Come here.” He pulled you closer and caressed your cheek. “I have a proposition for you. A job.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I’m listening.”

He eyed your lips for a moment. “I need you to be my fiancée.”

You gasped and felt a rush go through you. “Wh-what? W-We ju-just reunited!”

He wanted you to be his, fully his because he longed for you all these years, however having you as his fake fiancée would help him out. Levi was greatly sought after and many gang leaders were offering women in their families as brides for Levi. It was all stupid and he felt like some sort of King back in the old days, it made him sick to his stomach.

Levi caressed your cheek. “I get countless offers of marriage and there are only so many times I can say no and I’m already taken before people start asking questions.”

You felt stupid assuming Levi wanted you. You laughed and ruffled your hair. “Riiight, right, I get it. You want me to play the role of your fiancée to help you out.”

He nodded. “I would appreciate it. I’ll pay you a lot of money for your assistance and I will buy you clothes and gifts for the role.”

“Why me? Is it because we’re old friends?”

“Partly that.” He pinched your cheek. “Think about it.”

You gulped hard. “Ah, fuck it. I’ll do it.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “Really? I was expecting you to think it over.”

You shrugged. “It’ll mean we get to spend a lot of time together! How could I not say yes to spending all my time with my best friend again.” You opened the door before smiling at Levi. “I really missed you.”

“Me too.”

As soon as you left his penthouse he clutched his chest and felt like he was melting. A smile spread across his lips, it was a mixture of pure delight and a slightly crazy one. Levi had been obsessed with you for so long and now you were all his again. He adored you so much and he was going to do his best to keep you this time and never lose you again. He cleared his throat and composed himself for a moment. He had to start preparing for you to be his fake fiancée and then his real one.

Being a hostess wasn’t too bad, most people were rather nice to you and just wanted to talk or they were lonely. The only thing you hated was when some rich man wouldn’t stop talking about his money, the things he did and how he would like to fuck you. It was pretty disgusting at first, but sadly you got used to it. What made you happy was all the hosts and hostesses used fake names, wigs and makeup. Security was incredible too, it was so good that whenever there were tiny signs of trouble they would swoop in. Sometimes they’d appear and you hadn’t even noticed the danger.

Today you were fully booked again and you missed Levi. It’d been two weeks since your chat about being his fake fiancée, so you assumed he was setting things up and had business to take care of. You couldn’t believe that he’d just walked back into your life and now you didn’t want him to leave. Part of you felt a bit like a selfish brat because you wanted him now and you wanted him to never walk away. These feelings weren’t like you, but there was just something about Levi.

A host jumped next to you when you slapped your cheeks with both your hands and squished your face. You growled and squeezed harder as you tried to snap yourself out of your thoughts. You let out a long sigh as reality sunk in. Levi was always a friend and even when you were old enough as teens, there was no romance as far as you could remember. You spent a lot of time together, but that was it. There were no lingering touches or attempts to make things more. So, you set your mind right, Levi had no feelings for you, you were just friends and it was nothing more. You did well as a hostess, but there was no way Levi would want a woman like you. You believed he deserved so much better.

“Peach.”

You looked over at your handsome host friend, Knight. You whined a bit and flopped on the break room table. “Mm.”

He chuckled as he watched you. “Throwing a tantrum, hm?”

Knight also known as Lucas in private was a near and dear friend to you. He was incredibly tall, very broad and big with thick arms, legs and neck. His jawline was chiselled and made him look charming. His brows were slightly thick and blonde, his eyes almost golden in colour that just sparkled. His hair was just beautiful messy blonde locks that never had a normal parting because he was often ruffling it and moving how it lay. His neck was covered in tattoos that fitted him perfectly, you were sure he had some dealings with Levi’s gang. He always had a toothpick or lollipop stick hanging out his mouth during work hours to stop himself from having a smoke because your manager hated cigarettes.

You pouted a bit at Lucas. “Bite me.”

“Oh, we are spicy today. I never knew peaches could be like that.” He laughed as you slid down the chair with a groan. “Talk to me.”

“Am I doomed to die alone?”

He sat on the table next to you. “Nah.”

You looked up at him. “Really?”

He smirked. “Yeah, because I’m never leaving you alone. I love annoying the shit out of you.”

You groaned loudly. “I hate you.” You frowned as he started pressing your nose over and over. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I could turn off your sass.” He pulled away and laughed when you tried to bite his finger. “Come on, Peach, cheer up.”

You adjusted your pink wig and sighed. “I just suck at keeping a boyfriend.”

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong men.”

You faked a gasp. “My goodness! My problems are fixed!”

He hummed a laugh. “You’re so much fun.”

“Next you’ll suggest to date you!”

He shrugged. “It’d be a good suggestion.”

“My foot up your ass would be a good suggestion.”

Heavy thuds of smart shoes got closer to Lucas. “Lucas Lionheart.”

Lucas tensed up. “The devil, he’s behind me, right?”

You leaned and saw your wonderful manager behind Lucas. Masashi Shinohara was incredible in all aspects. He was impressively smart and knew how humans worked and business, so when it came to running places he was amazing. He was a bit shorter than the very tall Lucas, but he had this strong aura about him. He had very broad shoulders, but he had a very slim waist. He was covered in muscles and tattoos, but all his were hidden under his suits. Down from the left side of his forehead was a very long scar that went over his left eye, cheek and then reached his bottom lip. Sat nicely on his slender nose were clubmaster reading glasses. His eyes were beautiful almond ones and his brown eyes were very warm. His hair was always tamed into a typical 1950s businessman style, but what made his hair unique was a section of it at the front was white. The white part was only a few locks.

The white wasn’t from age, it happened naturally. Shino wasn’t that old, he was only in his early 30s and Lucas was in his late 20s. The two of them were close friends, but Lucas was a bit of a loose canon and wild so Shino had to rein him in. You adored Shino, he was a gentle sophisticated gentleman and he cared for you deeply. These two men saw you as a younger sister they had to care for.

Lucas turned slowly and grinned. “Sup!”

Shino sighed. “You should be working not winding up Peach. You’ve had too many breaks today.”

Lucas smirked. “Sure thing…Ma…sa…”

Shino glared at him. Masashi Shinohara was a wonderful man, but you never called him by his first name Masashi because he hated it. Everyone called him Shio as per his request, but Lucas often liked to wind him up. “Watch yourself.”

You walked over to Shino. “Shio?”

His rage washed away when he looked down at your adorable doe-eyed look. “Yes?”

You smiled at him. “Ignore him, he’s winding you up on purpose. He was trying to cheer me up.”

Shino caressed your cheek with his big hand covered in scars. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m a bit doom and gloom about relationships.”

He smiled softly at you. “Well, no man deserves you, princess. You’re too good for them, especially Lucas.”

Lucas huffed. “Gee, thanks.”

Shino gently cupped your face. “You deserve endless good things. Do you want to take more time off?”

Lucas walked over to you. “You should consider it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’ll go back out there. I need the money.” You released a long sigh. “I’ll go. I’m sure I’ll have a few customers.”

Lucas put his arm around you. “Come on, let’s go together. Knight and Peach together!”

Shino smiled. “Have a good night. If you need a break, please let me know.”

You waved to him. “Promise.”

Shino waved goodbye to you with a sweet smile on his face. As soon as you were gone his smile went and he pulled his phone out to see texts from his boss, Levi. Shino and Lucas had been tasked with looking after you by Levi. At first, the babysitting job idea wasn’t nice but as soon as the two men met you they adored you and hoped you would become their boss’s wife. Mrs Ackerman was a great title for you.

Shino texted Levi about how you were down in the dumps today and you had a lot of customers. He smiled when Levi sent him a message back to prepare for his arrival. Shino was sure that your mood would lighten up at seeing Levi. He placed his phone in his pocket and began preparations for the boss. Everything had to look good and be clean.

You smiled at your customer as your arms pressed your breasts together a bit more. “You’re so funny, master.”

The older man smirked at you as he pushed back his hair, he was old enough to be your grandfather but he didn’t care. He desired to have you. For a long time, he’d been eyeing you up and dreamed of running you in a hotel room, but he knew he had to win you over first. He admired your plump breasts and curvy figure. He used to like very small and thin women like they were very young. However, there was something ever so alluring about your curvy plump frame and sweet wide eyes.

As you leaned over to get another drink for him he thought about how much money he’d spent here because of you. He reached over and grabbed your ass making you freeze up and look scared at him. He smirked at you and began speaking, his breath reeking of cigars and alcohol. “Do you know how much money I’ve spent here? I’ve spent on you? All the drinks, food and gifts? I’ve topped you a lot.”

You whimpered. “Please remove your hand. You cannot touch us.”

He gripped harder. “You owe me.” He grabbed your face with his other hand. “Now you will come with me to a hotel room and open your legs for me, or I will take you by force.”

“Tch, oi.”

The two of you saw Levi standing on the other side of the low round table. The tables were low so all staff and customers could keep an eye on them and nothing unsightly was being done under any cover. So, things like this were easily seen. Levi was enraged by the sight before him. The fear in your eyes and the predatory look in the old man’s eyes made him furious. How dare this man touch his woman?

Levi tried to control his anger. “Let. Her. Go.”

The man smirked. “You think I’m afraid of you!? I know people! I know the guy that owns this place! I know Levi Ackerman! He’ll let me fuck this tease of a woman.”

It was impossible to track Levi’s movements fully, but they were fast and impressive. First, his foot was on the table causing glasses to smash and the glass top to crack. Second, his gloved fist wrapped around the older man’s tie. Before you knew it, the man was yanked down hard against the table causing it to crack more and the glass to cut the old man’s cheek. Levi wrapped the tie around his fist and pulled hard choking the man.

Levi tilted his head at the man. “Levi Ackerman, huh? Funny.” He spat his words at the man. “I have never met you in my fucking life. Now, if I, the real Levi Ackerman, tell you to do something you do it.”

Shino pulled you into his arms. “Best if you look away, okay?”

You nodded but you didn’t do as you were told. You snuck a look over at Levi to see him breaking the man’s arm and then his hand. “Oh.”

Shino pulled you again. “I told you it’s best you look away.”

You looked up at Shino. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to fear Mr Ackerman.”

You whined a little bit. “I don’t fear him.”

Shino studied your face and saw you were showing signs of attraction and arousal, it seemed you were perfect for Levi. “You’re rather brave.” He ushered you to his office and gave you a cup of tea. “I’m sorry a customer grabbed you and spoke disgustingly about you. You deserve better.”

You gazed into your tea as you hummed in thought. “I’m kind of tired.”

“You can use my sofa as a bed. I think Mr Ackerman wants to talk to you after he has finished.” He grabbed his coat and walked over to you. “Lie down then.” He smiled as you did and covered you with his coat. “I’ll be right here so you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

Shino typed away on his computer as he completed some work. He sipped his tea and glanced over at you when you made a little noise. He watched you for a bit thinking you were having a possible nightmare, but you didn’t stir again. He smiled and then looked at his office door as he adjusted his glasses. “Mr Ackerman.”

Levi closed the door behind him. “Sorry, I had to clean up, I didn’t want his filth on me.”

“Understandable, I’m the same. I have to clean after taking care of things.” He rose to his feet. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

Levi stared at you as you slept. “Tea.” He walked closer to you and felt his heart swell. “She’s so beautiful.” He sat on the floor by your head and moved your hair away. “Poor thing.”

Shino placed Levi’s drink down. “She’s incredible here. She’s a top hostess and a lot of workers like her.” He bowed. “I will give you both space.”

“Thank you.” Levi played with your hair. He lifted a few stands and kissed them. “I should have done better.”

You opened your eyes and gazed at Levi. Your heart raced when you saw him kissing your wig hair. “Mm.”

Levi locked eyes with you. “The pink suits you.”

You sat up on the sofa as you felt so flustered at your face being close to Levi’s. “Thanks.” You pulled your wig off. “So uh…”

“You saw, didn’t you?”

You whined. “I did and Shino told me not to. I’m not scared of you if that’s what you’re worried about. When we were kids and teens you did things like that.” You sighed. “I…I just…I want to do something for you as a thank you.” You smiled at him. “I just don’t know what. Thank you, Levi. Really, thank you. You saved me again.”

He placed his hands on either side of your hips and leaned up. “You’re welcome, but there is no need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you.” He hummed a laugh. “It’s your fault for being so sweet and cute.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “A-Ah…w-well…you’re so nice.”

“I don’t want you working here for a few weeks.”

The colour drained from your face. “What? But I need this job and the money.”

He cupped your face in his gloved hands and hushed you. “I need you for those weeks, that’s why and I can’t imagine it’ll be nice working here after what you went through.”

You relaxed. “Oh, you’re right. So, you need me? Is that for the fiancée thing?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have a few meetings and get-togethers. So, will you help?”

“Of course.”

He kissed your forehead. “Thank you. I will send you some outfits and come to collect you each day.” He rose to his feet and handed you a card. “My private number. Please text me so I have yours.”

You gasped then hurriedly texted Levi from your phone. “There.”

He stared at his phone and smiled a little it was impossible to hide his happiness. Levi was one step closer to having you as his. He was giddy with excitement, but he didn’t want that dark side of him to show. “Thank you. I’ll message you tomorrow morning, okay?”

You squeezed your phone. “Yes.”

“Will you let me escort you home?”

You rose to your feet and nodded. “Sure.”

You took Shino’s coat off you and made your way to the changing room. You changed quickly before joining Levi. It felt weird to be sat in the back of the car with him as someone drove you both. It felt like you were being pulled into a dangerous world that was also exciting, like you were just on the cusp of it and it was up to you if you wanted to fully be in it.

Levi walked you to your apartment building and paused outside. “Get some rest and if you need anything, call me. You’ve been through a lot.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. You know, I was hoping I’d see you and I was going to shout at you for leaving me alone again, but then you saved me.”

He smirked. “So, you’re not mad?”

You pouted hard. “I am, I’m just saving that for tomorrow when we meet up. So, be prepared for a grumpy fiancée, okay?”

He chuckled. “I look forward to it.”

[fruitcoops]

Eeeek I am so excited to send in this request bcs I feel like it's one you could really do justice. (if you feel inspired that is. There's absolutely no pressure) but I was wondering if you'd be willing to write coops becoming more comfortable around each other? That's not the right word but just the constant butterflies sort of fading and instead realizing that love isn't all thrill it's sometimes a deep-seated love and being calm and comfy around your loved one? So like one of them doing something that used to cause butterflies and maybe sometimes does still bit it's the realization that you're so attuned to them you're used to it and love it and them?

Sorry this got really long and idk if it makes any sense or not. Anyway I love youuu and your writinggg it's such a source of comfort for me so thank you for doing what you do

Fluff in the wake of Vaincre! I think this is becoming a pattern. Though I, for one, am not complaining. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove, and Hazel, I am suing you for custody of my broken heart.

Sirius is washing the dishes and Remus puts a hand on his lower back without really thinking about it, slipping his palm beneath the hem of a Mickey Mouse t-shirt to rest over the bend of Sirius’ spine. His hand molds to the curve, fingertips on one dimple and heel of his palm on the other, thumb sliding along the lowest notch. Sirius hums and leans his head down to bonk Remus’ in a gentle greeting. They’re all small, thoughtless motions for a small, thoughtless night.

And it hits him.

The kitchen—theirs. The house—theirs. The neighborhood—theirs, where they wander after dinner sometimes or find well-traveled sidewalks to their new favorite shops and diners.

Sirius. His.

They’ve talked about moving, about kids, about after. What happens after hockey? Sirius can get through July now without growing antsy at the absence, but still, it’s taken almost a decade. A smaller house (a warmer house, a house that’s theirs) would be a good change. Not a rushed one, though. It seems there are endless hours to plan and look and comfortably explore.

Water sloshes over the marble countertop. They’ll never have to worry about money; not like Remus’ parents did. They’ll never be restricted by loans or debt or whatever neighborhood falls within budget. He came to Gryffindor marveling at an affordable single-bedroom apartment. It’s a habit he’s been trying to break on those late-night Zillow scrolls. They both love the cabin on the lake, but…

But maybe they’ll need the space.

Remus turns his head to kiss the curve of Sirius’ shoulder and sees him smile, capable hands working soap through a sponge. If they were a regular couple, he thinks—a different couple, he corrects—there might already be a new addition on the way. He can see the longing in Sirius’ eyes when they talk about it and feels the yank in his own chest at the thought. He’s wanted that since he was a child. It only grew more intense when Jules was born. It would make sense for them.

The things he’d do for a baby with Sirius’ eyes and his nose and, god, they can’t stop there, can they? The kid would need a sibling, wouldn’t they? A Regulus, a Julian, a James, a Lily that they could rely on and go headfirst with into the wonder of the world? Someone to lead, or someone to follow. To protect. Remus has never been the type to brainstorm baby names, but the amorphous dream is thrilling on its own.

Sirius makes a small noise in the back of his throat when a bubble pops and spatters Remus’ sleeve with soap. He’d be such a good dad, it’s not even funny. Remus can’t think about it too hard, or else he’ll start scrolling through PetFinder to find another dog to take the edge off.

He bites gently at Sirius’ bicep and feels him laugh, feels him swat at Remus’ hand with no real effort behind it. “Love you.”

“So you bite me?” Sirius snorts. “Weirdo.”

Remus exhales hard through his nose. “I want a baby.”

“Ouais, let me just run to CVS—”

Sirius’ snickering is not dulled by the light pinch to his ribs; Remus hides his grin in another bite. “I’m serious—”

“No, I am.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, turning away.

“Non, non, wait,” Sirius laughs. His arms wind around Remus’ waist and pull him close enough for Sirius to plant a kiss to his temple. It’s adorable, how careful he is to keep his sudsy hands out of the danger zone. He nuzzles into Remus’ cheek before straightening. “A baby. Yes. Absolutely. You know my thoughts on this.”

“I do,” Remus sighs. “And I know why it’s not a good idea right now. Still.”

“Still,” Sirius agrees. He sways them for a moment, then Remus feels a squeeze and the weight along his back is gone. The faucet flicks back on. “I want—” He presses his lips together, mouth twisting as he works it over in his thoughtful way. “I want to be there.”

Remus takes a clean towel from the drawer and begins to dry the plates. “I know.”

“And you’ll probably retire first, which is fine, but I want…” Sirius tips his head back and forth. Remus knows he’s running through their list again. The pros, the cons, the frustrating parts that they so desperately don’t want to deal with but have to anyway. Sirius scrubs at a bit of dried rice and scrunches his nose. “I want you to be there, too. Both of us. From the start.”

“I know.” It sucks. They might not have to scrape and save but time is not a resource hockey will spare them, and Remus is so grateful that Sirius takes that seriously. He meets Sirius where he is in their timeline. “I’ll retire. Take a break. I’ll go back to PT, probably faster than either of us think I will. You’ll decide when your last season is. We’ll put in an application—”

“—and by the time I’m done, we’ll have an idea of any possibility,” Sirius finishes, passing him a clean glass. They’ve repeated it so many times that it’s practically a mantra. Deep down, it gives Remus hope. The planning. It means there’s a chance. It means they’re on the same page all the way through. Sirius lets out a breath. “And then, maybe, we’ll have something concrete.”

Adoption, surrogacy…it doesn’t really matter. Both are such complicated webs of people and events and things entirely out of their control—Remus hates it, and he knows Sirius hates it more. He sets the towel down and moves to rest his forehead between Sirius’ shoulder blades, where his heartbeat keeps time against Remus’ skin. He winds his arms around Sirius’ waist and flattens his hand over Sirius’ belly to feel him breathe.

They have all options in the world, and yet it all feels much too big.

He spreads his feet a little when Sirius leans back. Measured inhales, pulse keeping a constant 60 beats-per-minute.

Remus laughs quietly.

“What?”

He shakes his head, kissing each curve of Sirius’ wingbones beneath his shirt.

“What?” Sirius presses.

“A year ago, if you grabbed me and pulled me back like that, I would have jumped your bones,” he says wryly, burying his grin in the bend of Sirius’ neck. “Listen to us, angsting about the future like a couple of old geezers.”

“Feel free to jump my bones, if you think your arthritic joints can handle it,” Sirius teases.

“I’m just saying—”

“Oh, Christ, I’m turning 29 in a year,” Sirius moans, tapping the water off with a flourish. “I’m dead. I’m dying. I am wasting away. Tell Celeste I love her—”

“We’re standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes, on a Friday night!” Remus protests. “Aren’t we supposed to be…I don’t know, going to a club or something?”

Sirius turns in the circle of his arms with a grave expression. “If we’re going out, I need to go rinse my dentures.”

Remus chooses to ignore that particular comment. “The cubs are probably raising hell and breaking hearts.”

“The cubs are extroverts.” Sirius cocks a brow. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you want to go out and get drunk with a bunch of sweaty strangers.”

He can’t help the wrinkling of his nose; the told-you-so satisfaction on Sirius’ face is fondly irritating enough that he reaches up to cover it with a loose hand. Sirius laughs and dodges him like always, biting a kiss to the side of his palm. “Anyway,” Remus prompts with a squeeze of his narrow hips. “I love you. Which was my whole point.”

“You had a point?”

“I always have a point.”

“That’s a stretch, but alright.”

“Our kitchen,” he says, tilting his chin up. “Our house, our neighborhood, our future.” A smirk pulls at his lips and he rubs his thumbs just beneath Sirius’ shirt. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Sirius murmurs around a smile. They might be getting old and married and boring, and Remus might finally be able to watch Sirius and his capable hands without going weak in the knees, but his kisses will send joy crashing through him forever and always. The future isn’t so big in the safety of a moment.

[iruinn]

baby, you're the sweetest thing ❀ nanami kento

chapter 3

cw : none that apply (please let me know if u think there's anything that needs to be tagged!)

wc : 2060

masterpost

If someone had asked you 2 years ago where you thought you would be right now, you wouldn’t have even blinked before answering. Married to your boyfriend. Living with him in his family home. Visiting your own maybe once a week. Maybe you might have even had a kid with him. You certainly wouldn’t be working in a small publishing office as an editor, living alone in a tiny apartment in a city hundreds of miles away from your family. Unwilling to visit the very house you grew up in. But you had learned quickly that life rarely goes the way you plan it. You’re certainly feeling it right now, watching your ex-boyfriend stand next to your own sister, the both of them watching you in trepidation.

The awkward silence is broken by your mother. “You’re here, then. Despite ignoring my calls. Good that you remembered you had a family.” Your head pivoted to meet hers, and you cross your arms. “I’m sure you got my messages. Can’t have the family wondering why the bride’s own sister didn’t show up to the wedding, right?”

The matriarch of the Morita family shoulders past you into the house. She’s as put together as you remember, her hair pulled into a bun perfectly, her clothes without a speck of dirt or wrinkle on them. Your sister follows her, stopping before you. She hasn’t said a word to you yet, and you simply raise an eyebrow at her. “Cat got your tongue, Seiko? You certainly weren’t this subdued the last time I saw you.” She reels back, but regains her composure quickly. “I’m happy you’re visiting, (name). I would have hated for you to miss my wedding.” “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” You glance at Naoya, who’s been watching you closely. “Hey, (name). Looks like Tokyo’s been good to you.” He pulls Seiko into him, and you bite your cheek. You certainly have no more lingering feelings for him, you think. But looking at them together still stings you quite a bit.

You hear your mother scoff. “I can’t imagine your job is doing much for you. When are you going to give up on it and move back home? You’d be so much more comfortable here.” “We’re really getting into this now? It hasn’t even been an hour since I arrived, and you’re lecturing me about my life choices?” You whirl on her, your voice raising, and she meets you in kind. “You’re just being dramatic, (name). You know I’ve always wanted nothing but the best for you. Surely you know it’s a disgrace for a Morita to be working a desk job.” All you can do is stare at her in disbelief. You flush red in anger and embarrassment, noticing your father and grandmother were here too, probably hearing your raised voices. Of all the places to have it out with your mother, in front of your family as well as your ex was definitely the worst place for it. “Mom..I just-“ “No, (name). We put up with your tantrums and the silent treatment for an entire year. You’re a bit past the age for being this childish now.” Your throat tightens, your nails cutting into your palm. You should have known it was a mistake to come back. It was the exact same a year ago.

“That’s quite enough, I think.” A comforting presence surrounds you, a thick arm enveloping your waist and pulling you in. You look up, watching him come stand by you. Nanami’s face is expressionless, but his eyes are cold as he looms protectively. His hair is slightly damp, like he had just stepped out of the shower, his body warm against yours.

He noticed your gaze and smiles, bending down and kissing your forehead. Your mouth falls open as he renders everyone speechless. “(name), who is this?” Of all the people to speak up, its Naoya, cutting through the tension. The feeling of being cornered is gone, replaced by growing confidence. It’s hard to panic when you have a 6 foot tall brick wall of a man backing you up. “Ah, right. My boyfriend, Nanami Kento. I did tell you I’d be bringing someone along..” “My apologies for the interruption.” His fingers press into your waist, and you can feel how solid he is against your own body, feel his deep voice rumbling. It’s like he was engineered to tick off every single switch in your brain that made you melt into a pile of mush. You watch him as he turns to your sister and Naoya, and holds out a hand. “Congratulations on the marriage. I’ve been waiting for (name) to introduce me to her family.” He doesn’t sound very congratulatory, and you think everyone in the room realizes it. He finally turns to your mother, tilting his head towards her. “Thank you for having me. Your home is lovely.” She nods at him. Her face is mildly pale, spots of colour high in her cheeks. “Yes, well. Make yourself comfortable.” She examines him, her eyes lingering on the secure grip he has on you. “Go freshen up, (name). I’m sure you’ve missed your grandmother’s cooking.” She sighs, her fingers rubbing her forehead. Your grandmother claps, her voice cheerful. “Yes, yes, that’s quite enough. The hallway is no place for this conversation, is it?” She beckons your mother, sister and her fiancée into the kitchen, waving you and Nanami away. Your dad glances at you apologetically, before following them. They leave behind silence, and you groan, letting Nanami steer you upstairs. You notice Yuuji peeking from above the staircase, and he looks very anxious. “Thanks, Yuuji.” You peek at Nanami in confusion, wondering why he was thanking Yuuji. The boy brightens, shooting a thumbs up at him. “No problem, Nanamin!” ‘

He leads you into your room, and closes the door behind him. You collapse on your bed face down, turning your head to meet Nanami’s eyes. He sits down next to you, his fingers stroking your hair. “Nanamin?” You snort, and he shrugs. “He’s a good kid. He asked me to go downstairs when he saw what was happening.” You relax at the comforting feeling of his hand through your hair. “I’m sorry about…everything you just saw. We’re kind of a mess.” He’s silent, his hand moving downwards from your hair to your cheek. The calluses tickle your cheek and you giggle. “I know I haven’t known you for long, but you didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” You love your job in Tokyo. You love your apartment too, the creaky windows and the tap u sometimes have to jiggle to get to leak water, your collection of plants you forget to water every now and then. You love your friends too. (You especially love Gojo and Shoko right now, for sending your way god’s gift to humanity. You know you would have had a much harder time without Nanami’s support.) “But it’s okay. Just a week to get through, and I’ll be back home, and hopefully I won’t have to drag you into more family blow ups.” You sit up on the bed, dislodging his hand from your face, missing its warmth immediately. “Thank you, though, seriously. You didn’t have to do any of this.” “I’m not the selfless person you think I am.” He gets up off the bed, walking to your desk and picking up a photo of you from when you were in university. “But I’m glad I’m being helpful.” He tilts his head at you. “Feel free to use me as your shield for anything this week. That’s what I’m here for.”

You glance at his back, his muscles rippling through his shirt. A shield is certainly an apt descriptor for him. It’s weird seeing a man in your childhood bedroom. You don’t think you’ve even brought back a boy here. He looks out of place amongst the furniture, too large for life. You hope there’s nothing embarrassing left out by mistake, and you glance about your room, but its pretty safe. No weird childhood posters or unfortunate teenage photos hanging around. Something occurs to you, and you glance at Nanami, wondering how to bring it up. “Uh, Nanami..” “Kento.” “Whuh?” He turns to you, his expression stern. “Call me Kento. You’re my girlfriend for the week, aren’t you?” Your cheeks may be permanently flushed by the end of this. “Right..Kento. Would you be okay with us sleeping in the same bed? I can get you a spare otherwise..” It’d be weird to explain why you needed a spare bed when he was your boyfriend, but you’re sure you can come up with some excuse. He raises an eyebrow. “I’m comfortable with it if you are. It might be a cosy fit, though.” You’re almost thankful for the series of events that led up to this. You just shoot him a thumbs up, trying to appear unbothered. “I’m honor bound to warn you that I am a serial cuddler. Shoko has had to pry me off her too way many times whenever I’ve crashed at her place.” He bends down, placing his arms on either side of you on the bed, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “I look forward to it, sweetheart.” He pulls away so quickly you almost wonder if you imagined it. Walking towards the entrance of your room, calling out behind him. “Go shower and join us for dinner below, (name).” The door shuts behind him, and you fall back onto your bed, grabbing a pillow and mushing your face into it, muffling your screams with the fabric.

Dinner is a considerably more cheerful affair than before. Seiko and Naoya had thankfully read the room and bowed out early. You knew there was an enormous can of worms to open up there, but you decided to let sleeping dogs lie for today. Nanami is surprisingly carrying on a long conversation with your mother and father, and you’re extremely curious about what they were talking about. Knowing your mother, she’s probably grilling him about his entire history. You spend the rest of dinner joking around with Yuuji and your grandmother, shooting a glance at Nanami every now and then, which he meets with a reassuring smile. You’re happy he seems to be enjoying dinner, at least.

Night quickly arrives, and with it, the bed situation. You spend way too long deciding on a pair of pajamas, and settle on a comfortable t-shirt and shorts of respectable length. Nanami seems to have already changed, and made himself comfy, and you feel a flutter in your stomach at the way he’s sprawled on his side of the bed, his hair falling over his eyes instead of being swept up as it usually is. He’s grabbed a book off your nightstand and is perusing it, the light from your nightlamp illuminating him softly. You spend a few beats admiring the man, before joining him.

“Hi…” You whisper, slipping into the covers next to him, keeping some space between you both. He places the book down, turning his full attention onto you. He smiles at you, his brown eyes warm. “You good?” He settles in under the covers too. “I am. You’re looking tired, (name).” “It’s been a long day…” He leans over you to turn off the light, and you catch a whiff of his aftershave. He smells very good, and you feel mildly like a pervert. Your mind keeps wandering to how tall and wide he is in comparison to you. “Sorry if I steal the covers from you. My limbs take a mind of their own when I sleep.” You hear him laugh in the darkness. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go to sleep.” Easier said and done. You close your eyes, thinking you’ll probably be awake for most of the night making sure you don’t accidentally cuddle Kento in your sleep. You're not making contact with him, but even with your eyes closed, you feel the warmth emanating off him. You open your eyes a millimeter, trying to catch a glimpse of him. You think he's staring at you back, but it's hard to say in the dark. Eventually the day catches up with you quickly, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep and dead to the world.

[kissorkill16]

Toxic Friends: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Finch and Delroy going from toxic to real.

(P.S., half inspired by @fazbearedits !)

If there were people you'd least expect to be friends, it'd be Finch and Delroy.

They weren't exactly best friends, they were second best friends, sure. They only got along because of their shared hatred for weirdos like Nicky Roth or Aaron Peterson.

And because Aaron scared them to death most of the time.

They surprisingly got along really well. They talked, sometimes ate lunch together, and they'd meet in some places in town to just hang out when they haven't seen each other in a while. Finch would always bring snacks.

"You got the stuff?", Delroy asked her one time they met at the dog park.

"Pfft, do I have the stuff? Hell yeah I got the stuff.", said Finch.

She pulled from her bag two boxes of sugar baked cookies and a small pack of soda.

"HELL YEAH!", Delroy shouted in excitement.

As they sat down at a park bench and chatted with each other, the conversation slowly started to turn a little...shaky.

"Dude, I can't keep bringing snacks for you.", said Finch, "If I do, you'll end up on that one show "My 600 Pound Life"."

Delroy looked at her like she just grew a tail, "What's wrong with being fat? Am I not allowed to be proud of who I am?"

"Not if who you are is a fucking whale."

Regardless, Delroy kept eating. But later, he couldn't help but realize that maybe Finch was right. He was getting a little bit too big.

So he started eating only half of his lunch and drink whenever it was time for lunch.

Another thing that Finch found weird about Delroy was that he never hung out with guys. Sure, he had friends who were girls, but not one friend of his was just...a guy.

"Are you gay or something?", she asked him once as they walked home together.

"No.", he said immediately, then he looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"Because for as long as I've known you, you've never had a guy friend.", replied Finch. "You're always hanging out with me and my friends."

Delroy couldn't help but roll his eyes, "So? You hang out with girls all the time, but I don't call you a lesbian."

Now it was Finch's turn to roll her eyes.

"Look, I just find girls easier to get along with. I live with my auntie after all, and we're inseparable.", said Delroy. "Also, I do have a guy friend. He -"

"Dog doesn't count. He's a pet, not a friend."

"He's man's best friend!"

As time continued to pass, their friendship stayed that way.

One time, Delroy found Finch crying by herself on a bench. When he went over to her, she jumped up and backed away.

"Easy, girl. It's just me.", he said. But that didn't calm Finch down.

"What're you doing here, dude?", she asked, a little snappier than usual. "I just saw you crying, so I'm here to comfort you and listen to the reason why you're being such a sad sack."

"None of your freaking business, dude!"

The girl scout got up and walked away, leaving her friend standing at the bench completely baffled.

When he went to go talk to her dad about it, he told him that Finch had been really moody and upset ever since she left Lucy's funeral. Delroy immediately understood.

Since Finch and Lucy were cousins, Delroy understood that she had a right to be upset.

But she'd been dead for over a decade now, and it didn't excuse why she was still more of a bitch than usual.

He thought maybe he needed some time away from her, so when the new girl, Trinity asked him to come along with her and her friend to the abandoned Golden Apple Amusement Park, he immediately agreed.

But when Finch cornered him to ask him about it, all hell could've broken loose in that moment.

"Why're you hanging out with Trinity?", she asked.

"Because I want to.", replied Delroy, "I might hang out with girls a whole bunch, but I can't spend every second with the same ones. I wanna make some friends of my own."

"But why with her?", the girl scout pointed at Trinity, who was getting something from her locker. "She's almost as crazy as Nutty Nicky. Not too long ago, she ran away from the lunch lady after she cut a piece of turkey."

Delroy rolled his eyes, "So? Maybe she's vegan, I don't know."

Finch felt like punching herself or him in the face, "Delroy, what's worse is that she's part of the freaking Inventor's Club! That's a nerd herd right there! You can't be seen hanging out with those geeks, or you'll end up like them."

Before Finch could rant on more, Delroy just turned around and walked away from his friend.

Finch kicked the locker in anger. "God!", she nearly yelled.

As time went by, Finch could only watch as her so-called friend hung out more with the Inventor's Club, with Nutty Nicky. What's worse is that he seemed to be enjoying it.

Even when her friends talked to him at lunch saying that they couldn't hang out with him anymore because he was hanging out with nerds, he couldn't care less.

It really drove the girl scout up the wall.

One night, Finch just got out of the shower, then she got a call on her phone. She dried herself off and quickly answered, and she so badly wished she hadn't when she heard who it was.

"Finch.", Delroy spoke through the phone, "Do you have time to talk?"

"Wouldn't you rather talk to one of your nerd friends?", asked Finch, "Plus, I'm busy. So whatever you have to say, say it fast."

"Dog got run over by a truck."

Finch nearly dropped the phone, but she continued to listen to Delroy rant about his dead dog.

"It's not fair, man!", he cried, "This is some - UGH! HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND!"

Finch rolled her eyes, "Delroy, he was a dog!", she said. "Get over it, you can always get a new dog."

"NO I CAN'T! DOG WAS SPECIAL!"

"Oh my God, you're so freaking impossible sometimes!"

"What is wrong with you?!", Delroy asked through the phone. "I tried comforting you when Lucy died, and you fucking pushed me away. Now that someone I love is dead, you can't show the tiniest bit of sympathy?! I can always get a new dog, but you can't get a new cousin!"

Before he could say more, Finch hung up the phone and threw it on her bed in anger. She got dressed and stormed out of her room, thinking that maybe some fresh air would help her clear her mind.

More time passed, from the newspaper article incident, to the broken camera, then Finch being forced to apologize to Nicky by the Inventor's Club.

Finch's friends told her that she wasn't allowed to be seen with them anymore, and Finch was absolutely destroyed. When Delroy confronted her about it, all hell broke loose at that moment.

"How's it feel to get a taste of your own medicine, hm?", he asked. "Shut up.", said Finch.

"No, Finch. You shut up.", said Delroy. "You're just experiencing how I felt after everything you put me through. And it hurts, doesn't it?"

The girl scout scoffed, "Could you blame me though? You were hanging out with the geek freaks! Especially Nutty Nicky! You don't even like him!"

"He's fun to talk to. Or at least he was until you and everyone else in the school fucked him up for no reason other than to be assholes!"

Finch tugged at her bangs in frustration, "I honestly don't see how you and I have stayed friends for so long without killing each other."

"I wondered that every day of our half friendship.", said Delroy. "And I'm not sure I want to be friends with you anymore. You make fun of my weight, my choice in friends, and you didn't offer me a sliver of comfort when Dog died. I'm done being friends with you, Finch. Have fun being a lonely nobody."

Then he walked away, leaving Finch to herself.

But as more time passed, Nicky had managed to convince Finch to join the Inventor's Club, and to convince the gang to give her another chance to be better. Everyone reluctantly agreed, and Finch had made some good progress.

She was being nicer, and she didn't talk behind anyone's back anymore. What's even better was that she didn't call Nicky "Sick Nick" or "Nutty Nicky" anymore.

Then slowly, her and Delroy's friendship had mended.

They weren't really back to where they were previously before they joined the club, but they tolerated each other enough to where they could talk to each other like real friends. Even lightly teasing each other here and there.

"Didn't think you'd find yourself here of all places, did you?", Delroy asked his girl scout friend as the gang ate their lunch together.

"No.", replied Finch, "But I'm glad I did. And I'm glad we're on good terms now."

"Ha. Yeah, me too, girl scout."

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, misunderstandings, a marriage of convenience, and mentions of loneliness.

[[A/N: girllllll, not another Magnolia in May chapter!!! Whoops. And actually tagging bestie @imaginemyfavoritefics properly this time, bc I did use the idea of Daryl as the courier. Unrelated but this gif of him clenching his jaw... girl. Thanks for reading !! ]]

You'd taken to writing letters -the gentle swish of your quill was calming the storm of your mind. Originally, you had garnered a sort of cold from the walk in the rain and had to heal -now, you'd stayed holed up of your own accord.

'Nonsense, darling,' Headmistress had said, fluffing up your pillows, '-you must heal from a broken heart like any other wound.'

It was fewer letters and more of a sort of journal -only for your eyes to see but sometimes addressed to someone other than yourself. It started simply with one occasionally to Maggie to make her smile, or Beth to tell her things you'd learned so she wouldn't have to, or to remind Father to eat a meal when he'd been so focused on a patient that he'd neglect himself. But then, Mr. Grimes started appearing at the header.

You couldn't remember the first time it had happened, days rather blurred after that day -especially since you were treated shortly after. And rest was all you'd really gotten then, it made the passage of time blurry.

But it became something you were rather dependent on.

'Mr. Grimes,' you wrote in the first of its kind, quill rather fluid at this stage.

'I met your wife, Lori. She's a wonderful woman, kind and perfectly poised. I would, in a different life, maybe be friends with her -seems the type to be good company. Was it always her?

You've got something special, a family with beautiful children. It's every man's dream, is it not? You were my dream. I find it a bit hard to believe she would leave that dream behind. For what is more powerful than one's love for their child? I suppose there were other circumstances that I shall never be aware of. I would've liked to have known why. I understand it's a rather personal thing, but I should be urged to hear something of the full story. I might deserve it.

But I suppose you deserve a full family more. Carl and Judith do. I wouldn't fit in. I would love the best for them, despite not having known Carl, he seems a bright boy. Deserves much of the best in life, I'd garner all children do.

I often wonder if I am to have children. I suppose I could ask you for advice one day, if so. But there's something in me that speaks differently. Like that path with you is gone. Maybe I should run off to the city and write away, become focused on my education. Pay for my father's living, and house my sister's 'til they're wed.

I don't think I could, with good conscience, leave Alexandria. I'm far too fond of the people the town, its where I grew up. And I suppose, to keep my father's clinic running under the family name I may marry. I'm not too sure that I'd marry for love, per say. Can you begin the fall in love more than once? Is it possible? And furthermore, although it is something I wish for, I'm not sure that I would like to bring children into a loveless marriage.

This is getting far too detailed of my own troubles, and for that I apologize.

I truly wish your family well. Even if there's no room for me.

Yours Sincerely,

Y/N Greene'

It was a positive experience, mostly. The smearing on that letter particularly wasn't of cathartic tears. Not quite a release of the emotions dying so tightly within your soul, it was rather grief. Loss of a life that you'd never have. Despite it being the one you desperately wanted.

You sighed, stashing away the paper with the other ones -the second desk drawer to the right, under the math textbook that had been gathering dust even before you were born.

Sure, it messed your hands, but you found it was a small price to be paid for secrecy.

"Y/N, dearest," your Headmistress hummed -voice pounding up the stairs, "-get dressed and meet me at the door in 10, will you?"

"Yes, Headmistress," you echoed, off to your feet and only touching up ever-so-slightly by the mirror. And in your rush, maybe you had forgotten to shut the drawer -you couldn't know now. It stayed open, and the telling corner of dustless papers under a dusty book was certainly one to ponder over.

At least for someone, it was.

You wouldn't know what had occurred until a few weeks later, as you sorted out your joint closet with Maggie. Gathering bows and ribbons, and straightening dresses, was a wonderful way to pass time -since your newest book was seeming to be tucked away in the carriage. You truly could not find it anywhere-

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Now, normally, this was of no notice -either for Maggie (who had gone on frequent outings with Mr. Rhee since the ball) or Father (ranging anywhere from an old friend to an urgent patient). But this was one to put a pause in your mind.

Maggie was, in fact, out -you remembered the shimmer of the carriage as it pulled away, and Father was rushed off for an emergency. And even further, Headmistress and Beth had gone out to a sort of gathering -some sort of tea party, you'd assumed. (They'd invited you, but you'd truly not wished to hear the gossip. Especially not now.)

You stilled, you were alone here then.

Well, you considered -making your way down the steps, -could be a sort of delivery. Ms. Elisa did frequently speak with friends out of town -often through letters. And Father always had an extra copy of cases delivered to his home -so he could think properly on an issue.

Satisfied with that, you approached the door with newfound confidence -fear that had stubbornly stuck there was unfounded. You twisted a bit of fabric in your dress, just to do something with your hands before swinging open the door.

And, it was a familiar face. Not one you had a name to, but one you knew -the courier.

"Ms. Greene," he spoke, his voice gruff and tired, much less peppy than you'd seen him before, "-I assume?"

"Yes," you answered cautiously, "-I'm the eldest Ms. Greene, why? If you're looking for Maggie-"

"No," he answered, simply, long hair moving with the motion of his head, "-Mr. Grimes requested this be given to you, the eldest."

"I can't acce-" you started but fell shut as a letter was extended to you -two letters. One a familiar sort of coffee-tinged brown -paper old and weary, you could hardly believe the quill hadn't punctured right through really. And the other, neatly folded, a pristine sort of ivory, and dark ink that somehow didn't seem to smudge at all. On the side that was exposed to you was written: Ms. Y/N Greene, in handwriting you recognized.

The one that had scribbled across the invitation so long ago-

"Who are you?" you questioned -eagerly bringing the letters close to your chest, "-And how did you get my letter? Have you been in my home-"

"Ms. Greene," he spoke -composed and calm, unmoved by your pressing questions, "-they were presented to me to mail weeks ago."

You froze, something heavy dropping in your stomach, "They? How... How many letters were you given to post?"

"A stack, no more than 10," he responded, "-the youngest Ms. Greene, opened the door for me once to deliver an invitation. The same one I 'ave been for weeks- It ain't relevant, really. She knew where I came from, and requested I bring 'em to Mr. Grimes immediately."

You paused, "An invitation?"

"More like a summonin'," he clarified, rather poised but still somewhat a bit casual, "-it's always the same request for you, the eldest, to attend to the Grimes estate."

"What?"

He paused, "It's supposed to be brought to ya, upon retrieval but... I'd guess it hasn't."

"You've-" you exhaled -a deep uncertain exhale, "-Just how long have you been delivering these?"

"Lost count."

"And-" you stuttered, a bit overwhelmed, "-and the letters, my letters they-"

"I put 'em in his hand, myself," he spoke -an ordered sort of discipline heavy in his tone with a dose of familiar twang.

"Right," you swallowed -pushing down the nerves biting up your throat at such rampant pace, he was never to see those, "-and who are you exactly?"

"Grimes estate courier," he grumbled out, a some of bitterness gathered there.

"No, no," you quirked a brow at him, "-your name? I figured as much otherwise."

He answered, rather improperly -as if he was trained in some ways and ignorant in others just slightly, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon," you echoed, a sort of curiosity in your tone, "-you said he received the full stack, did he not?"

He merely nodded.

"Well, why do I only have one, then?"

The man pondered it for a second, loosely eyeing the way you held the letters like he knew what they contained (maybe he did), "I suppose he ain't done replyin' to the others."

The rest of the interaction was fairly polite, mere questions about his work -to which he complained quite vividly about the extent of it, but never shred a wrong light on Mr. Grimes. You'd gathered they were well-acquainted, even perhaps friends from youth, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint it. He didn't say anything directly, and was rather quiet around details. Well, details pertaining to Mr. Grimes, you supposed.

You'd initially wanted to search for the invitations he spoke of, but something bigger was biting you.

Your hands were quick to rush to the drawer, pulling it open -to suddenly believe it was not real. To prove that all of this was a farce, that the letters were still safely kept. But, when you opened it, you could tell.

Even still, you pushed forward holding up the book, peering underneath. It was empty, extraordinarily empty.

"No, no, no-" you urged, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach -heavy, "-it can't be..."

Private pieces of you, of your sadness, your longing- Sent to the married man of the header.

And just back as you pushed back in your chair, the brush of tears only a breath away -your eyes caught on the letter.

It was not yours.

Yours sat just beside it, you recognized it to be the first one -all sort of crumpled and agonizingly smudged. All conflicted feelings and harsh realities buzzing under your skin. You'd written it partially under the delirium of your illness, so it was rather brash but you'd never thought you'd need to worry about it. The only thing different was how it was presented.

You remember hastily shoving it away, between book covers, under table legs, hidden in the dirt of the garden, as you tried to find a good place to stash them. You'd always been so quick to put them away, to get out the feelings and move on-

Looking at it now, though, the worn paper was smoothed out (to the best it could be) and perfectly folded. Each corner matched to another and creases were indented lightly so as to not damage the written word. It was treated as precious. Something... Something he'd rather cared for.

Something told you then to get rid of it, to throw it onto the fire when no one was looking, to stash it away, to never read it no matter the cost because you were doing the right thing and should not be swayed-

But another part of you was dreadfully curious. And dreadfully grieving the loss of a man who still lived.

It was your mail, a letter addressed to you. Wouldn't it be rather rude to not read it? If you hadn't wished the first one to be mailed, you retorted, then no.

And yet, you found yourself picking up the note with the gentlest of graces. Carefully unfolding the thick paper, slowly, timidly, like the words would jump off the page. Like they could hurt you.

You supposed they could.

Once fully opened, you didn't directly focus on the words -instead, detailing the printed bits around the top edges. It looked as though this was an official sort of paper -the same kind an invitation may be extended to. As well as a family seal printed into the bottom right corner, it seemed a little formal for the occasion but you found it didn't bother you. Not really.

Taking a deep breath, you blinked your eyes -wishing to calm your heart, even just for a moment, and started reading.

'Ms. Greene,' it started, letters crisply written in a thin but precise sort of writing. Your finger naturally went to trace over them, dotting the i's and swirling the g's.

'I must first say that it's to my understanding that these letters are rather personal to you. You weren't the one who intended to mail them, I've come to know. I know that this then, by proxy, is a large invasion of your privacy.

And I can only hope you forgive me for such a thing. Because this is my sort of last resort to reach you. I'm sure you're familiar with the invitations that have flooded your door, and although, I understand the no response for what you know, I've become quite desperate.

To be completely clear, I was nearly on my horse to your home the morning these letters arrived. To explain everything as you deserve it to be explained.

I instead am here, writing letters. I cannot tell if that's any sort of better than my original plan was but it is the decision I chose.

In terms of Lori, the situation is rather complicated. Surely, at the young age we married, she was the plan. I'd honestly not given thought to the fact that she'd ever come back. I knew her reasons, and I fully doubted I'd ever see her again. And out of respect for you, I wish for the full story to be in person.

Despite all that, I truly wished she would. I know I did. If not only to see our children, to grace me with some sort of company.

I lived a rather lonely life before you Ms. Greene. Which may seem a bit arbitrary coming from a man with a staff, but it doesn't make it any less the truth. When she left, it was quite the scandal. I never spoke a word on it, too devastated to even imagine what to say. It meant much more reclusion, even from friends I knew from youth. And then, as I'm sure you're familiar, I decided to move back to Alexandria. Atlanta only harbored negative things, and I wished for someplace more pleasant. And it was, but still despite it all, the loneliness persisted.

So this family, this full family, you speak of, it's not what Lori and I would be. It wasn't what we were when we were married. I love my children, beyond belief, but I was still lonely. And I can't imagine a full family has a lonely father.

Frankly, Ms. Greene, I was lonely until that day in the marketplace.

And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.

Yours,

Richard Grimes'

[andheresthething]

I Got So Fucking Romantic, I Apologize

Summary: Cute lazy morning (afternoon) with Nightowl.

[No use of y/n] [Lazy Mornings] [But it's really 2 pm] [Cuddling & Snuggling] [Kissing] [Love Bites] [Pet Names] [Dorks in Love] [I cannot stress it enough you act like teenagers in love] [Implied Sexual Content] [You're smaller than him] [Established Relationship]

•·················•·················•

Notes:

I recently played Blooming Panic and absolutely fell HARD for Nightowl. This is the first time I've ever posted any of my writing and it's been a while since I've written at all so this will probably be rusty. I might write more (could make a spicy follow-up) if people like this one, though it might be delayed because carpal tunnel is a bitch.

Gender-neutral reader for yall :)

I wrote this while listening to my character playlist for him

Reposted from AO3

Also, I haven't used Tumblr since MIDDLE SCHOOL so I apologize for things being strange to the platform

●▬▬▬▬▬๑⇩⇩๑▬▬▬▬▬●

Rays of light shone through the drawn blinds of the bedroom you and Nightowl shared. The small beams laid across the two of you sleeping well into early afternoon. You slowly blink and let out a yawn, taking a moment to come into the conscious world.

Once your eyes adjusted you finally get a look at the blonde sleeping on his side next to you. His chest slowly rising and falling and an arm draped over you. Lips slightly apart, just enough to show a sliver of his front teeth, and his neck and collar bones covered in spots that ranged in shades of purple. Though a familiar sight for you to see each day, it never grew old. Each day, without fail, your heart would flutter the same way it did when you spent your first night together. You cracked a smile, just watching and waiting for your partner to wake.

Sometimes it was still baffling to you that clicking on a discord invite led to this. How fast everything moved between the two of you was unexpected, but not unwelcomed in the slightest. You recall all the nights the two of you would spend up, talking about anything and everything until you fell asleep. Nightowl would follow shortly after, but would never hang up the call. Some of the time right before he’d turn in as well, you were just conscious to hear him say, ‘I can’t wait until we can do this in person. Goodnight, Cutie. Sweet dreams.’

Your smile grew thinking about those early times of your relationship, though soon enough you were broken from the little daydream with the feeling of Nightowl lifting his arm off of you, stretching himself awake with a yawn.

“Mornin, sweetheart,” you said as he lowered his arm back to hold you. He sleepily smiled, then placed a light kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, cutie,” he smiled, “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Impossible, plus I lost myself in thought, so I doubt I would have noticed an hour going by.”

“Care to indulge me?” Nightowl asked while moving his hand to hold yours.

“I was just thinking about our old late-night calls before I got to move in with you and how sometimes when I was half asleep I’d hear you say how you couldn’t wait for this to happen for real and wished me goodnight”

Nightowl squeezed your hand, eyes lighting up slightly. Your little story seemed to help wake him up from his groggy state, “Awe, I love you getting all sappy and nostalgic on me first thing in the morning, cutie.”

 “I always felt all stupid and happy whenever I heard it.” 

“You know,” he scootched as close as he could be to you without being completely on top of you, “I did it every. Single. Night.” he hummed, peppering a kiss on your face between every word, and you giggled with each one.

“Really?”

He put on a serious face, sharply nodding, “Without fail. I still do actually. Granted, I’ve changed that first part a tiny bit considering you’re now actually here with me, in the flesh.”

“Awe, sweetheart, you’re literally the best. How’d I get so lucky?” you reached to hug him. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, though, as you managed to push Nightowl over on his back and put yourself on top of him, burying your face in his neck in the process, “Seriously, I could have never imagined having someone who does stuff like that for me all to myself.”

“ You can’t believe you have me all to yourself?” Nightowl laughed, “I should be the one saying that. I was such a hungover ass to you after knowing you for, like, five days, and you still wanted to be with me after that night. You’re the one here that's the best,” he refuted, placing a kiss on the side of your head, “To have someone as precious as you makes me the lucky one here, darling.”

“Mmm, I’d have to disagree with you.”

  “Incorrect and unfactual statement.”

You lifted yourself enough to meet your eyes with his, “As much as I’d love to continue this to prove I’m, in fact, correct on this matter, I think I’m a little too tired to try.”

“So what you're saying is that I win?” he said with the biggest shit-eating grin. You groaned at his playful antic and started to push yourself up, now straddling his lap as he still laid underneath you, which also effectively pushed the blanket once covering the two of you off and behind you. 

“Sure, you win, dumbass. What shall your prize be?”

“Can it be anything?” he said excitedly.

You knew you might regret the answer you were going to give, but went through with it anyway, “Sure, anything you want, sweetheart,” with that, you sealed your fate.

“Hmm, what a tough decision to make,” Nightowl exaggeratedly pondered while pushing himself back slightly to be able to sit up with his arms supporting him from behind. You also moved so that you were sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his bare lower waist, and brought your arms around his neck. Your arms sat on the soft fabric that was the straps of his crop top, “The possibilities are endless, cutie. How could I ever just choose one thing?”

You giggled at his complaint, “You better, the offer is going to expire soon. Then you just get bragging rights.”

“Oh, how cruel! How could you?” he moved his arms from behind him to hold your hips.

“I know, I’m such a horrible person,” you said, matching his sarcastic and playful tone.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, you took the time to admire his face. The small beams of light highlighted his softer features. They made his messy hair shine and his brown eyes sparkle, revealing all the little flakes of different shades that resided in them.

The light also reflected off of his cartilage piercings. Nightowl had a bad habit of not taking out his earrings before bed. No matter how many times you reminded him, he always forgot. It wasn’t the end of the world that he didn’t, though. At least he remembered to take out his statement piece each night.

In that time, Nightowl did the same, soaking in the sight of you. Hair just as messy as his own, a stupid wide smile, and a pair of beaming eyes staring into his own. But your shirt, God it was killing him. It was one of his own that you’d steal regularly to wear almost anywhere. While purposefully somewhat oversized on him, you were swimming in it, allowing your neck and collar bones, covered in marks (courtesy of him), to be exposed. Maybe it was his somewhat possessive nature, but the mix of the shirt and hickies fogged his mind with a myriad of thoughts ranging from wholesome to extremely sexual.

“Have you made a decision yet?” your words snapped him out of his short, albeit very vivid, daydream, “Or are we just going to settle for bragging rights?”

“Nope! I’ve come up with my prize.”

“That would be?”

“One super lazy, stay-in-date day complete with stupid horror movies and possibly some more… intimate affairs later on,” he paused, “Please.”

You pretended to think it over, despite the arrangement of this prize. While you, of course, got tasked with a pile of work for the weekend, you couldn’t care less about it. Getting ripped by your boss on Monday would be worth it, especially with the not-at-all-subtle proposition for later in the day. Knowing Nightowl though, it would probably come way sooner than nightfall. “You, sir, have yourself a deal.”

You gave him a small peck, but Nightowl being Nightowl, was having none of that. He immediately put his lips back on yours, tightening his grip on your hips. While it took you slightly by surprise, you gladly accepted the act, kissing him back. Quickly things became heated, pulling each other closer, the movement of your lips becoming desperate. Your hands drifted to his hair, lightly grabbing at it, which Nightowl responded to by letting out a small moan into your mouth. That noise of his set you off, eager to continue the sudden act of intimacy. 

Unfortunately, as quickly as it picked up, it stopped. Nightowl pulled away and loosened his hold on you, causing you to let out a small whine of disappointment.

“As much as I don’t want to stop this right now, cutie, I’m starving for some actual food, not just you.” 

You let out a chuckle, arms going back down to rest on his shoulders, “You’re such a tease.”

“Says the one wearing nothing but my shirt,” he flirted, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face once again. “Looks great on you, by the way. Makes your ass and thighs look fantastic. Especially your thighs.”

“I do, in fact, have something on under, mister,” you retorted, “But if you’re that hungry, I guess we could go scrounge up something, but by we, I mean me. We both know you can't cook for shit.”

“Ouch, that one stung.”

“It’s not that bad if I like cooking and you like eating it. Plus, you get to stare at my thighs all you want while I do so.”

“A win is a win,” he lifted one hand off your hips to cup your cheek. “Shall we then?”

“To the kitchen!” you giggled. 

Nightowl gave you one last kiss on your forehead before putting his hand down, allowing you to get up off of him and the bed. He followed suit, loosely holding your hand. With that, you led the way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to start your long date day at 2 pm.

[the-nosy-neighbor]

Televisions in Welcome Home

There is something otherworldly about TV.  

This is something that bleeds nostalgia for those of us that grew up with tube TV’s.  The TV has been a focus of horror media for a while, reflecting that fear of TV rotting your brain and being a passive behavior that doesn’t result in a tangible object or product (for the most part).  Seeing TV “snow” and thinking about how you could see a bright dot as the TV went off, or the slight static that you could feel when you turned on the TV (because we couldn’t keep track of a remote.)  

Welcome Home exists through television, and it makes sense that it would be how that world communicates with ours.  

This television is on the table in the staff room, and includes both the mystery phone and the red notebook that belongs to the WHRP.

I assume this is the same TV.

TV in its location on the table:

TV suddenly changes:

This really gets to me.  This strange TV is in one photo only, and it’s the last photo of the table in the sequence.  It could be assumed that the TV was swapped out, but the placement and the note being on this one as well, just feels like something is wrong with it.  Also, the previous one is dark/off, and this one is on, so it could be proof of the prior TV being broken and swapped out. Weirder even is that this is the TV that someone came up with as a replacement.  As an older person, I can tell that this is a travel TV/radio combination.  It’s got the antenna and the radio dial to find stations.  However, it might be even older than the TV they had. I wonder if that impacts the reception of messages from Wally and co.

In the latest update, we have information from the WHRP’s W (Patient Zero) about why TV’s might be left on, and how urgent it is to have them repaired or replaced:  

When the website first launched, I had found something playing from a very old television in my home. I was compelled to turn it on. I could see something, I could hear it too, but I had nothing to record it with. I would occasionally turn the television on. I don’t know why, I think I could hear or see something. Finally, last year in the summer, I had taken a photo and listened to dialogue that I believed to be from the show itself. I felt like an idiot, I hadn’t recorded anything, I was so entranced by what I was seeing.

Since then I haven’t turned it off. I wouldn’t let that mistake happen to me again, if I kept watching and listening I knew something would come back. I was finally rewarded in December. The channel it appeared on didn’t make any sense, but I didn’t care. Video evidence and audio started playing, one after the other. I’ve captured and compiled together whatever I could. I can’t make sense of anything, older television always felt strange to me anyways.

We can see from this text that W started seeing small clips of this show through an older TV in their home, and they continued to seek out more, feeling desperate to see and record the information coming through.  What if the QA was similarly affected?  They could now see the things in the TV, and wanted to have it on constantly, in order to see these videos.  We have further information here through the TV.  

The static TV from the secret page, where you can barely hear and see Wally (above, listed as “the same TV”) is being recorded by a handheld camera.  You can see the edges of the TV change as the person moves from side to side a bit and moves closer and further from the TV.

From the photo of the TV in a dark room next to the yellow phone (showing Julierella), we can see that this is in the same location on the table.  I need to check and see what photoset this is from, but I believe it is from the staff only page.  

So, W says they have seen things this way, and now the QA is seeing the same kinds of things.  I think we can differentiate some of their experiences.  I want to say maybe they are the same person, because of the similarities (both archivists, both obsessed with the subject, both hearing ringing) but it pretty clearly states that they are seeing different things on the TV.

W sees commercials, but only actual clips with Eddie (if W is to be trusted.)

“I knew I had to stop though, I was too exhausted and I was tired of waiting (sic) through hours of static just to find another commercial. I don’t know how this was happening. But the show never appeared beyond clips of Eddie Dear.”

The QA sees the Julierella video that W claims to only have seen stills, as evidenced in the photo above.  If they have seen any other videos, they have not provided any information or proof of it.  

Whether W or QA are the same person or counterparts, we are seeing that they are able to see things from the show through older televisions. Could it be that contact with the black goo is something that provides them with the ability to see these things? They have to be on a tube television, instead of a modern TV.  I would think this is related to either Wally or the show itself only understanding how to broadcast on tube TV's. 

Following this logic, it could be very possible that the neighbors are on all of our tube televisions, but without the black goo, we can't see it.

[abysswalkersknight]

Here's one of the quick long fics I've been doing the past two weeks while catsitting. This was really just to past the time so I wasn't paying too much attention to it but hopefully you all enjoy.

.............................

One dark rainy season, Lilia became aware of something crawling around his domain in the woods. Judging by the light scuffles, it was surely larger than a dog.

Currently it was one of those nights where all of Briar Valley was enveloped by an endless torrent of hard, harsh rain, and filled Lilia’s cabin with the soothing melody of tinks and trickles and drips, he’d only noticed the creature because his sharp ears had picked up a faint whining sound underneath the rhythmic rain, they probably thought that nobody could hear them. Over the days the rain hailed on, enough so that Lilia could barely take a step outside before either slipping or coming ankle deep in mud. It were times like these where he was glad he was retired from the front lines and can prepare comfortably for this sort of weather, where he had also found the joys of having warm, dry clothing on hand as well as being able to easily slip out of his drenched shirt and boots and rest his aching muscles next to the blazing hearth. Perhaps it was these thoughts which had prompted him to keep an eye outside for the creature. It was starting to get really bad out there, the wind was picking up and he heard that it was beginning to flood in some places. Though it could also simply be the old habit of being mindful of enemies or the like. Seven knows how often Lilia’s had to weasel out a shoddy spy or two, or an assassin if he was lucky.

Whenever the storm had paused in its fury, Lilia would quickly venture out and check the surrounding wood, peering inside tree hollows, in the tree’s canopies, checking for any suspicious looking tracks, looking for signs of anything taking refuge in the area. Unfortunately nothing wielded anything other than the usual wildlife that lived in the area. 

He’d do this for a few days out of simple curiosity, until one day he found something that made him sigh deeply and shake his head.

During one of these breaks in the weather Lilia had left a brilliant attempt at a pie out on the windowsill  to cool off. The charred, blackened crust had been broken, letting the air into the warm, gluey heart of the pie. Yet it was not the massacred pie that had soured Lilia’s spirits. Marked on the edge of the windowsill with the purplish red insides of the pie were prints from the little hands of a small child.

With this newfound information, Lilia puts more effort into his searches, and has even taken to setting out bowls of food and water, and they were always empty by the time he came to collect them. Though soon Lilia grew to be quite restless, when suddenly more and more food were left behind each day and his heart quickened when one day he caught sight of little bits of blood swimming in one of the water bowls.

Alright, now there’s a sick child suffering out there, he pondered, trying to figure out his next course of action.

He contemplated mixing in some medicine with the food but then thought against it, he had no idea what species this child was and hadn’t the foggiest clue as to how much the average child has, I don’t even know if their constitution would allow it.

The best thing I can probably do right now is try to gauge what ails them, and for that I’ll need to catch them. Easier said than done, the child proved to be an elusive one, having discarded the food altogether once they seemed to realise that Lilia was leaving them closer and closer to the cabin. Lilia cursed, since then the only reasons he hadn’t believed that the child had perished were food stolen from the garden and the occasional weak cough he’d hear in the middle of the night. The storm has yet to let up, to the point where Lilia was worried that some of the trees around him might fall, and the water levels in the river next to the cabin were rising rapidly. Of course he could easily teleport to the castle should he need to, but that child was still out there… There was no more time left for stalling, Lilia needed to find that child now. Thankfully, despite remaining hidden from his eyes he knew the child always remained close to their best food source, so wrapping himself in his travelling cloak he dashed out into the pouring rain, mud spraying everywhere as he shot towards the river. 

Just as he suspected the river was rising quickly, having breached the banks and crawling higher. The currents were rampant, forcing the water wheel to spin wildly as it crushed any debris caught under it ‘hey! Is anyone out there!’ he calls out to the raging wind ‘child! Where are you?’ he knew it was likely that the child wouldn’t respond if they had remained as cautious as they have. But he prayed that the storm would have frightened them enough to seek him out ‘answer me! it’s alright child, it’s too dangerous out here,’

‘Ah…hel-mffh!’ ears pricking Lilia urgently flocked to the shrill cry, he called out again but couldn’t hear anything, instead he caught sight of a disturbance in the rapids. Frantic splashing amongst a pile of logs and branches partly submerged in the water, Lilia would have thought nothing of it, had a tiny hand not reached up to scramble desperately along a branch only to fall back down.

He blinked at this pile for several seconds before realising what this meant. Within a few strides he had leapt onto the strongest log, searching until he found it. A small figure trying to cling onto their branch with all their waning strength, only to have their feet slip on the eroded, muddy wall the branches grew from. He lurched forward as the child suddenly lost their grip altogether and splashed into the murky water, Lilia cursed again when he found that their arm was caught on something that had the child being tugged painfully in the current as they struggled to keep their head above the water. As he got to their branch Lilia was stunned to see that it was a little chain that was caught on a broken piece of wood pointing upwards, and connected to that chain was a little shackle fastened to an even smaller wrist, what the- no time for that! Bracing his knees against the log Lilia seized the child’s arm with one hand and grasped the wood with the other, he heaved back on the log like a fisherman hauling up his net, feeling it bent and splinter until finally it snapped right off. With no hesitation he hoisted the child up into his arms and leapt as far away from the wood pile as he could before the whole structure suddenly collapsed and crunched under the water wheel.

Now safely out of the river the child tumbled down, spluttering and coughing a brown, watery spray while Lilia collapsed beside them with a tired huff.

Woo, I’m going to be feeling this for a while, he thinks, placing a hand on his aching back. Oh the frailty of old age! He glances over to his breathless companion, quite young to judge by the height about five or six though skinny as a twig.

‘Where did you come from, little one?’ he murmurs once he’s recovered. They did not answer, but sat curled away from him and staring from under pale eyelashes. They were utterly filthy, the river doing nothing to wash away the mud and grit caked in their hair and clothes. They clutched at their shackled wrist as if preventing it from moving even the slightest inch, Lilia winces in sympathy, that does not look good ‘let’s have a look at you then’ he mutters, they were resting by the shed bit of the wheel so conveniently there was a bucket full of water right next to him, he grabbed it and before the curled figure could do anything he had splashed the water across their face, washing away the worst of the mud, revealing dull white locks. A boy? With his free hand Lilia grabbed the boy’s chin to gently wipe away the stubborn bits of dirt, he managed to clear off around the ear before the seemed to regain himself and made a panicky attempt to bite, showing off a full set of milk teeth. He let them latch on, hardly a sting at all, and stroked his head soothingly, murmuring sweet nothings until the boy let go. Lilia frowned at the tiny smattering of blood on his arm, clearly not his own. Ignoring the boy’s weakening protests he swiftly scooped him up and hurried back into the light and warmth of the cabin.

It was difficult at first to get the child in the tub but eventually they got him relaxed and melting on the edge of it while Lilia massaged soap in his hair and scrubbed to grit off those soft little limbs. It soon came as a shock to Lilia that with every rinse he gave to the boy’s locks, instead of a bone pale white he expected they soon revealed a mane the colour of glistening swords honed to perfection, a luxurious silver many would envy. But the greatest shock came when he swept a wet lock behind the boy’s round ear, such a funny shape it was, it was a shape he hasn’t seen since his time on the battlefield ‘so you are a human, my dear’ he whispers with revered astonishment. And he was so little the only humans Lilia’s seen were either full grown or barely into their adulthood, always swinging a sword or catapult at him. This one though only murmurs in contentment while leaning into his warm touch, judging from the horrible shackle he’s had to carefully snap off the sore wrist and the slight wheezing in his lungs the poor thing must have run away from a horrible place, the boy whimpered and whined as Lilia carefully rinsed off the raw broken skin, had it been left any longer he was sure it would get infected. Thankfully the boy settled once Lilia wrapped a warm wet cloth around his wrist and surprisingly nuzzled into his hand when he petted him, it was no wonder to Lilia that he’d revel in what was possibly the first kind touch he’s ever had ‘you must have been watching me all that time to be this cosy with me so quickly’ he says, drying him off with the fluffiest towel he had, it would explain the feeling of being watched he’s been having for a while he thinks as the boy startles at his own sneeze. Chuckling at such cuteness Lilia dressed him in the smallest clothes he could find, though still they were much too loose on the boy who wiggled his arms and legs around trying to find his hands and feet and for possibly the second time that day Lilia’s breath was cut off. 

Beautiful auroral eyes gaze up at him with an innocent curiosity, eyes that struck fear and longing in his heart. He knew those eyes, those were the eyes of his greatest enemy and rival, the eyes of the one who had slain his dear princess and orphaned the young prince. 

All of his centuries old rage came boiling up at once, this was now clearly a child descended from the cursed knight of dawn, one bearing his exact image. Lilia’s face had not moved at all but the child must have sensed something because his features slowly began to droop and quiver, he looked at his hand, fingers curling dangerously. He could do it, finish it right there, avenge his fallen friends, but…

Loud hiccupping startles him from his thoughts, the child was breathing fearfully, until a coughing fit took over his lungs, his body trembled with every cough working hard to hack out his very lungs, once it was over he wearily glanced to the door and back but made no move. Lilia could tell that he wanted to leave, having frightened him enough but the child was too weak at the moment, quivering with fear and exhaustion he even spied a smear of dark red on the corner of those lips trembling for breath. But there was something else in the boy’s expression that gave him pause, it was one of defeat, of accepting their fate. A look that should not be on the face on any child no matter what their origins. He sighed, all his rage sizzling into nothing, who was he kidding, this child has dealt with enough already, he didn’t need to add a centuries old grudge against his dead parents to the list. It took a little while but once again Lilia was cooing over the sweet little one in his arms, taking him downstairs to soothe his tired throat with a diluted healing potion and hot chocolate. It wasn’t much against whatever mysterious ailment the child has, but hopefully it will help until he could get into contact with his old lieutenant; Baul, whose daughter had married a human, hopefully they would help and then Lilia can decide what to do next, but right now he’s happy to sit languidly on the sofa sipping the greatest hot chocolate he’s ever made, with his semi claimed child resting his weary head against his shoulder.

[restlesscrybaby]

》 JACK HORNER GAMING HEADCANONS. 《

☆ CONTENT WARNING: None. ☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

He's not a huge gamer, to be completely honest, and it's not easy to learn.

Let alone hold the controllers.

Well, you seen how gentle he picked up the cookies, with ease and precision, so we do know he can be careful. Of course, when he wishes to be, I mean. We did see him smash a pumpkin with only his force and a magic wand.

But he's got big hands, it's not easy to play these games with those controllers.

Switches are his worst enemy. Especially when playing multiplayer.

He prefers the big controllers, such as for Xbox or Playstation, since it's easier and he thinks it helps him win better.

What games does he play?

I don't know!

Let's be honest, he doesn't care. He would probably prefer fighting games, none with some big sappy story, some heart-gushing tale of life and death, no romance, none of it.

He hates visual novels, let's be honest.

He says that if he wanted to read and have a story, he would just read. Oldbastard.

Super Smash Bros is always a fun game with him.

He mains Bowser, he will get very infuriated if someone else picked Bowser. Sorry Bowser mains.

He doesn't button mash. Well, he tries not too. He tries to use his intelligence and use the moves according to what's going on to win.

And if he doesn't win, he's a sourpuss.

If he wins, he's a smug, rub-it-in-your-face, asshole.

Oh, he definitely rages at games, don't even doubt that. He has broken multiple controllers, throwing them, crushing them beneath his hands, whatever his anger caused that day.

He doesn't even just break controllers during rage from losing or messing up.

He breaks them on accident.

If he isn't too careful, he'll clench it too hard, the remote cracking and crumbling beneath his hands, the sounds of the plastic crumbling within eachother with sad pops and squeaks.

Horror games?

Of course!

He doesn't get scared as easy, he doesn't care for your silly scares.

But it is funny when he does get jumpscared by a game.

He breaks controllers like that too.

Five Nights At Freddy's? Nice! He hates your stupid jumpscares.

He got used to it eventually, only pursing his lips and letting in an agitated inhale, his face boiling with red, his eye twitching.

But, when he first got jumpscared, he flinched and let out a small shriek, his eyes had widened and his lips pursed into a shock. But, it fell quickly.

He would not admit he had gotten frightened by it. Do not test him, he hates it.

Tries to find new games, but he despises it. He could make a better game, duh! None of this boring stuff thst they put out now!

He doesn't play often, but when he does, he's very serious about it.

If he loses and he rages, sometimes he'll stand up and angrily storm out the room while cursing loudly for all to hear.

It's kinda funny.

He does enjoy Sly Cooper, I mean, he gets to steal and thief around, who wouldn't like that game? Don't worry, I like it too, Jack.

( projecting here with the fav game teehee ) He loves 'Alice: Madness Returns'. He doesn't care for the story. He really likes the combat. Unlike me, fool.

He is a bit stubborn about playing with people, but he does it with a smug smile, because he knows he'll win.

He won't play by himself often, but sometimes he might try too. But, only for some time, before it completely bores him out of his mind.

Gaming isn't his full thing.

Oh.

And jokingly, when you told him to play 'Cooking Mama' and said it reminded you of him, he got very sourpuss when playing it. Psh. This game? This silly, bright-coloref, cavity filled game? Ah! Too simple, makes cooking look simple, what fool would ever MAKE this!

However, he held a high head, it reminded you of him. And it makes him smug, that he still stays on your mind without even trying to!

He kinda grew to like it.

Don't pick on him.

He finds the restaurant and cooking portions interesting. But, he finds it humiliating that he plays this bright-colored, cavity-filled, high-pitched mess of what you could call a game.

In all reason, he doesn't prefer VIDEO games.

Gaming isn't all video games, it's of all kinds of games, from video to board, etc.

He likes board games quite a bit.

Monopoly is something he demolishes in.

He is a king of Monopoly.

He smirks when you land on his property and he shrieks to quickly buy a new property so you have to pay it. He's a huge asshole about it.

He wins quite a bit.

I mean, he does know things about this, I suppose we csnt be surprised.

Clue makes him angry.

Thats it.

He doesn't like just that tho.

He also adores gambling.

That counts as gaming.

Even if it's not with actual money, he dominates in that even more. He'll always win by the end, with a smug smile and counting what he had just won.

In the end,

He's always going to be a confident, smug, man about everything.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

WOO HERE YA GO TO MAKE UP!!

[usmsgutterson]

Hello !! Could you write platonic Matthias x squaller reader where they grew up together and were best friends until the reader just disappeared. Years later Matthias finally reunites with the reader who’s now working with the crows. They explain that they ran away due to the fear of being a grisha in fjerda and because they couldn’t bare the thought of Matthias finding out and turning on them. Thank you <3 - 👾

Lost- Platonic! M.H x gn! squaller! reader

Hi, purple alien emoji anon! Thank you for sending this in--I don't write for Matthias very often so getting the chance to do was definitely a bit of a treat!

On another note, though, requests will close around the end of this week! I have the close date for thursday right now but I'm leaning more toward friday because it feels more uniform in my brain so yeah! Send in anything and send in as much as you want--I've finished up with the first draft of my current WIP and I have been itching to focus on fanfic writing again

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort! There's a bit of an angstier element here too, though, and it does get a bit fluffier near the end

Warnings- death is mentioned a bit, burning bodies on a pyre is mentioned a few times, there's a mention of dying in the permafrost (it's not directly referenced--matthias calls it losing the reader to the permafrost)

As Matthias Helvar approached the top of the Ferolind, his eyes keenly watching the crew he'd been broken out of prison to join, he found himself listening to a voice that sounded all too familiar--much too familiar for his tastes.

It was the voice that had belonged to you--the person who had once been his best friend. How long had it been since you'd last seen each other? Two years? Three? Matthias had lost count.

He'd not seen you much in the heist, which confused him, but he was glad that all was said and done regardless. All of it was exhausting, and trying to help Nina as she went through everything with the parem was turning out to be exhausting still, too.

His hands had been freed of the shackles they'd once worn, but still he rubbed at his wrists in something that almost felt a little like habit.

He looked in the direction of the sound of your voice hesitantly--carefully, as you gave a response to Kaz regarding something about something else. Matthias barely cared to listen when Kaz was speaking with regards to anything other than Fjerda or the letter declaring Matthias' freedom, so he'd missed out.

You were manning the sails and keeping the crew forward moving as you left the icy waters of Fjerda behind you and escaped on the tail end of disaster. It was a relief that was palpable--everyone was feeling it as they all stood in various spots on the deck.

"I think I'll be sleeping until we get to the harbor once we've reached Ketterdam waters, honestly," you said with a laugh. "I've only really been able to practice this stuff for two years--I'm not nearly as talented or as comfortable in my small science as someone like Nina might be. I thank you for your patience."

Kaz only waived a dismissive hand. "I'll bring you a bit of coffee--Inej says that Specht is brewing a pot in the lower levels."

Matthias watched you grin, watched you watch Kaz walk away. Your gaze turned to Matthias and you jumped, causing the sails of the boat to ruffle.

"Is this real?" Matthias asked. "I'm not seeing the ghost of my childhood best friend, am I? I know that being around this bunch might bring me a bit of mild hallucinating, but there's just no way. It makes no sense."

You sighed, glaring at him just a bit. "Druskelle," you said. "I've thought about this moment a lot since everything happened. I've tried to figure out whether the emotion I felt in the regard of the thought was excitement or anxiety. It seems I've found myself within a lethal mixture of both."

"I thought you were dead," Matthias said. "For two years, I have thought you died, Y/N. What happened? Why did you leave? Grisha have save spaces in Fjerda. Dozens of them according to the networking that I saw before prison."

"Thats completely irrele--Matthias. Druskelle are in Fjerda," you said. "Being Grisha in Fjerda is dangerous because in Fjerda you are not the blessed like the Zemeni believe; your small science is not considered a gift, not treasured or celebrated like it is in most Ravkan towns. In Fjerda, if you are Grisha, you are the wicked; your death is celebrated, not your life, when they put you on a pyre and burn you for the misdeed you committed by existing. The things that you saw before you were imprisoned were not real. They were fake networks to get Fjerda to attack it's own military bases in the assumption that Grisha were waiting close by. I couldn't--once I realized that I was a squaller I left. I went to Ketterdam and I found myself in the Barrel, and here we are now."

"You didn't just leave," Matthias said. "You disappeared. I thought you had died, that something had killed you."

"You had joined the Druskelle when I decided it was time to go," you said. "I thought you would've hated me for the fact that I am a squaller. You were my best friend, Matthias. I couldn't bear the thought of it but I couldn't figure out how to leave so I thought that I should just go. Go before I could register that I had left my life behind."

"You thought that I would turn on you?"

"You had just joined the ranks of the Druskelle," you said, turning finally to spare him a glance. "Am I really the one who is to be blamed for such a thought process when you joined the largest organized group that remains actively hunting Grisha down, burning them on pyres in false trials, and leaving the bodies for their families to find?"

Matthias silenced himself. You made a good point.

He stayed with you on the top of the Ferolind for a long while, neither of you saying much of anything as Matthias took to watching the sky as the sun began to set and the stars that lit the sky up began to show themselves.

"If it helps," he said. "I am glad that you survived. I do not know what I would've done had I gotten word that you'd been lost to the snow and died amidst the permafrost."

You grinned. "I'm glad you're still kicking around," you said. "I bet Nina is, too, the way she looks at you."

Matthias gave a shake of his head and the silence settled again, though that time it was plenty more comfortable to stir in than the first.

[quillium]

Heya! This isn't really an "ask you"- haha. But I just wanted to write to you- for quite a bit honestly. First of all, I hope you're well. The first piece of work I've read of yours was "Ben & May's". I absolutely loved it. I read it way back in 2020. I was 15 years old, kinda angry at the world lmao. But I found my solace in reading and writing stuff by strangers on the internet. I commented on your story- which in fact was one of the first and only times I ever bothered interacting with someone online. I don't know why, but reading your story made me warm. Warm to the core. And I wanted to share my own story! About how I related to an incident in the fic, because I snuck out of my house with a broken arm to participate in the science fair at school. You responded sometime later and congratulated me and told me to take care of myself. And you said something else too. It might have been in a joking way but you said something along the lines of "You're literally Peter Parker lmao". I don't know why but that really stuck with me. Peter Parker is a character I grew up worshipping, I'd read all the comics and watch every show with him in it with my dad. I've always loved school and learning new things, but it was always hard for me to find confidence. My dad and I are pretty tight but I can't say the same for me and my mom. And for a great chunk of my life, I've had to live with her, which didn't exactly yield the greatest upbringing (which you can probably tell by the way I'm writing to you now haha). So when someone even humouredly made that comparison- I was super taken aback. Super doubtful. But I was awestruck too. I've never been complimented before- in such a meaningful way from anyone other than my dad (that has since changed thankfully, but at the time young me was still recovering from huge life changes). So it really got me to take a good look at my life and actually embrace being who I wanted to be. I started picking up stuff at school again, and I made friends. I started writing. I hung out with my dad more- of course, watched so much Spiderman and read so many comics. I managed to graduate high school early. Now I'm at university. I graduate soon. I took up Biology and Chemical Engineering. And I'm happy. I never really forgot you, or your writing which gave me so much comfort. I logged back on AO3 recently and was super happy to still see you writing. I just knew I had to reach out. Now I apologize if this is like weird, but I just had to put this out there. Thank you, really- thank you for your warm response and the art you put into the world. I don't think you'd even remember my comment on your work or this small interaction, but to me, it made a whole lot of difference. I really hope you're well, and continue to be. I can't believe I made a tumblr account just for this qwq XOXO

BRO I REMEMBER YOU. When your comment came in, I was 17-years-old, living more in the world of my writing than reality, right about to enter university, and even if I was half-joking I was also low-key dead serious that you were literally Peter Parker. I was, and continue to be, incredibly impressed by you. I think I might have told my sister about you in a sort of like, dang, there are some brilliant and crazy people in the world, and they're reading my fics for some reason sort of way.

I'm doing very well! I've grown closer to my family, built lovely friendships, and am also set to graduate university (perhaps predictably, I'm a literature major). As weird as this might sound in turn, a great deal of my confidence and growth was built by comments like yours. There's nothing half as sweet as the portion of someone's life given to you because they saw a bit of their story in yours, and that glimpse of someone else's reality opens up the possibilities for mine. No matter the wonderful little interaction we had, it has been meaningful and a pleasure for me. You've given me a great deal of warmth as well.

Congratulations on the rebuilt confidence, the new things you've learned, the friends you've made, your seriously incredible academic achievements, and the many other delights that I'm sure you've attained. You really have worked diligently, relaxed peacefully (I hope!), and lived wonderfully. Good job, and I hope you continue to live well <3

[ohwynne]

TIMING: January LOCATION: Muertarte PARTIES: @amonstrousdream and @ohwynne SUMMARY: Leila comes across Wynne at work. Their meeting is interrupted. CONTENT WARNING: N/A

MuertArte had become a multi-purpose space in Leila’s life. It was Metzli’s art gallery, the place she often went looking for them if she had time in her day to sneak away from her shop. It was their home away from home, too. A safe space when one needed it. But most of all, it was a place where art was born, where great work was displayed, and where inspiration could take hold. 

Inspiration. The one thing that she seemed to be lacking most of all. 

It had been weeks since she’d made something. Really made something- not just mended what was old and broken. The gifts she had given over the holidays had been purchased or made months in advance, for fear of running out of time or materials. Since then, the mare had felt as if all creativity had been sucked out of her. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know how. But she could not get her hands to create a single thing. Leila could only hope that staring at art might help find the lost muse.

The winter wind practically carried her through the entrance, the icy chill following her inside with a gust that nearly slammed the door against the wall. She cringed and glanced around, hoping she hadn’t disturbed anyone too much. 

Stupid wind…

It seemed the world went to sleep after Christmas and New Year’s. Wynne had experienced that last year too, when they had still been hopping from town to town. It was nearly a year ago now, though, since they had settled down in Wicked’s Rest and they found themself overtaken by an air of nostalgia as the gallery grew quieter.

They didn’t mind it, though, the quietness. It made the workdays more tolerable, the unease that still sat in their bones easier to accept and work around. But they liked it when people came in, liked the human contact with the patrons whose cheeks burned brightly red from the cold winds. Still, they jumped slightly at the sound of the door slamming shut.

It was easy to scare Wynne, after all. Even with the demon dead, they felt themself looking over their shoulder fretfully more often than not. Looking for the stranger who’d approached them asking for Emilio. Looking for the familiar faces from back home. But it was a new face that entered the gallery.

“Hi, good afternoon,” they said, giving a small smile, “Feel free to just look around, but if you have any questions you can always ask.” Wynne looked at the outside behind the stranger, blinking at a snowman that hadn’t been there before. Had they been so dreamy, that they hadn’t noticed the kids who must have built it?

She’d known Metzli had hired another person to work at MuertArte. Someone other than Rachel, who had seen her face enough times to know not to bother whenever the mare waltzed through the front door. But she hadn’t met the new hire yet. They seemed so… sweet. Friendly. Startled, though, like a deer you stumbled across on a walk. The sharp, spicy scent of that little bit of fear hit Leila a moment later. It made her stomach ache. Later. She could eat later, not now. The mare quickly dug a cinnamon candy from the depths of her bag and popped it into her mouth to dull that pain. 

“Hi there,” Leila’s voice felt strangely loud in the quiet space. She winced at the noise of it, clattering against the walls like an echo. “I’m- uh- I’m not looking to buy, I’m just… I come in a lot to look.” It was an easy enough explanation. The person didn’t need to know that she was dating their boss. After all, she was there for the art. For inspiration. 

She took a few slow steps further into the gallery. Leila had always felt safe in MuertArte. Perhaps it was just knowing that it was Metzli’s that made it feel like a refuge, like nothing bad could never happen within its walls. Her eyes flicked around, scanning for anything she hadn’t seen before. “Have they put up anything new recently…?”

They nodded. Not a lot of people came in to buy, and those that did were often redirected by Wynne to Rachel or Metzli. “Take all the time you need to look around,” they said. This they understood, after all — there was something so nice about just looking at the art. The fact they could do that during work hours was pretty amazing. It was better than looking at the latte art their previous colleagues had made (even if that was also very impressive).

“And if you come in here then let me introduce myself. I’m Wynne.” They didn’t extend a hand, as there was some distance between themself and the patron, but the sentiment was there, kind of. It was good to build up connections with people who visited, Rachel had said. To seem like an open place. Maybe the stranger wasn’t planning to buy anything, but it’d be good if she kept returning.

“Oh, yes! It’s over here,” they said, walking past some of the windows (the snowman looked after the pair of them as they moved through the gallery) and pointing further down into the place. “Those just came in, those paintings. I recommend just looking at them first before reading about them.”

Leila liked this new hire. They seemed the right fit for the gallery, a needed puzzle piece. She didn’t know who had hired Wynne- Rachel or Metzli- but whoever had chosen well. “It’s nice to meet you Wynne, I’m Leila.” She refrained from tacking on the bit about her being Metzli’s partner. If they knew, they knew, but she didn’t want to stress the person out. But the name seemed familiar… Wynne, Wynne… It took her a moment before it clicked: Ariadne’s partner’s name was Wynne. “You… I’m sorry, but do you know Ariadne- I’m sure it’s possible there’s more than one Wynne in this town, but…”

She followed Wynne towards the new art only to have the strangest sensation of being watched wash over her. A quick glance out the window nearly made her jump. A snowman? Had it been sitting out on the sidewalk the whole time? Had she walked past and simply not noticed it? It was possible. There was so much snow that the whole world seemed to blend together in one great sheet of white at times. It was grinning in at them, carrot nose pressed up against the glass. Weird. 

The mare attempted to shake off the stoney gaze of the snowman, turning her attention to the canvases hanging on the wall before her. There was no shortage of fascinating art in MuertArte. Leila swore she could sit in the building and stare at the same painting for hours and never get bored. “Very smart,” She added, a small smile curling it’s way onto her lips. “Always better to make your own opinions about art before reading…”

“It’s nice to meet you Leila,” they said. “That’s a nice name.” It was, they thought. The other seemed like a nice person, too, and when she mentioned Ariadne – possibly the nicest person Wynne had ever known – their judgment of the other swayed even more in her favor. “I do!” They beamed and nodded. “She’s my girlfriend.” And there was such pride in their voice as they said it. “How do you know her?” 

It was both strange and familiar to have people follow them and listen to them. At home, this had happened aplenty – especially in the later years. But ever since they’d left, they’d worked hard to become unremarkable, to fade into the background and to keep their words to a minimum. Sometimes they’d tried that at home, but it had never lasted — they were Wynne, their dewisedig, their martyr and savior, and they would never be a wallflower.

But in the confines of the gallery it wasn’t so bad. So they nodded at Leila. “Exactly. Let your own thoughts form and then read what you want,” they said, which was how they had grown to like looking at art. It was a free way of doing it. Wynne turned around and let Leila do her thing, but halted after taking only one step. “That –” Their breath got stuck in their throat. The snowman was pressed against the window, carrot-nose bending against the glass, mouth spread wide. “Miss – Leila – did — do you see that?”

So this was her Ariadne’s partner. The mare couldn’t help but smile as she assessed the individual, their eyes bright and voice welling with pride, as if Ariadne being their girlfriend was the highest honor. Which, if you asked Leila, it was. The girl was the sweetest, and to call her friend, family, or partner was something that should be looked at with the utmost joy. “I thought so… It’s lovely to finally meet you.” 

There were lots of strange things Leila had seen since arriving in town. Weird not-bats in the attic? Sure. Actual Hellhounds? Why not. Possessed turtlenecks! Check! But never in a million years had Leila expected to see a snowman’s face move. It seemed impossible, just a trick of the light. She’d almost brushed off the young employee’s comment- yes, she’d seen it, it was just built strangely. But the fear in Wynne’s voice… The mare swore she could feel it, taste it on the tip of her tongue. 

Her eyes flicked back towards the glass, back to where that snowman had been built oddly close to the window. It had moved since she last looked. The smile was wider, more menacing. It seemed like the brow (if a snowman could have a brow) was furrowed. The carrot nose was now pushed so hard against the glass that it was curving upward. As if on instinct, Leila slowly moved in front of Wynne, an arm stretched out as a barrier. She kept her eyes fixed on the thing as she finally spoke, voice steady and unwavering.

“Wynne, do you happen to know if Metzli has a broom around here anywhere?”

They’d have to ask Ariadne about this Leila, because they were always keen to know about the people in her life. She’d lived in this town all her life, after all, so there were probably a lot of people she knew. Wynne beamed at Leila for a moment, eyes wide and excited. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” Not many more words could be spent on their first meeting, though.

The snowman was there and it was menacing. Wynne spotted teeth in its mouth, rows of icicles that seemed sharp enough to pierce their skin. They were wide-eyed and once again frustrated with how easily they felt fear. They weren’t sure what to do and so they just stood there, waiting for a reply from Leila at their question. Maybe the other wasn’t even seeing it, was that a possibility? Maybe they were just being ridiculous. They felt a tremor shoot down their body, and then Leila moved in front of them. Protective in a way that had been foreign to them for most their life.

They were glad for the other’s quiet certainty, the lack of tremor in her voice. “I do,” they said. “I can — I’ll go get it!” They were glad to have a goal, something to do. They gave one look to the snowman and then rushed to the cleaning closet, opening it and pulling out the broom they’d used plenty of times before. They also reached for the mop and hurried back to Leila, handing her the broom. “There. Um. What’s the plan?” The snowman was moving towards the door now, smart enough to know where the opening was. Wynne clutched their mop a little tighter. 

What was the plan, indeed…

Months ago she would have said that the plan was to simply flee the snowman with the menacing smile and the icicle teeth, bringing the broom with as a means of potential self-defence. Why fight when running away was an option? But she had experienced far too many strange and dangerous things in the past year. Monsters of flesh and bone, alive and undead and somewhere in between. But this? This was snow in a pale imitation of life. This was something she might have concocted to scare a bully in their sleep. This was, frankly, cartoonish. 

And snowmen, as it so happened, could be easily destroyed. If magic, evil snowmen were a little harder to turn into a mound of formless snow, so be it. 

Leila turned to take the broom from Wynne, offering them a comforting smile and a light squeeze on the shoulder. “It’s alright, cher.” She turned back just as she heard the door opening. The snowman had begun to push its way inside. A string of curses rolled off her tongue in growing frustration. Snow had no place inside an art gallery. The ice might melt and damage the work the space housed. “There’s one good thing about snowmen: they fall apart very easily.”

Without another word, Leila marched forward, pulling the broom back like a baseball bat as she went and swinging with all her might at the snowman’s middle. 

The snowman was in the gallery. The gallery Wynne worked for because Metzli had been so gracious to take them under their wing. The gallery they were supposed to guide people through and attempt to keep clean along with the other handful of people that worked there. And though Leila said it was alright, that snowmen fell apart easily they were still caught up on the strangeness of the situation and the fear that snow would get on the paintings.

But with Leila’s determination and the mop in their hand they felt a surge of determination. Inaction was no longer a trait they were comfortable with, even if they sometimes tended to slip into it instinctually.

And so Wynne moved forward as well, swinging the mop and its tangled hairs at one of the snowman’s arms. It broke off and fell to the ground and they swung again, aiming at the midriff. Some snow fell down but then the arm ��� the one they’d snapped was crawling up the snow body again. “Leila — miss — I – look at that,” they were stammering, from what was both concern and cold. They hadn’t thought that the door opening would bring in so much cold. 

When she had been a little girl, Leila had been fed on a healthy dose of terrifying stories of witches and hags and sorcerers who would curse ill-behaved children and seek vengeance on those who had slighted them in some way. A living snowman was something a bit… out there, though. 

It moved on its own, had glistening icicle teeth, and when one snowy arm fell with a splat on the floor of the gallery, it didn’t dissolve into a puff of powdery snowflakes. Instead, it crawled back up the snowman and reattached itself. The mare stared, slack-jawed for a moment. She’d definitely have to add this to her nightmare repertoire… 

Despite the apparent futile nature of hitting the snowman, the mare took another well aimed swing, this time managing to get a bit of the torso. Instead of abandoning it, the snowman reached down and pressed it back into itself. Well, fuck. “Wynne, please tell me there’s a bucket and hot water around here somewhere..”

It was a blessing and a curse, that Leila had showed up. Wynne would have hated to have had to deal with this by themself, after all, and so they were glad she was here. But on another hand, they didn’t want to be too glad that the other was here, as this was a rather bad situation to be in. Even if Leila seemed quick on her feet and good with a broom. 

They tried to slam the mop against the snowman again but it seemed to not do much. It reassembled. It was like a salamander. They’d never seen it happen, but they’d heard that they could regrow limbs if they were cut off. It had enchanted their world for days and days, when they’d been a child, this nugget of knowledge. They’d thought it magical now, but they knew better these days. Magical wasn’t always good news.

“Yes! Well, we have a bucket, and we have warm water in the faucet, and I can put the water in the bucket, and then we have a bucket with warm water.” It didn’t really matter, probably. They let the mop clatter on the floor and rushed to the same room they’d gotten it from, turning open the faucet and letting the water run and run until it turned hot as they emptied the bucket. A sponge and a pair of cleaning gloves fell on the ground and they didn’t even worry about having to clean it up later. Their focus was single-minded. They filled the bucket with hot water and sort of ran over to Leila, struggling slightly with the weight of it. Water sloshed over their feet and the floor but it was not an issue for now. The water was slightly soapy but that too, did not matter. “I got it! We should throw it, right? We should —” Wynne scooped up a hand of water and aimed it at the snowman. It melted some snow, as expected. The snow did not regenerate.

“We should – it’s heavy, we should lift it together and — you know!” They glanced at the other with nervous but determined eyes before bending over to get the bucket by one side. 

Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack.

If there was any part of this situation she felt badly about, it was that she was getting snow on the floor of the art gallery. But snow and water could be easily mopped away- hell, she would do it herself after all was said and done and their frosty problem was dispatched. But while she waited for Wynne to return with a bucket of hopefully hot water, Leila stood guard at the front door like some strange, ancient suit of armor. Or better yet, like Gandalf. She’d read the books when they’d been released for want of entertainment. Now, she could simply tell a snowman that it would not, in fact, pass. 

Had the snowman started to force its way further into the gallery, she might have even said it like he did in the movie. 

It was pure relief when she heard the younger person come back. Who knew footsteps and the distinctive sound of water sloshing around could bring such hope? What was better was that when splashed some of the hot water on their snowy nemesis there was a sharp hiss of ice turning to water and steam. Thank fucking god… Without another moment’s hesitation, Leila chucked her broom away and turned to grab the other side of the bucket. She could feel the heat of the water through the bucket, making her cringe just a little. “On the count of three then-” The snowman was getting closer and closer, sludging its way along towards the pair. 

“One…. Two…. THREE!”

They were glad for the countdown. It brought structure to an otherwise unstructured and chaotic situation and Wynne needed something besides the bucket to hold onto. Another thing they were glad for was that the bucket would not be in their hands for much longer — it was hot to the touch, too hot to hold comfortably for a long time. But Leila’s voice shouted the number three soon enough and the pair aimed the contents of the bucket at the snowman.

Hot water mixed with snow and they swore they could hear a sizzling as the snowman turned into water, a puddle starting to form. Wynne backed up in horror as they watched the branches claw at them, at first in what seemed an attempt to fight and then in something more desperate — as if it was trying to hold onto something. They breathed heavily, picking up their mop in case it was needed.

The branches twitched, the way a creature would when dying. Only the bottom ball of snow remained now, all dented and melted, and even that grew smaller with each second. They breathed in and started slamming down with their mop, scattering bits of snow around and pausing only to look at Leila, “Is it — do we, we should get more water, maybe? To make sure it’s fully …” They shivered. “I wish it could just be what it seemed, for once.”

Never had Leila been so relieved to see a melted snowman. It dissolved slowly, slumping to the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West, leaving branches and bits of stone in its wake. Wynne brought their mop down on the slush pile, sending bits of cold wet snow scattering with a disgusting thwop. “... Get more water…” The mare moved towards the door, sidestepping the snow where she could before propping the door open.

“You get more water… and… um… and we can wash it out into the street. Then salt it.” She tried not to cringe at the thought of salt coating the sidewalk in front of the gallery. It would make it a lot more complicated for her to visit Metzli when they were in, but at least it would keep the gallery and those within it safe from evil snowmen. Leila shuddered for a moment before adding “Just salt it after I leave, please.”

It was a blessing that the other was here, pointing Wynne in the direction of concrete tasks to do. Sure, they could come up with potential things to do but they lacked the decisiveness in their confusion. Leila’s voice is what made them jump into action, even if she also didn’t seem entirely sure how to handle all of this. They didn’t make employee manuals for aggressive snowmen, after all.

“Okay,” they said, handing Leila their mop and taking the bucket to fill it once more. Flushing the remnants of the snowman (or snowwoman, or snowperson) seemed like the wisest plan. It was while they were doing this that they registered the strangeness of Leila’s request to wait with salting until she was gone. Wynne returned with the bucket, looking at her. “I can throw the water and then you can help push it out with the mop?” There was a moment of hesitation. “I will wait with the salt.” Should they ask? “I won’t ask why but I will wait.”

The snowy remains could be flushed down into the gutters, back down into the water table or as far as the ocean. Let them evaporate for all she cared. But Leila didn’t need violent snow people bothering her town or her people. And if Wynne was both Metzli’s employee and Ariadne’s partner, then they were certainly one of her people. 

She was a bit more than grateful that the child didn’t question the salt. The mare was too wound up to have to explain it- and, if Ariadne was in their life, Leila was certain that Wynne would put two and two together eventually. “Perfect. I’ll leave the mop outside- you can collect it after.” She paused for a moment, eyes flicking darkly over the puddle that now stained the floor. “If anything else comes up… have Rachel call me. Alright?”

It would be rude to make assumptions about the other’s nature, so Wynne refrained — but they had a feeling that Leila would be unable to leave once the salt was put down. Maybe she was like Ariadne, or maybe she was something else that was sensitive to salt barriers. But they were too nervous to ask, too overwhelmed with what had just happened and wanted to just finish their work day.

“Okay. Sounds good.” They were looking at her with wide eyes. It wasn’t too strange to think that maybe she was like Ariadne, right? But to ask outright would be a kind of blunt Wynne never was. “And … I hope that the next time we see each other it’s calmer!” They gave a smile, walking Leila to the door and staring into the town’s streets, wondering what other mysteries might hide there.

[bishop-percival]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

Something was bothering Bishop Percival. He was pacing around his personal vestry and office, two in the morning. He slowed to a stop in front of an ornate full length mirror. He stared at his face for a good while, then rubbed the top of his naked, unadorned head with a heavy sigh. “I don’t feel complete without one…”

Percy’s eye wandered toward a nearby chest. He popped it open and dug around a bit before pulling out a standard Hater Empire watchdog helmet. After a moment of hesitation, he rested it upon his head and looked back in the mirror. The sight disgusted him as he scowled. “That is not me..,” he muttered as he removed the helmet and frisbeed it across the room where it crashed into a bookshelf. 

“Aaaarhg!!!” He plopped down in his lush desk chair. “Waiting, waiting, waiting! I can’t stand it anymore! Why’s that damn Bowtie so… Breakable! UGH!”

Percival clutched the sides of his head as he laid it down on the desk, muttering curses. But then he sprang his head back up. A cheeky smile grew across his face as a really good idea formed in his head. “Heh… What am I moping around for? I have the power to fix broken things…”

He took out his phone and dialed a number. As expected since it was quite late at night, it went to voicemail. So the bishop tried again and again until he was finally answered.

“Urgh… H-hello, Your Excellency? What’s up?” 

It was Sam. Their voice was groggy and unsure. 

It had been about a week and a half since they dislocated Theodore’s shoulder. Bishop Percival had already tore into them multiple times about breaking the Glornch’s tailor at such an inconvenient time. Sam was incredibly apologetic (to Percival) and vowed to do whatever it took to make it up to him. So they figured this call might be about that.

“Slimy! My Slimeball! I have a really important assignment for you. Can you meet me in front of the medbay? Like right now?”

“Uh, y-yes sir! What is—”

Percy hung up. Sam sighed. She didn’t know if she should be glad Percy was probably taking her up on her offer to regain his favor, or if she should be worried that it involved going to the medbay, and likely by extension, dealing with Theodore. Regardless, Sam figured they’d get their answers in person. Once they made it down from the bunks they made a beeline to the medbay.

The bishop was waiting outside the main doors. “Oh, you made it here fast, Slimy!”

Sam gave him a deep, reverent bow once they approached him. “A’ course sir, only for you.” They sprang back up. “So what’s my assignment?”

“Come along…” The bishop led them through the doors and they made their way to an expansive concourse. The area was lined wall to wall with rows of cots containing sleeping watchdogs, too injured to climb the bunks in the Skullship's sleeping quarters but too healthy to occupy a medical bed. 

Bishop Percival gestured his arm across the room. “You see Sam, I’m trying to find Bowtie. But my, it’s just so crowded in here, I figured I could use your help! You’re so nimble and agile, I bet you could navigate the narrow walkways far quicker than me.”

Sam rubbed their head. “But sir… That’s gonna be like finding a very dull, lame, annoying needle in a stack of other needles. Or however that saying goes.” 

“Yeah, which is why I’m making you do it! If Bowtie carries his red robe around, then look for that if it’ll make it easier. And when you do find him…”

Percival removed his own outer vestment and handed it to Sam. “Text me, plop this on the floor next to you, and I’ll be there in a flash!”

Taking the robe, Sam looked down and let out a small sigh before meeting the bishop’s eye again. “Okay sir… M-may I ask why you’re sniffing out, uh, Bowtie now when you could’ve just like, called him to your office when he’s awake or something?”

“No you may not ask! Now git on out there!” 

Sam straightened up, puffed out their chest, and gave a firm “yes sir!” before turning. They only got a few steps away before Percy shouted “WAIT!," much to the alarm of a few watchdogs trying to sleep nearby.

The bishop somehow procured a large stack of informational Glornist pamphlets from his pocket and handed them to Sam too. “Might as well do some quiet proselytizing while you’re at it, eh?”

Sam draped the robe over his shoulder and took the pamphlets. “Sure. Good call, Your Excellency.”

With that, she took off nimbly sidling down the narrow aisles of cots, carefully placing a pamphlet on each sleeping watchdog she passed, looking for Theodore. 

This went on for some time. With each passing cot, Sam became less careful about their movements, awkwardly striding sideways and impatiently slapping down pamphlets, growling an insincere “my fucking bad” whenever she kicked a cot and awoke the watchdog within. 

Finally, just as he placed his last available pamphlet, he spotted a head that was resting on what looked like a red pillow. That was good enough evidence that it was their target. As instructed, they threw Bishop Percival’s robe to the ground and texted him.

Just a few seconds later, a bright red light flashed from under the robe and in an instant the bishop sprang up from under it along with a cloud of black smoke. He smiled wide at Sam before leaning over the sleeping watchdog and poking at him.

“Psssst… Bowtie….”

[moonstrider9904]

The Ace Auror

Chapter 1 of Moonwalker: The Flame

{series masterlist} {next chapter} {previous chapter}

{crossposted to Wattpad} {crossposted to AO3}

Summary: Loss, anger, and turmoil have brought Sarah closer with her trusted Y-Wing, her astromech, and with the team’s engineer, Tech. Living mission to mission and settled on Ord Mantell, long months have been shrouded by the guild following the events that transpired since the destruction of Kamino and the separation from Crosshair.

Tags/Warnings: Mature. Allusions to polyamory. Heartbreak, arguments, emotional breakdowns. Angst.

Read the last chapter of Part I: The Batch for a brief recap!

Word count: 3.2k

Songs: aurora

A/N: Sarah returns alongside our favorite clones!!! I’m so excited for what Season 2 holds for us and for what it’ll mean for this fanfic, though I’ve already got some general ideas of how it’s going to play out regardless of canon (evil laughter). Thank you for reading! Enjoy! This chapter has no spoilers of Episodes 1 or 2 of TBB given that it is a prequel to them.

Chasing a sunset that drew farther away from her as the planet spinned, Sarah pushed the thrust of the Y-Wing forward ever so slightly. Speed cleared her mind, and flying was her solace.

Flying fast seemed to make everything okay for a few moments.

“You’re doing it again,” Tech’s voice came through the comm, breaking her from her trance.

“Might I remind you, you fly at this speed headed towards the ground,” Sarah spoke into her commlink.

“In the middle of persecutions, yes,” Tech’s modulated voice oddly made her smile. “You, however, are in no such situation.”

“Alas, I am flying away from my demons,” she bit back.

“Darling, you are far too pessimistic for someone who hasn’t drank anything tonight.”

She fancied a drink right about then. Something strong, preferably, but she’d steer clear from the Corellian whiskey. It reminded Sarah of him.

“You are far enough away from the city,” Tech mentioned, hiding his true instruction in his words.

A knot formed in her throat and the words wouldn’t come out, disappointed that she had to leave now that she’d only just arrived at a spot of Ord Mantell where she could disappear into.

“Can I stay out here just a bit longer?” Sarah answered with a voice too calm and disgustingly vulnerable, the way it had been too many times in those few months. “I like flying out here.”

Tech audibly sighed through the comm. “We’ve been out too long. We don’t want to make our avoidance feel too obvious.”

Sarah closed her eyes and exhaled everything, hating the fact that he was right all the time. When she opened them again, she looked ahead at the twilight, knowing she’d never catch that sun. The stars had begun to shine, almost as if they’d escort her back to the city.

She never felt alone when the stars came out.

“How rough do you want this turn to be?” Sarah tilted her head up and addressed her astromech.

You decide, boss! Rigel beeped back at her with his usual excitement.

Her gaze trailed forward once more as she figured she’d do something that felt good for once. With no buildings and people, it was the perfect place to try a stunt like that one, and as if her hands had minds of their own, she gave the thrust one more push for speed before tilting the handles up just enough to give the Y-Wing an acute angle upwards, its nose pointing to the east, offset. On instant, Sarah disengaged the thrust and sent the Ace Auror into a barrel roll for it to eventually turn itself in the air, where she engaged the thrust again at the perfect moment where it was upright, and the massive speed sent the ship in a straight line headed back for the speed.

Sarah smiled as she felt the sound barrier being broken outside the Auror; she’d nearly crashed the ship multiple times trying to get that stunt right. Regardless, the force pushing her back to the seat as the ship gained speed made her feel fulfilled, and her smile grew as she heard Rigel beeping in excitement from his spot. A small laugh left her, unaware that her comm was still turned on.

It didn’t take her long to return to the city, and the sight of the looming buildings slowly washed over the euphoria she’d only just found. Sarah clung to the adrenaline of flight and the weightlessness of not thinking about anything else as she approached the landing bay where she always left the Auror, and she finally let go of the sensations as she landed in the familiar bay.

Sarah and Rigel made it to ground level at the same time and were greeted by Tech; though he was walking toward them, his eyes were glued to his datapad as usual. Sarah knew better than to try and draw his attention from whatever he was focusing on, and as she waited there for him, watching him, she felt Rigel brushing up against her leg, his visor turning left and right as though to snuggle her.

“That was the first time I heard you laugh in a long time,” Tech broke the silence, his gaze still on the screen.

Sarah felt herself freeze. “What?”

“You heard me,” Tech finally turned off the datapad and looked at her through goggled eyes. “You laughed.”

“Well… yeah,” Sarah tried to brush off the sentiment. “I got a stunt right, and it felt great.” She looked down at Rigel. “Didn’t it?”

The astromech beeped happily in agreement.

“Whatever the cause, it’s welcome,” Tech’s lips curved in the most discreet of smiles and quickly eyed the ship in an attempt to change the subject. “I believe I did a good job on the thrusters, then.”

“You did,” Sarah confirmed.

“Excellent,” Tech walked over to the Y-Wing’s ladder and leaned his back on it, facing Sarah. “Perhaps I will make similar modifications to the Marauder.”

“You’re testing your bright ideas on my ship?” Sarah raised a brow.

“I am granting you exclusive access to cutting-edge modifications,” Tech corrected, his finger pointing up.

Sarah chuckled. “Right.”

“Well then,” Tech patted the ladder twice. “I’ll get to work on optimizing oil usage for your ship. You should go ahead and return to the saloon.”

“Um, excuse me?” Sarah crossed her arms at him. “You bring me back here saying we’ve been gone too long and then you stay here with my ship?”

“Working on your ship is my bailout, but for that, I actually need your ship here,” Tech explained.

“Well, flying is my bailout—”

“Sarah.” Tech straightened up from the ladder and positioned himself directly in front of her, staring directly into her soul. She quieted down and looked into his eyes, wondering to herself for a moment what they looked like without the goggles. She then realized how seldom she saw Tech without his endless gadgets.

But, with a sigh, Sarah drifted back to the conversation at hand. Apologetically, she looked at him, but she was also willing to beg him not to make her go if it was what it took. Tech had spent enough time with her for the past few months to know that about her, and his gaze softened into a soft scoff, almost smiling at her.

“You have to face them eventually,” he said.

“I have,” Sarah grumbled.

“No, you have coexisted for the sake of completing missions,” Tech answered. “That will not always work.”

Sarah sighed. “I’d really rather just stay here with you and the ship.”

“I know,” Tech said.

“And what about you?” Sarah challenged. “You’re about the only one who sees things from my perspective.”

“I am their brother, I have no choice but to eventually put things aside,” Tech replied. “You are a much different case. Now go.”

For a brief moment, she tried to think of an argument to retaliate with. Unable to find one, Sarah gave a heavy sigh of defeat and frowned up at Tech. “We’re both going to regret this.”

“The odds of that are not actually that high,” Tech said as she began to walk away from him.

“Whatever!” Sarah called back as she left.

At that hour, the seedy streets of Ord Mantell leading toward Cid’s cantina were reminiscent of a ghost town. Bits of trash drifted past Sarah’s feet with the breeze, and in the distance, the smell of burnt cooking oil came from one of the houses, probably someone aching to get one good snack and a full stomach before finishing their day.

Sarah really couldn’t wait to be done with it either. The thought was as numb as she was; it had simply been the way of things since that day on Kamino, ending a day to wake up to another, rinse and repeat.

She entered the cantina expecting the full squad to be there and, bracing for the worst, she was greeted by an empty saloon. The machines where Tech would usually play with Wrecker were abandoned, and there was no one pouring shots behind the bar. The stools in front of the bar hadn’t been taken by Hunter or by Echo, who would usually sit and talk over a drink, and Omega was nowhere to be seen wandering curiously about whatever piqued her interest that day.

And the makeshift target on the wall’s last blaster marks looked months old since the last time she’d practiced there with the Firepuncher rifle she’d adopted.

Between the disappointment and the relief at the fact that no one was there, Sarah didn’t know which feeling was greater. In any case, it meant she could make it all the way through the cantina without the need to avoid eye contact. Just as she was about to cross to the back hallway that led to their barracks, Sarah flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching her from her right flank. Snapping in their direction, Sarah froze at the sight of Echo, but then managed to exhale her tension.

Echo, ever the dear friend that he was, gave her a sad smile, which Sarah couldn’t quite will herself to return.

“Where is he?” She asked.

Echo sighed. “Hunter left the cantina a while ago. I haven’t seen him in our barracks.”

Sarah nodded, turning in the opposite direction. “Right. Well, I’d best be getting some shut-eye.”

“How was flying?” Echo asked. “Is Tech with you?”

Sarah stopped walking and faced Echo again, her body visibly relaxing. “He stayed behind working on the Auror, something about oil usage. You know what he’s like.”

“He’s happier than anyone that you have a ship of your own,” Echo chuckled.

As much as Sarah appreciated some light-hearted conversation with her best friend, she was distracted before she could continue it by Hunter’s silhouette emerging from Cid’s office. Even in the dim light of the hallway, she could see his sorrow, but it just wasn’t enough to tear her from her anger.

Not yet.

“No one more than me,” Sarah answered Echo’s comment, her gaze firm on Hunter. She finally looked back at her best friend. “Goodnight, Echo.”

When she turned around, she walked faster towards her bedroom and didn’t stop when she heard a voice calling her name; the voice didn't belong to Echo.

“Go to sleep, Hunter,” she spat, unbothered.

She arrived at her bedroom hoping it was the end of the night, but as she went to close her door, she saw Hunter had followed her like a wounded mastiff.

“Please, just talk to me,” he spoke softly.

Sarah scoffed. “I don’t want to.”

“But I do,” Hunter replied, the strain clear in his voice as he tried, hopelessly, to reach the woman he loved.

Sarah gave him a cynical smile. “Ah, of course. It’s what you want that matters in this family.”

She’d gotten to him, as was evident in the way Hunter’s features dropped, his chest shrinking as though he’d taken another bolt to it. She’d have felt proud if what she truly felt was hate, but it wasn’t long before Sarah’s cynicism and resolve faded entirely.

Looking at him hurt. It burned at the center of her chest where the Firepuncher bolt had once struck her; it spread out to the edges of her body in the form of ice, unable to decide if what she felt was grief or fury. Hardest of all were the fractals of memories that would plague her of the way they were before, of their oath in the kyber caves of Jedha, or their night at the hut after that, of every time Hunter would look her in the eyes and swear his love for her, his sole duty to protect her. Smiles in the middle of battle, laughs of relief after every close call, his big brown eyes yearning to hold her in his arms.

Sometimes, after Kamino, Sarah would manage a mid-battle smile at Hunter in the midst of the heat, a brief moment of respite to remember the team they were, the team they could be, but it only ever lasted less than a breath. Then, Sarah would remember everything. She would remember Crosshair, she would remember the choice she made, a promise she hadn’t been able to honor.

“Hunter…” she whispered.

His features softened; he let her see that adoration he held for her, but the hints of sorrow that it held broke her heart all over again. Hunter took a step towards Sarah, his hands slowly reaching out, hesitant to take her hands in his.

“I heard you were flying,” he said softly. “Did you have fun?”

Sarah nodded slowly, only able to meet his gaze for a few short seconds before she had to look away. In that time, she could feel Hunter’s pain growing, as did his exasperation to do anything that could fix things and make them better, as much like they were before as he could.

“Sarah…”

“I just… I-I need to go,” she interrupted, shaking her head as the need to run away overwhelmed her. “I–I promised Rigel I’d polish his servos—”

“Kiss me,” Hunter sighed, his eyes begging Sarah.

Her nebulous eyes closed, sighing deep in remorse—she hated hurting Hunter, that had never changed.

Alas, she still couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Hunter, don’t do this,” she looked away from him.

“Please,” he finally reached out and held her hands, his grip soft.

Sarah looked up at him with big eyes already gleaming with the tears threatening to pool in them, and for a second, even she was able to let go of the wrath.

“I’m just not ready yet, Hunter,” she confessed, slowly letting go of him.

Hunter sighed, knowing not to push it further, but the words that remained unspoken tightened the knot in his throat, and with a pleading gaze, he looked Sarah in her eyes.

“I miss you, Sarah.”

And I miss him… The thought came inevitably to Sarah, but Hunter would still hear it. Realizing her thoughts were still with the sniper, Hunter took a step back.

“Right. I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

Sarah couldn’t keep in her tears as Hunter left the room—the sound of her sniffling made it no easier on him either. After he was gone, she stood alone in the dim, white light of her bunk room as the emotions boiled inside her, threatening to burst unless she found some way to let them out.

She knew her power, and she knew she couldn’t—shouldn’t—explode there.

Sarah stormed out of the room and ran down the streets of Ord Mantell one more time, and she arrived at the landing bay in a flash. Running straight towards the Auror, she barely noticed Tech or Rigel shifting, concerned at her state.

“Sarah, what are you doing?” Tech called after her just as she reached the ladder.

She began climbing. “Sorry, but I need to fly.”

“Are you mad?” Tech set everything aside and met her at the ladder.

“Yes.”

“No, I meant mad as in crazy, not mad as in—Sarah, forget it, you cannot leave,” Tech reached out for Sarah’s ankle and stopped her.

Sarah glared down at him, her eyes flooded with tears ready to stream down her cheeks. “I’m not leaving, Tech, I just need to fly.”

“Absolutely not, you are not flying in this state,” Tech pulled her down to stand in front of her, gazing at her in confusion and concern as she wept. “Sarah…”

Sarah quieted her sobs down and finally met Tech’s goggled gaze, able to soften her still broken voice. “I told you we’d regret it.”

“Darling…” Tech’s voice softened. “What is it?”

“I just—I can’t, I can’t be around Hunter, I can’t be here, I need to get out of here—!” Her breathing quickened and her voice got louder, her sobs only intensifying.

“Shh, Sarah,” Tech grasped her shoulders, ultimately bringing her to look at him. “Sarah, breathe.”

Quieting down, Sarah looked up at Tech with the most sorrowful expression he had ever seen. Sniffling a couple more times, Sarah’s body relaxed, as if she couldn’t find it in herself to fight anymore.

“Tech…” She whimpered. “Can I please hug you?”

Tech didn’t hesitate before bringing her into his arms. She didn’t know why, but Sarah hadn’t fully expected him to go through with it—she’d asked him the question expecting a no for an answer, but this wasn’t a result she’d repel. For the first time in a long time, she was able to let herself go, to weep in someone’s arms without feeling remorse or resentment towards them, and it hadn’t dawned on her how much she’d needed it until that moment.

Of all the ways she’d imagined hugging Tech would be, nothing had prepared her for the care with which he held her. It was soft and silent, just as she needed, and Tech held out the whole time while she emptied her eyes on his shoulder, a feeling strange when he didn’t have his usual armor on.

She still had to get used to seeing him in more regular clothing.

Sarah had stopped crying before she knew it, and she felt tired, puffy, ready to go back to her bunk and collapse into sleep hoping the next day would be better.

But before she made her way back, Tech’s hand caught her fingers, giving them a squeeze.

“Get in the copilot seat,” he spoke.

Sarah blinked up at him. “What?”

“Copilot seat,” he repeated with a tiny smile and looked at Rigel. “You take your position too.”

Will do, Mr. Tech Sir!

As Rigel rolled past them, the little droid gave Sarah a little nudge before using his thrusters to take his spot at the center of the Y-Wing. Sarah managed a smile at her little astromech and climbed up the ladder, doing as Tech said. She’d never sat on that seat before, convinced she’d always be the one flying the Auror—things looked very different from it despite being only slightly behind the pilot seat.

After a few minutes, Tech emerged from the ladder and took his spot in the cockpit. Once he and Sarah had adjusted themselves, he lowered the canopy and powered up the engines, gently lifting the Y-Wing from its spot at the landing bay.

Drowsy, Sarah didn’t pay much attention to Tech’s flying. She didn’t have to, already knowing he was a phenomenal pilot. But the movements were gentle, and he wasn’t trying to show off in the least. And though she didn’t have her usual view, Sarah recognized fairly soon that he was taking the ship away from the city.

The place where Sarah had asked him earlier if she could stay in. So far away from the city, there was no light pollution to block away the stars, and Sarah allowed herself to look up at the endless night sky, gazing at the stars and planets and distant nebulae.

Tech couldn’t look back at her, but he could feel she was more calm. The engineer smiled at himself, glad he could fix something besides gadgets and ship components, and he knew without a doubt that at that moment, the night sky reflected Sarah’s eyes.

Please reblog to support me!

Taglist: @nunanuggets @rexandechosandwich @redheadgirl @coffeyorky @arctrooper69 @wildmoonflower @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @stardust9905

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Next Chapter ->

[bostrichidae]

ice cold (part 1)

...

Ow.

Where was he now?

Was he in another realm?

That wasn't good.

The other writers would track him down for sure.

I need to prepare.

...

Gold is not a durable metal. But the main purpose of this sword was not to slash and destroy. It was to assist.

Numen wasn't a blacksmith. He'd never learned any skills outside of writing, as he was a monk of Cloud Kingdom. But as he admired the sword, he figured his powers might be useful in the realm of Ninjago. After all, the monks were much more powerful than whatever the broken realm had to offer. Seriously, Ninjago's broken- in half. The Dark Island and Mainland Ninjago weren't always separated. But that's a tale for another time. Right now, he just had to give himself some sort of defense against that insufferable Fenwick and his pet... what was its name again? Nugget? Nympe? Nimbus? Yes, that was it. Fenwick, the master writer's apprentice, and his weird pet Nimbus. And whatever else the Cloud Kingdom could throw at him to try and convince him to return.

Right, the sword. It was infused with some of Numen's own powers; the blade could reflect the future and show you your opponent's next move. It would be quite useful. But not outside of a fight. He needed something farther reaching. He needed to see far into the future, even if those visions were brief and vague. So, he went in search of a vessel.

...

It was perfect.

Numen grabbed one of the icicles and broke off a chunk.

Two more grew in its place.

What a fascinating crystal.

Who knew the Caves of Despair housed such beautiful wonders?

Too bad he couldn't explore the First Spinjitsu Master's tomb; the trials were created by the original Master Writer, a close friend of the FSM. There was no getting past them unless you were a highly skilled spinjitsu master, which alas, Numen was not. He was just a runaway monk looking to create a futuresight crystal.

As he grasped the chunk of ice-crystal-stuff, he called upon his birthplace. This would take the last of his power, cursing him to the binds of mortality.

But Numen's fucks had ran out a long time ago, not that he had many to give in the first place.

It swirled around in the air. A tingling feeling, making its way up his spine. The sensation made its way down his arm, leaving through his fingertips and entering the now-glowing crystal. Numen's strength was leaving his body, and his legs began to shake. So he let them collapse. When all of his power had been drained, and he was weaker than he'd been his entire life, Numen found it in himself to fall asleep right then and there.

That was too much for the crystal to hold.

It wouldn't return to Numen.

Small bits of energy trickled out of the crystal and were absorbed into the ground. It bloomed and spread like an infectious disease. But that was no disease. For as a select few travelers (and ninja) would soon find out, the ice saw you not as you were, but as you someday would be.

He finally escaped that cave. Turns out, there'd been a cave-in near the old Grundle den. The geothermal vents had erupted due to an outside influence. Caused by some mischievous kid who thought he'd be able to find the FSM's tomb. When Numen went to investigate, there was only a skeleton left. The skeleton wore tattered green clothes, almost like some sort of fucked-up ninja gi. Well, whatever. He'd just have to find another way out.

...

It's been one hundred and eighty-six days since I left that cave. I can feel my mortality growing, creeping, waiting to strike. But that's all right. I don't fear death. The only reason I'm still alive is to make sure that these artifacts don't fall into the wrong hands.

There's a man standing there. He is young, about thirty years old. His stark-white hair provides a beautiful contrast to his royal blue cloak and pale skin. I can see a beard beginning to grow on his angled face. Despite the cold, he does not shiver. His skin does not flush, and he does not turn his back to the icy wind. Rather, he seems at home. Like a spirit of the blizzard. I know I do not have time left. Sometime today, I will die of old age and extreme temperatures. This man is my only hope.

"Protect them."