#downmoonwrites

[caecia]

i was commissioned by the amazing @downmoonwrites for their linksheik breath of the wild series! this is a scene from thieves in the temple and i fully recommend you go read that (and everything else they’ve written)

commission me here!

[downmoonwrites]

can you do a short fic of giorno reacting to dio's stand? if you want to

i have arrived, my very first jjba promptword count: 491

There's something that feels so right about the manifestationof his stand. There's been a piece of himself missing, a sliver of somethingdeep down he hadn't thought about, not until after The World emerged. After,the missing piece had been painfully obvious, to the point where Dio fell to his knees, crushed by the sensation of power,raw and clean and brutal, and ready to burst from him.

Enya hovers at his side, whispering her words of praise,phrases Dio doesn't really hear, too preoccupied with the rush of strengththrough his body. This is better than any life he's taken, better than the bodyhe's stolen, the followers who worship him as God. He tastes blood in hismouth, and he smiles.

He lifts a hand, and Enya falls silent. Dio studies the fleshin front of him, the flex of muscle and bone. Beneath his skin he can feel TheWorld thrumming, an odd sensation not unlike static. Physically, he doesn'tappear to look any different. His hands stretch and move the same way theyalways have, but that power.

The thought sends The World erupting from his blood, and Diocan't help the startled laugh that tumbles out of his mouth at the rush ofstrength doubling his own. His vision is tinted in gold, like the sunlight hehasn't seen in a hundred years. It's better, better than blood, better than afuck-

Dio turns sharply at the sound of small feet over cool stone.Giorno hovers in the doorway, his own curiosity and intuitiveness no doubtdrawing him to the chamber (Dio pointedly doesn't think about his screams fromhours earlier, the pain that the arrow brought him blinding and agonizing).

"Giorno," he calls, extending a hand towards his son.Giorno starts towards him, but stops, staring over Dio's shoulder. The Worldmoves in time with Dio's command, a nudge forward, approaching Giorno carefullyin a shimmering cloud of gold. Giorno watches The World with wide eyes, butstands his ground, one hand curled tightly over the door frame.

"Giorno," he calls again, softly. He tries to standup, but he's still overcome by the ordeal from earlier. Doubling his power hastaken its toll on him, and it will take time to recover.

Giorno takes a tentative step towards him, another, and thenhe's quickly scampering across the room, bolting past The World and windinghimself up in Dio's arms.

“Padre,” he whispers,his hands small and warm against Dio’s bare skin, “what is that?”

“It’s me. It’s my power,Giorno, my will, and my strength, and my determination.”

Giorno turns and stares, watching The World approach once more.It stretches out a hand, delicately imitating Dio’s gesture from moments ago.Dio is surprised, delighted, proud,when Giorno pushes his way out of Dio’s arms, and carefully curls his fingersagainst The World’s.

“What’s his name?” Giornoasks. Dio smiles, and answers.

“The World.” 

[flenserfics]

Suga’s tender and Tendou’s tenderized.

[mu11berry]

Shipping meme - RhenxDameon

@downmoonwrites made this shipping meme and I am filling it out for guess who, Rhen and Dameon <3

falls asleep on the couch - I always say Rhen but I just realized every time I’ve written one of them falling asleep in not-their-bed it’s Dameon, haha. I think it’s because usually this question is worded so it’s specifically about falling asleep while waiting up for the other, which would happen to Rhen but not to Dameon. Just falling asleep random places because Tired and Long Day and Probably Doesn’t Get Enough Sleep is Dameon though. Basically, Rhen sleeps on the couch because she has a strong internal clock and when it’s bedtime, it’s bedtime. And Dameon sleeps on the couch because he never sleeps until his body forces him too. Both of them will take care of the other and bring blankets or help them get to a proper bed<3

makes friends with the neighbors - Rhen does the walk-up-with-cookies-and-introduce-ourselves part, Dameon made the cookies and keeps the conversation going smoothly. Teamwork!

is the adventurous eater - I guess Rhen but with some exceptions because she’s picky about random things. Dameon is more likely to try the chili chocolate or actually anything chocolate, Rhen is more likely to try the possibly-poisonous-berries and use the 5 second rule for things it definitely does not apply to. 

hogs the covers at night- I can’t really see either of them doing this. Dameon gets cold more easily but hates to inconvenience literally anyone, especially Rhen, and besides Rhen likes to cuddle so probably most nights they’re both too hot for blankets anyway

forgets to do the dishes- I would say Rhen but Dameon usually takes it upon himself to do the dishes so she doesn’t have to worry about it. And when he can’t, she makes sure to get it done for him cuz they are good to each other<3

tries to surprise their partner more often- Dameon more often does the planned surprises like making/bringing Rhen’s favorite foods or going out of his way to help take care of stuff she was stressing over, Rhen more often does the spontaneous surprises like buying little things that reminded her of him or Unexpected Affection haha

leaves dirty laundry on the floor- This is Rhen 100% XD She wants me to tell you she’s getting better though, she hardly ever does this anymore

stays up til 2 AM reading- Hahaha Dameon, that’s why he falls asleep on the couch

sings in the shower- Rhen. Rhen sings everywhere. She’s off-key and probably has no volume control. Dameon loves it.

takes the selfies- Rhen, Dameon is camera shy. He’ll take pictures with her if she asks him though and later they’ll both spend hours smiling at them like idiots cuz they are in love

plans date night- Whoever asks plans and pays (if the other will let them pay haha), they’re both considerate and thoughtful people. When they’re married they plan together and it’s adorable

[ennotanazine]

EnnoTana FanZine: Full Artists and Writers List 

I’m very excited to announce the amazing artists and writers who will be joining us for the fanzine! Check them out: 

Artists

Alex Jade | @bennettflynt | @bracari-iris | @cheesecakecaramel | @coolwhiip | @dawndraws | @envb | @feirurun | @gnartart | @joon-alan | @humbuns | @iamafiasco | @lionhearts-stag | @madsawa | @my-bokuto-san | @strovaa_ (twitter) | @schion | @semieitamatic | @starlity | @tala-art 

~*~

Writers 

@aidenexe | @andramion | @boulevard-of-broken-feels | @chantsings (twitter) | @cyber-nya | @downmoonwrites | @ennotanafuta | @gilrael | @iceandbrimstone | @kakkoweeb | @karasunovolleygays | @rawrrawrpandacakes | @ryekamasaki | @seaofwriting | @semishiraten | @tanuma_ebooks (twitter) | @tenyu | @vodkatiia

~*~

Artists & Writers 

@goesdoki-doki | @semieitamatic | @thepessimistsblog

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this fanzine! So excited to be working with everyone!!

[setters-n-acezine-blog]

Say hello to Downmoon, one of our guest writers! A particularly diverse writer, she’s written for nearly every pairing you can think of, delivering both fluff and angst with a finesse we envy. Always looking for a challenge, she takes on requests and never fails to surpass your expectations ✨

In addition to working on Wanderlust, she’s part of the HQ Siblings Zine and the Haikyuu!! Big Bang!​ Not only is she writing a sci fi/horror AU fic, she’s mentoring other writers through the Fanfiction Writers Mentor-Mentee Network. We’re so happy to have her as part of this zine and can’t wait to share her writing with you!

Visit Downmoon on Tumblr @downmoonwrites or AO3 @downmoon!

See the full story here: [ yours is the light ]

To find out more about Wanderlust Zine, visit us @setters-n-acezine ✌🏽

Check back every day for a new edition of zine contributor featurettes!

[carajay1317]

Written for coka @kokamee as part of the @iwaoiexchange​ event! I'm sorry it's a little late, but I hope you like it. The prompts you gave me were perfect, I hope I've done them justice!

Edited by the amazing @downmoonwrites (You are the BEST! Thank you for your help!)

Title: past the spring equinox Pairing: iwaoi Warnings: angst angst angst plus fluff Summary: For as long as Tooru can remember, Hajime has always been by his side. But between graduation, the new school year, and all the magic that happens when you finally start growing up, Tooru isn’t sure what will happen, only that he never wants to lose Hajime. [ Link ]

[lemedy]

@downmoonwrites said: I only see one prompt dear lemedy~

Curse you, tumblr, and your love of eating messages.

SENDING AGAIN.

[whitesilverandmercury]

downmoonwrites

#disgustingly talented STOP IT #(don't stop)

heichoulevina

#everyone should read this!!

;aljgsldkj STOP YOU GUYS i'm so glad you liked iiit ( ಠ◡ಠ )

[downmoonwrites]

@gyjoweek day 2: rainy days | umbrellas | sick day word count: 2100 rated: T

read on ao3 (follow the link above) or here. or both!

The sun has been slowly sinking behind the clouds for the past hour, turning the washed-out gray of the day into darkness. It's too dim to see clearly now; Johnny's already called for them to stop several times, but Gyro keeps going, 'just a little further’, he keeps saying. Johnny's not stupid enough to stop where he is and try to make camp on his own- they hardly know each other, but already this race has proved dangerous to the both of them, and if they were to go their separate ways, Johnny has more than a feeling that it would end badly- so onward he rides.

The rain's been beating down since they woke up, a steady drizzle just insistent enough to be irritating. His hands are wet, his hair has curled with the humidity, and Slow Dancer's been aggressive and finicky. He himself is in a rapidly worsening mood. He's tired and sore and damp, and every time Gyro starts whistling a tune, or humming some stupid song to himself, Johnny gets a little more pissed off. He wants to set up camp before one of the horses takes the wrong step, and cuts their race to an abrupt end.

"Gyro," he calls again, not bothering to bite back the irritation in his voice, "it's almost dark. I can't see nothin', 'n the horses can't manage this terrain in the dark."

He peers ahead through the gloom, but Gyro doesn't so much as turn his head.

"Gyro!" he calls again, louder this time. "Chrissake, Gyro, stop, or I'm stoppin' myself!"

Valkyrie keeps up her steady pace, and Johnny settles back in the saddle with an irritated sigh, convinced he's wasted his breath yet again. But then, Gyro's finally, finally slowing to a stop, and dismounting from his horse.

"What's wrong with a little rain, Johnny?" he calls back, that singsong-y, amused lilt to his voice. Johnny bristles at the remark, the hint of condescension, like Gyro's addressing a whiny child, but remains silent. Gyro's not waiting for his answer anyway, because he saunters off into the dark, leaving Valkyrie behind.

"Watch my horse, Johnny," he calls back, "I'm going to find us a place to put up for the night."

Johnny raises his eyebrows in surprise; he wasn't actually expecting the ninth attempt at getting Gyro to pull off for the night to work. He urges Slow Dancer forward, until he can grasp Valkyrie's reins in his stiff hands, and tries to make out the blur of Gyro's figure as he disappears amongst the trees.

With Gyro gone, Johnny's left in eerie silence. The steady beat of the rain echoes numbly in his ears, as he strains to listen for any sounds of Gyro's return. He's not worried, no, but he's not about to let his guard down, not with the strange situations they keep finding themselves in, or the potential threats of a forest at night.

The sharp crack of a twig startles him, but it's soon followed by the murmur of a deep voice singing in a foreign language. Gyro stomps back into the little clearing Johnny and the horses are waiting in.

"You're too loud," Johnny declares, as soon as he can make out Gyro's murky figure.

"And here I am," Gyro replies, "returning with good news about our camp for the night."

"Who knows what's out here," Johnny continues on. Gyro steps close enough to take both sets of reins, and begins to lead the horses through the path he just took. "Or who."

"Johnny, there's no one out here. I'd be able to tell if there was someone following us. I have a very acute sense of hearing, you know."

"Ha! You say that like you haven't been singing or whistling or crashing through the brush all day. If anyone were following us, they'd just have to listen for you."

Gyro laughs his strange laugh, unbothered by Johnny's remarks. There's not much that seems to bother Gyro.

Still, when Gyro picks up his whistling again, Johnny finds himself relaxing the slightest bit. The irritation built up from the day crumbles with the sound of Gyro's nonsense tune, until he's left with exhaustion settling firmly into his bones.

They walk for a bit more, Johnny's thoughts wandering further as the steady rhythm of Slow Dancer beneath him brings him just that much closer to the edge of sleep, until Gyro stops, and announces his discovery.

"Ta-dah!" he says. Johnny can't quite make it out, but he can imagine Gyro's grand gesture towards the little alcove carved out of the cliff face in front of them.

"Wow, Gyro," he says, "you found a hole."

"I found a goddamn dry hole, Johnny."

Johnny snorts, but Gyro plows right on.

“You’ve got your dead leaves for bedding, a nice sandy patch near the entrance for a fire pit, and look-”

He points in another direction. Johnny squints towards the dark copse of trees.

“There’s even space to settle the horses for the night.”

“This hotel sucks. I demand my money back.”

Gyro hoots with laughter, and begins to dig around in his pack. He pulls out a canvas cloth, and traipses off towards the trees with the bundle in his arms. Johnny sighs again, and turns towards the cave entrance. It’s dark enough that he can’t see much, but it looks okay from what he can see. No weird sounds, no funny smells, no sense of danger. He begins to unfasten his pack from Slow Dancer’s saddle, and throws it down and into the cave as best he can. He unhooks one leg from her saddle, and eases himself so he’s more or less sitting side-saddle. He’s not really looking forward to dropping onto the wet earth and dragging himself into the cave, but he doesn’t have much of a choice.

The leaves are wet and slimy beneath his hands, but once he gets into the cave proper, they’re dry and crisp. He lights a match as soon as he’s able, and in the feeble light, examines the space. It goes back far enough that they should just be able to fit their bedrolls without getting wet, and, like Gyro had said, the mouth of the cave is sandy and dry, tucked underneath the lip of the cave. He should be able to get a tiny fire going.

Johnny works in the dark. Once his match goes out, he drags his pack forward, towards the back of the cave, and clears a space for a fire. The leaves light quickly, and he finds some brush and twigs to throw on the blaze.

He can hear Gyro crashing around out there, setting up the canvas for the horses, the sound of them snorting, a snatch of a song. He comes back once to collect Slow Dancer, leading her off towards the trees, then disappears into the darkness once again.

Johnny rolls out his bedroll the best he can, and shrugs off his wet cloak, laying it out by the fire. It'll be days before it really dries properly, but a damp cloak in the morning is better than a wet one. Then, he settles himself close to the fire, and waits.

Gyro comes stomping back after a while, shaking off his hat and his cloak and his wet hair at the mouth of the cave, before crouching down and squeezing in beside Johnny.

"You look like a wet cat," he says. Johnny scowls at him.

"Like you look any better."

" 'Least I'm not behaving like a wet cat."

Johnny's mouth snaps shut. He scowls deeper and throws another handful of twigs onto the fire. Gyro throws his pack back into the cave, humming to himself as he lays out his bedroll, and pulls jerky and dried fruit out for their dinner. Johnny accepts his portion, and drops a handful of nuts in the space between them. He'd found them a few days ago, just as they were entering the forest. It's the last of the store he'd picked, and he drops them as some sort of peace offering. Gyro forces him to depend on his own strength and determination, and as much of an ass as he is sometimes, Johnny’s not going to take his frustrations or his discomfort out on Gyro.

For a while, they say nothing. Gyro cracks nuts and throws the shells into the fire. Johnny chews on his food, and throws a handful of leaves or brush onto the fire whenever it starts to drop too low. The rain keeps up its steady beat in the darkness outside.

"Horses alright?" he asks eventually. It’s an awkward attempt at recovering from his bad mood, but Gyro accepts it instantly.

"Fine. I brushed them down and hung their rugs to dry out."

Johnny hums a noise of acknowledgement. He picks up a stone, a nice, smooth one, and holds it in the center of his palm. At the start of the race, he practised incessantly with whatever semi-spherical object he could find- stones, berries, nuts- but as his frustration grew, his desire to learn the Spin diminished. It's been a day, maybe two, since he last gave it a shot.

He raises his palm, and tries to clear his mind. Gyro's instructions on mastering the Spin are vague at best, but he reflects on them the best he can. He almost feels a little different this time, as he stares at the stone in his palm and takes a deep breath. Something about the rhythm of his lungs feels nearly comforting, giving him something to focus on. It’s almost as if energy is thrumming through his veins and beginning to swirl beneath the stone. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost feel warmth in his hand, too.

Given the circumstances, he should be able to do something. He can feel the difference this time, but it's almost like there's a piece missing somewhere, some connection that keeps the stone from moving, and he can't figure out what it is.

He stares at the stone until he feels himself grow lightheaded, then drops his hand in a rush. His chest heaves with the breaths he's sucking in, and he drops himself backwards, lying on the end of his bedroll and staring up at the rocky ceiling.

It felt so different that time, so tantalizingly close, but the taste of failure weighs heavily upon him, the stone still clutched in his hand. He glances towards Gyro, only to find him staring. Johnny quickly wipes tears out of his eyes and sits up.

"I still don't get it," he says loudly, trying to force nonchalance into his voice. Instead, he just sounds miserable.

"Johnny," Gyro says, still staring intently at him, "what was that breathing?"

"What?"

"The breathing, you- I think you almost had it."

Johnny inhales a shaky breath and uncurls his palm. The stone rests there, unmoving, but warm.

"I don't know," he admits, suddenly self-conscious, "It just felt...kinda right, I guess."

Gyro shuffles beside him, catching Johnny's attention. He plucks the stone from Johnny's palm and drops the heavy weight of a steel ball into his hand instead. It's Johnny's turn to stare at him with wide eyes; Gyro won't so much as let him look at the steel balls, nevermind touch them, since that day back on the beach in San Francisco.

"Try it again," he says, "with the breathing."

Johnny frowns for an instant, but hesitantly focuses on the steel ball in his palm. He tries to settle himself back in that moment, to relive everything that just happened, the breathing, the flow of his blood. Warmth. Steel. Air.

He sighs, and in an instant, the steel ball spins wildly in his palm. On instinct, he claps his other hand over the top of the ball, to keep it from flying out of the cup of his palm, stopping the movement without realizing it until it’s too late.

It doesn't really matter though. Gyro looks at him for a second, his mouth hanging open, before he bellows with laughter and claps Johnny hard on the back.

"Look at you, Johnny! The breathing! I can't believe that actually worked!"

Johnny catches himself grinning in response, an airy sort of laugh escaping his throat. It's the first time since the start of the race that he feels hopeful.

Gyro slaps him on the back again, his teeth glinting gold in the fire light. Johnny bites at the smile on his mouth, squeezing the steel ball in his hand. Outside, the rain continues to fall.

[flenserfics]

A little drabble series based on @downmoonwrites neato AU, starring everyone’s favorite rebel couple, Suga and Daichi (plus a few cameos).

[downmoonwrites]

a collection of snippets and one shots in the family album verse

featuring various characters and various scenarios

[downmoonwrites]

rolls in more than a year later with the fourth part to my family au: the family album

word count: 3551 (rated G)

Suga’s arm is stretched along the back of the couch. The edge of his thumb presses gently against the back of Daichi’s neck, a tender gesture that blooms in warmth in the center of Daichi’s chest. He’s almost lost in it, this blinding, beautiful, happy bubble he’s found for himself.

[downmoonwrites]

3

an uncle comes to visit

single dad dio AU

The thing about Diego is he has an uncanny knack for finding out information. Neither one of them have a particularly affectionate relationship with each other- Dio might be tempted to take off his own arm if either one of them described it as affectionate- but Diego makes it his business to know Dio’s business, through whatever means are necessary.

“I hope you know I don’t appreciate this,” Dio says between gritted teeth, his phone jammed between his ear and his shoulder as he finishes typing out an email.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Diego says airily. The phone call, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it’d been so long since they last spoke that it managed to catch Dio off-guard.

“You’re lucky I answered.”

“You say that,” Diego says, “as if I wouldn’t keep calling until you picked up.”

He would. Dio rolls his eyes.

“What do you want, Diego?"

"Straight to the point, as usual. Alright, I won't waste your precious time then. I hear your offspring is in the country."

"What? How did-"

"Please, you think I wouldn't find out? Frankly, I'm offended I had to find out through other means. I thought my brother would at least have the decency to tell me something as monumental as this."

Diego is a lot of things, prideful not excluded. He'd as soon sew his mouth shut before he admitted to being upset about something, and his ego is big enough to rival Dio's. But there's a strange hint to his voice, a little twinge of something that sounds an awful lot like disappointment, like he's actually upset he found out about Haruno's arrival through whatever grapevines he has twined about himself.

"It's not your business," Dio says, carefully neutral. Diego scoffs on the other end of the phone.

"Typical. I don't know what I expected."

"Diego-"

"I'll be round tomorrow."

"You will not." Dio stops his typing and grabs his phone before he drops it. "Diego, you better not be cutting your classes. I will not stand for that kind of behavior, especially as I'm the one paying for your education."

Dio's shouts echo in the space of his office. The line sits quietly, until Diego sighs.

"It's a free weekend, Dio," he says softly, "not that I was expecting you to know that either. I'll be round in the afternoon."

He hangs up before Dio can reply. He considers calling Diego back immediately and shouting sense into him until he'd call off his whole foolish trip. No doubt he's coming by to gloat over Dio playing father. He wouldn't stoop to insulting Haruno- of that Dio is at least positive about- but he has no desire to bear the brunt of Diego's commentary.

Although.

And it's a strange thought, a strange detail to pick up on, but Diego /did/ sound almost...affected. Something about the touch of strain in his voice. Dio can remember the exact moment he last heard that strain in Diego’s voice, and it was years ago. What on earth Diego has to be upset about, Dio hasn’t a clue, and he’s not looking forward to dealing with it, once it finally emerges.

Diego arrives just as Dio’s seated Haruno for lunch. He doesn’t bother knocking, so neither he nor Haruno are even aware of his arrival until he’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Ah, family luncheon, is it?” he says. “How very charming.”

Dio bites back the scathing remark on the tip of his tongue, only because Haruno is sitting at the table, staring at Diego, and only just barely.

“This is Diego,” Dio says. Haruno turns to look at him, crumbs from his sandwich in the corner of his mouth, before turning back, curious about this new person.

Diego raises an eyebrow at Dio, but approaches the table confidently.

“Hello,” he says to Haruno, looking down at him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Say ‘hello,’ Haruno,” Dio prompts.

“Salve.”

“So, no English, then?” Diego says.

“Italian.”

“Ah. Well, my Italian is rubbish, so English it is. What’s his name?”

“What?” Dio casts a close eye over his brother. Diego always has some game, some scheme running, and Dio regards him with suspicion.

“Haruno,” Dio answers after a beat. Another raised eyebrow from Diego.

“Doesn’t sound Italian, does it?”

A hint of a frown passes over Dio’s face, but he smoothes it over to match the neutrality on Diego’s face. Diego’s fishing for information on Haruno, but no way in hell Dio’s telling anything regarding that story.

Diego turns his attention back to Haruno. He studies the little face, the wispy black curls, the sharp eyes. It’s not a conventional resemblance, but he’s undeniably Dio’s child.

“Congratulations, Dio,” Diego says, “your spawn is rather cute.”

Diego kicks out a chair at the table and sits down before Dio can make any comment.

“I’ll be staying the weekend,” he says, carding his fingers through his hair.

“The spare room’s occupied,” Dio says. It’s rather impressive how long Dio’s managed to control his temper, although Diego can hear the sound of his teeth grinding together. Can’t be good for him.

“I’ll sleep in your office.”

Dio chews a bite of food, suddenly looking far too contemplative for Diego’s liking.

“Fine,” he says eventually, “but you’ll be looking after Haruno while I go into work tomorrow. Monday, too.”

“What?”

“It’s either that or I put you on a train back to your dormitory. Or else, you could stay with friends, couldn’t you, Diego?”

The neutrality falls from Diego’s face; it’s not often that anyone hits so close to home, but Dio has always been able to do that to him, reading him like an open book, despite how carefully Diego tries to hide his heart.

“My empty dorm would be preferable to this,” Diego says, “but when would I even miss an opportunity to impose on your hospitality? Fine, I’ll do it.” He tries to play it off as casual, but he can’t quite cover up the strain in his voice, something that Dio most definitely notices. And Haruno, if the shy curl of his shoulders is anything to go by. Diego suddenly feels a stab of guilt.

“We’ll have fun without you,” he says, more to himself than Haruno or Dio. Haruno carefully sets his half-eaten sandwich back on his plate, and slips out of the chair, scampering his way out of the kitchen. Diego watches him go, a weird twist of something curling in his stomach, while Dio rinses dishes in the sink behind him.

[downmoonwrites]

2

trying some more of this dad Dio AU as i try to get back into writing

Dio was under the distinct impression that a household with a four-year-old would be a very noisy affair, but the three days Haruno’s spent in his apartment have been eerily quiet. He makes more noise than Haruno does, and he’d chalked it up to nerves and settling into a new place at first, but Haruno seems relaxed and content. He answers Dio’s questions, asks for snacks and weird, random questions- strictly in Italian, which had Dio digging deep to remember how to speak- but otherwise, he keeps to himself, playing quietly, eating quietly, sleeping quietly.

The noisiest, and by far, the most eventful portion of the week so far has been the incessant buzzing of his phone. Mariah’s an excellent assistant, but Dio has a hunch as to why she’s been trying to call him all morning.

He doesn’t call her back until mid morning, after Haruno’s been dressed and breakfast dishes have been washed. She picks up on the second ring.

“Mariah,” he says, sipping on a cup of cold tea.

“I know you’re on vacation,” she starts, and Dio sighs. He has a feeling of what’s coming. “But Mr. Appice is insistent that he speak with you. I’ve tried to explain that he can reach you through email, but you know how he is.”

“Unfortunately. I’ll call him today and arrange for a meeting-”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brando, but he’s here now.” “What?”

The thing he likes most about Mariah is she takes all the personalities of his clients, and his own short temper, in stride. That, and she’s a terribly competent assistant, but there are certain clients in his caseload that simply won’t listen to reason, no matter how many times it’s repeated to them.

“He was waiting outside the door when I got here this morning at half past. I’m sorry, Mr. Brando, I really am. He’s been here all morning, and he’s refused to leave until he spoke with you. I suppose I can put him on the phone, but he’s distressed, you see, and I don’t think he’ll listen to me anyway-”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Dio says, and hangs up. He resists throwing his phone across the room by sheer determination (and Haruno’s big, blue-eyed stare from across the table). He downs the rest of his cold tea in one go, and stands up abruptly.

“Haruno,” he says, “we’re going to work for a little bit.”

Mr. Brando storms into the office with a face like thunder and a little boy propped up on his hip.

“Mariah,” he says when he bursts through the door, “this is Haruno. I’ll be in my office.”

“Mr. Brando-”

Mr. Brando sets the little boy down and kneels in front of him. He rattles something off in a language Mariah certainly doesn’t speak, but the little boy nods. Mr. Brando hands him a backpack and stands, drawing one hand over the crown of his head in an oddly fond gesture. He tears down the hallway without so much as a look over his shoulder, leaving Mariah with Haruno.

Mr. Brando doesn’t often surprise her; he’s a temperamental man, but she’s competent enough to keep up with his perfectionism. Dumping a little boy into her lap, however, is a new level strange, and it’s making her reconsider just how well she knows Mr. Brando.

The little boy- Haruno- for his part, doesn’t seem put out in the least. He watches Mr. Brando go down the hall, then slips back behind Mariah’s desk when he disappears. The little bug-shaped backpack is plopped onto the floor, then opened by small fingers. Mariah watches as he pulls out a clattering pile of toys out of the bag, then sits down on the floor and starts moving them about. He does it so quietly that she doesn’t realize he’s started playing until a few moments later, when she sees him bounce a little horse figurine across the carpet like it’s galloping. She’s distracted by the phone ringing, and then her emails, and then clients passing in and out of the door, but she doesn’t quite stop wondering just what Dio Brando gets up to when he takes vacation.

 Appice scurries out of his office within an hour, after Dio has thoroughly chewed him out for dragging him out to the office for a matter completely unrelated to his case. Still, he leaves thanking Dio profusely. After their conversation, Appice’s acutely aware of how hopeless a lawsuit he’s bringing to court, and how he’d most certainly lose if it were anyone but Dio working his case. And that had certainly struck fear into the fool’s head, if no sensible warnings had.

He shuts off the lights and closes the door to his office. His thoughts had been on Haruno the entirety of his meeting with Appice, but no one had knocked on his door, and he’d heard no crying or fits. It left him just a little too suspicious to be relieved, however, and he walks quickly down the hall.

Whatever he was suspecting wasn’t Haruno perched in Mariah’s lap pointing to her computer screen and chirping in Italian. It puzzles Dio enough that he stops dead in his tracks and frowns, watching the two of them. Mariah looks up to follow the line of Haruno’s finger, and catches Dio’s eye.

“Mr. Brando,” she says, “I see Mr. Appice’s left.”

“Yes. He shouldn’t be bothering you anymore this week. Haruno?”

Haruno turns at the sound of his name, and slides off Mariah’s lap.

“We’re watching videos,” he says in his little voice, looking up at Dio.

“That’s very nice, Haruno, but we have to go home now. She has work to do.”

Haruno frowns a little, but slowly stoops to start picking up his scattered toys. Dio has the distinct impression he’s just disappointed his son.

“Thank you, Mariah,” he says, collecting a toy car and a robot off her desk. “I’m sorry to have dropped this on you, but I don’t have a sitter.” “It’s perfectly alright, Mr. Brando,” she says. She’s watching Haruno, with the faintest trace of a smile on her mouth. “He’s a good little boy. Is it Italian he speaks?”

“Ah,” Dio says. He’d forgotten all about that. “Yes. He’s- his mother lives in Italy, and he hasn’t had much opportunity to learn English.”

“I see,” she says, and then- “he’s your son, correct?”

Dio nods, a bit dumbfounded, and a touch apprehensive. It’s not exactly something he wanted to spread around the office.

“He looks like you,” Mariah says, “his eyes- not the color, obviously, but- well, he’s very sharp, isn’t he, Mr. Brando?”

Mariah is not a flatterer; she is a straightforward but tactful young lady, but not prone to compliments. At her words, Dio feels a strange, but not entirely unwelcome twist of pride.

“Yes,” Dio says, “that he is.”

He zips up Haruno’s bag and helps him put it on, looking for the last time to make sure no toys were forgotten. Mariah waves goodbye as they leave, Haruno looking a bit sullen, but waving in return.

“I’m sorry, Haruno,” Dio says, once they’re successfully on their way home. He’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for, but the look on Haruno’s face touches him with guilt.

Haruno is strapped into his booster seat, and he looks out the window as they drive through the busy streets of London.

“Miss Mariah is nice,” he says simply. Dio looks at him in the rear-view mirror.

“She is very nice. What were you watching while I was away?”

Haruno turns to look at him, something like wonder blooming across his face. Dio doesn’t really know how to talk to a child; he’s observed it often enough, but he can’t bring himself around to that shift in conversation. Luckily, Haruno doesn’t need that childish coaxing. He rattles on about the butterfly videos they were watching. He stumbles over his words, and his sentences are rather jumbled- Dio has a bit of a time following what exactly he’s saying- but for the first time since arriving in Dio’s care, he’s something other than calm and quiet. It’s a tiny triumph, maybe, but Dio will count it as a victory.

[downmoonwrites]

i was prowling through an AU @lemedy and i bounced back and forth last year and it awakened very very fond rare pair feelings within me

Kenma wakes up to the sound of clattering down the hall, some awful racket that has him groaning and rolling over. When he cracks his eyes open, the bedroom is still dim, the first rays of the sun just creeping around the edges of the curtains. It’s a godforsaken time to be awake, and he fully intends to fall back asleep immediately, if not for Hajime creeping back into the bedroom.

“You’re awake,” he says in the best whisper he can manage. Kenma grunts in response.

“I’m going for a run,” Hajime says. He slides open their closet as quietly as he can, but the noise is still irritating, and overly loud first thing in the morning. He fumbles around in the closet, then slides the door closed once he finds what he’s looking for. Kenma tracks him by sound as he wanders around their bedroom, listening to the rustle of his clothes, the quiet slide of a desk drawer, the tinny sound of music coming from his headphones.

The bed dips behind him, and Kenma feels the brush of Hajime’s hand over his hair.

“You wanna come?” Hajime asks. Kenma can almost picture the teasing smirk on his face; he’s tried this once before, to drag Kenma out of bed before the sun was even properly up, and it didn’t end well for either of them. He knows what Kenma’s answer will be. All the same, Kenma turns his head and peers at Hajime through his sleep-heavy eyes. Hajime bites his lip in return to keep from laughing on the spot.

“I guess that’s a no,” he says, then ducks forward to press a kiss to Kenma’s temple. The weight on their bed lifts, and the door clicks quietly shut as Hajime leaves. Kenma settles back into the warm tangle of blankets cocooning him, and drifts back towards sleep.