#ever since I was a child I knew I’d be sad about being unable to hug fictional characters my whole life

[hopecomesbacktolife]

I think receiving a tight hug for like an hour from Eliot Spencer would fix me

[judesmoonbeauty]

Black Wedding: The True Vow For A Jet-Black Bride - Ellis Twilight

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. What I obtain is what will be translated. If other blogs have translated the stories before I do, I will notate their blogs. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

The consensus was to have the ceremony surrounded by plants, and the garden of Crown castle was chosen.

(There were a lot options, but I’m happy to eb able to get married in such a memorable place.)

I confirmed the arrangements and sat on the bench with a nervous look on my face.

Ellis: …As I thought, you look so beautiful in your dress.

Kate: Ellis….you look very handsome.

He kneels in front of me, looking different from usual.

Kate: Why don’t you sit down?

Ellis: The veil hides your face, so I can see your face better this way, Kate.

I could feel the tension slowly dissolve into heat enveloping my hands.

Kate: You look like a prince, Ellis.

Ellis: Then you’re my personal princess, Kate.

I laugh, as his lips tickle the back of my hand, and he looks up at me happily.

Ellis: After the ceremony is over, it’ll be time for the honeymoon. Have you decided where you want to go?

Kate: I’m struggling to decide. What about you, Ellis?

Ellis: I’m happy wherever you are, but….I’m sure we can figure something out together.

Kate: Will Jude give you time-off……..

Ellis: Don’t worry. I’ve finished my work ahead of schedule, so I’m off for a while.

(I was with him most of the time, I don’t know when he finished…..)

Despite my doubts, he begins to talk about the future.

Ellis: It’s going to be difficult for a while, but once things settle down, I’d like a house for just the two of us.

Kate: Great, what kind of home would you like?

Ellis: London is nice, but I think a beautiful green suburb would suit you better Kate.

Ellis: It doesn’t have to be big, I just want it to be our own private paradise.

I imagined a green suburban home and found my cheeks soften.

Ellis: Ah, but when we have a baby, we’ll need the room, so maybe it’s better if it’s bigger.

Kate: A child…?!

In contrast to me, who suddenly let out a strange voice, he tilted his head.

Ellis: Maybe you hadn’t thought about it?

A sad expression appeared on his face and he shook his head hurriedly.

Kate: It’s not like that, but I thought maybe it’d be better with just us two, Ellis.

Ellis: I hate the idea of having a child and no longer being number one to you, but ……

Ellis: But I thought that I’d be happier if I had a child who looked like you.

Since coming to Crown, I’ve been unable to imagine an ordinary sort of happiness….

(Ellis has always envisioned a future with me.)

I look away, happy and embarrassed.

Kate: ……Ellis, I want a girl who looks like you.

At these words, his expression changed happily.

Ellis: A family of four then.

I placed my hands on both my cheeks.

Kate: Maybe someday there’ll come more important things, but for right now, you come first Ellis.

Ellis: Me too, you’re the best.

Ellis: …I still think children will come a little later. I still want to enjoy the two of us.

Kate: Hehe….me too.

He put his chin on my lap and looked up at me with an enraptured expression on his face.

Ellis: Hey, how happy are you now?

I felt breathless because I had sensed the answer I was looking for.

Noticing this, his hand reaches up to my neck.

Ellis: I’m very happy right now…….Maybe, today might be the best day ever.

Ellis: So, if you felt the same way, I was thinking I’d kill you and make it eternal.

I took a deep breath, but there was no strength in his fingers.

Ellis: …..But I knew you’d say that you’d be happier tomorrow than you are today.

Ellis: Besides, I don’t want any of the things we just talked about to not come true.

His fingers leave my neck and slide up to my cheek….

Ellis: Until that time comes, I will continue to make you happy.

His fingers moved away as if they were regretted leaving.

Ellis: We should get going.

Stopping in front of the aisle, I remember what happened earlier.

(I don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is clear.)

Kate: Ellis.

Ellis: What’s wrong?

Kate: I don’t know when my happiest moment will come, but I can tell you this.

I looked straight into his eyes and said a thought will never change.

Kate: …..The moment my happiness ends is when you die, Ellis.

His startled face turned as sweet as jam.

Ellis: …..Then, I’ll get you before I die.

Ellis: Then I’ll follow you. Because I won’t be happy in a world without you.

Kate: ……It’s a promise.

He smiles an exquisite smile and takes a step forward with his arms entwined like thorns.

This road is surely a journey to the happiest end in the world.

[Black Wedding Master List]

[wandering-winchesters]

Premonitions

Pairing: Dean x Reader, implied feelings. Word Count: 2,239 Summary: The reader has always had visions, but now they're changing and causing her physical harm. Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, implied vomiting and pain. Requested: Yes, by anonymous. The reader has visions of future events since her childhood, but since the last hunt and burn of a witch her visions are getting more powerful and begin to affect her health condition. The visions weakening her, she suffers from heavy migraine and also dizzy spells and nausea. She tries to hide it from the Winchesters but as observing as they are, they instantly recognize her pale and sick appearance.  A/N: Requests are open! I hope you enjoy my take on this request, please let me know!

Masterlist

Visions are something I’m very familiar with, I’ve had them since I was a child. They felt like dreams, mostly peaceful and serine. Predicting the things that were to come, always happy occasions. I knew the days to come that I would enjoy, the places we’d visit and joys I’d experience before they ever happened. It was a good thing, I was thankful for it. It brought reassurance in times of doubt, joy in times of sadness and it didn’t really affect my day to day life. Dean would try to use it to their advantage, running lottery ticket numbers by me in hopes of me having a vision of him winning, he hadn’t been successful yet. Sam always rolled his eyes at Dean’s childishness, but would listen intently to whatever I recounted for them. 

Since the last hunt that we been on my visions had changed, they were no longer predicting joyful occurrences, they were dark. Foreshadowing death and torture, often continuing on for twenty or thirty minutes. The amount of time a drastic change to the maybe five minute long visions that I was used to having. They caused me to get sick almost every time, a wave of nausea taking over the second the vision ended. My body felt weak, muscles ached and I had a headache that had taken up permanent residence since these new visions had started. I was doing my best to keep it from the boys, not wanting them to worry about me anymore than they already did. They already watched me closely, concerned that I would get hurt while on a hunt. If they knew about this, well, I don’t know what they would do. Probably bench me, if we are being honest. I had managed to keep it to myself, thankful that most of the visions seemed to appear at night, to the point where I could almost call them nightmares. Yet I knew better, I know that they’re predictions, some of the things I have already confirmed to be true. A train derailing in Michigan, a bus crash in Ohio, the list goes on. Every time I have one, I search the news headlines, praying that I won’t find what I am looking for. However, it’s always there, a day or two after it happens. 

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why my visions had changed, the only plausible explanation was the witch that had escaped on our last hunt. Despite our every effort, she had fled moments before we would have killed her. My guess is a spell, what spell you might ask? No clue. All of the research I had been doing, has been turning up empty. No explanation for the full body symptoms I had been having in response to the visions. 

Which is how I wound up here, hugging the toilet in the bathroom connected to my room. My head is spinning and throbbing, the pit in my stomach nauseating and unbearable. My body was aching from the constant shivers running through my body. There was nothing I could do but sit and wait, and hope that it faded overtime. This was by far the worst one, it had pulled me in and completely overcome my every thought and action. Flashes of red and orange flames, the screams of innocent people trapped within the building, being burned alive or smothered by smoke. All of it so real and vivid, forcing tears to fall from my eyes as I laid there paralyzed, unable to snap out of it, until it was over. Just as abruptly as it had begun, it was gone. I was back in my room at the bunker, sick from fear. I had painstakingly made my way to the bathroom, my eyes closed and my feet shuffling. Avoiding any sudden movements due to fear of passing out or throwing up. Judging by the time on my phone, it had lasted nearly an hour, fifty-three minutes to be exact, the longest vision I had ever had. I remain on the floor of the bathroom for almost an additional hour, taking slow, even breaths, waiting out the nausea. Which eventually faded, I had hoped that the migraine would fade too, however no luck. I opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the harsh light in the bathroom, a light that I didn’t recall turning on. I stand slowly and turn to head towards my bed, hopeful that the rest of my sleep would be uninterrupted and dreamless. 

I am awoken by a knock on my door, followed by a voice calling out my name. I ignore it, hoping they’ll go away. I am tired, so tired. The thought of getting out of bed felt like the most insurmountable task, I was already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth of my blankets. 

“Y/N, it’s almost noon, are you okay?” Sam enters the room, his voice much louder than I would prefer. I would rather he not be here at all and to just leave me to my sleep. 

“‘M fine, Sam. Go away, tired.” I mumble, throwing my arm back behind me and motioning for him to leave, not bothering to open my eyes. I hear light shuffling and I assume that he is leaving, but I am proven wrong when I feel the bed next to me dip down. Sam has not left, but come to sit beside me. I open one eye to glance at him, but close it again quickly, the lights flooding my senses with searing pain. His hand comes to rest on my shoulder and when I still don’t stir to look at him again, he speaks.

“What’s going on with you? You might think you’re doing a good job at hiding whatever it is, but you’re really not. Dean and I both know that something is going on that you’re not telling us about and its getting concerning. You’ve been sleeping a lot, in constant pain when you’re awake and you’re pale as a ghost, Y/N.” I know he isn’t going to leave me be without an answer of some sort. So I do my best to come up with one, something that sounds believable but not too concerning. 

“Just haven’t been feeling the best, must be food poisoning or something.” I whisper, again willing that he will leave me alone to sleep. My body physically exhausted, head throbbing, pain pulsating through my every nerve. He shifts again and I rejoice, hoping he’s headed for the door. But instead, his hand comes to rest on my forehead, a hiss leaving his lips as he makes contact. 

“Shit, Y/N, you’re burning up.” He says, tugging back the blankets that I have pulled up around my face, revealing my sweat soaked t-shirt. “How bad?” I hear Dean mutter from the doorway, the sound of his foot steps indicating that he has crossed the room to stand next to my bed as well. I hesitantly open my eyes, squinting to try and lower the amount of light that is allowed to enter. 

“Feel for yourself, Dean.” Sam says, standing up and letting Dean take his place on the bed next to me. Dean rests his hand against my forehead, grimacing. It must be bad judging by the look on both of their faces. I push myself up into a sitting position, tugging the blankets up to cover my bear legs. Painfully aware of how little clothing I have on compared to them, not that they hadn’t seen me dressed like this before, it just made me feel weak in this moment. 

“I’m fine, just need a shower.” I mumble, I throw my legs over the edge of my bed and begin the short walk to my bathroom, ignoring both of Sam and Dean’s protests and offers of help. I barely make it three feet before my world is spinning, darkening at the edges and crumbling around me. 

My body collapses, colliding with the hard wood of the floor and I can faintly hear my name being yelled, but it is all drowned out by the vision dancing before my eyes. This time it is different, it’s not strangers in a different state, it’s Bobby, Ellen and Jo. They’re surrounded by vampires and it doesn’t look good. All of them injured in some way, Bobby worse than the girls. They stand in a circle, their backs together and weapons raised in front of them. I know what is about to happen and I try to scream, try to warn them in some way, to move faster to run! But nothing comes out, my voice but a silent whisper in my throat. I am forced to watch as the vampires kill them, their bodies falling to the ground and, and then it is gone. 

My eyes fly open a scream bubbling out of my throat, terror filling my every nerve ending. Dean’s above me, his voice shushing me, telling me that I am safe, nothing happened and that everything is okay, but nothing is okay. Bobby, Ellen and Jo, They’re all in danger. 

“Sam, call Bobby right now, tell him not to go on that vampire hunt.” Sam hesitates, his eyes trained on me and filled with questions. But there’s no time. “Now, please! I had a vision!” I snap, putting all of the emotion I can into those words, trying to convey just how urgent they really are. Sam nods, still silent, but pulls out his phone and leaves the room to call Bobby. I take a couple of breaths, trying to focus on my surroundings once again. I am on the floor, Dean cradling me in his arms, his eyes trained on my face concern and confusion written through every inch of his skin. 

“How did you know about that hunt, Y/N? Bobby just told us about it five minutes before we came in to wake you.” He says, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of my face, his touch comforting me slightly. 

“I-I, promise not to be angry with me?” I ask, letting out a rather large sigh. He hesitates, but nods in agreement and I begin to explain. “You know about the visions that I have, they’re normally happy predictions. But ever since the last hunt, with that damn witch that got away, my visions have changed. All of them are now predicting death and tragedy. I’ve had one everyday this last week, all of them have come true. I’ve seen it on the news or in an article online. Before today, they were all strangers, but now, today, it was Bobby, Ellen and Jo. I couldn’t bear to let anything happen to them Dean, God what if I wasn’t in time?” I ask, tears beginning to form in my eyes. He hushes me, reassuring me through his touch, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. Sam comes back into the room, his phone still clutched in his hand. His face slightly pale and concern etched throughout his features. 

“I got through to Bobby, he’s okay. So are Ellen and Jo. They were about to leave when I called, but they stopped when I told them you had a vision. Bobby wants to talk to you about it all when you are feeling up to it, Y/N.” He says, I nod in response, relief washing over me, they’re okay. They’re not going, which means they won’t die. 

Dean takes a minute to repeat what I had told him to Sam, the tension in the room growing every second. Sam is angry, Dean is angry and I am tired, oh so tired. These premonitions have really started to take it out of me physically and mentally. I listen to the boys discuss the steps that need to be taken, the witch has to burn. Sam volunteers to go and Dean agrees to stay behind with me. 

“You should both go, I’ll be fine here on my own.” I argue, trying to offer them a reassuring smile, but neither of them buy it. Sam shakes his head, his mouth parting to answer but Dean beats him to it. 

“In your dreams sweetheart, there’s no way in hell that we’re leaving you here alone. You fainted, you could’ve smacked your head if I hadn’t caught you as you fell. One of us is going to stay with you until this witch is dead. Don’t even bother arguing, you’re not going to win.” He adds on the last part as he notices my enthusiasm towards disagreeing with him. I close my mouth, exhaustion sweeping back over me. Dean notices and carefully carries me back to my bed, again ignoring my protests. He sets me gently on the mattress and I eagerly roll onto my side, resting my aching head onto the cool, soft surface of my pillow. He tugs the blanket over my body, pressing another kiss to my forehead. He makes up some excuse about it being the best way to check my temperature, but I don’t mind. He plants himself in the chair by my bed, pulling out his laptop. His presence enough comfort and safety to lull me into a peaceful sleep. They’ve got me. Sam is going to go take care of the witch and I will be okay. Those were my last thoughts before I was pulled into the blanket of sleep. 

[haunted4kent]

" dead or alive. " k. takami

✧˚ · . 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀 ; past and present has ruffled his feathers.

a/n ; childhood besties make me sad </3 ; small content warning of parental loss.

Your parents were heroes, stars to the public eye until the day their lives were taken. 

“What about the child? She has no other family. It was just them.”

Snapped out of your hand like a toy. Used to save the world and die for it. 

A spiteful child, who grew to believe that heroes were simply people with flashy abilities that would stick them 6 feet in the ground. Nothing about that was noble.

Yet, an urge of vengeance sought through the blood of your body.

You kneeled, sweat trickling down the sides of your face, a punching bag struck from its chains. In this place, you felt everything, how fresh the dirt was underneath you from the recent rainfall, how the air was full of new life.

Your mind was a fog you were unable to clear, but your fists could beat endlessly, you felt nothing, or you felt everything. 

Though for your hatred. At 22, you never found interest in climbing the charts, you became a “hero” for one reason. Would avenging them have enough force to knock out the fog? Yet to beat the smoke, a source must be present.

There was no source. Even after 16 years, nobody knew who killed your parents.

A large whoosh strikes the air, and you tense your face in irritation. Continuous flapping causes the dirt around you to fly up before his feet touch the ground. You became a “hero” alongside Keigo Takami,  recruited and made up into who you were from the age of 6 until your graduation. He knew you. The child who would cry at the need of a mother's comfort, the need of a father's push forward. You were lost. You still were. 

“Took me long enough to find you here.” His voice is soft, disappointed, Yet it cracked in anger, you didn't want to face him.

He lets out a small chuckle that runs your blood full of annoyance.

“I’d find bloody bandages, or even just pools of it every so while, and every time it’d sit there till it rained. I had to wait for the rain to know if you were dead or alive goddamnit!” His voice bellowed. You could feel the wing-produced gust that came with his anger, forcing you to shut your eyes and let the silent, hot, angry tear stream.

“Oh for fucks sake! Grow up. You're a child that has yet to learn what the world is really like! Go back to your agency and flutter at the pride of being number 2!” You don't even bother to turn around, and his chest tightens at every word you spit out.

“You're going to die doing this Y/n! Don't you get it!? Hiding out and destroying your own body to prove something to yourself? Every time you show up at a scene you break yourself down more and more, untreated broken bones, extreme blood losses that require medical treatment, when is it going to stop!”

You push from your knees, turning to face him, his mouth agapes. The blood trickling down your knuckles makes him tense. He looks like he’s looking for words to say.

“Nobody ever stopped looking for you, it all hurts us to watch you slowly kill yourself.” His expression is pale, and you're already sick of looking at him. Hawks became what you loathed, and he became another star that would die earlier than the last.

“Tell them not to come to the funeral then.” You weakly chuckled, hoping it'd give him a hint enough that you don't want him around but he stood on solid ground. “It's not funny, nobody knows where you've been for the last 6 and a half months. The country is thinking about taking your license away. They all think this is going to kill you, and when you show up, civilians watch videos of you leaving a battle in a condition most can't withstand."

“They already took it.” The blonde's bushy eyebrows furrow lost for words.

“Don't you know how bad you're hurting other people?”

You snicker. “Don’t you know how bad heroism destroyed me in the first place?! I’ve been dead since I was 6 years old, Hawks! All I live for is death!” You shout, and his body flinches. 

“Kegs, go out on patrol with me, won't ya?”

He stares at you, and he takes in how empty you are. You weren't 18 anymore, you had to grow up and know the harsh world of what you felt your purpose was. You were a broken project, a piece mastered to perfection.  It's like using the wrong clay. It’ll eventually all crumble, not able to hold itself up any longer.

Potential to be right up in the ranks with Keigo. Yet, they chose a person with the wrong foundation, and it fell on them.

His hands lifted to tug at his messy blonde hair, and he dramatically groaned, stomping his boot. “God. You are so fucking difficult.” 

Maybe it was because you knew him, knew his story, that he couldn't leave you alone. A warmth in his chest when you were around that was unexplainably empty when you were gone.

“Take your savior complex and shove it up your ass. I could care less.” You turn your body back around, kicking the dirt off the ground. Your mind spirals, you always miss them. Having people around who you cared about, but Hawks was a pain in the ass, always flaunting and such a gem to the public eye. You loathed him, but you too knew him.

“I miss you.” A choked chuckle came from behind you, and the 3 words were enough to start snapping your heart strings. “Please tell me you missed me, even if it was just for a moment that you thought about the cocky, ignorant, egotistical, winged man who has no idea what he's doing.”

Your body trembled, he looked you dead on when you turned your head again. “Just a couple times.” Your mouth unconsciously spoke, like he had some stupid spell on you that made you talk even when you didn't want to. You want to slap yourself across the face for how he's looking at you. “I just thought you knew I loved you more than just-” He stuttered, your throat tightened.

His hands struggled to pull a piece of paper from his scruffy coat.

“I remembered when you’d sit up at night writing little things, I felt you knew and you were writing from some stupid perspective.” He swallows, a low chuckle coming with his stressed breath. “It's kinda like you wrote out my future feelings about you, with all that, “A broken heart, you think you will die” and stuff.” He's panicking the longer he speaks, watching your face tense into confusion.

You try to think back on the short words you’d written.

“The agony is exquisite, is it not? A broken heart. You think you will die. But you just keep living. Day after day, after a terrible day.”

“Stop being ridiculous Keigo.” You shake. The motion of his steps tighten your chest, and it all bursts as his hand takes yours from your numb side. He sinks to his knees before you, his hand still eagerly clinging to yours. “Come home. Please.”

“Keigo get up-” 

“Then come home Y/n.”

Your breath hitches. “I have no home Kegs.”

“Home could be with me! Like when we were teenagers, you can sleep in your own room and we can patrol at night together again.” He pleads like a child. His head remains down, and your eyes fog. 

“I’ll stop doing interviews, I'll stop doing anything that makes you even the slightest upset. Just don't make me miss you again. Please.” 

“Why can't I say no to you.” You think. The tight closure of your eyes makes them spill over, dripping down your cheeks slowly. His head tilts up, and he stands quickly to his feet. 

“Please don't cry. Please.” His rough hands fight the uncontrollable overflow, his thumbs soothingly wiping endlessly. He watches over your eyes, and your rising and falling. You could contain yourself so well, and he was an unmaintained child. If anything he always looked up to you.

“Y/n!! Partners again?”

Those childish laughs play in your head and drown the cries of being a parentless child.

Your hand grips the fur of his coat, and you let your forehead rest on his chest. The warm scent of musk lingers in your nose. 

A child without comfort never knows where to find it. Is this what it feels like?

You lift your head, and like they were meant for one another, finally in reach, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He was always the home you were looking for.

3 and a half months later, you'd die saving his life from the blue-flamed Todoroki son. Home was always short-lived, you died against your heroic ideals. You never found your parent's killer.

NO. 21 HERO Y/N L/N DIES AT 22.

Keigo Tamaki would have to miss you all over again. Old worn photos would always sit on his bedside table, and the little girl being teased with a little red wing would never stand there again.

© haunted4kent 2024

[th3-things-i-wish-i-s4id]

When I found out you’d died, I was at school. It was the last class of the day, and honestly, I would never have known it was you if not for my own gut. It was just a name in passing. A whisper, really. Not even the full thing, just your first name that should’ve been so common that I shouldn’t have even considered it. But it was so hauntingly familiar. Your first name, your first name uttered by a girl I’d barely ever talked to. A girl I didn’t even know knew you. I heard your name and I stopped in the doorway. I remember feeling my heartbeat through my whole body, the way I scrunched up my face, as if I had heard it wrong. The room was so quiet, so dark and empty. It was suffocating. I dropped my bag down at her table, sat beside her, a table I’d never sat at before. I looked at her, I felt very similar to a child looking up in terror at an adult whose face is stricken with an unexplainable kind of grief. The kind that you see and just know. I remember just knowing. I didn’t have to ask. I did anyway. I asked her to repeat herself, praying for one of the first times in my life to a god I don’t truly believe in, I prayed for it to have been something I just misheard. It wasn’t. She told me about you as if I didn’t know you, and it felt like I didn’t in that moment, I remember being quiet for a while before I admitted that I knew you. That I was your friend. We’d known eachother since elementary school. We’d gone to the same schools all our lives. It felt as though I’d never met you before, sitting next to that girl. She looked sad. Devastated. I couldn’t even muster up an expression. I don’t remember much of that last class. I remember feeling like a ghost as I texted some of our friends. People we’d known when we were kids. I remember them not truly believing me at first. I remember them believing me. I remember the quiet bus ride home. I was grateful that no one decided to bother me. I think a lot of them knew you too. I remember trying so hard not to cry on the bus in front of all those people. I remember crying, looking out the window, watching all the streets we grew up on pass by as the bus drove me home. Nothing outside looked any different, it felt wrong. It felt like a movie scene. A really shitty movie scene that was far too personal. I don’t remember much about that day after that. The girl and I are friends now, we talk sometimes, but we hung out a lot more when we were still in school. I remember going to a vigil held for you by your family and friends. It was outside your house, at the edge of your neighborhood. I’d been there before. I grew up there. I remember going over to your house when we were both in the second grade. You had an ice cream cake, I remember you explaining to me the reasoning behind that choice in detail. The candles we lit were the only source of light that night, sitting out under the stars. I couldn’t help but think of your birthday, the small candles in your ice cream cake were blue. These ones were much larger, more plain, more permanent. There was a lot of crying, people had so many things to say about you. I remember being silent, unable to even cry. I felt like a ghost. Your funeral was the same. It felt empty. Like it wasn’t real. An urn sat at the front of the room, on a table with flowers. I didn’t think they could fit you in there, not really. There was too much life, too much energy, too much personality, too much of you to ever fit in such a cold, small container. I saw people I hadn’t seen since I was a child there in the seats. In the hallway after. I got a lot of condolences, as though I had lost something. It still didn’t feel real. It still doesn’t feel real.

[swimminginanunknownparadise]

Bittersweet reunions

pairing: Soren x f!reader summery: after you choose to join Callum, Ezran, and Rayla on their journey and travel the kingdoms so save the dragon egg, you finally get to see your best friend again, however the circumstances aren’t at all what you’d dreamed of.  a/n: so like, I binged tdp in like two days, maybe three. I’m obsessed to say the least, so ofc I had to write something for my favorite child of Viren! This is very much not edited so if there are grammatical errors I’m sorry but I’m only human… a very tired human. I’d give you an idea if what I’m gonna write next but I don’t know either! I am working my way through a very, very… very long Zuko oneshot however I have no idea when I’ll actually finish writing that so there may be more smaller ones coming in the future. I write when I feel like it, so there’s no telling tbh. I love all y’all, so please keep reading my shitty fanfics please *puppy dog eyes intensifies*

—

“Is this the afterlife?” You had been sitting with Bait and Zym shining your sword when you heard that all too familiar voice from the other room. Your sword clattered to the floor and poor Bait, who had been snoozing next to you glowed a nice berry red color when his eyes opened to look around for the source of the noise that had so abruptly pulled him from his sleep. Zym was already on his feet, eyes darting between you and the corner. His tail wagged back and forth eagerly, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Your fingers ran across the smooth cloth you were holding, eyes wide and watery. 

The blonde man, who had been staring at the boy king, whipped around when he heard a loud clatter from the room over. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword, the unknown spooking him more than normal. Sure, usually he would exude confidence, pretending he knew exactly what he was doing. But after what he seen? What his father had done? The unknown was terribly frightening now. His eyes were looking around wildly now, like a spooked horse. The others just watched him, unsure of what they could say or do to help ease his troubled mind. 

You had left your sword laying there, too swept up in your emotions to care about it. You jumped up from the step you’d been sat on and flew around the corner, unable to compose yourself even slightly. Zym ran after, chirping excitedly. “Soren?” Your voice cracked when you finally saw him. He looked different, tired. The stubble on his chin made him look older, and there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes that aged him even more. His shoulders were slumped, he looked troubled. Your heart hurt for him. It hadn’t been that long since you two last spoke but leaving him again nearly broke you. And now he was standing right there and it nearly left you breathless. “Soren, you’re here?!” You felt hot, happy tears well up in your eyes. 

“(Y/N)?” The anxiety on his face melted away, being replaced with just about the brightest smile anyone had ever seen him have. His whole demeanor changed, it was lighter now and everyone could see it plain as day. Before either of you could say anything you sprinted forward, no hesitation at all. His arms were open as you barreled into him. You nearly would have knocked him over if it weren’t for huge dragon arm that had been there and helped him find his balance again. He was too overwhelmed with all his emotions to notice he’d needed the help. His arms wrapped you up in a tight embrace and all he could feel was relief. Relief because you were safe and sound and all in one piece.

His hand cupped the back of your head while the other remained around your waist. He held you as close as he could, as if he was scared you would disappear like the illusions that Lujanne had conjured up back on the Cursed Caldera. You gripped at the back of his shirt collar and stood on your tip toes in an effort to bring him closer. “I’m here,” he said softly. “And this time you’re not leaving me again, got it?” He pulled away from you and you nodded. 

“Loud and clear, Captain,” you sniffled and smiled up at him. He looked you up and down attentively, just like he’d done every time you’d seen him. You looked exactly like you had the day you parted ways. Still so confident, the same kind smile that he fell in love with, your eyes still lit up like they did whenever you were really happy. The fact that you were smiling like that all because of him, it made him feel all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings.

“Erm… Soren, not that I’m not happy to see you but… why are you here?” You placed your hands on his shoulders and his face hardened. Your brows furrowed when all he could say was “we’re all doomed.” Rayla tensed up behind you and Callum frowned, neither knowing what to say. Soren just frowned, holding you as close as he could. This wasn’t like him, he’d never been eager to show so much vulnerability in front of people before, whatever he knew had really shaken him up. “Hey, let’s get you a nice hot cup of tea. Sounds good, yea?” You looked up at him again and he nodded, just glad he hadn’t been turned away by Rayla and the others. 

—

“It’s my dad,” he sighed, gazing into his mug. He looked… sad. Oh, what had that horrible man done now? Callum was the first to interject. “Lord Viren, he’s here? In Xadia?” He suddenly looked anxious and Soren continued, not looking up from his cup. “He’s rallied the armies of four kingdoms. And it’s not just that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and he leaned into your touch as he continued. “We went to the Sun Elf place and- and my dad, he stole some kind of horrible power. And he used it to transform his armies into….” You squeezed his shoulder and he closed his eyes with a frown. “Into something else.” 

Rayla and Callum shared a look, both troubled and worried. You just listened, barely able to comprehend what you were hearing. You always knew that his father was very… abrasive. But you didn’t think he would do anything like this. “What do you mean?” Ezran looked up at him, he was apparently the only one brave enough to ask. Soren looked at him and licked his lips, as if the words would come to him that way. After a moment to collect his words he spoke again. “They’re stronger, angrier, big claws,” his eyes were wide and panicked now and it unsettled you. “He’s made an army of darkness! And he’s leading them here…” he looked ashamed but he nodded to Zym with a deep frown. “For him. The Dragon Prince.”

Everyone looked at one another, taking in the new information that Soren had just given. It was a lot, some of it was unbelievable, but with his father nothing was impossible apparently. The sound of tea slurping cut through the uncomfortable silence and you looked at Soren, he was unaware of everyone’s eyes on him and you just sighed. When he was done he looked at everyone again and shrugged. “I did use the word doomed.”

—

You had walked back to the other room and sat on the step. Zym had trotted along with you and curled up at your side as soon as you yourself were settled. Bait was already back asleep and you made sure you were being as quiet as possible when picking up your sword off the stone ground. “Hey, (Y/N)?” You looked up at Soren, he was standing in front of you with a timid smile. “Yes, Sor Sor?” You grinned up at him and he huffed at the nickname you’d been calling him by since childhood. 

“I don’t think you can shine your sword without this.” He presented the cloth square you’d dropped in all the excitement of his return. You smiled at it and took it, dropping it in your lap. And before he could pull away, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you, your face soft with worry. He looked surprised, but he sat next to you anyway, not about to complain about getting to spend some extra time with you. He didn’t know why you would turn him away, but he felt like it was something that would happen considering he basically invaded Xadia with his corrupt father and his army. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, there were a million things racing through your mind and you didn’t want to overwhelm him. He was in the same boat, though you weren’t aware.

His hands were in his lap and he was looking at the ground when you spoke up. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” His brows furrowed and you hurried to continue. “I mean, I don’t mean it in a bad way! I’m not surprised that you left, you’re too good for your father and what he does. You have a better heart than him, that’s one of the things that I love about you.” You glanced over at him and he smiled a little, but it was a sad smile and you placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Soren.” Part of him didn’t want to believe you, after all he was at one point fully willing to kill the princes to please his father. He didn’t think that was something a good man would do. “As bad as the circumstances are, I'm still glad you're here. I missed you, more than I care to admit.” Your cheeks felt hot and he smiled at you. 

“I missed you too. I didn’t exactly know you guys were up here so seeing you was a happy accident.” He scratched the back of his neck and you nodded quietly. “I didn’t even really expect you to still be in Xadia. You guys seem to work fast.” You giggled and shrugged. “We do work fast, but not that fast.” He nodded and kept on smiling at you. You smiled back at him and you felt something bump into your hand. You quickly looked down to find that his had been inching closer and closer as the two of you talked. Your face got hotter but when he rested his hand on yours you didn’t pull away. He was looking at you so you looked up at him and you just looked into those pretty blue eyes you loved so much. He intertwined your fingers with his and you couldn’t help but lean in. He met you halfway and pressed his lips to yours in an only slightly awkward kiss. 

You weren't exactly sure what to do with your free hand so you just rested on his cheek and he did the same. You pressed on and scooted a little closer and he moved his hand to your waist. You heard Bait grumble from behind you and you slowly pulled away with a dreamy sigh. You were both red and you couldn't help but giggle at the look of awe on his face. “I never actually thought that would happen.” He sounded like he couldn't believe it and you just giggled again, too flustered to form actual words. “What?” he wrinkled his nose up a little and you just shrugged with a big dopey grin. “I liked it.” He nodded slowly and smiled yet again. All the two of you could do was smile or grin because you were just so simply happy with each other, despite all the bad that was going on at the moment. Without a second thought you kissed him again and he pulled you closer. You guys were just getting into the groove of it when you heard an awkward cough from the other side of the room. You pulled away quickly and saw Callum looking at you with a burning red face and a sheepish smile. “Hey, uh, we're all talking about what our game plan is… are you guys ready?” You both just nodded in unison. He nodded and hurried away to leave you two alone again. You quickly stood up and went to leave but he caught you by the hand and pulled you towards him. 

“Hey, can you promise me something?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and you looked up at him with a questioning look. “Promise me you’ll make it back to me by the end of this, ok?” You nodded, despite your better judgment. Runaan had told Athari he’d be back and that didn’t end up that way. Anything could happen but still, you agreed and told him you would. “You better come back to me too, then.” He nodded and pulled you into another kiss, far more passionate than the previous ones. 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Childhood

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

+ This Game of Ours

Jason’s eyes snapped open at a sound that no human should be able to hear.

Ever since he’d been resurrected from the Lazarus pit, his senses had grown abnormally acute – amongst other strange things. 

Sometimes he swore he could even hear Y/N’s heartbeat. It was easiest to do with her, after all he was so intone with her very being.

But all of that made nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him – let alone in his own home. Which someone was. He could feel it.

Jason’s eyes glanced down at Y/N, who was sound asleep on his chest.

Ever so carefully, he lifted her body off of him so he could slip out of bed.

But Y/N was a light sleeper, unfortunately. She must’ve inherited that from Bruce, even though she wasn’t even raised by the man.

Y/N winced as her eyes opened just in time to see Jason grabbing one of his hidden guns from below their bed frame.

“What’s going on?” Her voice raspy.

“Nothing,” Jason lied. “Stay here.”

Now that she found out about another hidden gun in their apartment, Jason knew he was going to return to a lecture from Y/N. She never hid her hatred for guns, and had asked him to keep them out of their apartment.

“Jason…” Y/N whispered desperately, now more awake and concerned.

“Stay here,” Jason said, more firmly this time.

Then he quickly kissed her, leaving even less room for her to argue.

In only his black boxer briefs, Jason snuck out of their bedroom and into the living room without making any sound. Y/N had always been shocked at how quiet her giant boyfriend could make himself.

Just as Jason raised his gun, he heard the familiar voice.

“Put some clothes on, Todd.”

Damian stepped out of the shadows.

To Jason’s surprise, he was in civilian clothes and not in his Robin uniform.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, breaking in like that?” Jason reprimanded as he uncocked the gun.

But before Damian could defend himself, the bedroom door squeaked open and Y/N was rushing out into the living room.

“I told you to stay there,” Jason growled.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s overprotectiveness. “Obviously I recognized Damian’s voice, Jason.”

Then Y/N looked at her half-brother for a second and quickly realized Damian had come there for a reason.

“Everything alright, Damian?” She asked carefully.

“Yes,” he lied.

Jason remembered when Damian despised Y/N. He saw her as a threat to his claim to the Wayne throne. But Y/N had immediately made her intentions clear. “I have my own reputation, money, and career that I built without a name attached to me. I want nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises,” she had told Damian as soon as she realized he saw her as some sort of competition.

It took Damian months to even acknowledge Y/N. And he really only did because both his father and Dick – basically his surrogate father – scolded him for not doing so.

Slowly but surely, the two grew closer.

Y/N didn’t put up with Damian’s attitude. But she also didn’t scold him like a child. If he was rude or aggressive, she spoke to him the same way she would speak to a grown man who behaved in such a manner. Somehow it made the boy slowly start to respect her more.

Eventually, they bonded over their mutual love of the arts. Damian was impressed with her photographs, while Y/N was honored whenever Damian decided to share his drawings with her. Y/N had gifted Damian his first camera. And Damian once gave her a few lessons on the basics of sketching and painting.

Who knew Waynes were the creative type?

And it was when Damian’s pets all seemed to be obsessed with Y/N that the boy finally decided to get over his original opinions and feelings.

It was by no means a short or easy battle. But the rest of the family was relieved when Damian finally accepted Y/N as one of their own.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate?” Y/N offered Damian.

The boy just shrugged, but she noticed his eyes subtly light up.

She never understood why he refused to let himself feel joy in the simple things. It was like she could catch him stopping himself from being a kid.

“I’m going to bed,” Jason announced with exhaustion.

It was clear to him that Damian came to see his sister, not him. And he was nice enough to leave the two of them alone. Even though he was a bit bitter that his girlfriend was being stolen from their bed.

Before turning back to the bedroom, Jason invaded Y/N’s space and gently grabbed her jaw before pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gross,” Damian groaned.

Jason glared and pointed at the boy. “You’re in our apartment, demon spawn. I’ll kiss my girlfriend if I fuckin’ want to.”

Y/N just laughed as she watched Jason close their bedroom door behind him.

“Come on,” she nudged her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s make some hot chocolate. I think I have some of Alfred’s cookies hiding somewhere, too.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” Damian mumbled.

Y/N smirked and shook her head. Tonight, she wasn’t taking the bait. 

Once Damian decided he didn’t hate Y/N, he jumped right to making it known that he did not think Jason was good enough for her. But she knew it was an act – mostly.

“Why aren’t you on patrol?” She asked casually once they had giant mugs of hot chocolate and cookies in front of them, making sure to give the boy extra marshmallows. 

“I’m grounded,” Damian muttered.

Y/N tilted her head. “Grounded?”

It seemed like a far too normal concept for a family of vigilantes.

“Yes,” Damian confirmed.

“I’m guessing that means Bruce and Alfred don’t know you’re here…?”

“I snuck out,” he admitted.

“Why did you get grounded?”

“Father found out I was skipping school. And then that I skipped the school dance.”

“Why does it matter if you skipped the dance?” She asked, clearly confused.

Y/N was also struggling to imagine Bruce caring about such a trivial thing like that.  

“Father wishes for me to have normal experiences that young man of my age is expected to have,” Damian said with a roll of his eyes.

“School dances are lame,” Y/N commented.

Damian sat up straighter, not expecting that to be her response.

“I skipped prom. I didn’t want to go,” she added.

“Why not?” The boy challenge, somewhat caught off guard by that.

Y/N shrugged. “Bad music. Bad dancing. Tacky dresses. Just wasn’t all that appealing to angsty, teenage me.”

Damian just nodded slowly, and then got quiet.

“I have no desire to be normal,” he finally stated after a few minutes.

“I’m not taking his side, but I get why Bruce wants you to do these things, Damian. You were robbed of a lot of things because of the way you were raised. I’m not saying that it’s bad or good. But I think Bruce just wants to give you the opportunity to experience the life of a – well...of a kid.”

“And was your life normal?” Damian quickly asked.

Y/N nodded. “So normal that it was boring.” She laughed, “My entire life was normal until I met all of you weirdos.”

That got a smile out of Damian.

But then it slowly dropped and he seemed to get lost in his head.

“I don’t…I don’t have any friends,” Damian finally whimpered.

Y/N was shocked by the boy’s emotion.

Damian was always composed.

“It’s like they speak a different language. And it’s one I can never learn.”

“Oh, Damian,” Y/N sighed as she rushed from her seat to kneel beside him. “I know it must be hard to try and fit in. But you’re not doing anything wrong. None of that’s your fault.”

“Father is more than aware that I don’t need the education,” Damian’s voice shook as he tried not to cry. “He only forces me to attend so I can make friends. And that is one thing I am unable to do.”

Y/N let him breathe and have an opportunity to continue before she spoke again. 

“I hate school, so I skip. And the school dance seemed so ridiculous to me, so I skipped that too – even after father specifically requested that I attend.”

Y/N sighed, “And did you tell him how you’re feeling when he grounded you?”

Damian shook his head no.

She hadn’t expected anything different. She could easily imagine Damian lashing out at Bruce when he received his punishment, saying that the requests were a waste of his time and beneath him. 

Damian was good at hiding his emotional pain – maybe even better than their father.

Y/N was sure Bruce didn’t have a true understanding of what Damian was going through.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Damian asked.

“Of course,” she gave him a sad smile. “How about we take this hot chocolate to the couch and watch a movie?”

Damian shrugged. But it wasn’t a no.

Y/N let him pick the movie.

He chose Fantasia. 

When Y/N didn’t hide her surprise, he explained that he respected the animation and loved all of the classical music. Even when they did a child-like activity, he still always found way to remind the world that he was no normal child.

An hour later, both of them had fallen asleep on the couch with the movie still playing.

When Damian felt another presence, he awoke with a jolt and grabbed his hidden knife, holding it to the throat of the intruder.

But it was Jason, gently bringing Y/N’s sleeping body into his arms.

“Once again, demon spawn, you’re in our apartment,” Jason hissed with annoyance.

The man was completely unfazed by the feeling of a blade threatening to slit his throat. 

Damian huffed.

“I’m taking her to bed,” Jason explained the obvious. Then he nudged his head at the love-seat across from Damian. “There’s a blanket right there if you want to sleep on the couch. Or you can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

But Jason paused, with Y/N sleeping in his arms, as he noticed a strange look on Damian’s face.

“What?” He urged.

“If you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you myself,” Damian growled softly.

Jason looked utterly unimpressed. “You’d have to get in line,” he answered, making sure to keep his voice quiet to prevent waking Y/N.

But then Jason’s face softened. “Look, kid, I think you know that she’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I’d die before doing anything to mess this up.”

“Hmph,” was the only noise Damian made in response.

Jason rolled his eyes and carried Y/N back to their bedroom.

In all honesty, he couldn’t fall asleep while she had been in with Damian. With Jason’s weird enhanced hearing because of the pit, he was able to catch a bit of their conversation.

Jason softly place Y/N back in bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. When he joined her on the other side of the bed, she didn’t even wake as she slid back into his arms.

Now Jason could finally go to sleep.

When there was a knock on the apartment door the next morning, Damian and Y/N shared a look.

“I’ll get it,” Y/N sighed.

Jason had made all three of them breakfast that morning.

But now Damian pushed the food around his plate, knowing this was the end of his small rebellion. Who knew what his new punishment would be?

Y/N opened the door to unsurprisingly find her father.

Bruce was wearing a full suit, despite it being a Sunday morning. On top was a heavy, black overcoat with the back of the collar slightly propped up.

“You could have least told me he was here,” Bruce greeted his daughter.

She smirked mischievously and shrugged. “I’m no snitch.”

Damian appeared behind Y/N, not seeing the point in dragging this out any longer than necessary.

“Alfred’s downstairs with the car,” Bruce told his son evenly.

The disappointment in both his expression and tone was obvious.

Damian looked up at Y/N. “Thank you for having me, Y/N.”

“Next time, use the actual door so you don’t give me or Jason a heart attack.”

Damian smiled at that before walking past his father and down the hallway.

“Can I talk to you a second?” Y/N asked Bruce.

Her father seemed surprised by the request, but nodded anyways and closed the door behind him.

“I think Damian is really struggling – more than you think, I mean.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “He hasn’t even been remotely injured from patrols in months…”

“No, Bruce,” she quickly cut off. “Not as Robin. As Damian.”

Bruce was quiet.

“He doesn’t know how to fit in, Bruce. And you’re putting a lot of pressure on him to live a normal life. Bu he’s never gonna have normal. That was taken away from him before you even knew he existed.”

“He said that to you?” Bruce asked.

She nodded. “In so few words, yes.”

“And I’m assuming you have some advice,” he quirked a brow.

“Well, yeah. Maybe you should just homeschool him.”

“Y/N, the whole point of him going to school is to be around kids his own age. We both know the education is beneath him already.”

“But that’s the thing, Bruce. He’s never going to relate to any of those kids. Going to school makes him feel like a freak. Let him get homeschooled.”

“He needs to learn to make friends,” Bruce argued.

“You’re right. He does. But not with the spoiled brats of Gotham Academy. How many superheroes are you friends with?”

“He doesn’t consider them friends!” Jason shouted from the kitchen.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine. How many superheroes are you acquainted with, who have kids around Damian’s age?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

“I know you like to keep your personal life away from Batman. But those are the only kids that Damian is ever going to relate to in some way. Do you get what I’m saying?”

To her surprise, Bruce nodded. “You’re right.”

Her brows shot up. “I am?”

Y/N had really expected him to fight her on this.

Bruce chuckled. “Of course you are. Out of everyone in this family, you are the only one who can say they had any semblance of a normal childhood.”

Suddenly his phone dinged and he glanced down at it.

“I have to go,” he regretfully told her.

When he looked back up at her, his face softened. “Come to the manor soon for dinner,” he asked her gently.

She gave him a soft smile and nodded, “I will.”

Bruce nodded in the direction of the kitchen where Jason was hiding. “And bring that one with you, will you?”

Y/N laughed. “He’ll go wherever I go. He’s like a puppy, that one.”

“I can hear you!” Jason called out.

Bruce laughed and stepped forward to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for looking out for Damian, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bruce.”

––––––––––––––––––––

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

��How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[imaginepirates]

Pirate

For the anon who wanted a James x reader where they meet on the Pearl, but James doesn’t have the guts to admit that he’s falling for them. Later, (we’re pretending his death didn’t happen), they meet again at Shipwreck Cove, and James confesses his feelings during the battle on the Dutchman.

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​  @hellspawn-brownies​ @groovyfluxie​ @wordsinwinters​

~3760 words. Long again. 

~~~~~~~

           His hair hung in wet strings around his face. Whether they were matted together with water, alcohol, or vomit, you weren’t sure you wanted to know, though you suspected it to be a mixture of all three. A guard rail was all that kept him upright. He was a disaster, even for a pirate. Not that he’s a pirate, either.

          The former Commodore looked a wreck. You would be, too, you supposed, if you’d drunk yourself into complete oblivion. And someone needs to take away that damned wig. Currently, it sat on his head much like some bird’s nest, and you half-expected a gull to land in it at any moment. Pity mingled with your disgust. There had been a time when his name alone had struck fear into you. Now, he was a pathetic image, unable to do so much as hold himself up on two feet. He couldn’t strike fear into a fly.

          You were a bit surprised that Elizabeth, of all people, showed him no sympathy. Even Jack looked a bit repulsed, which was saying something, given that Jack himself was never in a prime state. He staggered upright, puking over the side of a railing.

          You sighed, walking brisky over, snatching the wig off the top of his head and tossing it overboard. He looked up at you through bleary eyes.

          “What the bloody hell was that for?”

          “You look awful.”

          “Thank you for your astute assessment.” Even drunk, his tone dripped sarcasm, and you were a little surprised.

          He’s still in his wits, then. You looked him over again. Somewhat. “You look marginally less awful without the wig.” He grunted. You grabbed the bottle he was holding, too, and threw it over the side.

          “Now that’s just a waste.”

          “You need to sober up.”

          “And who exactly are you, that it’s your job to police me?”

          “You’re embarrassing, is all, and it’s no good to be embarrassed by crewmates.”

          He snorted. “You should write to the admiralty. That sort of thinking would have spared me many of my own crewmates throughout the years.” He stared down into the waves, where his water-clogged wig had begun to sink under the surface.

          “Well, you don’t want to be that person, do you?”

          “At this point, I don’t particularly care.” His wig finally lost the battle, disappearing into the murky depths.

          “Have some pride.”

          “Pride?” He pushed himself up, looking coldly into your eyes with his own. “I’ve lost my title, I’ve lost my station, I’ve lost my livelihood. I have no house, nor family, nor friends. I’ve lost everything I ever held dear, including the woman I love, because despite being with her,” here he gestured with his chin to where Elizabeth stood at the helm, “I’m further from her than ever before. Now please, tell me again why I should have pride.”

          If you were being honest with yourself, it was hard to give him an answer. “You still have your life, and for however little that’s worth right now, things could be worse. You could be dead. Take pride in the fact that you didn’t let things get that far.” He scoffed, but you continued. “Go clean yourself up; splash some water on your face, and do something about the vomit in your hair. Things can get better. Clean up, and you’ll be one step closer.”

          He looked at you then, a vulnerability in his eye that wasn’t there before. Hope. He stalked off then, stumbling a bit, but trying admirably to, supposedly, follow your advice.

          Norrington carried out his tasks admirably and without complaint, no manner how demeaning for a man of his previous station. He was watched with suspicious eye; but why wouldn’t he be? He had been a ranking officer, after all, and an effective one at that. Too many pirates had been lost to his scouring of the Caribbean. Just how far can you trust a member of the navy, former or otherwise?

          The way he looked at Jack’s compass didn’t escape your notice. He knows. “Not thinking of stealing it, are you?” His neck craned to look up at you from his position kneeling on the deck, a wet cloth in hand. He stopped his scrubbing to glare.

          “I’m not a thief.” He looked back down, returning to his task.

          “You are a pirate.”

          His head whipped up at that, jaw working in annoyance. “I’m not a bloody pirate,” he hissed.

          “Then what the hell are you doing here? Top secret mission? I’m surprised you were chosen; I wouldn’t believe your fall from grace if I weren’t here to see it myself.”

          Norrington was showing clear restraint, obviously wanting to hit you with something. You watched him breifly consider using the wash-rag as a projectile before deciding against it.

          “Commodore Norrington. That was a name to fear, once.”

          The ferocity in his eyes vanished, replaced by sadness, his gaze dropping from yours. “I haven’t been that man in months. I never will be again.”

          “Good.” He shot you a questioning look. “It’s no use to be afraid of you. And, if what I hear from Elizabeth is true, you might learn to have some fun and not be so stiff all the time.” Offence flashes across his face, but you only smiled. “I blame high society. Welcome to freedom, James Norrington. I hope you get a taste for it.”

          He turned to look out over the steadily changing horizon, a soft pink beginning to dust the sky. “So do I.”

          The days wore on, and the crew steadily adjusted to James’ presence. He no longer ate alone, though he ate in silence, and the crew was more willing to interact with him. Elizabeth, you noted, had barely paid him any mind since his arrival. How she could be so callous towards him you didn’t know; you had expected her to at least talk to him, but she barely even looked his way.

          Not that he didn’t look hers. His gaze would fall upon her, sometimes, while he worked, and there was a sadness there that tugged at your heart. He was confused, too, as to her treatment of him. He wanted, more than anything, to be close to her. Even if she could treat him like a friend. But she refused to give him even that much.

          You were tired of watching it. “Come on,” you walked up to him, “let’s do something about that hair.”

          “You haven’t grown tired of telling me what to do, have you?” he drawled. He was propped against a railing, eyes following Elizabeth as she walked across the deck above them. With Jack, you noted. So, it seemed, did James.

          You sighed. “It can only get in the way, hanging down by your face like that.” You turned away, heading down belowdecks. He needs to get away from watching her.

          James followed, pushing off the railing and heading after you. Good. You found a spot with a few barrels—full of apples, you assumed; you never had gotten rid of all of Barbossa’s cargo—that would be suitable for sitting on. You motioned for James to do just that, moving behind him.

          You found yourself at a loss for words. What was there to say? You had little in common, and less that wouldn’t bring back poor memories for him. You kept silent, instead running your fingers through James’ hair. It’s longer than I expected, for a naval man. I wonder if he always kept it like this, or if it was close-cropped, once.

          “What exactly are you doing?” He turned his head a little to look back at you.

          “Braiding.” You separated his hair into three parts, beginning to twine the strands together.

          You expected him to ask you why, or to move away, but he stayed put. “I haven’t worn my hair in a braid since the navy.” It was almost a whisper. Somehow, in the low light of the hull, it seemed appropriate.

          You almost pulled away and apologized, but he went on. “I used to braid it to fit it under that damned wig. It could get so insufferably hot in the sun, though I was always glad to have the hair off the back of my neck. I don’t know how Elizabeth ever managed, in those dresses.” A soft smile sat on his face. “How did any of us manage, back then?”

          You knew he wasn’t speaking of the heat. You tied his hair off with a small strip of ribbon from around your wrist. It was interesting, to see something of yours on him, and you stared at it a moment before moving. “You’ve always kept your hair this long, then?” You moved to a barrel across from him.

          “For years. My mother hated it.” He smiled. “She told me it would be easier if I just cut it off.”

          “Good thing you didn’t.” He looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself beginning to flush. “It suits you.”

          His eyebrows raised in surprise. Even in the dim light of the lanterns, you could see his cheeks turn pink, the color extending down into his collar. You sat in awkward silence a moment, James fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves while you looked down at the black deck. “A name to fear, you said.”

          James was still toying with the cuff on his left wrist when you looked back up. “I think I like you this way better.”

          “I’m not sure I do.”

          You got up, moving to a barrel next to his. “I’d rather not fear you.” You grabbed his hand, taking it gently away from its fiddling. He scanned your eyes. “Like most people, you aren’t as terrifying as the stories make you sound.”

          “I never thought of it that way.”

          “That you struck fear, even into the best of us?”

          “I…” he trailed off. “It seems so ridiculous, that anyone feared me. I know I was good at my job—it was all I was good for.” He scoffed. “But I was so out of place in society…I always felt horribly awkward at all those social events. I was much more afraid of those people than they were of me.”

          “You were like…” you wracked your brain for a parallel. “You were told stories about Blackbeard when you were a child, right?”

          “Yes, of course. Upon reflection, I’m sure they were too dramatic to be true.”

          “That’s how you were to us. You were a reverse Blackbeard.” James laughed aloud at that. “I can’t even tell you how I pictured you. Larger, maybe. Older. And with a horrible, mean beard that took up half your face.”

          James smiled, and you found you quite liked the expression on him. “Am I as scary as the stories?”

          “Not even close. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t want to meet the business end of your sword,” you added.

          “Is Blackbeard as frightening as the tales?” James questioned. Then, more seriously, “Is Davy Jones?”

          You sobered. “Aye, he is.” You found that his hand was still in yours—he hadn’t pulled away. “But it’s mixed with disgust. He isn’t human, anymore. It can be revulting. And sad,” you said, upon reflection. “I can’t imagine; losing your humanity like that.”

          James said nothing, his eyes on your entertwined fingers. He ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Why do you talk to me?”

          You shrugged. “There’s no reason not to.”

          “That doesn’t seem to be the common belief.” He continued to rub gentle circles in the top of your hand. His fingers were calloused from years of hard work, but so were yours. He traced over your knuckles and each finger in turn. His brows furrowed. “It’s pity, isn’t it?”

          You could see how disgusted he was with himself. “Some, yes,” you admitted. “But you’re not half-bad to be around. This was…nice. I haven’t had a quiet moment with someone in ages.”

          He looked at you thoughtfully, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not half-bad either, for a pirate.”

          You smiled, and he looked like he might say something more, but he stayed quiet, a soft smile of his own gracing his features. When he left, you knew he was in a better mood than when he came. I wonder if I’ll occupy any of the space in his thoughts that Elizabeth does. It was a silly thought, and you didn’t quite know why it came to mind, but there was a ghostly touch where James had brushed your hair aside, and you realized that you liked the idea of his thinking about you. Wishing for the attention of a naval man. Who would’ve thought?

~~~~~~~

          The news about Isla de Muerta came hard. You had been anxious the entire time, confined to the Pearl on the account that Davy Jones could make an appearance, and the ship would need to be crewed if he did.

          You weren’t prepared for the eventuality that James wouldn’t come back. You had worried, of course, wringing your hands with it, but you hadn’t actually thought…

          You kept your tears for him to yourself. Nobody else was bothered—not even Elizabeth. A man she’s known her entire life, dead, and she has no sorrow to show for it. How can she be so heartless? It was as if nothing had happened at all. The crew ignored it; they were used to that, you supposed. Half your number had been killed by cannibles, after all. But even Gibbs seemed unbothered by the prospect of James’ death.

          Only later did you realize that James had taken the heart. You didn’t believe it, at first, but slowly came to reconcile yourself with the idea. Elizabeth thought him a traitor. But was he ever really on our side? You thought back to your conversations with him. I like you this way better. It had been true. I’m not sure I do. That was true, too, and now he’d shown it.

          At first, none of it mattered to you. He was dead, anyway. Slowly, you began to realize that Jones didn’t have the heart. After all, he hadn’t quit pursuing the Pearl, even if you didn’t have the heart. When you learned that the heart was in possession of Cutler Beckett, damn his eyes, your heart leapt with joy. James is alive! No matter the mood of Jack, or Gibbs, or Elizabeth, or the crew, you could only think of James. He wasn’t killed, then. He used the heart as leverage to secure his old position.

          You pondered the thought. If ever you met him again, would you be afraid? Or would you just be sad?

~~~~~~~

          Shipwreck Cove was just as you’d remembered it. Dimly lit, ships stacked one on the other, whispered conspiracies in every corner. Every sailor’s legend had its place in these ships. There wasn’t a legend that hadn’t been speculated within the fortress, and not a pirate who hadn’t chased them without.

          You had fond memories of the Cove, but less fond memories of the Court. The Brethren Court convened on only the deepest of issues, and you still remembered some of their gatherings from when you were a child. It was loud, and there was no order, and the Court couldn’t meet without at least one death per session.

          It was that way now. Jack toyed with the swords stuck in the globe at the front of the room while the other pirate lords surrendered the miscellaneous junk they deemed their pieces of eight. The end result was a dish full of random trinkets. Not that you didn’t understand; the idea that pirates obtained mass amounts of wealth was a myth. Most of the time, you barely had a shilling to your name. Working with Jack was especially non-lucrative, but it was certainly more entertaining.

          Jack’s hand strayed briefly to the piece of eight at his temple. “Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord and I’m as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.”

          “Sao Feng is dead.”

          You recognized that voice. You whipped around to see Elizabeth, clad in full Chinese armor, sword in hand. You smiled to yourself; she was always full of surprises.

          The best surprise, however, was the man standing at her side. You mouthed James’ name, and his eyes locked on yours. He stepped forward, as if to greet you, but you were interrupted by further discussion of the Court. He’s alive, and he’s here, and I never thought I would see him again. You glanced over your shoulder. And he’s in full uniform.

          The Court was chaos. Barbossa’s plan to free Calypso was not taken well by the others, and you couldn’t blame them. Your mind was preoccupied, focussing on the man somewhere behind you. You wondered if he had seen the relief in your eyes. Had he felt the same?

          A hand settled on your shoulder. You turned to see James, worried eyes staring into your own. He pulled you back, leading you out of the room.

          “James?” You felt your eyes beginning to water. “For the longest time, I thought you had died.” Your voice cracked, and you were unable to stop it.

          He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only reached out to you, pulling you into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry.” His breath tickled your ear. “I’ve done horrible things.”

          You held tightly to the back of his coat. “I’m just happy to see you again.”

          He stepped back, pain blossoming across his features. “I know you can never forgive me, for what I’ve done. I can only hope you-”

          The doors behind you opened, and the Court flooded out. The consensus is war, then.

~~~~~~~

          The rain made it hard for you to keep a good grip on your sword. The Dutchman pitched and rolled under your feet, waves crashing rougly into the sides of the hull. Its mast, tangled with the Pearl’s, loomed above you, a towering dark figure in the haze of the monsoon.

          These damned fish people. The Dutchman’s crew fought more viscously than even Barbossa’s undead pirates. Who knew starfish could be so angry? You feared that their weapons, often tarnished and jagged, would catch on your own and leave you defenseless. I should’ve stayed on the Pearl. But there are fish people there now, too.

          At least you weren’t alone. Elizabeth and Will were with you, as was Jack, though he seemed to be having difficulties of his own. If you hadn’t been fighting for your life, you might have been more amused. You had lost sight of most of your crew mates. You were too focused on the eel-headed freak in front of you to give your fellows much thought. With your swords locked, you had no other way to grapple with the beast. It hadn’t occurred to you that the eel could elongate its neck, which was exactly what it did, arching forward to bite at your face.

          A moment later, the head lay at your feet, the slimy body collapsing beside it. James was there, sword in hand, looking at you with concern. That, or he’s squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes. You gave him a nod, stepping in closer.

          “There are too many of them. We’ll never get to them all. Some of them are coming right out of the walls!” You both looked around yourselves at the endless numbers in the Dutchman’s crew.

          “We only have to kill one.” James gestured towards the other end of the ship, where Davy Jones stood, lobster claw digging into the wood of the deck.

          “We don’t have the heart.”

          “But we both know who does.” James’ face was grim. “I should’ve stabbed it while I had the chance.”

          You grabbed his arm. “No. You would be just like Jones, then, bound to this ship for eternity. You’d have no humanity left.”

          “I’d be better than I am now.”

          The comment broke your heart, but there were too many enemies around for you to focus on it. You slashed at a shark-headed monstrosity before James pulled you in close, stabbing something just behind you. Now isn’t the time for blushing. But James was holding you tightly to his chest, and you heard him shoot another member of Jones’ crew.

          You hated to let go, but you had to duck under James’ arm to go after another, and another. Your back ended up pressed against James’, and you could feel each others’ heavy breathing.

          “I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this alive.” You had to shout to be heard over the thunderous racket. Between the rain, the gunfire, and the sharp clanging of swords, there was little room for words.

          “It doesn’t seem likely.”

          “You were trying to tell me something earlier.” Rain ran down your face in streams. “Now might be your only chance.”

          James put a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “I wanted to apologize, for it all. I hope you’ll accept it.”

          “Of course.” You grabbed the pistol from his side, leveling it at a creature behind his shoulder.

          “You didn’t deserve what I did.”

          You cupped his face with a hand. “I understand why you did it.”

          “You were the only one who treated me like a person, then, on the Pearl.” He had grabbed your arm, keeping you close. It occurred to you that you were both going to die like this, paying too much attention to each other and not enough to your surroundings. “I can’t…” James took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but love you for it.”

          You barely had time to process the words before his lips were on yours. Despite the storm, and the gunfire, and the clanging of swords—despite the knowledge that neither of you were going to make it out alive—the kiss was achingly tender, with so much softness and vulnerability that tears began to slip down your already soaked cheeks.

          This won’t be such a bad way to go.

          There was a sudden shuddering of the ship, and you and James had to cling to each other to keep upright. You looked up, only to find that the Pearl had broken away, her masts now untangled from the Dutchman’s.

          You tugged at James’ arm. “We have to go. I think the ship’s going under.”

          He nodded, and you found a loose line to swing over to the Pearl. The Dutchman sank not long after you hit the deck. The ship fell beneath the waves, sucked under by the storm.

          “We still have to face Beckett.” James looked out over the water to where the British armada was advancing.

          You could already feel some of the fight leaving you. How could you withstand an armada, when you’d barely defeated the Dutchman? “At least we have each other, now.”

          James looked down at you. “Yes.” He cautiously wrapped an arm around your waist. “And after? If there is an after.”

          You smiled teasingly. “I hope you don’t mind returning to piracy.”

          James smiled back. “I don’t think I’ll mind at all.”

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter four

Chapter Four

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers, library smut, oral (female receiving) lots and lots of fluff

word count: 3.9k

from the beginning <3

Everyone at work was very understanding. Almost all of them saw it coming, he was taking more sick days than normal and he wasn’t putting up a fight anymore when the 30 days was required to take rolled around. They were profilers after all.

He arrives on Thursday morning to pack his desk. The team is finally home and all together to wish him well on his future journey, giving him hugs and kisses as they each visited his desk.

They had already replaced him, Will LaMontagne was giving the FBI a shot, finally. Spending more time with JJ, the kids were old enough now to accept both of them working. And Kate Callahan was back, now that her baby wasn’t a baby anymore either.

Even Penelope and Derek showed up, bringing a cake that said ‘happy retirement’ written across the frosting. They were happy for him, they shared the same excitement he had. There was a thrill in his eyes again as they asked him about his plans.

“Tell us about this Y/N you met,” Emily cut into the laughter to get to the serious topics.

“I’ve been going to the park a lot recently and I found this little reading nook by a pond. She was there with her daughter and they invited me over to their picnic,” he realized how fake it all sounded as he continued to speak. “Her daughter is wonderful and super smart, I took them to the Smithsonian on Sunday and I’m completely smitten.”

Everyone swooned, happy to see him finally finding someone that makes him gush like this. It had been a very, very long time since Spencer has told any of them about a person, let alone someone he was in love with.

“She is wonderful,” Penelope added, “she makes the best tea and she lives in a literal Disney movie.”

Spencer laughed, “yeah she does. They probably read more books than I have, they make so many references all the time and they even dress up for what they’re reading, it’s amazing.”

They were amazed by how giddy he was, unable to stop smiling at him, “here we dressed up for the museum, I was milo from Atlantis and she was the old man in Tarzan,” he pulled his phone from his pocket to show them the photo.

It was his background now, Y/N sent it to him when he finally went back to his place Monday night, knowing he’d miss them. Not wanting him to be alone.

He was beyond proud to show them the photo, beaming from ear to ear as they all complimented his attire.

“She looks like you,” Kate added, “must be the genius gene,” she added, making awkward eye contact with JJ as they both clocked it.

“She’s exactly like me, that’s why Y/N likes having me around, it’s good for Amoreena to feel normal with the way our brains work,” he spoke about her like she was his own. Forever grateful to have her in his life.

“So when are you proposing?” Matt teased him. Knowing the feeling of love like this all too well with his perfect wife and a handful of children.

“I’m not trying to jinx anything,” Spencer admitted. “I actually have a job interview at the Library she works at later, so I’ll be around here a lot more.”

“He’ll be moved in by the end of the month,” Tara smiled, proud of him and the courage it takes to follow your heart.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” he presses his lips together softly, nodding as he avoids eye contact with them. “But you can call me whenever you need my brain, I guess.”

Hugs were exchanged as Spencer had to leave, Derek even offered to drive him back to his apartment to help with 4 boxes of books from his desk, and to have a bit of a talk like they always do.

“It’s surprisingly easy to be a dad, all you have to do is be there and love them,” Derek shared a tidbit of advice

“She told me she doesn’t mind me being like Amoreena’s dad, but I don’t think I can yet. I want her to decide when she wants me in that role.”

Spencer explains his feelings the easiest to Derek. Like he was already in his mind and knew the thoughts before he said them, Derek was never mad or disappointed in him. He loved him fully, and Spencer loved him right back.

“Like when you chose Gideon?”

Spencer can only nod, it’s still too sad to think about him being gone. “You know what it’s like, you love your father but there are other people in your life who fit the role better.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “You’re going to be great, regardless of the name she uses when she thinks of you.”

“Thank you,” Spencer smiled as they pulled up to his apartment, “you should bring Hank to meet the animals this weekend sometime.”

“He’d love that,” Derek smiled back at him, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’m really proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it if you didn’t first,” he admits. “You’re a strong man who decided to put his happiness first, I can be too.”

“You sure as hell can,” Derek wrapped him up in one last hug before sending him off to live that best life he was talking about.

The only person who didn’t know yet was his mother. He wasn’t sure how to tell her, he knew she’d be proud of him regardless but that anxiety of disappointing her never went away even now that he was 40.

“Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled when she picked up. “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic, Marge and I are going on a walk later to see some ducks that were born, I really love it here Spencer,” he could hear it in her voice. She was much more joyful when she was surrounded by friends.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“you sound happy, what’s going on?”

She was his mother, after all, she could know exactly how he’s feeling from just hearing him breathe or being in the same room as him. It was like a superpower, she always knew what was going on.

“I met someone,” he can’t help but smile. “And I quit the FBI to have a family.”

“You’re kidding?” He couldn’t read her tone, not sure if she was surprised or disappointed.

“Her name is Y/N, she has a 7-year-old daughter named Amoreena who is exactly like how I was as a child, you’d really like them,” he explains and he can hear his mother's smile from his end of the phone.

“I would love to meet them, you can bring them to visiting hours next Tuesday?” Diana offered, genuinely happy for him in a way that made his heart burst.

“I’ll see if they’re free and I’ll let you know.”

“I love you, Spencer,” she reminded him. “It’s nice to hear you’re happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I love you too, thank you, mom, for everything.”

She hangs up before they can get too emotional, leaving Spencer inside his sad little apartment all by himself. Taking the opportunity to pack his overnight bag for Y/N and pick out some books from his collection to show Amoreena.

There’s an envelope sticking out of one of his books that manages to catch his attention, taking it out to see his name written on it in Gideon’s handwriting. He almost forgot he had this, how important the words were.

Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me. I’m sorry the explanation couldn’t be better, Spencer. I’m sorry it doesn’t make more sense, but I’ve already told you. I just don’t understand any of it anymore.

I guess I’m just looking for it again, for the belief I had in college, the belief I had when I first met Sara and it all seemed so right.

The belief in happy endings. When you find that, never let it go, Spencer.

Don’t let this job do to you what it did to me, get out and get a life when you can. I have faith in you, till I see you again, take care, son.

Gideon

He walked over to the window then, seeing a beautiful red and brown bird perched on his fire escape. He couldn’t help but smile, “I found my Sara, thank you,” he whispers to the bird who turns its head to the side before flying off.

Gideon always did have the best timing and the best advice.

—

“Y/N, your one o’clock is here to see you,” the receptionist at the Library said over the phone, hanging up and returning her attention to Spencer, “she’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Doctor Reid,” he hears her voice as she rounds the corner, appearing behind a stack of books in the most beautiful blue dress he’s ever seen. “Lovely to see you again.”

“You too,” he smiles.

“Right this way,” she can’t help but smile as she escorts him to her office.

“I don’t normally consider people who don’t send in a resume, but I have a feeling you’re going to be good at this,” she teased him as he sat at her desk.

“Allison is going on maternity leave in a few weeks, so you won’t start until she has the baby. If you’re serious about wanting this position, it’s only Monday through Thursday, 9 to 2:30.”

“You’re not going to ask me anything?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but the literary historian and I get to spend a lot of time together, I’d rather hire someone I know I already like,” she smiled again. “And it would be nice to see you every day without a 7-year-old taking all your attention away from me.”

“You just want to live out the fantasy of kissing someone in the encyclopedia section, don’t you?” He teased her right back, making her blush. “I knew it.”

“Sue me!” She laughed, and he finally understood what tinker bell meant when she said farries are born from the purest laughter.

He was in love with her right then and there, he was sure of it.

It had been under a week and yet as he stared at her, hearing her wonderful laughter and seeing her beautiful smile, knowing she wanted to spend time with him, that she genuinely liked him and none of this was one-sided, it made him fall harder than he thought he could.

“Come on then,” he stands abruptly, taking her hand and pulling her out the door.

She tries to giggle quietly as she follows him all the way back to the quietest section of the library. Most of the books on the shelves didn’t even have bar codes because they haven’t been checked out since the 60’s, no one needs them but they can’t seem to part with them.

She backs up against the shelf and pulls him into her space, he drops her hands and holds her face instead, looking at her beautiful eyes as they sparkled in the fluorescent lighting.

“I was expecting this to be hungrier than this when I imagined it all for all these years,” she whispers, biting her lip to force her smile back.

“You’re just so fucking beautiful,” is all he can say, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs lightly a few times before finally placing his lips against hers, ever so gently.

Her hands stretched around his back, pulling him in closer till their bodies are pressed together and then she’s kissing him deeper. Breathing in through her nose like she’s trying to keep him there forever, her fingernails dig into his shirt and he knows she wants more.

He slid his thigh between hers, opening his mouth to give her all the access she wanted and letting her take control of the speed. She wasn’t kidding when she said she expected it to be hungrier. She was kissing him like it was the first time she has had contact with another human being in years, and it just might have been. She said she was single for a while before Amoreena, probably the whole time since as well.

“Spencer,” she took a moment to gasp for air, breathing against his lips as he did the same. “Can we?”

He kisses along her jaw then, moving towards her ear to whisper, “do what? Use your words.”

“Anything, just touch me please, god it’s been 12 years,” she begged as quietly as possible, tugging at his hair as he nibbled on her earlobe.

He kissed down her neck making his way towards her chest. Holding her by the hips now, she arched her back into the shelf as he kissed all the way to where her dress started to cover her breasts but he didn’t stop. Kissing over her clothes as he dropped down to his knees in front of her.

He undid his tie, slipping it off his neck and handing it to her, “in case you need to scream into something.”

She held it in her hand for a second, registering what he just said and moaning softly in response as she held it closer to her lips, he took that as a yes and slipped under her dress.

She was wearing just a pair of regular cut pink underwear, not expecting this in the slightest when she got ready this morning. He kissed her over top of the fabric, spreading her legs so that he could kiss the insides of her thighs as she tried to desperately grind into his face. grazing his teeth against her skin as she shivers, thighs shaking in anticipation.

He kisses right where her clit should be under the fabric, knowing he’s correct when she whimpers around the tie he handed her. It's muffled and adorable as he kisses her again and again, knowing she wants more and teasing her gently.

He pulls her panties to the side, mesmerized by how perfect she is for only a second before returning to the task at hand. Being the first person to pleasure her in years, wanting her to have the best time possible.

With one hand he holds her panties back, using his other to slowly swipe a single finger through her folds to see just how wet she was. Smirking against her thigh as he’s able to slip right in.

“Please,” he hears her whisper, lifting the dress up so she could look at what he’s doing.

“Such a good girl for me,” he pressed the words against her skin.

He spreads her legs even further, resting one of them on his shoulder as he dives in, sucking her clit into his mouth abruptly as he pumps his single finger in and out. She jerks her hips at the sudden contact, stuffing the tie in her mouth and biting down as she whimpers.

He knows what he’s doing, where all the pleasure spots are and what feels the best on most women. Searching around and trying different tongue movements, memorizing the sounds she makes and attempting to hear them again and again, knowing it means she’s enjoying herself.

That’s all he wanted, to please her. Not even realizing how hard he was as he continues to eat her out furiously in the back corner of the DC Public Library. He forgets they’re even in public entirely as he moans against her clit, sending shockwaves through her body.

She’s quaking then, holding onto the top of his head with one hand as the other grips a shelf. She’s panting into the material of the tie, the hot breath making its way through the fabric and stopping the whorish moans he knew she’d make. It had been too long since someone treated her right.

He added a second finger then, wanting to push her over the edge as he curled them, finding her g spot and caressing it with every thrust of his fingers. She clenched around him then, a high-pitched noise left her mouth as she finished around him.

He couldn’t help but smirk, re-moving his fingers and cleaning them off in his mouth. Releasing them with a pop before dragging his tongue along her one last time. Gathering up everything she released and placing her panties back over her nicely.

He kissed over her underwear one last time before fixing her dress and standing up, “did I manage to fulfill the dream?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, looking like she was coming down from a real high, not just an orgasm. She pulled him in close and held onto him for dear life as she continued to catch her breath, and then her hand started to wander.

“Nope,” Spencer whispered, moving her hand away from his aching cock. “As much as I want to, I’d rather fuck you at home.”

“Home huh?” She teased him, kissing his cheek softly as she pulled back.

"I love you," he whispers against her ear, without a fear in the world that she didn't feel the same way.

"I love you too, Spencer."

They couldn’t stop smiling at each other, it felt surreal to be this happy. He kissed her a few more times, staying hidden in the back corner until the blood in his body let this dick and went back to where it was supposed to be.

She just held him in her arms, leaning back against the shelves as they kissed softly, running her hands through his hair gently, over and over. She whispered a few thank you’s to him, letting him know it was everything she waited for.

It was truly perfect.

—

Amoreena was so happy to see him back at the farm when she got off the bus, she missed him during the few days he wasn’t there.

She asked him to help with her homework, her teacher assigning them an “all about me” project to showcase their growth at the end of the year ceremony. It was almost June, she only had a few weeks left before she was off for the summer and free to show him around the whole kingdom.

Y/N brought out a box of craft supplies and a collection of photos. Showing Spencer every single moment of her and Amoreena’s life.

From her first sonogram to the first bump photo, she had and every maternity shot on the farm you could think of, to the day she was born, her first bath, first steps, chocolate cake shoved on her nose at her first birthday, everything. He felt like he watched her grow up in the blink of an eye, staring at all the photos while Y/N and Amoreena made a plan for her project.

She did look a lot like him, in some instances, she even looked like his mom. There was a look Diana would get when she was intrigued with something, or when she was trying to figure something out. She’d bite her tongue and tilt her head, and it was exactly what Amoreena did.

He never thought he’d see a child-like himself this early, he always expected someone to contact him at 18 and surprise him like Rossi. He really never, ever thought he'd have a child in his life who he was blessed with watching grow up. He never believed someone would have a kid so much like him and allow him to see the world through their eyes. He was amazed by how lucky he got, to be brought into an already happy family that wanted him, they didn’t just need him.

There was no need for a father in Amoreena’s life, she was happily living her life with her grandparents and her mother, explaining to him that she had a bunch of aunts and uncles, plus 15 cousins and they all lived close too. Her life was full of people to love her, and yet she wanted Spencer to love her too.

“Can I put the photo of us at the museum on here too?” She asked Y/N, looking at Spencer to see if he was okay with it too. “I already told my friends that you’re my dad.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t want to cry in front of her so instead he just stopped all movement inside of his body and held it in. Looking at Y/N who was also a little emotional as Amoreena went back to looking through the photos.

Amoreena didn’t even notice how their expressions changed, she didn’t understand the weight of the words as she said them. She was oblivious to the hole in Spencer’s heart that she was filling with glitter glue, making him feel like he was whole again.

“Yeah,” he finally managed to speak. “I’d love to be on your project.”

“I know you said we don’t need dads but I kinda want one,” Amoreena’s soft expression made his heart melt even more. He was putty in her hands, willing to be whatever she wanted from him as long as he could.

“When did you say that?” Y/N asked softly, confused as to where she was when they had a conversation.

“The other morning at breakfast, um, my father left when I was little. It was just me and my wonderful mother until I was 21, then I found someone to call Dad. His name was Jason Gideon, he was my mentor and he made he feel like I was smart and loved,” he smiled, letting her know he genuinely meant it. “There’s a big difference between being a father and being someone's dad.”

“What’s that?” Amoreena’s innocent mind running wild as she tried to figure out his meaning.

“Anyone can be a father when two adults make a baby,” he said softly, making eye contact with Y/N as she blushed. Knowing where he was going with this. “But dads are special, they’re the people who are supposed to make you feel safe and loved. A person who you can turn to for advice and know he’ll love you no matter what you have to say. Dad’s are supposed to love you forever, regardless of what happens in life. Just like your mom does already.”

Amoreena leaned into his chest, pressing her head against him softly. He wrapped his arms around her gently, giving her the tiniest hug he’s ever given. “I pick you then, you’re the best guy I know and I think that means you’d be a good dad.”

Y/N silently cried, getting up from the table and walking into the kitchen so Amoreena wouldn’t see her sob. Spencer tried to widen his eyes so the tears he was generating would slip back into his tear ducts. Not wanting to cry as she held him.

“I’d love to be your dad,” he whispered, kissing her head softly as she held him tighter. “But first I’ve gotta check on your mom,” he whispered into her hair. Watching her pull away and look for where she was.

“Okay,” Amoreena shrugged, returning to her project as he wandered into the kitchen.

She was leaning against the counter when he walked in, her dress pulled up over her face as she cried into the material. Wiping her face as Spencer walked in and looking at him with the happiest smile.

She was laughing into her tears then, shaking her head as she sobbed, “why am I crying?”

He laughed then too, pulling her into a hug and spinning her around gently as she kept laughing. Her face buried into his neck as she smiled, he set her down gently so he could pull her into a kiss.

Her cheeks were all wet as he held her face, peppering kisses to her lips as they both tried to stop smiling.

“I’m going to miss hearing her call you Spencer,” Y/N whispered.

“Me too,” he giggled again. “But dad does have a good ring to it.”

tag list:

@shemarmooresfedora

@spencers-dria

@spookyspence

@reidsfish

@manuosorioh

[vimeddiart]

Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Wishing I could read something about Peraltiago talking about how they feel on all Teddy's proposals to Amy. They are really akward, uncomfortable moments and Teddy really crosses the limits every single time, and wish we knew more on their takes about it. Once I read a fic about Jake sending Rosa to stop Teddy and take care of Amy but it just not the same.

lol I have a fic on that topic exactly - I have a proposal for you - where I had the cathartic experience of writing about Rosa breaking Teddy’s hand for being so awful, but I agree with you, Teddy reappearing in the show is so uncomfortable each time ugggh. I thought the wedding one was the worst but then he shows up literally fathering a child with someone else and still does it, disgusting.

So maybe take this as taking place before that fic of mine, where Jake does mention how bad Teddy's proposals make them feel!

Jake can tell, just from the simple drop of her purse in the hallway, that it wasn't a good day.

Weird, how it's these tiny things that he's learned to read instantly - or maybe not, given that he's a detective trained to focus on details others would overlook, and being unable to stop the habit when it comes to the most important people in his life.

She tries to be all smiles when she comes into the living room, though, where Mac is happily rolling around in his playpen while Jake is folding laundry on the couch, the very picture of domesticity as she leans over the pen to kiss their squealing, giggling little baby. The view of her in one of her old pantsuits instead of her Sergeant's uniform is already making his hearts do little leaps even before she makes her way over to Jake for their customary Welcome Home kiss.

"How was that inter-department meeting today?" He asks as she shrugs off the suit jacket and continues her pace into the kitchen, setting aside a set of Mac's bibs that can't be folded anyway.

"Okay." She replies, and that's enough to make him abandon the laundry alltogether and follow her (one eye on Mac, of course, but he's not even crawling yet, and couldn't roll himself into any danger on his foam-based playmat - probably). It's rare that she doesn't have at least one inspiring, 'interesting' or just generally informative story to share from her meetings, the only person in probably all departments looking forward to them.

She's staring into the fridge when he reaches the room and leans against the counter, trying to gauge her level of upset. From the raised shoulders and the fact that she doesn't need to check the fridge to know they were going to order Chinese tonight, he guesses it's at a solid 8, at least.

"Teddy was there." She mumbles into the cold, bright space in front of her, and Jake's shoulders tense up just as much as hers even as he tries to sound as chill as possible.

"How is he?"

"Still extremely boring." Then, after a pause. "Still hung up on me."

So much for chill.

"Did he propose again?"

She nods and sighs, her shoulders dropping as she closes the fridge, but doesn't turn toward him.

"I don't know what's wrong with him." She says through gritted teeth, suddenly. "He has a child with someone. He has a wife. How can he look at them and turn around and-"

Mac's little happy cooing from the living room interrupts her, as do Jake's arms as they wind around her middle, his chin dipping into the space between her shoulder and her neck.

"That's probably a question only a therapist could answer, babe."

Amy sighs as she leans back, falls into the warmth and support of her own husband, the father of her child that she can hear happily babbling to himself from a room over, and wonders some more how Teddy could ever think he would be a better option for her.

"He wasn't like this when we were dating." She muses, and feels Jake's kiss against her jaw - a reflex action she's noticed whenever she mentions a past partner or anything, frankly, that reminds him that there was a point where he wasn't Jake Peralta-Santiago yet. But she kind of needs to finish this thought, and she knows he can handle it. "He was nice and kind and he wouldn't- he wasn't manipulative, pulling something like that in public, or deluded enough to think he was in the right for it. I mean, he thought he was pretty great, but he wouldn't have -"

"You musta broken something pretty major in his brain when you left him." Jake's voice is joking, luckily, but she can sense a hint of something more. "The absolute devastation of a Santiago break-up speech, rehearsed or not."

"Harsh, Jake."

"Remember manbun musician? He went downright insane after your split - not that he was probably the sanest person around before that, but-"

"You promised we'd never mention him again."

"I'm just saying. I don't think any man left by you is going to be completely right in the head after that."

"You're making me sound like some black widow monster." She smiles, though, hearing the awe and affection in his voice bleed through.

"I'm not judging those guys, anyway." He continues, and that tinge of something else in his words is back. "I mean, I can't imagine what I'd be like if you ever decided to take Teddy up on one of his proposals."

She straightens up from her lean on his chest, twists in his arms without breaking the hug, and stares right into him as she studies his face - his actually slightly scared face.

"Jake, you know that's not ever-"

"I was joking babe."

"No. Jake. That's not even an option. Not even an idea. Never. Not in a million years. Not if-"

She grabs his shirt where it's unbuttoned, right next to his heart, and his hand reaches up to squeeze hers like it always does, thumb swiping along her rings.

"I know, Ames." The soft kiss that follows calms her just as much. "I cashed out that jackpot and I'm not giving it back."

She hums as she kisses him again, leans her forehead against his for a deep breath.

"It's just... sad." She returns to her original train of thought. "That he can't move on despite his life doing so. I mean, it's been years. He's got a new job and a new partner and a new baby, and he's willing to, what, dump all that? For me? For that idolised image he probably has in his mind of me now, because nothing between us has been real since ages ago?"

"Wow, this is really bugging you."

"Yes! He's barging into my life and thinking he knows what's best for me and that it's him, like I'm some love-struck silly dreamgirl who's going to drop her entire world because he's romantic enough to go down on one knee in front of our colleagues and superiors who have no idea what's going on-!"

Mac's noises from the next room turn from content to disagreeing, growing into what is sure to be a cry any minute now, and it's the only thing that can make them break apart from their hug. He calms down immediately when Amy lifts him out of his pen, and holds him close while she settles on the sofa next to the half-done laundry basket, snuffling against her chest in a very obvious I’m hungry mom couldn’t you tell?! move before she can even unbutton her dress shirt.

He latches on immediately when her shirt is open and her bra pulled down - not a nursing bra today, considering she got ready for an important work meeting - while she feels Jake rearrange the pillows behind her and to her side to get her comfortable, without a second of hesitation or having to think about it. He moves on to pick up the jacket she's dropped onto a dining room chair, drapes it on a hanger in the hallway, and she feels the soft prick of tears in her eyes before he settles down again next to the two of them with a glass of water for her set on the coffee table.

Jake only hums as he notices the shine in her eyes too, and wipes across her cheek. He knows that nursing can get her into a pretty emotional state sometimes, but this is probably a bit more than that.

"I love you." She says, and barely waits for his return of I love you too to continue. "I can't believe Teddy expects me to look at Mac, and look at you, and still think he could ever be a better offer for anything I want."

"Aw, babe." He grins softly in return while playing with Mac's foot that is kicking in his direction, covered in the fuzziest green socks with red apples on them. "You scored a pretty dope 2-for-1 deal with us, I admit."

“Before that, too.” She insists, leaning to unlatch Mac and hand him over to Jake to burp as they always do while she buttons back up, thinking about Teddy’s many proposals before Mac was even planned on. “Jake, you know that, right? You alone were the best deal first and foremost.”

He smiles at her, Mac’s soft little curls right next to his cheek as he sways and pats his back, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Jake-”

“You were happy with him.” He says, quietly, while Mac lets out his usual milky burp and smiles at him much wider when he wipes him clean with the linen cloth pulled from his shoulder. “I know it’s in the past and I - I’m not jealous or anything that stupid, but. Like you said... He wasn’t like this back then, and you were happy.”

His eyes seem forlorn, even as he smiles at the now sleepy baby in his lap that looks so much like him it always makes her heart twinge, that little bundle of joy with Amy’s dark hair and skin that seems to know the Cuban sun without ever having been there.

“And I know it’s not - and it doesn’t make sense to think about, but - sometimes his stupid proposals made me wonder what would’ve happened if he’d done that while he still made you happy.” His voice turns low, and it’s probably not just to avoid waking Mac back up as he falls asleep. “And that just makes me think about how I had to watch you be happy with him, and that’s not - that’s never a good memory to revisit, honestly-”

“I wouldn’t have said yes.” She leans over into his field of vision, the most serious look on her face. “Even back then, I wouldn’t have said yes to his proposal.”

Jake’s eyebrows scrunch up in question, his eyes turning into those puppy dog eyes that she knows as a direct hit to her heart when he’s actually sad or worried, and she can’t not hold his face in her hands again.

“Yes, I was happy with Teddy for a while, but looking back at it I realise I was- there was always this feeling of waiting for something. Hoping for something to be different.” She kisses him, careful and short and barely there, but enough to make him close his eyes and lean towards her a bit more. “And maybe back then I thought I was waiting for him to change somehow, but really I was only waiting for him to change into you.”

“Teddy couldn’t change into me if he had major brain surgery.” Jake scoffs, and Amy huffs a laugh with him.

“Yeah. And that’s why he’d never been right for me. That’s only ever been you.”

He finally, properly smiles now, eyes open again and set on her with a soft shine to them before he leans over more, as much as he can without waking the deeply asleep baby in his lap.

“I’m glad you figured that out when you did, in the end.” He quips and earns himself a shy nod. “And said yes when it came to the only good proposal you got.”

She snickers at that, thinking about the gaudy but wonderful boxing belt in her mementos box, and leans in the last few inches she needs to kiss him again, neither careful nor short this time, but equally as soft. 

“And the next time I catch Teddy trying to propose to you again I’m going to punch him out before he can even get down on one knee.”

“You are not assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Kick in the balls?”

“How very mature, Mister-I-have-an-actual-child-now.”

“Can I at least tell him where he can stick his ridiculous ideas of marrying you at any point in the future, no matter the circumstances?”

She hums for a second.

“You can. If you add in how ridiculous the idea was in the past as well.”

“Oh now, that’s a good deal.”

[fandomscombine]

It's the Lease I Can Do

Platonic! Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: The Weasley twins are so close to having their joke shop become a reality. They had found the perfect location but they had hit a minor problem that could cause them everything. You want to help, but how can you when they, the birthday boys themselves had given up?

a/n: I had this idea for a almst a year now and waited til ther twins bday to write it. I hope you enjoy.

WC: 2111

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred and George causing a ruckus in the common room is a daily occurrence that everyone is accustomed to. However ever since the start of Year 7, the amount of commotion these two had caused can be counted in one hand.

At first glance, it could be attributed to NEWTS or in this year's case-to a pink toad acting as High Inquisitor. Still, more and more nights the twins had claimed the back corner of the common room.

~

The last remaining batch of students were making their way through Filch's checkpoint (an added security protection which also serves for Umbridge having a list of names on who comes in and out of Hogwarts). You glanced down at your watch- 2:27pm, they’re late. Weird, the twins never pass a chance to go to Hogsmeade.

You hear the castle door open behind you. Thank Merlin, you thought but instead you were greeted with a disheveled Angelina. “I’m coming! Wait!”

“Have you seen Fred and George?” You called as she ran past you.

“I think I saw them in the common room!” Angelina shouted back.

The common room? “What are they up to now?” You sighed. Stomping heavily up the stairs. “Ditching me….”

~

“Oi Weaslebees! I know you’re in here!” You rounded the corner of their secret spot. “AHa!”

You caught them red handed, midway into shoving papers into their “Weasley & Weasley'' Trunk. Though what they were hiding, you weren't exactly sure.

“Y/N!” Fred greeted, grabbing onto your shoulders, effectively covering George and the table. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Narrowing your eyes at him. “Really?” Hands on hips you blatantly say “2:15 am, courtyard?? Ring any bells?” Fred shook his head.

Meanwhile George’s head shot up. “Oh shit, y/n we’re so sorry!”

Fred turned to his brother, still clueless on what the heck George was talking about.

Abandoning the trunk, George gave his twin a classic smack on the head. “Hogsmeade, you idiot! We were supposed to all go together.”

“OHHHH FU--” Fred knew he was screwed. “I’M SO SORRY! WE’RE SORRY.” Seizing the messy trunk, he strategized. “Right, here’s the plan: I’m gonna quickly drop this off back in the dorm while you two make your way to the gate. If you run, I guess you can make it. I’ll catch up with you two then.”

“Fred….. We’re not gonna make it” you argued.

“Not if we don’t try.”

“It’s almost 3, Filch would be closing the gates by now.” You sat down on Fred’s empty seat. “Besides we can go to Hogsmeade next time, we could just hang out here. I miss having my best lads around.”

“Awww…we’ve been upgraded from annoying pricks to best lads!” Gushed George, pulling you into a side hug.

“Yea, I could help in whatever it was you guys were doing before I came. I don’t mind.”

At that, you could feel George tense up, his arm around you dropping. “Uhhh…” He looked to the older twin, silently conversing.

You gaze between the boys, sometimes they get so caught up in their scheming that they don’t notice that to others, especially those who had known them for years that their non verbal communication is not so sly.

In the end, Fred gave his brother a subtle shake. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just put this back and we could play gobstones or something, anything you like.”

As Fred headed up to his dorm room, you noticed a piece of paper under the table. Picking it up, the header caught your eye. RE: Lease Agreement. Were the twins looking for a new home after graduation? You didn’t mean to pry. You were close friends, they would tell you if they were moving right? This is big news….you decided to brush it off until another line caught your attention. The shop premise located at Number 93 Diagon Alley. Shop? They are trying to set up shop? That’s brilliant! The twins would get to showcase their inventions to the world! You could feel your pride swell. Leasing Agreements would not proceed if tenants, Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley, are unable to provide an endorser by the date of 31st of March.

“Where’d you get that?” George standing across from you, gobstones on one hand and another pointing at the document. There’s no backing out now.

“It was under the table.” You explained. “I didn’t know you were this far along with the shop.”

“Yea, well it’s not happening now is it?”

“What?”

“Cmon y/n. I know you read it.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright. We aren’t getting the place anyway.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“No endorsers.” George stated matter of factly but you sense the pain in his voice.

“How about your parents surely-”

George laughed. “As if mum would suddenly have a change of heart. You knew how she disapproves of our inventions, calling it a waste.”

“Arthur then.”

“Mum won’t let him.”

“Anyone then?” George huffed in defeat. “How about me! I could back you up.”

“You have to be an adult with a proven financial stability.” He stated, effectively shutting you down. “Forget it y/n. The hold ends in 3 days. We’ve tried everything. Just don’t let Fred know that you know. He’s devastated. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And no pity, sad eyes!” He added as footsteps are heard descending the staircase.

“But I suck at poker faces!”

“Then let’s hope that Freddie is distracted even to not notice.”

~

It’s been 4 days since you had sent the letter to your father.

“Dear papa,

I know that this is a huge favour to ask but I believe it would be worth your while.

So remember back in the summer when you caught Fred Weasley, George Weasley and me snooping around with the Extendable Ears but let us go because you were so enamored?

Well turns out the twins and trying to get a shop up and running! How amazing is that?

The only problem is that they need an endorser to back them up in order to proceed with the lease agreements. The are currently on hold for the Shop Number 93 in Diagon Alley until the 31st.

This is where the huge favour comes in. Could you please be their backer? You did say that you’d love to help in some part in their invention, be an investor of sorts. Please papa. I would love to do it myself but I have to wait a couple more months to qualify. Plus it’s their 18th birthday on April 1st. Imagine their surprise if it were to come through.

I’d love to hear from you soon, regardless of your choice.

Your favourite child

y/n.”

The twin’s 18th birthday was spent with absolute love and madness.

Lee had unloaded his stash of butterbeer and firewhiskey, Fred had slipped Angelina with one of their new prank inventions- which changes the person into a sickly color of vomit green, a perfect way to ditch class or events.

Upon learning that the color would last for a few days and would only fade with the ingestion of an antidote, antidote that George said they still had yet to create. Angelina (understandably) threw cake at them. The Gryffindor chaser with perfect aim, hits its mark. However, Fred using his beater skills, instinctively blocks the incoming cake.

Resulting in a wide splat zone. Fred’s arm was covered in frosting, having sprayed everyone around him in whipped cream during the impact. George wasn’t safe too, despite being across from Fred, the rebounce of the cake had made him the new target.

You had just changed into your pajamas when a tapping sound came from your window.

Your family owl, Lanny, was outside carrying a large yellow envelope.

Quickly letting him in, you gave Lanny a gentle pat and brought out some owl treats for the tired bird.

Unscrolling the note tied to his leg, you begin to read.

“My dearest y/n,

My sincere apologies for the late reply, it’s been quite hectic at work.

In regards to your favour, you need not worry. Everything is taken care of. I had met with the landlord of Number 93 Diagon Alley and had all the documents settled. I had also gone and checked to make sure the two lads aren’t being ripped off. Fred and George had picked a nice prime location.

Greet them a happy birthday for me alright? And tell them that I look forward to witnessing them succeed in their endeavors.

They would undoubtedly be bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times. The people would be thankful for them.

I also had Lanny bring the twins’ copy of the Lease Agreement.

I can’t wait to see you all soon.

Much love,

Papa.”

~

Fred was grateful that their friends had retired into the night, leaving him and George to sulk into the dreadful reality.

“We were this close Georgie, this close!” Fred winced, pinching his fingers close without touching.

“I know but there was nothing else we could have done.” consoled George but even he himself was having a hard time. Number 93 was the perfect location for their joke shop. But now it’s gone.They are back to square one, scouting for locations.

“Fred! George! There you are! I have great news!” You yelled, not caring if you could wake up the other students.

“Oi Y/N! Be careful!.” Even in a bad mood, Fred Weasley couldn’t help being protective.

You banged the envelope on the table. “Surprise! Happy Birthday! From papa and I.”

“Another gift?” wondered George.

“So you don’t want it then?” You challenged, crossing your arms. You tried to look intimidating but the pajamas weren’t doing any good. “Cause I bet a hundred galleons that you’d shit your pants if you were to reject it.”

“That confident eh?” Smirked Fred, taking the contents of the envelope out. “ What do you think is so grand that Georgie and I would---BLOODY HELL! Y/N!” Fred kept looking down at the paper and up to you, unbelieving.

“What is it Freddie?” asked George leaning over to read whatever it was that left his brother speechless.

Re: Lease Agreement

Mr. y/l/n has submitted his endorsement to Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley.

The turnover of the leasing property of Shop Number 93 Diagon Alley would begin on April 1st …..

“Oh My- Y/n? Is this real?” George whispered, afraid that if he were any louder this dream would end.

“Yes, absolutely, 100%.” You affirmed. “The shop is yours! Opff-”

George embraced you tight, catching you off guard. You could feel your right shoulder getting wet. “Heyya big guy, don’t cry.” Running a hand up and down his back.

“But how?” Fred with brows creased was still stuck in a trance, you could see the paper shake in his grasp.

“You left the agreement noticed a couple of days ago. I might have accidentally read it. George said to not let you know cause you might get angry-”

“YOu KNEW?!?”

“George only knew I saw the paper. Nothing else.” You defended. “I thought i might try and help, so I called in a favour with papa. You knew how much he was impressed with the Extendable Ear, so I mentioned if he wanted to back you up. I only got his reply just now, said he’d love to and got onto ironing out the paperwork and viola!” Pointing at the document. “Oh and he also said Happy 18th Birthday, looking forward to your success and the people would be thankful for bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times.”

“Thanks Y/n but this is a lot we can’t possibly-”

You cut Fred off before he could say more. “Oh please, you have done countless things for me. And I know what you’re gonna say- but see you would do the same for me. Besides think of this as your first investors. We want to help. We see your potential, we know you two, Fred, George, are gifted with bringing laughter and joy to people with your inventions."

"Thank you, truly y/n and to your dad too." Fred admitted, opening himself up. "No one's really backed us up with our inventions before, we've been always told off for being childish. It really means a lot."

“Hey, it’s the lease I could do.” You replied, causing the twins to chuckle immediately lightening up the mood.

It's great to see them relax again after weeks of stressing over the shop. Times might be changing but at least tonight, you got your best lads back.

~

Everything Taglist : @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[sooibian]

Trespassing is Prohibited!

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader ft. Chanyeol

Genre: Fluff! Fluff! Fluff! Crack. Friends to Lovers AU, University AU (ish) 

Description: Byun Baekhyun has had enough. He finally wants to ‘man up’ and make you his. But things continue to spiral out of control all thanks to his friend, philosopher, and guide (a.k.a. The Worst Wingman Ever) Park Chanyeol.

Warnings: A very rambly Baekhyun and a longwinding confession

Word Count: + 3k

-------------------------------------------

“You want me to talk about the weather?” Baekhyun squeaked into the phone after having breathed in helium from the blown up balloon in his hand.

“The weather, politics...the economy even.” Heaving slightly, Chanyeol spoke after a moment, his usual gruff and masculine voice reduced to a wafer thin high pitched squeal, sending Baekhyun into a fit of helium suffused giggles.

Taking another drag off of the balloon, Baekhyun warbled and piped, “Say...say that again. Say economy again!”

“Eco...econo-” Chanyeol’s extreme outburst of laughter at the sound of his own voice, rendered him unable to pronounce the final syllable.

All along, you stood at the door, comfortably leaning against its frame and eavesdropping on their conversation or the blatant lack thereof. Chanyeol suddenly wanted Baekhyun to talk about the weather, politics, and the economy? You thought you’d grown immune to your best friends’ antics but they continued to up the ante and left you baffled, amused, or both every single time. 

You cleared your throat to catch Baekhyun’s attention but it fell on deaf ears. He rolled around in bed, breathing in helium, laughing hysterically, chanting the words ‘economy, weather, and politics’.

“BAEKHYUN!” You screamed at last. He scrambled to face you, wearing an expression of a deer caught in the headlights. You finally had the entirety of Baekhyun’s eight second attention span all to yourself.

“YAH! YAH! YAH! What are you doing here?” Baekhyun retaliated and then whispered something into his phone, stuffed it inside his pocket, straightened his shirt and sat primly on the edge of the bed like a child who’d been caught eating forbidden candy. He threw you an accusatory glance but there was an unmistakable hint of embarrassment and panic in his eyes.

Peering over your glasses, you snapped at him, “I’ve come to pick up my phone charger because you obviously lacked the courtesy to return it!”

“Oh!” His lips protruded into a pout and he tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought, “I’ll bring it over in the evening.”

“Why are you acting so….dazed and confused?” Slouching, you took careful, deliberate steps towards the bed and sat down next to him. Leaning into his frame, you sniffed his neck and whispered, “Are you...Baekhyun don’t tell me you’re on something!”

Levelling his face with yours, he searched your eyes before flicking your forehead in response to your wild allegation. “Shut up! The audacity! You’re the one barging into my house in the middle of the day. Trespassing is prohibited!”

Confused, you pulled away from him and asked, “What are you saying?”

The corners of his lips drooped. Brows knit together, he replied, “You should’ve called first!”

His extremely out of character standoffishness made you uncomfortable. You were clearly not interrupting anything other than a helium infused gala which, truth be told, you were greatly annoyed at not being invited to. Neither were you inconveniencing him in any way. You were to simply fetch the electronic device and head home. And this wasn’t anything out of character for you either. You’d always felt free to walk into his goshiwon as you did your own. Yet, here he was, dark hair unkempt, dressed in his usual baggy clothes, accusing you - his best friend, his emergency contact, the one he moved cities with for University, the only one who had the passcode to his goshiwon - of breaking and entering. You knew Baekhyun since the day you’d learnt to walk and in all these years he’d made you feel a lot of emotions - happiness, sadness, mostly anger but not once had he made you feel unwelcome. 

Your heart sank to your stomach at this abrupt coldness.

“Baekhyun, you took my charger, remember? My phone died.” Fighting the lump in your throat, you explained politely and proceeded to rummage his desk drawers for the said item.

“Wait!” He came trotting after you barefooted as you dashed out of his room. He grabbed your wrist to hold you firmly in place. 

While you were no stranger to physical contact with Baekhyun, these past three months since your break up had started to get increasingly excruciating for you. A slight brush of his hand with yours sent tingles through your skin, made your cheeks flame, your legs turned to jelly, and alarms blared inside your head. At first you thought it was just your hormones messing with you - he was an attractive man and you’d only recently been deprived of love and attention but you’d slowly begun to realize it was something far beyond that. Something you had an inherent knowledge of but were not quite ready to confront yet. 

“I’m leaving.” You replied matter-of-factly. Yanking your hand free from his grasp, you didn’t bother to look at him. “Helium makes you stupid!” You yelled instead, and banged the main door shut behind you.

.

.

.

After a week of radio silence (though he was still clearly avoiding you at campus) Byun Baekhyun had finally started texting you again and you realized that he was now a changed man.

He'd gotten...boring.

Every morning he'd send you a no effort good morning text along with, lo and behold, weather updates! Bland messages ending with the same emoji. Mostly alternating between 'Good morning! Don't forget to wear a mask today, the fine dust level is scary! ☺️' and 'Good morning! Don't forget to carry an umbrella today, it might rain! ☺️'

You'd almost always reply with a disinterested 👍 but he remained undeterred. 

Now it was as if Baekhyun and Chanyeol came as a package. The duo seemed to be joined at the hip and they walked in the opposite direction every time they caught you approaching them. Movements frantic, whispering in each other’s ears as if they were plotting to start a rebellion to overthrow the Government. But the Morning Daily from Baekhyun remained unchanged. Until one day, you snapped and replied with an emoji depicting another special digit used to indicate an entirely different sentiment from the sweet old 👍.

.

.

.

Later that evening you were dressed up for a double date set up by your classmate Jiwoo, your only “friend” other than Baekhyun and Chanyeol. She was to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friend who she thought was your type. Not looking for anything more than just a stress free and light evening, you decided to dress to the nines, let your hair down, and forget all about Baekhyun’s pigheadedness. 

Dabbing on just a hint of blush along your cheekbones, you gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror. It was then that a familiar beeping reached your ears and you rushed out of your bedroom to greet the unexpected visitor with a snarky comment.

“Trespassing is prohibited!” Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at Baekhyun through your glasses. Dressed in a black hoodie, head covered in the Nike cap you’d gifted him for his birthday, twirling a pen between his fingers he just stood there, smiling sheepishly with a bag from your favourite desserts cafe in his other hand. It seemed like he’d come straight to yours after his lectures.

His gaze hesitantly roved over you and he questioned softly, “Going somewhere?”

Slinging a shoulder bag on, you averted your eyes and remarked, “It’s none of your business.” 

“Yah! Don’t be like that”, he said with a soft chuckle yet his voice bore a hint of dejection and apology.

“That’s rich coming from you. Allow me to remind you how strange you and Chanyeol have been acting since the last two weeks!”

“I’m - I’m ready to..talk about it.” He quipped, awkwardly proceeding to put the box of desserts in the refrigerator. He then very comfortably took a seat at the kitchen table.

Hands on hips, you sauntered to the main door and shook your head, gesturing for him to leave. “Not today, Baek. I’m running late.”

He pulled back the chair next to his, and drummed his fingers on the table nervously. “Come sit. I won’t take too long. I promise.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you dragged your feet to the table and slumped into the chair.

“You look nice.” Lips stretched into a thin line, he stole a glance at you and said to his cuticles instead. 

“BAEKHYUN!”

“Okay..okay sorry… so the day you came home?”

“Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Drawing out sentences in a question.”

Inhaling deeply, a slightly irate Baekhyun replied, “I’m trying okay.”

“Listen, first of all I am really annoyed at not being invited to that helium balloon call? So I’d advise you to think twice before saying anything stupid. Tell me...why did you two think it was a good idea -”

Embarrassed, he interrupted to get that part of the discussion out of the way. “Chanyeol and I just wanted to know what we sounded like… over the phone, you know? We sounded..err...squeakier.”

“Okay...I hate to say this but ...makes sense, I guess? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Because - ”

You leaned in closer, questioning eyes locked with his.

“Because -”

“Baek, I’m running late!”

“It’s because we were talking about you!”

“No? You were talking about politics -”

“Politics, weather and -”

‘The economy’ The two of you said in unison, face averted from each other to keep from laughing at the recent memory of Chanyeol’s oddly peculiar way of saying it.

“Yes..so Chanyeol and I were discussing how you probably don’t see me as a man? Like … a man man?”

Face scrunched into an expression of pure confusion, your mouth fell open to answer Baekhyun but no words came out. His lower lip had begun to wobble slightly and he rubbed his palms on his thighs before continuing. “He was of the opinion -”

“You’re literally the only one to ever pay heed to Loey’s opinions!”

“Yah! Don’t shit talk my Loey!”

“Yah! He’s my Loey too! Moving on”, pinching the bridge of your nose, you urged him to continue with a curt nod.

Baekhyun straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back and explained, “We had a thought.” 

“Both of you? The same one?”

“Ye-yes?”

“This is not going to end well. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Can you stop acting like you’re better than us? Just for a moment?”

“Fine! Go ahead.”

“We thought that it was about time you started to see me that way.”

“That way?”

“The way you used to look at your greasy vermin of an ex?”

“With sheer contempt and disgust?”

“That was after. I mean like before.” Hands balled into fists, Baekhyun looked at your expectantly.

“I don’t get it.”

He gave you an exaggerated smile as if to centre himself before throwing more vague questions your way. “What is the one thing - the only thing - I can actually cook?”

“Haejangguk?”

“Exactly! Do you get it now?”

“I have a thousand of reasons ...or ideas as to how you and Chanyeol would manage to relate Haejangguk with politics, weather, and the economy but I’d rather not dive into that cesspool. Instead I’ll allow you to explain.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows shot up in concern as he explained softly, “Haejangguk helps with your hangovers. It took me fourteen tries to master! And it was Loey who ate every single spoilt batch. Without any complaints!”

“I wouldn’t say you’re any good at it even now but...sure whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you murmured.

Your phone chimed with a text from Jiwoo but before you could answer, Baekhyun snatched it from your hands and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Pay attention. This is more important than that loser you’re going to meet.”

“Baekhyun!”

“No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you go from one idiot to another.”

“I’ve literally only dated two guys! Why are you suddenly getting territorial?”

“I am not getting territorial! What I’m saying is…  I spent these two weeks rehearsing the right thing to say to you but - screw that! And listen. You cannot do this anymore!”

“Do what?”

“You cannot waltz into my thoughts anytime you like! For instance I’m eating a tangerine, I think of how it would magically taste sweeter if I could only share it with you. Your face suddenly flashes before my eyes and I lose my mind while I’m doing the most mundane things like riding the subway or having a meal or talking to someone. I go grocery shopping and the first thing I pick up is strawberry milk and it’s not even my favourite! But I bought a whole damn carton because you love strawberry milk! I have cucumbers! Cucumbers! In my fridge because what if you crave oi muchim with your ramen some day and woe betide me if I DO NOT HAVE CUCUMBERS! I waste 4,050 Won every week on cucumbers but it DOES NOT MATTER because it would be nothing short of a tragedy if you want something and I can’t give it to you. Like, have you looked at yourself when you get upset? When your lips stretch into a thin line and your eyes ever so slightly lose their sparkle. It makes me want to pluck the bloody stars from the sky and lay them at your feet if it means that I can make you smile again. Do you know how warm you are? I mean, like, physically warm. Especially when you’ve woken up from a nap. So, so warm. I feel like wrapping you in my arms, putting your head on my chest and just...staying like that. Freezing the moment in time. Freezing the moment in time! Look at what you’ve done to me! I'm saying these cheesy things and I'm doing boring things like studying politics and understanding the state of affairs and keeping up with fine dust levels just so that you see me differently! So that I can somehow make you believe that you can rely on me. Think of me as more than just a friend who used to pull your pigtails back in the day.” 

The beat of your heart boomed in your ears. You hugged your coat tighter around yourself as if to conceal its conspicuous sound. Your throat felt dry and your spine liquified in the face of his overwhelming confession. You had a million things to say to him. And there was one specific thing you were dying to do the moment your eyes landed on his soft, strawberry pink lips.

Eyebrow cocked, you said in a low whisper. “Why not buy a jar of oi muchim instead? It’ll surely last longer than a week.” 

He buried his face in his hands and let out a shallow, pained wail and continued. “I'm done.” He looked up at you. Eyes droopy, lips pouty. “Put me out of my misery. Look, if you don't like me back the way I like you just ...forget that I said any of this. We can go back to being what we were at 7 o’clock. It's 7:30 now, we can rewind, 30 minutes. But don't...don't...what the hell how can you just sit there and act like you're watching a freaking movie. React! Say something! Actually...don't! Oh my god this is a trainwreck! I had rehearsed the right thing to say...but I got distracted by the indentations on the corners of your lips..I think I'm having a full blown breakdown… I just want to - ugh!"

"You just want to what, Baekhyunnie?"

You took his fists in your hands, eased them open and laced your fingers with his.

He clamped his eyes shut, slouched to make himself small, and muttered. "Don't call me that!"

Giggling softly, you repeated, "Baekhyunnie?"

Baekhyun flicked his eyes open. Unabashedly studying the curve of your lips, he whispered ‘Stop.’ His hand gently rested on your cheek, eyes seeking approval. You nodded in response, feeling your face flame. His honeyed gaze darkened as he leaned in closer, a sweet scent of bubblegum wafting in the space between you. His hand found the back of your neck, lips ever so slightly parted. Finding his movements excruciatingly slow you gravitated towards him while your breath hitched in your throat. He took your hand and placed it on his chest as his silken lips melted into yours. He held you like you were fragile, like he was experiencing the sensation of your skin on his for the very first time, committing every slight brush, every single touch to memory. You felt the wild hammering of his heart against your fingers despite the thickness of his cozy hoodie, your own reacting in likeliness. 

Baekhyun held you by your shoulders and gently pulled away, breaking the most delectable first kiss you’d ever had. Tilting his head to the side he looked at you briefly before making vague hand gestures and shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself at a loss for words. Face flushed, he opened his mouth again after a while only to clamp it shut. 

Byun Baekhyun was processing.

After having had your fun with his perplexity, you smiled at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly, prodding him to speak.

“So...does this mean we’re?” He asked, voice faintly tremulous.

Pursing your lips to stifle a giggle you teased, “Yeah?”

“Am I your...I mean...are you my….girl-girlfriend?” Averting his eyes from yours, he inquired, while shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

Half shrugging, you answered, “Depends.”

Baekhyun’s face fell. “Depends?!” He exclaimed, almost in falsetto.

"Depends on whether you want to continue sending me daily weather updates.” You deadpanned.

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Yes or no?”

“N-no?”

“Then, yes. Byun Baekhyun, congratulations, you’ve earned the unequivocal and irrevocable right to call me your girlfriend.”

“Does it mean that you didn’t like the new and improved version of me?” He asked hesitantly, face clouded over with caution.

“That wasn’t the Baekhyunnie I fell for.”

“Yah!” Surprised at your sudden blurry confession, his eyes grew into large brown circles but the moment his gaze met with yours, his expression softened again. He smiled sheepishly and spoke tenderly, “Okay...noted. You too can call me your”, he cleared his throat, took your hand in his, placed a soft kiss on it and used his most dulcet voice to say, “boyfriend.”

-------------------------------------------------

A/N: hello, hello @you-did-well-moon​ hope you enjoyed this very cheesy confession from Baekhyun! 

@exolssecretsanta​

[seriouslysnape]

Hi i wanted to request snape x reader where they meet again after not seeing each other since their school days (they were bffs) and severus gets all cute and flustered bc he still has a crush?

STOPPPPP THAT’S SO EFFIN CUTE!

__

Reconnections

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,005

“I had no idea you were coming. How long have you been here?”

__

He thought about you more than he’d like to admit. Severus hadn’t really had any other friends over the course of his life, so it was only natural that his mind often drifted towards the one person who was consistently there for him. He was devastated when he lost contact with you after graduation. He had known that the two of you would go your separate ways, leading different lives with different goals in mind.

At first, the two of you stayed in touch through writing letters. You absolutely adored receiving letters from him, hearing about how his first year teaching at Hogwarts was going was the best part of your day. Severus began teaching at Hogwarts very shortly after graduation, and hearing about his adventures were thrilling...and sometimes a little boring.

He felt relief every time he received a letter from you. He was always happy to see how you were doing, and what was going on in your life. He would read your letters two or three times, picking apart every sentence and word. He’d try to pick up your tone in every paragraph. He’d look for implications of a boyfriend, fiancé, or husband. A hint or a crumb of detail leading to the idea that you were in a relationship.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss your school days together. He missed pulling all nighters with you to study for a big Potions exam. He wished he could have one more Charms class where the two of you were trying so hard not to laugh that you felt like you were going to pass out. He longed for the occasional nights where you would sneak to the Slytherin tower and the two of you would stay up late telling stories and enjoying each other’s company.

He missed you.

He had always been attracted to you. His schoolboy crush as a child didn’t really go away into his teenage years. He still found himself yearning for you, but he never made an attempt to seek you out. He was too shy, too reserved and insecure to ever go after the most beautiful girl in the world.

Even though it was his biggest regret.

Over time, the two of you became busier and busier, and the letters were less frequent. Eventually, the letter completely stopped coming in. You and Severus lost contact about five years after graduation, and now you had gone over a decade without seeing or hearing from one another. He still thought about you all the time.

He missed your smile, your laugh, your hair, your eyes, everything. He didn’t know how much he loved those things until he didn’t have them anymore. He often wondered if he’d ever see you again.

And then he did.

Severus had been passing down a hallway when he saw a very familiar face. He had to do a complete double take, stopping dead in his tracks and staring blankly. You had been walking alongside Headmaster Dumbledore, the two of you in a very cheerful conversation. Surely, that couldn’t be you. He hadn’t seen you in almost 15 years and suddenly you turn up at Hogwarts?

He felt like he was dreaming, half convinced that he wasn’t awake. But he saw you more clearly as you grew closer, and his heart did a joyful leap. He knew that smile anywhere. His best friend had returned.

“Severus?” You called, questioning and excitement in your tone when you noticed him standing at the end of the hall.

His pale cheeks went fiery red at the sudden use of his name. He hadn’t heard his name fall from your lips in a long time. It was music to his ears. You practically ran up to him, throwing your arms around him with a gleeful squeal. You smothered him in a hug, and he awkwardly returned it with one arm.

It was just like old times.

“Hi.” He replied meekly, but his mind was racing and his eyes were wide.

“Oh, I was hoping I’d get to see you today!” You shrieked.

Dumbledore was watching intently. He had known that the two of you went way back. He was tempted to bring up how flushed Severus looked now, but didn’t say anything about it.

“How nice it is to see two of Hogwarts’ brightest students together again.” Dumbledore declared.

You offered him a sweet smile, but Severus was still shell shocked.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, unable to look away from you.

You had both obviously aged some since the last time you had seen each other. You were still just as beautiful as the last day he saw you. You weren’t surprised that he looked about the same way he did before. Black robes, long hair, and a sour look on his face. Just the way you liked him.

“I’m taking over for Madam Pomfrey for a while. Just until she’s back on her feet.” You said.

Pomfrey was out with a nasty bout of the flu, something that even magic couldn’t fully cure. You’d be covering for her for a few weeks, but were hoping to possibly land a more full time gig at Hogwarts.

“I had no idea you were coming. How long have you been here?” He questioned.

Severus’ heart was beating so fast that he was afraid it might give out. The very person he had been dreaming of for so many years was now standing right in front of him. He was almost scared that you’d vanish if he did look away.

“I arrived this morning. Albus was just showing me around,” You explained; “The castle really hasn’t changed much since leaving...you’re looking well, Sev.”

You pushed some strands of hair behind his ear, something small that you used to always do when you were younger. It never failed to make his whole body feel a flutter at such an act of care. His mind felt foggy now, he could barely form a single thought other than the fact that he couldn’t believe you were there.

It became very clear that Severus was still sweet on you. He was still crushing like he did when he was 13.

“You look good now...uh, I mean, you looked hot before- you were fine before,” He stuttered, mentally smacking himself for his poor choice of wording; “You look great, [Y/N].”

Dumbledore fought the urge to burst into laughter. Severus had never been very flirtatious. You looked sheepishly at your feet, hiding your blush at the compliment. You had always found his shyness rather endearing, it gave him an innocence that was pure and lightening.

“I will leave the two of you to catch up.” Dumbledore said, gauging that it would be best if he moved on.

He left the two of you in the hall. You had a lot to talk about. Severus continued to walk with you slowly, savoring every moment. The two of you chatted, catching each other up on the last 15 years. It seemed as if Severus hadn’t really done much outside of being the Potions professor. As sad as it was, you weren’t really surprised to learn that he hadn’t found anyone to settle down with. He was almost in a vicious cycle that consisted of work, sleep, and eating. He didn’t realize how dull his life had become until you started telling him all the things you had done.

You traveled for a year or two after graduation (which he did know due to your letters in the beginning). You studied wizards and witches in other areas of other communities, learning from their differences and comparing similarities. You totally dove head first into the wizarding world, totally enchanted by how complex it really was. You had seen and done things that Severus could only ever dream of.

He was happy though. He was happy that you had done all of the things that you had always said you wanted to do. You were vibrant, successful, and taking full advantage of any great opportunity that came your way. He was so proud of you.

“How long do you expect to be here?” Severus asked you, hoping that it would be longer than just a few days.

The two of you had far too much to catch up on in such a short period of time.

“It’ll be at least three weeks. Pomfrey found where I lived and sent a letter as soon as she realized she’d have to be out,” You told him; “You know how she is. She doesn’t trust many people to handle her work.”

Severus smiled lightly, and nodded. Poppy Pomfrey was a VERY professional woman and never let just anyone take over her job. He at least knew that he wouldn’t lose contact with you this time. Severus didn’t want to flat out ask the one question that was really on his mind. He was dying to know what your relationship status was.

“I’m sure your husband is thrilled that you’ll be gone for so long.” Severus said as more of a hint than anything else.

He saw the way you awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck bashfully. You shook your head.

“Oh, I’m not married.” You admitted.

“No?” Severus asked to confirm casually, but his stomach was doing excited flips.

While you hadn’t been shocked that he wasn’t married, he was totally shocked that you weren’t. He had always thought you’d find someone straight out of Hogwarts and be married within a few years. When the letters stopped coming, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever know how your life turned out.

“You sound surprised,” You noted; “But I suppose I just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

You knew that was a lie. You knew that you never settled down because you had been hanging on to a sliver of hope that you and Severus would reconnect one day. After losing contact with him, you had always said that if you were given the chance to even possibly see him again, you’d drop everything and take it.

You were so glad you had taken that chance.

“I must say I am surprised. You’re so beautif- so kind that I always thought that you’d get married soon after graduation.” He said, covering up another one of his stutters.

“Well, you know. Life has its ways of getting the perfect timing, doesn’t it?” You suggested.

Before he could answer, you took notice of the time, knowing you needed to get back to Dumbledore to finish getting acclimated before the new school week began.

“I need to go. It’s been so nice seeing you. We need to catch up more,” You said, taking a leap of faith; “I’ve missed you...”

He felt his heart speak before his head, but it was the full truth.

“Oh, I’ve missed you tremendously. I’ve thought about you every day since your letters stopped coming.” He blurted out.

Your eyes sparkled at that, you smiled genuinely.

“You have? You really mean that?” You queried.

He was a little embarrassed that he had sputtered it out like that, but he was glad you knew it.

“I do.” He confirmed.

You stroked his cheek gently with your hand, tempted to kiss him. You knew that this was your professions of love for each other. Awkward and forward. Just like the two of you were.

“How did we go so long without seeing one another?” You asked him, inching closer together.

“I have no idea.” He said, closing the gap and kissing you softly.

It was a tender, appreciative kiss that was full of want that had been built up since you were young students. It felt fresh and like a new beginning. A beginning that would actually be the start of Severus’ life. He would have someone to look forward to everyday, someone to share his passions with. But there was one thing that was most important.

He’d have someone to share his heart with.

[syrenblubs]

Just Friends?

Matsuoka Rin x Reader

a/n: did i write this during class? yes. do i regret it? not one bit.

this takes place during eternal summer (s2)

also i've never learned how to skateboard (strict parent tingz) but i do want to get into it someday (maybe if i move out for college)

skateboarding experts pls don't come for me

im probably never gonna write for smth like this again because the amount of embarrassment i got from writing this pLEASE THIS WAS LITERALLY ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE A SKATBOARDING DATE WITH RIN BUT NOPE

Word Count: 1.5k

The cool wind, entering from the window, flew past your face, brushing your skin. You laid on your bed, scrolling through the dozens of posts on social media, as you normally do on a late summer evening. Looking through the recent pictures of your friends and classmates, having the time of their lives, you sighed with envy. Your parents were on a business trip overseas, and you had to babysit your little sister until they came back. You couldn't go anywhere without bringing her with you, and since she was still really young, she'd have to sleep early, leaving you unable to go out at night.

As you continued to dwell on your sadness, you heard a ring from your phone, indicating a text message had been sent. Expecting it to be from your parents, checking up on how you and your sister were doing, it was quite the opposite. The message was from your childhood friend, Rin Matsuoka, asking if you wanted to meet up at the skate park, one of your favorite places. Ever since you could remember, you and Rin would go to the skate park, just blocks away from your house, and skateboard for hours on end. Of course, as Rin got busier with swimming, you guys weren't able to meet up as much, often leaving you to skateboard alone or with the other locals who also went there. The last time both of you had skated together was before Rin left for Australia, and it has been a few years since then, so you didn't mind going over there again. The only problem was that your sister would have to accompany you, and who knows how long she'd stay with you until she started nagging you to go home.

"Well, it's not that dark right now. We could just do some tricks on the ramp and be on our way."

Though, it was a bit strange. While you and Rin did reconnect after he came back from Australia and reconciled with the Iwatobi guys, the thought of seeing each other again didn't come up in conversation, at least until now. Seeing as he was the type to plan, this wasn't something he'd normally do. It's possible that this meetup could be more than just a simple reunion.

You got out of your bed and walked over to your sister's room. As she's playing on the tablet your parents recently bought her, you lightly tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

"Do you think you could stay up just a little later than your bedtime? Rinrin wants to see us at the skate park. I'll get your food after if you want."

The moment you said Rin's name, her eyes lit up. Because she was still very young before Rin left for Australia, she didn't get to see him often, but when she did, she'd have a great time talking to him. They were both avid swimmers, with her now being a part of the old swim club he used to attend with Makoto, Haru, and Nagisa. She's the one who came up with the nickname "Rinrin". She nodded her head happily and jumped out of her seat to get ready.

In relief, you went over to your room to grab your skateboard and gear. Almost forgetting to let him know that you were coming, you quickly texted him.

"I'll be there in 10"

_________________________________________________________________________________

In the distance, you could see your childhood friend's hair flow in the wind. As you and your sister approached the entrance, his eyes caught a glimpse of your presence. He noticed that you didn't change that much. You did get taller, almost his height, and he thinks you did get a bit more attractive. Other than that, he still sees the face of a friend he once played with here.

You waved over at him with a small smile, while your little sister ran to his legs and hugged them. Rin grinned and ruffled her hair, bringing his hand to your hair after once you got close enough.

"How have you been s/n? Are you listening to y/n? Are you still swimming?"

He started talking to your sister for a bit, mainly just asking about how the swim club was going and giving her a few pointers and tips to improve. Once he finished, your sister went to the benches and Rin looked over in your direction.

"Ready to go?"

"Hell yeah"

______________________________________________________________________________________

The thrill the two of you got from skateboarding again. It reminded you of when you guys were younger when the only thing you had to worry about was that one math worksheet you were given for homework. Once again, the cool summer night breeze blew past you two as you continued to skate and do tricks near the edge of the ramps. You guys kept at it for a bit, until both of you fell off your skateboards onto the ground while attempting to kickflip.

"That was fun"

"Yeah it was"

Both of you looked up at the sky, an empty void filled with tiny stars. The distance between you and him was just inches apart. He could smell the shampoo you put on while showering before. He took a good look at you, only now noticing how much you changed. You went from being the energetic boisterous child to a rather quiet and reserved teen. He longed to see the old you, one that wasn't constantly pressured by the expectations of your family and society. In the years that he was gone, he wanted to see you, grow with you, and be with you. When he told his homestay parents about this, they told him it was a crush. He didn't want to believe that; you guys were like brother and sister. How could he be in love? As much as he would like to say you were the one friend he used to love playing with all the time, he can't help but think that he could go past that, to become someone more than a friend to you.

After all, the real reason he called you over was not to simply reunite with you but to see if his so-called crush for you would rekindle.

Now he knows it did, and it very much was a crush.

"Is there something on my face?"

Shit. You got him. He didn't want to admit it. Not, when he's literally rethinking his life.

"You know, it's kinda refreshing, coming back here, reminiscing about old times. I know we haven't been together in almost 6 years, but now that we're here, I feel like we're kids again. Just normal kids being friends, you know? Just friends...."

You trailed off without ending your sentence. You wanted to finish it, but you didn't know how it would turn out. You didn't know if he'd take it well. Will he say yes? Can he handle it? Will your or his views on each other change if he accepted? You knew biting the bullet, and just spilling it would be better, but the thought of rejection paralyzed you from doing so. The years you two spent with each other, making memories and having the childhood of a lifetime, were you really going to possibly risk throwing it away just for the sake of feelings that may not even be requited?

Sure, it's been years since your crush on him has lingered on you. You thought by this point you would've already gotten over him, but that definitely wasn't the case. Ever since you came here, that was the only thing on your mind. You just want to get it out already.

"Just friends? Are we really just friends?" Rin whispered in your ear, making you realize. It wasn't just you; he felt the same way. It wasn't infatuation.

"I mean, do you want to be more than friends?" You said quietly. At last, you said it. You laid there, frozen, waiting for his response. As much as you could've just beaten up yourself for saying that, you felt a burden to come off your shoulders, even if his reaction wasn't something you wanted.

"Honestly, I'd like that. If there's anyone I'd like to be with for the rest of my life, it's you." Rin said suddenly.

You were not expecting that, whatsoever. Happiness has now filled your heart more than it did now. To him, years of pent up feelings for one another poured outright in that statement. To you, it was a revelation, a good one at that.

Finally, you looked into his eyes, and he looked into yours. The silence that was once tense like the blazing summer afternoons, was now calm and soothing, like the night sky. He brought his hand to caress your cheek, until your little sister, who you completely forgot about, yelled.

"NEE CHAN WHY IS RINRIN TRYING TO KISS YOU?!"