#he would poke and tap me. i would have swayed more in a gentle breeze

[mars-ipan]

genuinely the smartest (and funniest) choice i ever made in junior high was completely ignoring people who tried to bully and/or annoy me

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 16

MASTAPOST

tell me what u like about the chapter :D guess where the story's going, anything! gimme fuel qwq

Damian lay on his belly on Phantom’s chest as the boy floated just underneath the surface. It was night time, and the Atlantean town they’d sacked was far behind them now. Here they only had the stars to accompany them, wobbling and swaying over the distortion of the water.

They were so close… Damian pushed himself up with his arms. His head breached the surface, water washing over his face like a veil. His eyes widened as he took in the beauty of the night sky, much more comfortable without the blinding sunlight when he’d first tried this.

There was something comforting about the stars, something beautiful outside this world that would be there no matter what, even in his most miserable nights with the League. It was something he missed when he moved the Manor underneath Gotham’s smog-filled skies.

Damian pushed himself further, balancing himself on his tail and hip fins instead of his arms. The gentle sea breeze prickled at his wet scales, causing him to shiver. It brushed against his ear fins and gave a sense of immeasurable calm. Just him, Danny, the stars and the whistle in the wind.

And a feeling of suffocation.

Damian’s lungs demanded air. Or was it water? He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the sea from above it rather than underneath, but it didn’t help. He inhaled again, but the pressure remained.

What- What was this madness?! Sirens could breathe over water. This was indisputable. Danny had been able to breathe and talk over water the night Damian was transformed. Damian was able to breathe air and talk then. Damian sucked in more and more air, desperately trying to sate the need for oxygen. Why couldn’t he breathe?!

 Damian’s vision twisted. His head spun. His chest felt like knives being stabbed into it.

Hands grabbed him. Danny pulled him back under, where the water provided sweet relief. Damian clutched his chest, as if any moment now he would drown again.

“Are you ok Damian?” Danny’s hands hovered over him, like he was fragile china. Damian scowled.

“Why couldn’t I breathe? What has happened to me?” Damian asked, demanded, heavy with accusation.

“Dude, your lungs are water balloons right now. You gotta empty ‘em out before you can breathe air.” Danny said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damian’s cheeks burned. He turned his back on Danny and crossed his arms.

“I was aware. I was merely testing you.”

Danny poked him in the sail, the sensitive touch causing Damian to hiss instinctively. “I mean if you’re the siren expert, then by all means!”

Damian did not dignify him with a response. Instead, he surfaced again, determined. Instead of inhaling in panic, trying to pump air into lungs at full capacity, Damian focused on exhaling, on pushing the water out.

His throat cramped with pain. The young siren gargled and gasped. His throat clamped and throbbed, like he was pushing a jagged boulder up. He barely managed to spit out a meagre drop of water before Danny dragged him under again.

The older boy pulled him to his chest, stroking his back as Damian coughed and hacked.

“Ok that was my bad, are you ok?” Danny said, ear fins drooping. Damian wheezed, his eyes closing as the pain abated.

“Do you go through this every time you surface?” Damian shuddered. What would happen to him once he got home? He wouldn’t be able to walk, and now couldn’t even breathe without immense pain.

“Hehe, no.” Danny deadpanned. “You’re supposed to use your gills.”

Danny tapped on his own gills. Instinctively, Damian moved his elbows to cover his. Lately he had been keeping sane by not thinking too much about the creepy feeling of having water flow through the slits in his chest, how exposed and vulnerable it made him feel. How it gave him a glaring weakness that could be easily exploited.

“Just open up your gills, and let the water drain out. It’s that simple.”

Damian sputtered. “What did you say?”

Danny shrugged, like he was explaining grade school mathematics to a two-year-old. “Like this.”

Danny’s gills flapped open. It was only from years of stoic training that Damian did not gag at the sight of Danny’s pale flesh revealed underneath his aquatic breathing apparatus. His eyes trailed to his own set of gills.

“Is there another way?” Damian was not avoiding this issue, nor was he ‘procrastinating’ as Richard would insipidly suggest. He was merely searching for a more optimal alternative.

“We’re sea creatures, Damian. I consider myself lucky for being able to not drown in air at all.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. He was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul. He could face this. Being unable to breathe above water would make him a liability on this journey. He had to push through.

Damian prepared to resurface, gathering his nerves.

“Just relax. You can do it, Damian. It’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Encouraged by the prospect of not hearing any more puns, Damian pushed his upper half over the surface. Accordingly, Danny also pushed closer. This high over the water, Damian wobbled as his body adjusted to his weight in the air.

The pressure started to mount on his chest. Damian focused on the slits between his ribs, on the alien feeling of wind blowing into them and hitting exposed flesh. He squinted his eyes and tried to push the water out through his gills. He flexed and contracted his arms and stomach, searching for the unconscious switch in his brain that could activate the write muscles.

It was too much. He went under again.

“This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.” Damian huffed, chest heaving from strain.

“I can tell.” At Damian’s glare, the older boy raised his hands in defense. “Hey, you looked legit constipated up there. I was starting to worry you’d actually make a mess of yourself. Now, like I said, all you need to do is-”

Damian hissed at the older boy’s mockery. “I can take care of myself. I need no advice to do something as simple as breathing. Thank you.”

Damian glared at the surface, the invisible barrier between this world and the old one, and redoubled his efforts. The pressure came back. Damian twisted his body and nerves, but he couldn’t get a single gasp of air in. He sank. He re-emerged, he suffocated again. Each time Damian pushed himself further, only to be met with the same difficulty. Each time left him sorer, more cramped.

Until after many an attempt, Damian slumped against Danny’s chest, scaled skin warm despite the cold, deep-sea looking appearance. His muscles turned to jelly, even as he feebly pushed against the older boy’s scales for another attempt.

The young siren felt soft hands wrap around his waist. Damian tried to push away, to wiggle out. Danny’s chest vibrated with a low him, and it was like his strings were cut, and Damian’s resistance ceased. All he could do was mutter weakly.

“What are you doing?”

Danny surfaced, arms keeping Damian under, until they began to pull him up too. Damian’s heart accelerated. He could not stop the frightened chitters forcing their way out. His fins went rigid. Was this it? Did Phantom finally lose his patience, and decide Damian was no longer worth the effort? This was bad. He needed to escape and he needed to escape yesterday.

But as Damian began to struggle, the rumbling vibrations from the elder’s chest intensified, and the small boy went limp again. His muscles, sore from exertion and rendered even weaker by the strange biological signal, refused to move. All he could do was tilt his head away, trying to delay the inevitable. Helplessly, he watched the surface creep closer and closer, until he went over.

Damian waited for his death. In his prayers, he apologised to Father, to Richard, even to Drake, for everything. In this moment, as tears pricked his eyes as he was helpless but to drown in fresh, oxygen-rich air, Damian resigned himself.

The pressure did not come.

His chest tingled. Pinpricks poked the skin and outer scales, and along the lining of his gills. Water ran down his chest and over his abdomen. Damian blinked, and looked down.

His gills were open, fully open, gaping wide and exposing his insides for the world to see, but they were open. And water flowed out of them, emptying his lungs. Damian gasped, and felt sweet relief as cold, burning, fresh air finally filtered into his body. His body wracked from the sweet release, chest struggling to accommodate the big greedy gulps he took.

“And now you shut them, keep the air going out the other way.”

Damian nodded glumly. That he could manage. A swift motion, and the flaps of scales and skin shut tightly, leaving only thin lines on his body to suggest that he ever had gills in the first place.

For a moment, he felt human. Even as he actively commanded his breaths, he felt more like a normal human again than he had in the last 48 hours.

“T-thank you.” Damian said, cursing the weakness in his voice. Not to mention how it sounded completely different now, travelling through water instead of air. It was unnerving, but he couldn’t place why. He felt too tired for more riddles about his body. “You have saved me a great inconvenience.”

Danny quietly chuckled. “It was literally what I told you. You need to loosen your muscles to get the water out. This whole time you’ve been all tight and wound up like a spring lock. Dude I think you even sleep all locked up too. That can’t be healthy.”

Sleep was when you were at your most vulnerable. Any threat could walk by and do with you whatever they pleased. In his life, there would be danger at every turn. It was a sentiment he’d expressed to the others in his family when they too voiced the same concerns.

He would never be safe in this life.

A finger poked his cheek. Damian snapped his teeth at the infantilizing gesture, only for it to retreat back just as quickly. He turned around and looked up, muscles no longer rendered limp by the subjugating vibrations.

Danny pointed to the sky, a soft smile on his face.

“It’s a good night to stargaze, isn’t it?” A comet whizzed by in the night, a streak of white trailing behind it, like an artist’s brush across a canvas. Now that he could breathe again, Damian felt an overwhelming sense of calm again, treading water and watching the stars shine.

[soopersara]

Jewel

Zutara Week 2023: Day 4

Read it on AO3 | @zutaraweek

While searching the palace for bandages after the Agni Kai, Katara finds an old souvenir hidden away in Zuko's belongings.

The palace isn’t what she expects.

It’s enormous and lavish, of course. Gilded trims and flourishes adorn almost every surface, and the cavernous rooms seem to stretch on forever. The empty darkness, the copious ornamentation in red and gold, all of that suits her idea of his family perfectly.

But Zuko’s room, despite the opulence, is almost bare. After Katara helps him to his bed, she sets to work digging for something, anything, that she can use to bandage the wound in the middle of his chest. Still, though she opens one drawer after another and pokes her head into every cabinet she can find, there is nothing but more empty wooden shelves.

“Isn’t there anything I can use for bandages in this place?” she calls back to him. Even a clean tunic will do, but aside from the blankets on his bed and the curtains catching the gentle evening breeze, there doesn’t appear to be any usable fabric anywhere in his whole extravagant bedroom.

His face is pale and his breathing faint and reedy, but there is a strange sort of steadiness in his eyes when he looks her way. “Towels, maybe? In there.” With one arm still wrapped tight around his middle, he gestures vaguely in the direction of a second, slightly less ornate door.

A small, dim washroom greets her on the other side of the door, and though she is relieved to find that the gilded taps still produce twin streams of clear water, every shelf in the room is bare. Katara lets out a sharp breath. They’ve seen burned-out husks of houses less barren than this.

“Nothing,” she says, returning to his side just in time to steady him when he sways. He probably shouldn’t be sitting upright in his condition, but a not-inconsiderable part of her worries that if Zuko lies down before she can bandage his chest, he might not be able to sit up again.

“Hmm. Guess Father burned everything I left behind.” Though the words are somewhat indistinct, his tone still carries an unusual calm. Like this is normal. Like it’s expected for a father to burn all his son’s possessions in a fit of rage.

Katara squeezes his shoulder softly. “If you left anything important, I’m sure we can find it. He couldn’t have burned everything.”

“He could. But—” Zuko’s forehead creases, and it takes a few moments for him to resume. “I don’t think I left anything that matters.”

She hopes not. After all that they’ve been through, losing an important keepsake is the last thing she wants to think about.

“I’ll find something,” she says, half to reassure herself. “As soon as I get you bandaged up, you can get some rest.”

With unsteady hands, she tips out the contents of their packs and sifts through the jumble of clothes, washed and unwashed, until at last she comes across a fresh towel folded up at the bottom of his pack. Finally. There is a soft clattering sound when she shakes the creases out of the fabric, and although Zuko seems interested by the sound, she can’t bring herself to care. Until he is bandaged and comfortable enough to rest, nothing else matters.

Zuko, however, is either much more or much less focused than she is. As she sets to work tearing the cloth into strips and winding them snugly around his chest, he strains from one side to the other. “I heard something. Katara, what was that noise?”

“Something fell out of your pack. Hold still, would you? I don’t need you hurting yourself by squirming around.”

If he hears that, he pretends not to. “I need to see what it is.”

“Hey.” She flicks his forehead to get his attention. “I’ll find out what it was in a minute. Just let me finish this, would you?”

It takes some time, but eventually Katara finishes binding his wound and gets him settled back against his pillows. His cheeks are pale, his forehead glistening with sweat, and yet he grabs hold of her hand and squeezes with a surprising amount of force.

“Is it still there?” He cranes his head to the side as though he might be able to see his possessions spilled across the floor from the bed. “Katara, I need to see—”

With an exasperated sigh, she pushes him back again. “You’re impossible. Have I told you that before?” Then, before he can try to squirm past her and out of bed, she crouches to make a quick search of the floor.

It’s probably nothing, she tells herself. A hard sliver of soap, or a wooden spoon packed into the wrong bag. Zuko is probably just disoriented by pain and fever and too confused to realize that they’re alone here, that the Fire Sages are guarding the palace, and at least for now, they’re as safe as they can hope to be.

But when she searches the floor, nothing stands out to her at first. There are clothes spilled absolutely everywhere, but at first glance, there’s nothing hard enough to explain the clattering sound. Nothing, that is, until a strange distortion in the shadows catches her eye, and her fingers close around a translucent piece of stone roughly the size of her thumb.

Brows creased in bemusement, she perches back on the side of the bed and holds the stone up for him to see. “Have you been carrying rocks around in your pack for fun, or is Toph sneaking them in there?”

To her surprise, Zuko seems relieved, and he reaches weakly in its direction. “I thought I lost that.”

“You didn’t.” She presses the stone into his hand before smoothing a few strands of hair away from his eyes. “So—why have you been carrying a rock around?”

He is quiet for a few seconds, but when he speaks again, his words feel more considered, more deliberate than before. “Remember the crystal catacombs?”

Katara nods. Of course she does. She tries not to think about it too often, but forgetting would be all but impossible.

“I kept a crystal,” he rasps. “It still glows a little when it’s dark outside.”

In the fading evening light, it’s difficult to tell, but she thinks she can almost see it. Despite its milky translucence, the crystal casts almost no shadow at all, and where the shadow should be, there is a faint, blue-green cast instead.

“When I decided to leave, I had to take it with me. The crystal was there the first time we talked. I had to have it with me or I would never find you again.” He falls silent for a few moments, then frowns and shakes his head. “Maybe I’m delirious. That sounds silly now.”

Slowly, Katara shakes her head. “You might be delirious, but it isn’t that silly.”

Zuko rolls his head just far enough to the side to give her a skeptical look.

“I mean it. We’re both still here.” She closes both her hands softly around his. “And as long as you stay here with me, I don’t care if it’s because of the crystal or not. I can believe anything as long as you get better.”

[dilftaroooo]

can you do a cute and cuddly scenario with dog jonathan ? reader just plays with his overly sensitive ears, a little steamy but still cute 🤍

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: gender neutral reader, race/ethnicity is not mentioned

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.4k+

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: a cute cuddly session gets a little spicy.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: slight suggestive themes, modern au, fluff, doggy jonathan :).

“ohhh, y/n. r-right there... you know that’s my weak spot.” there’s something rather intriguing about this situation you’ve indulged yourself into; a bulky man exceeding the height of 6 feet gushing over the small hand scratching just the right spot behind his fluffy ear. if your phone was near you at the moment you would have 20 new pictures saved in your gallery.

“i know all of your weak spots. i’d play with every single one of them if you’d let me, johnny.” the gentle coo and the subtle purr of his nickname made him tremble.

never in jonathan’s life did he insight that there would be someone capable of making his heart flutter and knees teeter (not until he came across you).

he’s thoroughly grateful for your embracing clutches whenever the unforgiving breeze of the wintry night nipped his skin or the warm meals you’d provide each and every morning — never swaying away from the loving kiss to his perked up ear after setting down his plate.

nothing can overcome your everlasting love for him; not the millions of love songs, not the fresh bouquets, nor the neatly written love letters. your love was more than that. bigger. better. and for that, jonathan was forever grateful.

“a-a little to the left,” you obliged with a smile and jonathan nearly howls. his tail wagged rapidly as he pounced you, the unexpected motion made you yelp and you scratch his ear at the same tempo of his tail.

you would have giggled it off and called him your ‘silly boy’ if it wasn’t for the large bulge poking your inner thigh. a tingly sensation blooms on the apples of your cheeks and you purse your lips to signify your embarrassment but jonathan was a bit too occupied to notice.

“ahhh- that feels really good, love. k-keep going.”

“jonathan. wait-”

your hands reached down to his hips rutting against your leg. the alerting tap to his enlarged quad was enough to make him stop and look up at you. the awkward smile along with the furrowed eyebrows made him whine. oh no. how could he have been so careless?

jonathan’s ears flattened on his head, his eyes looked down, unable to meet your gaze any longer. “i’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, y/n. i just- i was so focused on-” the finger to his lips put him to a halt and he looked back up to you.

“shh. don’t worry, dear. you can continue if you’d like. just slow down a bit. i’m not going anywhere.”

what did he ever do to deserve you?

kissing your chin before laying on your chest — integrating himself with the calm beating of your heart. he lets out a relieved sigh once he closes his eyes.

“i love you so much, y/n.”

you run your fingers through his delicate, silky hair and lean back on the softness of the inviting pillow — on the verge of drifting off.

“i love you too.”

©𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 @dilftaroooo. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[nationalharryleague]

In the Long Green Grass

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: the fluffiest fluff with husband!harry  

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi everyone!! Merry Christmas to all that celebrate!! this is my Secret Santa (run and organized by the lovely lu (@meetmymouth​) gift to the sweetest angel who walks among us miss hasibi (@peachybloomss​)!!! I hope you enjoy it my love!!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what everyone thinks in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!! 

*** 

You were stirred by the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff outside the home as the early morning sun streamed in through the windows. A small huf and whine left your lips, always one to ask for just five more minutes in bed, before you climbed from underneath the warm plush blankets and your toes hit the icy and worn wood floors beneath you.

The buttery yellow sunlight thwarted your plans to fight yourself back to sleep for those last few moments, prompting you to reach out your arms in a longing stretch. You released a light and sleepy hum of surprise when your arm hit a tiny furry body, and not the arm of the man who loved to sleep late in the bed beside you. Peeping one eye open, you made eye contact with Piper, Harry’s small jet black cat with glowing green eyes who was laying next to you, curled up on sheets that still held the indent of his body in them.

Piper wore a face of annoyance, obviously blaming you for interrupting her precious beauty sleep, and her eyes followed your body as you forced yourself out of the bed with one goal: find Harry.

Harry had a habit of disappearing, especially in a new place where there was just so much to explore. He was a wanderer (and an aquarius); always on the move, carried along by a thought or idea he just couldn’t resist. It was hard for him to sit still, a trait he probably picked up after tour after tour after tour, never allowing himself the luxury of rest or relaxation after it was never allowed to him. That was why you had insisted he needed time away from the city, finding a perfect spot in a small cottage that sat on the edge of a cliff along the ocean with a back garden full of sweet smelling flowers and tall cushony grass.

You tiptoed carefully down the spiral staircase that lovingly let out groans underfoot, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, into a kitchen that looked straight out of a fairytale. It was small with moss green cabinets and large bay windows that filled the space with light that kept the seemingly hundreds of plants in the house happy and thriving. A cool ocean breeze came in through the open windows of the small breakfast nook, bringing along the scent of a fresh pot of coffee that sat on the butcher block countertops like it had been waiting for you to wake all along. While you felt a jump of excitement within you for the coffee, it still hadn’t been what (or who) you were looking for, even though you were very glad you found it.

A sweet cup of coffee was thoughtfully prepared in a tea cup you had found in the cabinet with small wisteria flowers painted around it’s rim. You knew Harry would poke fun at your cup choice if he were there. “Tea cups are for tea,” you could hear him say, perking up the edges of your mouth into a gentle smile as you sipped it carefully. But the flowers reminded you of the beautiful wisteria tree that flowed in the wind and scattered it’s petals all over the back garden; you just couldn’t pass it up.

It took you quite a while to find him, even with the new found caffeinated energy running through your system. You had run into the two other cats at the house, both rather chubby tabbys named Jack and Gus, that called this back garden home on your search and you obviously had to say good morning. The two rubbed themselves up against your legs, begging for a scratch behind the ear and a bit of attention, and you obliged. Who were you to deny them of it?

The garden the cats got to call home was a dream. It was filled with every variety of colorful flower imaginable and blanketed in a sweet air that always hovered over the space. Your favorites were the small peachy blooms that smelled of sugary perfume. A stone fence ran the perimeter of the yard, a white picket fence in the middle opening to a swath of overgrown grass that swayed in the wind on a hill. If you squinted, you could see the house of the couple you were renting the cottage from, but they were far enough away it felt like you were the only people around for miles.

When you spotted a Harry-shaped hole in the tall grass up the hill, you had a sneaking suspicion you had found your missing husband.

The tall grass squished beneath your feet as you climbed the hill, creating a soft padding below, and the long blades tickled against your bare legs as you made your way towards him, still only dressed in one of his perfectly worn t-shirts from the night before.

“There you are,” you hummed happily when you reached him, standing above him as he layed in the grass. “I thought that I lost you.”

He looked like a renaissance painting as he laid in the grass that was dotted with small pink and purple wildflowers. His curls had gotten a little longer during his much needed break and they splayed out around his head in delicate ringlets like a halo. The light from the still rising sun bounced off his slightly dewy skin, giving him a glow that lit him up even more than usual. Stubble danced across his cheeks and jaw, framing his perfectly pink lips that held a gentle smile as he looked up at you from the ground. And his eyes squinted slightly, shielding his pupils from the ever growing brightness of the sky, creating delicate little wrinkles around his sea glass green eyes that looked so vibrant in the light.

A worn book that you hadn’t seen before, bound in dark green leather with gold detailing, sat on his chest; Poems for Lovers: A Collection was embossed delicately across the cover.

“You’ll never lose me,” he mumbled up at you, a gravel in his voice like it was the first time he had used it that day. You had been married for almost two years and had been together for five, but your cheeks never failed to redden when he spoke sweet nothings like that. “Good morning, angel,” he said softly, reaching his hand up for yours.

You moved to place your hand in his, but ended up only linking your pinkies together in the process; a light tug from the man below you signaled for you to join him on the ground. You couldn’t resist, sitting yourself down with your legs crossed in front of you on the slightly damp ground next to him, pinkies still locked together.

“Morning,” you greeted. “I missed you in bed. Piper isn’t much of a cuddler,” you chuckled while absentmindedly playing with his fingers, twirling his wedding band.

“She’s not very nice, is she?” he smiled, opening his eyes fully to meet yours as you strategically moved your body to block his delicate eyes from the sun. “I’m sorry my cat’s a bitch,” he joked. “She still thinks she’s my number one girl.”

“I tell her I’m sorry that I stole her spot in bed all the time, she never listens. Won’t even have a civil chat with me about it,” you teased sarcastically.

Harry let out an enthusiastic giggle at your words; it was high pitched, and came from his belly in loud bursts of air. His cheeks scrunched up and forced his eyes closed because he was smiling so wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes once again. His laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help but join in.

You two must have looked insane, sitting in the grass in a field in the middle of nowhere just after dawn, laughing like idiots. But you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Well, a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

As your gigges died down, you turned your attention to the book resting on his chest. “You ditched me in bed for a book?” you teased, letting the remaining laughter escape your body.

“I couldn’t sleep and I found it on one of the bookshelves. I thought it would be nice to read in the grass and watch the sun come up.”

“You should have woken me up. I could have thought of a few things we could have done to tire you out.” A smirk played on your lips as you tapped your chin, pretending to think, as you watched his eyes grow in amusement from your innuendo.

“You looked too peaceful sleeping. Also, drool and bedhead don’t really turn me on if I’m being honest.” It was your turn to react to his teasing.

Your jaw dropped in feigned offence and your finger flew over your shoulder to point back at the cottage. “I can go back if you’d like your privacy,” you said incredulously and with dramatics, until a few chuckles broke through and your resolve softened once again.

“Oh no no no,” he spoke with a grin, “come here,” moving the book and tapping his chest for you to rest your head on. You turned yourself around to lay yourself on the ground, placing your head on his chest and listening to his steady and calming heartbeat.

“How are your poems?” you asked, referencing the book he was now holding in his hands.

“They are very good. I’m glad I found it.” His voice reverberated under your head as he spoke, and you rose and fell softly with his breath.

“Read me your favorite.”

“Okay,” he began, thumbing through the pages as he held the book above both your heads. You listened as he let out a small “ah, here it is,” before he dramatically cleared his throat. “You might remember me talking about this one already, but I love it.”

You knew he loved it before he even began reading anything. He loved his poetry, especially when they were about love. Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart, often saying to you and interviewers “I just love love.” He loved falling in love with you and becoming a team, just as much as you did with him.

“It’s called The Wait,” he spoke gently, his voice taking on a deeper and more enunciated quality. You recognized the poem immediately, as it was the one referenced on his pants for the Vogue cover shoot. He had dedicated it to you then, and was doing it again now in the grass. “It seemed like years before I picked a bouquet of kisses off her mouth and put them into a dawn-colored vase in my heart,” he began. He spoke slowly and smoothly with the consistency and sweetness of honey. “But the wait was worth it,” he continued. “Because I was in love.”

You couldn’t help but think of your own story as he read. He had chased after you for years, with you always insisting that he was your best friend and you were afraid to ruin that. But gradually, your best friend became your lover, and your lover became your husband.

“I like that one a lot too.” You spoke softly and with reflection. “It reminds me of us.”

“That’s why it’s my favorite.”

You two layed in the grass for hours, not a care in the world, as he read from the book. Every poem took you two on a journey into a love story, one that for the two of you only existed on the page, but told of a very real love that couldn’t have been dishonestly written.

But with how you felt in the moment, with the joy and loving warmth you felt in your belly, you were sure you could write a million poems about the love you had with him.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!! 

[malaks-perch]

a war of tea and pastries

nadia satrinava x reader

both you and nadia are in for a couple surprises

warnings: it get spicy, sfw?? fluff make heart POOM

a/n: i really meant to post this yesterday, forgive me. part of #31DaysofArcana, follow for more during this awesome week!! check out the first tag to find more content for this event on my blog and all of tumblr!'

this was definitely a sight for any vesuvian to see. countess nadia satrinava was doing anything and everything she could to find the slightest bit of work. from asking servants left and right what there was to do on that day to asking her right hand about any particular events there were today. but unfortunately for her... there were none.

at this very moment, the elegant countess of vesuvia was pestering portia about anything that might be going on in vesuvia. any. thing.

"milady, I must insist that there is nothing to do." portia smiled to herself as she went about her cleaning in the palace library. nadia was over her shoulder trying to steal a rag away from where they were perched on portia's arm.

both were fairly agile and when nadia would reach portia would make a valiant and subtle pull far enough away from the countess to clean something elsewhere. for good reason, of course.

last tome portia allowed nadia to help in her duties she was chewed out by one of nadia's pesky advisors. they meant well because nadia did end up cutting her palm when she broke a dish in the kitchen. nadia chastised herself for breaking it and apologized for being so clumsy. (it literally slipped into the sink off of the counter, but nope, not according to nadia).

so when portia sent you a distressed look over her shoulder, you knew exactly what to do. turning your head and looking up before slamming a hand on a nearby desk.

"oh my stars!"

nadia was at her post immediately, wrapping an arm around your waist and scanning the desk for a potential problem.

"i will take care of it, darling. all you need to do is tell me what is troubling you." nadia pressed her cheek to your shoulder, violet eyes scanning your face as her thumb came to rub across your jaw.

it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do.

"you have tea with one of the palace representatives! they were busy tending to one of your family's royal courts!" you groaned, leaning over and rubbing your temples as if it hurt just remembering the information.

nadia rubbed her skilled fingers over your shoulders, "don't worry, my love." she assured, hands threading through your hair in the way she knew that made your body go lax. "portia, we have work to do."

nadia left, eagerly ordering the palace staff to decorate the veranda. plush cushions and fabrics being laid out around a table for maximum comfort.

you laid on your shared bed, watching as nadia came in from her baths. through silks you could see she was freshly lathered in oils that made her room smell that much sweeter.

"maybe you should tell that pompous ambassador to wait." you huffed watching nadia's robe fall away as she disappeared into the closet.

a gentle laugh sounding from within. nadia poking her head out, an arm braced to the doorway hid the modesty of her chest. but it didn't stop you from looking.

"if you want to go deal with an arrogant politician tomorrow, then you may show him to a room upon arriving." she raised a brow with that sexy smirk on her lips.

you practically launched off the bed. murmuring praises to whosoever turned this day in your favor.

"y/n"

oh? that tone never escaped the bedroom. immediately you spun on your heel to find nadia challenging stare. the lifted brow, the smirk, the smile...

you went over to nadia's side of the bed and plopped down, sprawling out and propping up on your elbows so nadia could see your ever growing smirk.

the countess of vesuvia blushed and quickly disappeared into her closet.

a laugh sounding from you upon seeing the same woman who so handed her ex-husband his ass flustered from seeing you kicking back on her bed.

"i'll be good," you promised as a few servants came in the room to help the countess pick an outfit for this grand occasion. "as long as you promise to relax a little with that arrogant ambassador."

the servant girls stifled their giggles shooting you smiles of their own. nadia was dressed up in white silks that clung to her chest and flowed behind her as she crossed the room. shooting a brow to the girls before climbing up to stradle your lap.

you raised a brow, letting your hands settle on nadia's waist in an effort to get her to stop cutting those tyrian eyes at the poor girls.

"my, my... it seems you girls have riled up my lover." you hummed before nadia turned to you, tracing her hands over your shoulders before she returned your smile.

"please summon portia." her tone sharp as she leaned down to trace her lips against your neck. a light hum left your mouth as the nervous girls disappeared out the room.

you laughed, rubbing nadia's back as she leaned back to observe sly grin on your face. "they were here to help you dress. you'll keep driving the new ones off if you keep doing that."

her fingers roughly tilted your head back as her lips ghosted your neck, "then they shouldn't be undressing you with their eyes."

nadia's hands trailed a little lower than usual and you flipped her so she was beneath you. trying to laugh off a moan as you met her gaze. "you have to meet that ambassador."

she gave a sly smile despite how her wrists were pinned to the bedding. "let them wait~"

her breathy reply sent shivers up your back, but you quickly regained yourself and pushed off her to stand at the end of the bed post.

"you're not playing fair, beloved." you grinned upon seeing her roll over so she was laying on her stomach.

"neither are you," she sighed, getting up to trek over to you. "will you not join me to see the ambassador?"

you grinned and wrapped your arms around her waist, "maybe. i'll have portia announce my arrival."

nadia satrinava poked her lip out then. pouting at being away from you.

"don't look so down," you smiled as she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "i'm sure you'll have fun. i have to visit asra anyway."

nadia gave a sigh, untangling from your arms and walking towards the closet. "of course, send him my regards."

you watched as nadia, whether she meant to or not, her hips swayed in the slightest, but you were quick to put some distance between you both or neither of you would make your.. appointments.

portia squeaked upon seeing you in the hallway. you'd dressed up in silks most similar to those that hung over nadia's bed. fabrics curled over your shoulders and wrapped around your waist leaving a large gaping 'v' to show off your chest. paired with the genie pants, you certainly did look foriegn to what might've been normal to prakran visitors.

portia was loving it. rubbing her hands up and down your exposed arms as she smiled up at you. "you really didn't have to do this—"

"nadia was begging for something to do." you smiled as portia showed you to the veranda where a warm breeze flowed between the palace columns.

"it's a good thing you chose the gazebo out there then." portia giggled as she walked further into the palace.

"why?" you called after her, turning only to find her giggling with the servant girls.

"because she's going to jump your bones."

you set a hand over your mouth, stopping any stuttering from embaressing you any further. as you walked through the gardens you found nadia settled.

ludovico gave a nod, unable to help his smile when you motioned to the gazebo where nadia's back was turned to you.

"introducing! the representative of prakra's royal court and vesuvian politician—" nadia pushed the silk aside and stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing your smirk. "the palace magician, y/n l/n."

"what?" nadia gaped as you stepped up to stand on the stairs so you were eye level. tapping her chin with a finger and nodding to ludovico who went back to his post.

"i am one of prakra's royal court representatives, aren't i?" you smiled disappearing into the gazebo to lie down on the plush cushions laid out for you both.

"vesuvian politician?"

"i am a major influence amongst where and how the vendors run their trade." you smiled as your fingers danced around a few pastries only to pop a sugar cube in your mouth.

"arrogant ambassador?" she finally smiled raising a brow.

"as a resident in our shared bed, i consider myself a powerful diplomat in the bedroom."

nadia laughed and sat down next to you. taking your hand in hers as she gave you the warmest of smiles. "so all that talk of a foreign ambassador—"

"i'm as foreign as vesuvia gets, lovely."

nadia laughed, leaning forward to pour tea for the both of you. relaxing even more as you let her hair down and played with the ends.

"now countess, i would like to discuss the restrictions of my territories." you teased upon receiving tea from a smirking nadia.

"is that so?" the countess took on her best pokerface, the same one used that would win most negotiations with politicians and leaders from different countries. "do you not have enough power in your dominion?"

"i do, countess." you set a hand over your chest, tipping your head back like a snobby royal would. "but it's come to my attention that you are hogging everything from the ocean to the covers at three am."

nadia straight out laughed. head tipping back as the medolic sound shattered the pokerface she put up so well. it was nice to see her like this, so carefree. you sipped your tea trying your best not to let any choke you up as you watched nadia.

"and you wonder why you aren't allowed at my important meetings." she smiled pecking your cheek.

"i'm not allowed because someone is jealous of all my admirers." the choked noise nadia made forced you to bite back a smile as you pretended to look over pastries. "i will not name anyone, but—"

"says the one who burned lucio's painting right in front of him." nadia smirked upon seeing your head whip around.

"he was being a royal pain in our asses." the comment made nadia laugh. When your fingers pulled her so she was staring into your eyes— she nearly froze up all together. "no one deserves that kind of treatment."

her fingers cupped your face, smiling as she let her forehead rest upon your own. the faint blush on her face didn't go unnoticed. "hence why i no longer tolerate his behavior."

"you are a queen, nadia." you cupped her face in your hands and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "you deserve to be treated as such."

"empress."

"what?" you pulled back to find her already smiling.

"if you'd like to address me, do it right." nadia tapped your chin, quirking a brow up as she picked up a pastry. "empress."

you flicked one of the jellies from a black raspberry up on her nose. "and i'm supposed to be the arrogant ambassador."

her mouth dropped open and she flicked apple jelly in your direction. landing it on your cheek making you shriek. nadia laughed again and you took the opportunity to shove a pastry in her mouth.

the countess squeaked in surprise when you grabbed a couple handfuls of pastries, setting them in the crook of your arm.

"countess, if you choose to retaliate. i will be forced to gather troops from the country of my cold bedside to reign down on hoggersville for crimes of thievery and having impossibly beautiful hair."

nadia stood up without a word, grabbing the tray of cookies, and staring you dead in the eye. she launched a tart in your face and from there it was chaos.

tea spilled into cushions and pastries thrown to stain the wine colored silks that hung from the gazebo. clothes were stained with jellies and creams while faces were painted with smiles and warmth.

somewhere in the war of pastries and tea, you'd tripped and fallen on top of nadia. catching yourself just barely only for nadia to swing you both around and stradle you.

you groaned as she panted above you. a blueberry tart in hand as she raised a brow.

"surrender and i, the empress of impossibly beautiful hair, will allow you to thrive in hoggersville."

you grabbed her wrist, a soft smile growing on your face as she stared down at you. "i would lay my life down rather than let my people suffer another cold night."

nadia set the pastry aside before leaning down to peck your lips sweetly, "that is why you will rule beside me."

you froze and nadia seemed to notice, only waiting with an expectant look that consisted of a small smirk and a raised brow. "what did you say?"

"you heard me."

nadia satrinava. hair elegantly draped behind and framing the smeared jelly on her face. clothes stained with blues, purples, and golds that were once in pastries. the impossibly beautiful countess-

"did you just propose?"

she smiled and cupped your jaw, "would i choose anyone else?"

it took a moment for everything to catch up. out of everyone in vesuvia- nay, the world. nadia satrinava wanted you to rule beside her in vesuvia.

"you want me to.. you want to marry me?"

"no one is as worthy as you," nadia pressed a kiss to your cheek only for you to bolt up and crush your lips against hers.

upon breaking the kiss, she pulled back, tracing your jaw with a smile.

"so is that a yes?"

"if you'll have me."

she pressed her lips to yours in a softer kiss, caressing every inch of skin softly. making her way down to her shoulders when she shoved you back into the cushions.

you would've questioned her had it not been for the predatory look in her eyes.

you were screwed.

nadia leaned down brushing your noses together, "but for future reference, as a resident in our shared bed—" nadia pecked the corner of your lips, but her dangerously violet eyes never broke the gaze she'd locked with yours. " — you have no power as an ambassador."

a grin took her lips as she entwined your hands together, hovering over you.

"this is a dictatorship."

[earthfluuke]

summary: individual ohmfong moments i couldn’t get out of my head.

everyone has been writing yearning fics (and i adore them so much), but i wanted to get some fluff out there. i hope you enjoy!

i.

it’s second nature for ohm to slide into any open seat at their group’s table. full plate in hand, he’s just about to dig in when he catches phuak’s questioning eye, and his fork freezes a breath from his food. the silent questioning raise of his eyebrow has phuak shaking his head and motioning a hand to the opposite side of the table.

“sit next to your boyfriend, dumb ass,” he says, followed by the mumble of, “no wonder none of your girlfriends stayed with you.”

eyes widening, he turns to fong who can only send him a forgiving smile. scrambling to move his things, he falls onto the bench beside him with a sigh. head hung, shoulder slumped, he works out quickly, “i’m sorry. it completely slipped my mind, and i–”

“it’s okay,” fong assures, understanding as ever. “it’s…different. but we’ll get there.” he slides a plastic cup across the table to him and knocks their shoulders together. “now stop sulking, and drink that.”

ohm rises a bit, reinflates. he’s only ever remembered fong coming to the table with a signature blue hawaii in hand. there is none in sight, only this. taking a sip, he can’t help but feel it tastes a bit sweeter than any other time he’s had it.

they’re not there yet; but they’re on their way.

ii.

“oh!” he hears ohm exclaim as they’re walking out of their classroom towards the football field. just as he turns to ask what’s wrong, he feels a hand grab onto his.

eyes shooting down to the space between them, fong takes notice of how ohm’s fingers fit between his and curl over more than half of his knuckles. he soaks in the warmth ohm’s palm presses into his own and the feel of his thumb stroking up to his nail and back down again. he’s never held someone’s hand before, save for his parents a long, much younger time ago, so he doesn’t have much to compare to. even so, he doesn’t think any other hand would feel as nice. this is the hand he wants to hold forever.

allowing his fingers to close and rest between the ridges of ohm’s knuckles, he tightens his hold when ohm gives their arms an experimental swing.

“we’re boyfriends now,” he explains. “that means we get to hold hands.”

 it’s so innocent, so simple, but knowing that doesn’t help in slowing fong’s heart.

iii.

fong knows he has a very handsome boyfriend. it’s difficult to ignore when they’re meant to be studying in the library. ohm has a hand in his hair, head rested against his palm as a finger taps in concentration. his lips move with each word he reads, tongue sticking between his teeth when he gets to an exceptionally difficult section.

it’s too much sometimes, to just sit there and stare. actions have never been his strong suit; observations are more his style, but it’s not enough. leaning past the edge of his chair, he smooths a hand under ohm’s chin and up the cheek farthest from him. he pulls him the small distance he needs to in order to press a gentle kiss to the cheek facing him.

he hides the laugh that’s building in his throat when he moves back to find ohm wide eyed and stunned. the hand in his hair has slid down to where fong’s lips just grazed, and fong has to turn away from him to hide his pink cheeks and silly smile.

“i’m going to get some snacks. do you want anything?” ohm is too dazed to respond, so fong pushes back his chair and scurries off to the vending machines. it’ll give him the chance to calm down.

(and if he comes back with a few choice snacks he knows to be ohm’s favorites, then that’s just a bonus).

iv.  

when fong is fast asleep, ohm can’t help but prop himself up on his arm and admire him. his bangs curl over his brow, and his cheek buries further into the pillow when there’s an especially cool breeze from the air conditioner. dark lashes fan over tan skin, full peach lips puffing out calm, even breaths. one hand clutches the blanket closer to him while the other lays on the sheets as though it’s looking for something.

he’s as gorgeous as he always is, but there’s something more special about a beauty that only ohm gets to see. there is a constant pull of wanting to grab onto that hand, remind him that what he’s reaching for is right beside him. but he cannot will himself to disturb him and instead resigns himself to only stare. he’s done enough to last him a lifetime, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it; not if he’s staring at fong.

v.

“beautiful. sweetheart. babe. love!”

“um,” tine clears his throat, looking from ohm’s wide, hopeful grin to the top of fong’s head, the only part of him visible from behind the pages of the book he’s using to hide. “what are you doing?”

“trying to figure out which name i like the most,” fong mumbles from behind his book, clutching the binding a bit tighter when ohm throws an arm around his shoulders.

“the secret is that he likes all of them,” he says, continuing over fong’s protests, “i just need to find out which one he likes the best.”

it picks up again from there, in front of their friends no less. all fong can do is let him go on and on, each name more blush inducing than the last, and hope his novel does a good enough job masking how much he’s enjoying this.

vi.

“i’ll see you for dinner after my group meeting. okay, tilak?”

“yeah, sure – wait, what? hey! fong!”

vii.

fong is always a vision, but this. this. this is something completely different and so very far from even his wildest of dreams.

his sweater – a light beige with a v-neck that dips lower without the collar of the shirt he normally wears underneath it poking out – hangs loose around fong’s smaller frame. the shoulders pool upwards, the sleeves drape over his fingers, the hem hits far past the bottom of his torso. it doesn’t fit at all, and yet it does. there is something so right about coming out of the shower and finding fong lying on his bed, homework papers strewn out across the sheets and ohm’s sweater pooling up around his hips.

“i’m sorry,” fong is quick to say, fingers scrambling to tug it over his head. “it got cold, and it was the first thing i saw. i can give it back.”

“no.” he holds his hands out to steady fong more than himself. when the neck of the sweater stretches back down and he can see him, ohm sends him a smile. “it’s…it’s good. nice. it looks nice.”

“nice,” fong repeats. the very tips of his fingers, the only parts that peek out from beneath the sleeves, smooth over the fabric. his eyes soften, the tips of his mouth curving up. ohm can’t the tingling feeling that spreads through him.

viii.

that single strand of hair. it’s as lovely as it is distracting, for fong at the very least. he supposes ohm must have gotten used to it, takes notice of it the same way he does to the air around him. but it’s so out place and somehow so perfectly put that fong cannot help but admire it.

it’s a flame, stark black and contrast to his skin, that draws his hand towards it like a moth. ever so carefully, with just a graze of his fingers, he pushes it back into place. brushing over his ear, his hand buries beneath the hair parted against his scalp, dark locks blanketing over it.

only then does ohm look to him, realize that there had been something out of place he hadn’t seen. what he does see – feel, sense, know – is fong. and what a wonder that is, to be more noticeable, more important, more vital than the air. to be what ohm needs to breathe.

ix.

ever changing lights flicker across the concert venue. sarawat’s band is on stage, but they’re impossible to pay attention to when fong has all of his focus. he’s beautiful in every color he bathes in, but ohm can’t help but be partial to the mixture of yellow and orange.

fong has always been a bright light, a beacon, an ever-present warmth. the colors paint him as the sun he’s always been, the very center of ohm’s universe. head back, ears turned up to the music, his eyes reflect gold when he turns to ohm to tug him close and sway them along to the bass beneath their feet.

purple and blue remind him of late nights where they’d forgotten to close the blinds. green brings memories of lying in the grassy field in the back of their high school, when all ohm could rely on was stolen glances and accidental hand brushes he’d hold nearer and dearer to his heart than he should have. pink and red mix together, and all he can see is love coating over full cheeks and a fuller smile that he is lucky enough to have directed at him. and then it’s back to yellow, back to orange, back to warmth so hot ohm could burn.

it’s a heat like no other. all he can do to cool is curls a single arm around the small of fong’s back and pull him close enough for their foreheads to touch. his heart still roars with flames, engulfs him in a love hot enough to melt.

wrapping himself around him, fong comments, “you really like this song.”

and all ohm can do is hum, hold him tighter, and soak in his warmth. “i think it might be my favorite.”

x.

“how did you know?” fong asks. the two of them are staring up at the ceiling, peeling paint their replacement for stars. “that it was me, i mean.”

by all intents and purposes, it should be an easy enough question to answer. but it becomes difficult when it hits him that…it’s always been fong. there isn’t a moment where anyone else has taken refuge in his heart and made it their home.

“i don’t remember when it started. but i remember when i realized it couldn’t be anyone else.” the memory flashes behind his eyes in vivid detail, kept clean and clear from how many times he’s brought it back to the forefront of his mind. “new years eve of second year. after tine and phuak ditched us to find pretty girls to kiss at midnight.”

mouth agape when he looks to him, fong says in startled disbelief, “in your backyard when i almost burned my hand on that sparkler? that wasn’t as special as i was expecting. more embarrassing.”

“it wasn’t. and that’s why i knew. there didn’t need to be some big sign. i just knew that even in those simple moments, i wanted it to be you there with me. and,” ohm catches his eye, looks at him so he knows how much he means what he says, “it was the first time i got to see you smile. it wasn’t because of something stupid phuak did or something sweet tine said to you. it was just… because you were happy. i hadn’t seen anything that beautiful before.”

fong says nothing, only reaches down to grab his hand. but when he smiles – that smile – he tells ohm all he needs to know. it’s another one of those not so special moments; the two of them lying flat against the sheets, their hands twisted together between them. but that in and of itself makes it special.

[atinytokki]

Paradise

iv. The Pearl in the Oyster  

By the time San was seated in the boat with the wind on his face and the shores of his town on the horizon, he had overcome his shock at discovering a secret pirate refuge.

Jiyong and Mr. Shim had fussed over him and grilled him with questions after he was rescued, but from a combination of the fact that he wasn’t sure whether he had imagined the whole ordeal and the fact that he was terrified, he hadn’t given them much information.

“Please don’t tell my grandparents,” he suddenly begged as the Namhae docks came into view.

“San, you were lost in the caves for nearly an hour,” Mr. Shim argued as he adjusted the sails. “It would be irresponsible of me not to tell them.”

“But I’m not hurt!” San argued back, getting to his feet and swaying slightly with the momentum of the boat. “And they’ll only be angry at me for running away!”

Mr. Shim frowned at him, but he didn’t scold him again, so San took it as a sign to continue.

“Didn’t you ever wander off as a boy? You wouldn’t have wanted your parents to know, would you?”

“I did have my mischievous days,” the man admitted. “But I matured and stayed away from dangerous places until I could handle myself.”

He delivered this last line with a pointed glance, one that told San if he could shape up, he would be off the hook.

A smile grew on his face and he nodded eagerly.

“Alright,” Mr. Shim chuckled. “I was young once too, wasn’t I?”

San greeted the now familiar shores of his island with relief and helped to unload the boat until his grandparents appeared at the docks to collect him.

The old sailor reported that they had enjoyed a refreshing and uneventful time in the markets of Dalhae, true to his word. San waved goodbye to the two and flopped around in the back of the cart on the ride home.

Warm food in his belly and a gentle breeze  blowing through his window, San told Haneul of his adventures and organised her shells into a small wooden chest until Grandmother poked her head in and told them to go to bed.

Even as he stared into the fireplace and tried to fall asleep, the eyes of the pirate lingered in the back of his mind. 

Supposing San had gotten all the adventure that he needed, Grandfather put him to work in the carpentry shop the next morning and even more frequently after.

When he was out of the room, busy selling his wares in town, or asleep at the desk, San took it as an opportunity to stretch his sore leg and practice fighting invisible pirates in the carpentry shop unsupervised.

Of course, this resulted in the destruction of some of the carving displays and plank storage, so Grandfather passed him off to Grandmother while he cleaned up after him, and San was subject to quiet reading and a picnic on the beach for the afternoon.

For a boy with an active imagination, San’s life had become rather boring. Unless it was about pirates, it wasn’t interesting enough, so Grandmother in her indulgence gifted him a few naval history books in the hopes that he would be satiated. 

He was unsuccessful in discovering the identities of the pirates in the caves no matter how hard he researched, especially when all he had to go on was the fact that one had been sporting a peg leg (apparently a common occurrence among pirates) and the other had seemed... young. 

San had all but given up hope when one rainy day in late autumn, the familiar tapping sound of a peg leg resounded from the front path. 

His head shot up from where he had been in deep focus at his little desk, whittling a wooden ship (that Grandfather had discouraged, and didn’t need to know about) and he counted two seconds before the jangle of the bell rung out and the customer was on the doorstep, silhouetted by dripping rain that blinked silver in the lightning flash.

Suddenly, the stranger stepped closer and just like that, the fantasy was shattered. San didn’t recognise this man from the caves.

“Wh-Who are you?” He croaked out weakly, standing from his chair and watching the peg leg man intently. Pirate or no pirate, San was ready to defend the house from him if need be.

The man frowned and closed the door behind him, adjusting his satchel with an unreadable look in his eye. “I was informed you’d be expecting me.”

If they were expecting him, San wasn’t aware of the fact. It had only been three days since the magistrate had been over for dinner, and San’s grandparents didn’t invite guests that frequently. 

“Who are you, exactly?” He asked, trying to be polite, catching himself with a late bow.

“Oh, hello Dr. Hong!” 

Right on cue, Grandfather rushed out from the back room and came to shake hands with the man, whose large bag made a lot more sense now. 

A doctor.

San didn’t like doctors.

“I hope San didn’t let you stand out in the rain,” Grandfather was saying with a pointed glance that told San he was in trouble if he had.

“No, not at all,” Dr. Hong laughed as he was helped out of his coat. “The lad seemed wary, but I can see why.”

The doctor tapped his peg leg on the rug and San blushed at being called out. “I’ll tell you how I got it if you ask,” the man continued with a bright smile. “But first, I have a patient to attend to!”

Grandfather and the doctor hurried upstairs and left San to his own devices, wondering why a doctor had been called and quieting his intense curiosity about the peg leg as it began to grow again.

He finished the masts by the time Dr. Hong returned to the shop. Sensing the boy’s nervousness, the doctor quickly reassured him his visit was only a routine checkup.

“Haneul is doing well, all things considered,” he told him softly. “Though, you must always protect her and keep her healthy.”

San agreed in a heartbeat, not too naïve to forget why he was here on Namhae in the first place. 

Everything was for Haneul.

“Ah, yes, the leg,” the guest remembered just before leaving. 

San perked up and scooted closer to hear the tale. 

“It was back in my Navy days, before I picked up medicine,” he explained. “I was a gunner on one of those cargo transport ships, the Royal Longtail, back when the East Colonies were just starting out and the trade routes were being established. We were attacked by pirates on the trip back and I, an inexperienced soldier, was shot in the leg and carted to the infirmary for the rest of the battle. I thought for a few harrowing moments that I was on the brink of death, but somehow I was saved.”

“How?” San nearly burst out, leaning on the edge of his seat.

Dr. Hong displayed his peg leg again. “The surgeon chopped off my leg just above the knee and managed to stop the bleeding. That miracle— the one that saved my life— convinced me to switch to the field of surgery. It’s quite new and underdeveloped but as you can see, real results are happening!”

San smiled at the satisfying conclusion of the story and bid the doctor farewell.

He still didn’t like them as a rule, but he could make an exception for this one.  

Haneul claimed to be doing fine when San brought the evening meal up to her bedroom where she lay staring at the ceiling, but her skin was pale and clammy and from the way she was breathing he could tell she was anxious about something.

“Do you... want me to sit with you?” He asked timidly, unsure how to help once he’d set the plate on her bedside table and closed the window to shut out the breeze.

“No, just leave me alone,” his half-sister muttered, rolling over to face the wall and leaving San hurt and confused.

Without another word, he crept away and into his own room, tucking himself into bed. He knew not to take it personally, that sometimes she just got into moods like this when she was discouraged about her illness.

But it made San worry that the doctor hadn’t in fact told him everything.

Haneul appeared at breakfast but refused to play with him when he returned from school, in the few hours San had before he would be herded back into the carpentry shop.

It was disappointing but San took it as an opportunity to look for new friends, something he hadn’t put much effort into since arriving.

There were a couple of teenage girls with a five year old brother playing further down the beach on the rocks, the opposite way as Mr. Shim’s house, so San strolled over and introduced himself.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he admitted shyly. “Do you usually play further up the beach?”

“Yes,” the older of the two explained. “But today we’ve come here because of the construction.”

“Construction?” San asked, confused.

The girl pointed past the rooftops to the harbour where the masts craned like birds flocking along the shoreline. “The naval garrison. They’re finally building it.”

“It’s loud!” The little boy whined, crying when a particularly large swell washed him face-down into the sand. 

San giggled and helped him up, seamlessly joining in their hunt for oysters while they told him what the garrison in town was going to look like.

He couldn’t help but glance over the hill and wonder what it would mean for Namhae. The more Navy presence, the less likely pirates would appear. And the less likely the two from the Dalhae caves would appear.

As San cracked open an oyster and, to his amazement, found a lucky pearl, he decided maybe it was for the better.

He’d had his adventure- enough adventure for a lifetime. 

...

A/N:  Guess who finished her semester!!!!! It was a rough one tbh but now I can write unhindered so expect more from me soon, but in the meantime don't forget to rb and comment <3

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[mystic-kitten-writer]

Can we get a tiny teaser for limerence 👉👈?

Just for you 😘😘

Notes: Unedited

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

           “She’s pregnant!”

           “What a blessing, will this be her third child?”

           “Fourth, her eldest is serving in the navy.”

           “Ahh, yes-yes, slipped from my mind. How beautiful, if only I could convince my husband…”

           “Makes two of us. How about you, Imperial Consort Ying Yue? Have you thought about having children of your own?” The ladies giggled, sipping away on their sweet teas in the garden.

           The cherry blossom branches swayed under the gentle breeze, the pink flowers cascading with the current, fluttering like butterflies. The cool shade painted our skin, providing as an escape from the blaring sun, although the kids didn’t seem to mind the heat in the slightest.

           Their laughter was clear as day, ringing throughout the palace gardens, but I couldn’t help but tune in with Kiyi’s the most. The ladies’ banter lost to the birds humming and moving water – absorbed in the beautiful smile on Kiyi’s face as she chatted away with her friends.

           A red and golden embroidered picnic blanket laid over the grass, Kiyi was passing along the turtle duck food for the children to feed. Her cheeks were dusted in pink, telling all the children fascinating facts about the creatures from the Southern Water Tribe.

           “After school tomorrow, I’ll read the book to you. They have this animal called a ‘Polar Bear Dog’ – and it’s so cute and fluffy!” Kiyi gushed, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t snort hearing her excitement. The way her eyes twinkled with passion, a small part of my heart hurt – because the look reminded me so much of Zuko’s whenever he got excited.

           Zuko…I miss you-

           “Imperial Consort?” A voice droned; the sound close to my being, I found myself jumping. My head snapped to the women beside me, them staring at me with looks of concern. Shit – what were we talking about again?

           “My apologies, I was watching the children-” I started, and the lady to my side started to snicker. She rose a napkin to her face, delicately tapping the tissue to rid herself of any crumbs that littered her appearance. All the women looked put-together, their hair and makeup done to impress, their clothes extravagant, meant to display their status.

           “I guess that answers our question.”

           “What question?” I inquired, and the ladies began to laugh once again.

           “Whether or not Fire Lord Zuko and you are planning on having kids anytime soon.” She replied, shooting me a sheepish smile. My mouth dropped, a shy blush coating my cheeks as a meek oh escaped me. Of course, they were talking about children and family. Almost all the high-ranking nobles were married, most with children – or pregnant.

           I stuck out like a sore thumb in these ‘royal tea parties,’ unable to relate to the women or men due to my lack of domestic life. I’m a mere child dressed in adult clothes – playing dress-up. My hands fell over my lap after combing my hair behind my ear, carelessly pressing thumbs as a means to keep my composure. I could feel my skin starting to heat up once again.

           Another fever- Katara is going to kill me.

           “Well, if it is not out of line to ask – when do you and Fire Lord Zuko plan on officially tying the knot?” A curious voice peeked, and at the question alone, I found myself reaching for my teacup, stealing a sip of the much-needed chamomile tea.

           Marriage – with Zuko? I fought back the petty laugh. Marriage with Zuko seems more like a distant dream than a reality.

           “Hopefully, once Fire Lord Zuko completes a few of his personal projects. Love is patient after all, and I’ll wait an eternity for him.” I spoke, forcing the words to leave my lips as I swallowed the lukewarm liquid.

           It was comical, how quick they were to eat up my words, gushing about how romantic I was, that I was willing to wait for Zuko – words straight out of a romance novel. If only they knew that that was only scratching the surface of what I would do for Zuko, the things I would sacrifice.

           I could feel my shoulders slump over in a defeat, biting my lips anxiously.

           The women didn’t notice the waver in my voice, the blue smile on my face, or the tears that I desperately held back. They were more concerned about the newest designer, skincare product, and fragrance – topics I would’ve undoubtedly been interested in if I didn’t have a looming fog in my mind.

           Politics, it’s all politics.

           The kid’s squeals peeked in volume, catching my attention, the children throwing their napkins in the air, towards Kiyi. What in the world-

           “It’s okay! I’ll be right back!” Kiyi insisted before standing up quickly.

           Her black hair bobbed side to side, skipping towards me at full speed. Droplets of something dripping after every bounce, tainting the green coloured grass under her steps, seeping into the soil.

           “Button-” I cooed, letting my tea rest on my plate before outstretching my arms. My hands caressed her face, and the happiness in her expression had me sporting a smile – a genuine smile. Kiyi was a breath of fresh air. Youthfulness and innocence, a heart of pure gold.

           “What happened, button? You’re a mess.” I snickered under my breath, watching the sticky liquid trickle from the hem of her dress, her lap completed covered. She scratched her head, shooting me a spirited grin. She looks just like Zuko when she smiles like that-

           “An accident, I didn’t see the jug of juice, and I kind of hit it.” Kiyi giggled, and I couldn’t help but snort, running my hand through her loose locks. “You’re so silly, button. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” I assured, light-heartedly tapping her nose.

           Kiyi nodded her head before shifting her gaze to the women I was seated with. My eyes followed hers, flustered at how the women looked over us with broad smiles – hearts for eyes.

           “I bet on two kids.”

           “Really? I think one.”

           “Wouldn’t be surprised if they already have a name picked out.” The ladies bantered between themselves as if I wasn’t currently sitting with them.

           I could feel a tiny finger poke my cheek, looking back at Kiyi, a teasing smile on her face. And seeing her sport that knowing look, a look that reminded me of a harmonious mixture of Zuko’s and Toph’s ‘I’m up to no good’ had me freezing.

           Oh no-

           “Izumi – Zuzu told me that that’s the name they want,” Kiyi spoke up, catching on to the topic at hand far too quickly for my liking. The women all leaned over in disbelief, jaws hitting the table, struggling to process the very thing Kiyi blurted.

           My eyes widen, the silly banter of family life between Zuko and I exposed. When and why did Zuko tell Kiyi this information-

           “Button-”

           “And Zuzu said they have a baby room set up in their vacation house! I can’t wait until I become an aunt. He said it’s a very serious job and-” My hand fell over Kiyi’s lips, cutting her off midsentence as I shot the women an embarrassed smile.

           The redness of my face was no longer due to my impending fever – but out of the utter realization that Zuko seemingly unleashes all his damn soft and fluffy feelings to her. Kiyi really is Zuko’s weakness, isn’t she?

           “Let’s get that dress cleaned button,” I said through awkward giggles, hand still firmly placed over her face, Kiyi letting out squeals of delight through my fingers.

           “Yue and Zuzu, sitting on a-”

           “Throne because he’s Fire Lord and I’m his-”

           “Wifey.” Kiyi managed to yelp.

           The speed at which my body moved, not bothering to say my goodbyes to these royals, as I nudged Kiyi’s body forward with my own. There was no way in the spirit world I was going to look behind me, already imaging the sunny looks on those women’s faces hearing the fuss coming from Kiyi’s lips.

           “I swear, button, I’m going to revoke cookie dates from you!” I mumbled under my breath, feeling the way Kiyi’s body shook from joy. My hand slipped from her mouth, her face pink as she held her stomach, her laughter loud and proud. And despite the embarrassment and exasperation, I found myself laughing along with her.

           There was something about hearing a child’s guiltless laugh that was contagious, especially coming from Kiyi. The smile on my face was enormous, reaching my eyes. When was the last time I smiled this much? The last time I laughed freely, enjoying my time?

           “You’re so much trouble, button~.” I blew, hands falling over her shoulders, embracing her. My fingers squeezed her chubby cheeks from behind basking in the sun’s heat before we walked up the palace steps. The guards before us opened the doors, observing the way I coddled Kiyi to my body.

           There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that they didn’t already know the trouble Kiyi could cause in less than a minute – the reason why they all sported small grins watching us enter.

           A handful, just like her brother.

           We stepped inside the kingdom, walking side by side, glued to the hip, humming happily. Our footsteps pattered along the flooring, heading towards her room, but I saw the cheeky glances Kiyi tried to steal from the corner of her eyes, studying my figure.

           She thinks she’s so sly. I snickered at her childish behaviour, poking her cheek, “What are you staring at so much, button? Do I have some crumbs on my face?”

           “No~.” Kiyi giggled, tilting her head to the side.

           “Then tell me, button.” I pestered, enjoying her coyness. Her blush deepened, a flush I didn’t notice until now, before poking her one more time, “Tell me, what are you staring at so intently?”

           “You’re smiling again…you’re pretty when you smile.” Kiyi breathed.

[soft-glitch]

Where the breeze leads us

Chapter 2: Robotic presence

Word count: about 850 words

Author’s notes: this is a series of tiny one-shots taking place in the Sonic future AU described in my fic How You Look In The Wind. You might want to read a bit of it first! There might not be a strict chronology to these events, so some of them are up to interpretation. Enjoy the read!

- - - - -

“So… he’s living with you now?”

Tails’ tone was loaded with concern, and Cream perfectly understood. The situation was quite peculiar indeed.

Cream let out a short huff and got up from the carpet, putting the movie on pause. Of course Omega would do some mess, but it wasn’t that bad. And he was extremely nice with everyone at home.

“Yes, they left him yesterday.” the rabbit confirmed. ”There is some getting used to it but everything will be fine!”

Just as she spoke a large noise resonated throughout the house, startling both youngsters.

“...are you sure?” the fox asked with a frown.

Well.

She just didn’t take into account the robot’s fascination for knives. And the fact he said he wanted to help in the kitchen. And his clumsiness in small spaces.

The kitchen’s floor was littered with utensils discarded to provide additional space. A pile of larger knives —some of them one could argue were probably actual swords— was scattered on the central table. Cream jumped in to stop Cheese from playing with a particularly shiny one.

“Is that...” the rabbit couldn’t finish her sentence as a victory theme from a famous video game came out of Omega’s body.

“I have successfully transferred over 82% of my personal collection to the kitchen drawers.” he said, pointing to one that was almost overflowing with blades.

“I see Cheese has good taste. His weapon of choice is a hybrid combat blade with carbon mixed reinforcing. Cheese lethality status upgraded to 3.78.”

While Cream was trying to explain to the Chao why playing with weapons was not advisable Tails walked in cautiously, a mix of worry and amusement in the eyes.

“Hey so uh, Omega… Do you know why Rouge and Shadow decided you would live with Vanilla and Cream?” he asked, eyeing the mess in the room.

“I am the one who emitted this request.” the metallic being replied. “They will be working in separate areas for a considerable amount of time. I was not considered fit to participate in either missions by the G.U.N departments. My duties are halted so I decided to spend time with Ms Vanilla and the small Chao beings.”

Cream raised a brow and turned towards the robot.

“And what about me?”

Tails started slowly walking backwards towards his friend’s room. He did not feel like handling the robot’s antics today.

A laugh track played. Omega raised a thumb and turned his head to Cream.

“You also are among the organic friends I like to hang out with. My omission was for comedic purposes.”

- - - - -

“Please stop trying to climb into my reactor exhaust port.”

That was the fifth time Blueberry was attempting to put their head into Omega, and Cream could tell he was getting annoyed.

Cream smiled. Just like in some fun memories from years ago, Omega could be surprisingly caring and gentle when he wanted to.

Or so she thought. The robot gently grabbed the Chao and opened a compartment on his chest, tucking them inside safely.

“This will be a more comfortable place for you, small one.”

Blueberry chirped happily, their emotion-dot turning into a little heart.

As if to confirm her thoughts, several other Chao started flocking from around the garden. Some poked at the robot’s appendages before sitting next to him, playing with the nearby flowers. Others climbed on him and settled on his shoulders or his head, swaying slowly in rhythm and waving at each other.

The former badnik seemed content with this sudden invasion. He started asking Cream about the name of each of his little visitors, logging the information preciously and attributing seemingly random “lethality statuses” to everyone.

Cheese was the only one staying away, their emotion-dot displaying some kind of curiosity.

“What’s wrong?” Cream whispered to them.

The Chao floated in circles and gestured to the rabbit. A smile appeared on her face as she understood the request.

“Hey Omega?” she laid down in the grass and pointed to the robot’s chest. “How did you play these… funny sounds, earlier?

– I am equipped with a central speaker that allows me to use vocal expression and sound effects. My impeccable taste for comedic intervention is an additional module of my programming.” the robot’s voice explained, almost tinted with pride.

As some Bad Company started echoing throughout the garden, Cheese and other Chao started jumping and flying around the Team Dark member who moved his shoulders to the rhythm of the song. Cream chuckled and closed her eyes to take in all the notes and vocals.

“Do you think you could play some old hard rock?”

Omega stopped moving completely for a moment before answering.

“Found Shadow’s playlist. Title: The Good Shit To Vibe To. Playing now.”

There would definitely be some adjustments to make and rules to put in place but… Having Omega around would definitely put some fun at home.

- - - - -

“Hold on, I will call you later. Seems we’re having a knife problem.”

“Yes, yes, I just got back home. Today was quite tiresome. I went to buy some fertiliser at GreenFields and...”

Vanilla squinted as she walked in front of the kitchen’s window and stopped for a second, tapping her finger on the phone.

[kittysaucesyeah]

Denial Cannot Stop a Ceaseless Rain

Word Count: 1570

Summary: Dancing in the dark, the fools in love merrily think themselves to be the only people in the whole world.

Or:

Post reveal - pre relationship fluff after the two fools miss the last dance of lycee to fight an akuma.

Inspired by this beautiful post by @chatalyst

Read on AO3 Here

“I’m tired of being sad.” He said.

Marinette blinked into the darkness that surrounded them, far too tired to turn from her position, slouching into Chat Noir’s side. She chose not to say a word, instead turning her eyes up to the stars, wondering what her friends must think now.

She really must have been a total klutz to forget when the last school dance of lycee was. Especially after she spent weeks hand creating a beautiful blush pink gown. Of course, that gown was coated in mud from when she had fled from a dance themed akuma. She sighed. While her friends were dancing and eating and being normal teenagers, she had been fighting a super villain bent on destroying every happy couple in Paris.

She lifted another stale chip to her mouth, fighting frustration as she sat curled up with Chat, eating the buffet’s leftover food on the roof of their school. After everything that had happened today, this, she decided, was the best possible outcome. At least she didn’t have to simply go home and pretend like nothing had happened. Instead she was here, sharing rejected snacks with her best friend. She smiled at that thought.

After all, it was simple to bond as soon as they both knew that the other was their crime fighting partner. With just a look, he could determine all the different methods Marinette was considering to dunk Lila’s head into a nearby trash can, lips puckered and eyes narrowed like she was working out a Lucky Charm. She could see, in a lightning fast wink and a subtle tilt of the head, that Adrien was already planning a long list of puns about the situation around them, waiting to slide up next to her and whisper them under his breath, making her laugh until she swore she could see little black ears on his head. And although Alya teased her about how suddenly comfortable their relationship was, Marinette couldn’t imagine it any other way now.

The chip never made it to her mouth, missing by a long shot when Chat suddenly shifted, pulling his shoulder out from under her head. He stood, eyes gazing out across the streets of Paris, now dark and quiet. His slender form was illuminated from below by the golden glow of street lights, lighting on the swirling curl of his belt tail.

She forced herself to look away.

“Will you dance with me?” Adrien whispered into the gentle night breeze after a long moment.

She glanced up, and there he stood with his arm stretched out, and although he was dressed in black leather and black cat ears thrust from the wild burst of blonde on his head, she swore she can see it.

He stands there, rain soaking into his designer clothes already, holding his umbrella out to her. His wide green eyes burn into her, asking her questions she cannot make out. Lightning flashes in the distance, painting a halo around his dripping head. The thunder rumbles and she can hear his laugh, see the shy dimples on his cheeks.

And although Marinette knows she shouldn’t, she takes his hand.

Chat Noir pulls her up gently, soft warmth crackling down her arm like electricity. They stand face to face, arms hanging between them like a question and she wants to tell him everything.

How Adrien’s soft kindness gave her hope, made her believe that the world could be more than it was. That every small action could somehow grow into something bigger, more important than the cost of a little kindness. How his laugh was her favorite sound, but only his real laugh, the one he used when no one was paying any attention. Like tiny fireflies, she caught every little chuckle in jars and placed them on her shelf, frozen in time, twinkling for her. How she could see a sadness in him, a yearning in his eyes that she could never quite place, like a mask or a smile that never fully forms, never shows off his dimples. She had longed to meet the side of him that he kept hidden from the world, but it turns out that she already had.

But she didn’t say any of that.

Instead she says the least important thing she can think of.

“But there’s no music.”

He smiles like he knows a secret, drawing her closer and settling his free hand onto her shoulder blade.

And she knows.

Piercing blue eyes beneath a white mask. Crumbling ash and twisted metal. Rancid water and a broken moon.

So when he says his next words, she snaps her head to the side, looking away.

“Bug, you dare doubt me?”

She nearly crumbles, resolve buckling at the tease of laughter in his voice, so she focuses far in the distance, eyes lighting on her balcony across the street.

Chat Noir balancing on her rail, twirling his tail around and around in his hand as he ran his mouth, putting on quite the show for her civilian form. Jumping a foot out of her seat as he appears, poking herself with the needle carefully clutched in her hand. Chat’s resulting panic and feeble attempts at first aid. Reluctantly feeding a stray slowly turning into Marinette bundled up in piles of blankets, waiting for a hint of black on the horizon. Stargazing and drinking homemade hot chocolate. Sharing an iced tea and a tiny bit of shade.

She turns her head away from the balcony. Without her permission, her hands snake their way onto his shoulders, red against black, blooming in the moonlight. Far in the distance she can see the facade of the Agreste mansion, dark as the depths of the Seine.

 Swinging past to peek at him after an especially long day and being surprised when Chat suddenly appears on the rooftop beside her. Rushing to save him from a pack of crazed fans, grasping him tightly around the waist as she swung, his arms encircling her neck, both of their faces burning. Finding little notes tapped to his big glass window, complimenting her on her latest akuma victory, covered in doodles of ladybugs. Spotting him in Ladybug pajamas, reading the Ladyblog late into the night of her solo patrol.

Her feet suddenly begin to move, as if they had been waiting for their chance to take control. He leads her patiently, and she is shocked by the easy way her body falls into their dance. She tries desperately to find anywhere to look.

The Eiffel Tower, glowing in the far distance?

Perching together at the top of the tower, quiet until Chat dares her to see how far she can throw him. Her bad mood cracking as he yelps, flying stiffly through the air moments later.

The curling path of the Seine, dark tendrils fanning out in the night?

Chat Noir choking down his Andre’s ice cream, determined to finish his first. Nearly falling into the river with laughter when he trips on his own tail, smashing his cone onto the cobblestones of the bridge.

The roof beneath their dancing feet?

Light purring echoing across the empty rooftops as he lays out blankets and she sets down her snacks. His gentle teasing as she struggles to rig her yo-yo into a projector again, asking what movie they are watching this week.

Paris is their city, so there is nowhere she can look that Adrien doesn’t appear.

In the quiet, the tapping of feet on the roof and their breaths are the only sounds in the air. But Marinette can suddenly hear music.

Raindrops pattering across pavement. Beads clinking together down the length of two Lucky Charms. The flapping of pure white butterfly wings against blushing cheeks. Laughter and woops of joy and the tap of feet as they raced along the rooftops. His real laugh.

She can no longer look away.

So she meets his eyes, and it feels like seeing a thousand different lives playing out in front of her. She sees her hand, but it is not her hand, clad in red against the shoulder of a boy in black. That boy is Chat Noir, but it is not Adrien. They are dancing in the woods, her long flowing skirt brushing through the undergrowth.

She is a man clad in warrior’s armor, sore from a long ride but still sparing with a boy in all black armor, a smile gracing his scarred face as they dance around each other.

She is leaning into the blistering sands that pelt her and her guide. The guide wraps Marinette in his dark cloak and they sway together, waiting for the storm to pass.

She is an artist, hunched with age, teaching a child in ragged black pajamas how to make pancakes, twirling around the kitchen to her favorite song.

She is all of them. And he is right there beside her. Echoes of every Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous holder twined together in this dance, stretching forward and backwards through time. For just an instant she sees the way the universe unravels, gossamer strings threading together every one of them.

Burned into her skull is the after image of

Spots and tails.

Red and black.

Light and dark.

Creation and destruction.

Everything in perfect balance.

Then, she is just Marinette, standing on the roof of her school, dancing with her Chat.

“I would never doubt you, kitty.”

[lnc2]

you could be, i could be

Summary: sometimes broken things come back together

AO3

He stalked the halls like an angry, prowling thing.

Doors crashing open, shoulders jostled, hard eyes sweeping then dismissing, and a snarl, panther black, curled up tight over clenched teeth.

Not her.

Not her.

Not her.

Emotions dark and wanting rose up within him like a tsunami, bubbling and roiling waves crashing over and over and over.  The last several weeks of sleepless nights, skipped meals, and reckless wallowing leaving him stripped and frayed.

We have to stop.

The memory of her lovely, perfect mouth saying those terrible, horrible things could almost make him wish he never held her at all.

More fool him for it.  Almost was a chasm he wasn’t strong enough to crawl out of.  It sat like the weight of her on him, his hands on her, and all of the things he’d ever wanted warming in-between.

It’d been a Tuesday when Ladybug lost her mind.

“Chat,”

“Hmm.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

He’d frozen, body taut with terror, resisting the urge to snort or laugh or maybe even cry at the ridiculous question.

Was he seeing anyone?

Ha.

Ha, ha, ha,

Ha.

“Why?” He managed, his voice barely cracking around his grin. “Are you interested?”

She had, in fact, been interested.

The way her eyes softened when she said I really like you would forever be imprinted on his heart.  And if her words weren’t enough to send it flatlining, the small, dimple-hinting smile on her pink cheeks would have done him in.

He should have known he wouldn’t make it out of any relationship with her unscathed.

Not that they were ever, strictly speaking, together.

God.

Adrien’s hands clenched, his nails biting into his palms to stem the retreating tide of those thoughts.

“Are you breaking up with me?” He’d asked, laughing as he held her.

Ladybug tapped his nose and grinned.  “It’s not a break up if you don’t know my name.”

She’d always been clear on that.

Proper relationships weren’t possible, she said.  Not with masks and secret identities and supervillains standing between them.

But they weren’t not together either.

It went something like this:

Salt on skin on tongues on neck. Breathy sighs and low whispers in shadows against run down chimney tops.  Black gloves on red, red hips, fingers clenching over fabric, fingers searching for more skin.

Dancing blue eyes that said yes but only some.  Grinning green that answered please and I’ll take anything.

Hair like midnight, tousled and free, ribbons untangled then tossed then lost to the rooftop evening breeze.  Wicked smiles, his then hers, followed by nervous giggles, also his also hers.

“Never thought I’d be here,” She confessed, lips trailing light and wanting down his throat while he held her close, held her tight, wanting time to stop so she never had to.

“Never stopped thinking about it.” He sighed because it was true and he wanted so desperately for her to know the truth.

The truth for him was his lips on hers, her breath in his lungs, and red and black and black meeting and holding and holding.  All he’d ever wanted was to hold her and here she was and here he was and she was holding him just as much as he was holding her and in that moment and in those hours turned days turned weeks it was everything, everything.

He told her as much once as she hung before him, upside down, from the beams of the Eiffel tower.  Her pigtails were running down like rabbit ears and she was pulling a cross-eyed snarl, the effect of which was ruined every time Chat poked at her exposed sides causing her to squeal and squirm and sway.

“Stoooop,” She whined, batting him away with her free hand.

“Can’t help it,” He said, grinning, eyes soft. “Touching you is my favorite thing.”

She laughed then and rolled her eyes and blushed because he’d get like this sometimes and it was her job to bring them back to the line they’d trampled over and over and over again.

“You’re a silly Chaton,” She said and he leaned forward to kiss her wrinkled nose.

“Your silly Chaton.”

And while it was as true as it wasn’t Ladybug didn’t argue with him all the same.

Maybe he would hurt less if she had.

She said I love you like goodbye.

Soft and sweet and sad, cheeks pink beneath her mask, a gift he never wanted to return.  Words he coveted from the first spoken by a tongue he only ever wished to know.

And she said them first.

“I love you.”

It should have been their new beginning.  Their next step over the boundaries she’d so carefully set then constructed then steamrolled over with him.

But there was no one Chat knew better than Ladybug.  It wasn’t hard to read despair in the slope of her neck, the arch in her back, and the hunch in her shoulders.

“Chat,” She choked.  “Chat, I love you.”

He nearly mauled her and her nervous biting lip to catch the words she was swallowing down.  Clutching her tightly, hands on her waist and neck, kissing her lips, her nose, her cheeks, her eyes.

I love you too. I love you so, so much.

“Please,” He whispered against her skin, holding and molding her closer, arms locked around her tight like the vise slowly closing around his heart. “Please stop talking.”

“I love you.” She said, again, hands on his cheeks, gently pulling him from his hiding place in her neck.  “I love you Chat Noir and we have to stop.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” He said, frantic words keeping pace with his frantic heart.

“You know it’s not safe,” Ladybug murmured, blinking back tears even as her thumb gently wiped away his own. “And-and I can’t do this with just half of you.”

“You have all of me,” He said, voice cracking, as he pleaded with her integrity. “I’ll tell you my name.  I’ll give you my name. You already have my heart.  I’ll take off this ring and give you the whole damn world, one wish, just for you­­–”

But even as he frantically clawed at his miraculous she was clutching his hands in hers and pulling him in for a succession of teary, laughing kisses.

“Stop­­– please don’t laugh ­­– I’m serious.”

“I know,” Ladybug said, and Chat knew before seeing her smile that it wasn’t good and therefore she couldn’t know. “And that’s why we can’t do this anymore. Not­­– not right now.”

Adrien could scream as he recalled her words. 

Not right now.

Not right now.

Not right now.

They stung and soothed and agitated.

If not now then when?  If not Ladybug then who?

He knew the answer to that last question before it could properly form.

It sat like a brick on his chest the weight that made waiting impossible.

If not Ladybug then no one.

Not when she’d been looking at him like that, with all the resigned, stiff-backed heartbreak of a hero during her duty.

Duty could forgive her voice trembling like his knees as she pulled away from him.

“I’ll see you around yeah?”

He laughed because he was already crying.

“Yeah, bug.  You’ll see me around.”

Adrien wrenched open the locker room doors, startling the scattered students within.  Kim shot him a smirk as he stalked past.

“You look like shit, Agreste.”

It took him only a moment to see that what he wanted wasn’t in here either.

“Maybe it’s better that it happens n-now.” She hiccoughed.  “It’s only been a month.”

Only a month, she’d said.

It was only a month the way a gunshot was only a scratch.

Only a month of knowing the feeling of her hands in his hair, her back under his fingers, her laugh in his mouth.  Only a month and the feeling of her was already imprinted like a brand on his… well, not skin.  Not skin because he never got to actually touch her.  Not really.  Not the way he wanted to.

Skin on skin, fingertips on freckles, nails down spines down thighs.

Only a month, she’d said.

It’d been another month gone and he felt like he’d died a thousand lives in between.

Their almost was a pain he didn’t know how to carry.

Unsurprising really.

Ladybug always was the stronger of the two.

His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum tile of the hall as his wreckless searching became more focused.  He could feel Plagg’s claws clenching in futile disapproval against his chest.  There would be scratches, red and angry, to deal with later, but Adrien didn’t care.

His kwami lost this argument a long time ago.

The library’s double doors hit the wall with a slam!  Madame Rochard protested as he stormed past the check out desk but Adrien ignored every unremarkable, curious stare that turned his way as he headed back to the stacks.

The tables in this area were relatively empty save for the dark-haired girl slumped over a textbook, head supported by a bent elbow, eyeliner sleep smudged and hair disheveled.

Adrien nearly stumbled over his feet when she looked up at him and smiled.

It was tired, it was small, but it was hers.

Hers. Hers. Hers.

Her eyes, blue, blue, blue, staring at him with concern and curiosity as he gracelessly tripped towards her.  The same eyes, blue, blue, blue, he’d seen not even an hour before behind a mask of red as she fell in then walked out of an alleyway.

I love you, Chat.  I love you.

Her tearful declaration all those weeks ago was still ringing in his heart like discordant bells.

“Adri–oof!”

He couldn’t stop himself from falling to his knees in front of her, nearly knocking the both of them over as he wrapped his arms awkwardly behind the chair and around her waist, burying his face in her lap.

Holding her felt like breathing.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He whispered the words like lifelines and it wasn’t until Marinette’s fingers (god her fingers) were brushing away his tears that he realized he was crying.

Gentle hands tugged at his face as she pushed him back enough to meet her questioning gaze.  Her eyes were confused and confusing, a sight so familiar he could drown.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“H-hi,” He croaked.

“Hello,” Marinette said, softly.

She didn’t stop him when his shaky hands grasped hers, fumbling to lock them together.

“Adrien?”

He couldn’t meet her eyes then and stared down at their interlocked fingers.  Skin on skin on skin. Pale and calloused and so, so dear.

“I know you said not right now,” He murmured, feeling her stiffen in his grasp even as his thumbs sought to soothe her.  “But– but can it be right now?”

Marinette released a shaky breath and Adrien risked a look at her face. 

Her eyes were unsure and crinkled in the corners but a tremulous smile peeked out as her fingers squeezed his.

“Chat?” She whispered.

Adrien couldn’t speak for all the words crawling up his throat demanding to be spoken.  He settled for nodding and then nodding some more when her questioning grip turned hard as she yanked him to her, smashing her lips to his in clumsy, heartbreaking want. 

An endless chorus of yes yes yes and mine mine mine and please please please rang long and loud in his ears as Marinette practically fell out of her chair on top of him.  Her hands were in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, lips peppering his cheeks, his ears, his temple in disbelieving joy.

“You found me.  You found me.”

“I found you. I found you.”

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

이대휘, Lee Daehwi

anonymous asked:

Happy (late) thanksgiving! I've seen all (and i mean ALL) of the aegyo daehwi scenarios on tumblr but can i get a request where daehwi is the super cool fashion therapist bestfriend that caught feelings? Love all your writing!! 💖

Group: AB6IX

Member: Daehwi

(A/N) Read with this song, I beg you.

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When He Needs Her In Early Spring

Daehwi and his best friend sat where they usually did when life got too crazy. Outside on the curb at the nearest McDonald’s, stuffing their faces, swapping stories and showing each other funny YouTube videos.

Something about eating cheap cheeseburgers, fries and Cola when he knew his manager would be annoyed at him about it felt lovely. Maybe it was also because he spent that time with a pretty cool person.

He side-eyed her choice of black sweats, a dark blue tee-shirt with a leather jacket, and her absolutely ancient white tennis shoes, complete with dirt and grass stains.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head a little. 

She was cool, albeit a little unfashionable.

He looked back down at his phone, scrolling through his Stress-Away playlist, trying to choose the best song for the occasion. “Hey, hon,” he said, using the nickname that had naturally grown between them over the years. “You know I love you, but we’ve gotta get you some new clothes.”

She laughed through her nose; just a short puff of air, never once looking up from her phone, too encapsulated in the memes from her Twitter feed. “Dude,” she said. “These are pajamas.” 

He clicked Little Star by Standing Egg, letting out a relieved huff of air when the first guitar strums reached his ears. “That may be so,” he started, “but coming from the Fashion Master, that doesn’t really give you a pass.”

Eyes still glued to the screen, she reached for her ice tea, pressing the cold plastic cup to his nape. He jerked away with a disgruntled under-the-breath shriek. 

“Gimme a break, Fashion Master,” she chuckled. “It’s midnight,” she reminded him. “I was two inches away from a soft pillow and a warm blanket, so just eat the burger and listen to your healing playlist, ‘kay? I’ll still be here.” 

He was still massaging the cold buzz out of his neck, but her words made him gradually slow to a stop. He mumbled to himself, “It is midnight, isn’t it”, much more of a statement or realization than a question. 

He looked over at her, examining her side-profile. She was all tired eyes, messy hair and bare-face, but here she was at midnight, sitting in front of McDonald’s and eating a burger that was 75% bun and misplaced ketchup instead of sleeping at home. 

And she didn’t ask him any questions about it. She never did, in fact. She seemed to just accept that that’s what friends do. They’re there for each other, no matter the time or situation.

She let out a small laughed. “Hwi, look at this one,” she said, finally looking over at him. She angled her screen toward him, showing him a funny picture she’d spotted. He didn’t quite expect it to be of him. 

Daehwi gasped, snatching the phone from her. “What is that?” he gaped. “How could they take such an ugly picture of me?!”

She laughed again, her shoulders scrunching upwards and her feet stomping unconsciously. “I love your fans,” she said impishly. “They give me all the blackmail material I need, and then some!”

He pouted. “They’re lucky I love them...” he said. He pressed the button on top of her phone, putting it to sleep. He set it down next to him with a sigh. He looked up into the sky, a lonely expanse of blackness. More of the song reached his ears. “I wish there were stars in Seoul,” he mused aloud.  

She hummed thoughtfully, following his gaze into the night sky. “Well, technically,” she started, “there are. We just can’t see them, ‘cause the lights are always on. Less lights, more stars. It’s called science.” 

He scoffed, but it was more like a way to mask his laughter. “I never would’ve guessed,” he joked, nudging her shoulder with his own. He sighed. “I know,” he said. “I just think they’re pretty. Give a little extra life to the sky, y’know?” 

She leaned a little closer, their shoulders touching. It was a comfortable feeling, as it was something she did often at times like this—just a small touch to assure that she was there for him. “I know,” she said softly. “We’ll have to try to be bright enough, won’t we?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.” He shoved five fries in his mouth. “These are so good,” he said, visibly melting into the flavor. 

She chuckled. “I know, right?” She took some for herself. “Really bad for you too, but screw it.” 

That made him laugh. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” he wondered. She nodded, a silent ‘go for it’. “Why don’t you ever ask why I tell you to come out and meet you at these weird hours?”

She shrugged. “’Cause it doesn’t really matter,” she said simply. “All I need to know is: you always come out of these little escapades happier than when you went it. That’s enough for me, to be honest.”  

Daehwi’s eyes widened and his cheeks burned. Suddenly, he felt pretty relived that it was dark and she wasn’t looking directly at him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, inching away from her shoulder just a little. She didn’t seem to notice, though. “Thanks...” he said. “You’re a good friend.”

She smiled. “I know,” she said confidently. She didn’t speak again for a while, contenting herself with swaying back and forth while she hummed along to Little Star. It was one of her favorites, too.

Silently and covertly, he glanced over at her again. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back a little, the breeze blowing through her messy hair. She looked bright, back-lit by the fast food restaurant behind them. 

Surprisingly, he found himself thinking, “She looks pretty”.

He stayed quite for a moment, just listening to her humming along, watching her sway to and fro. “Hey,” he said quietly as the song was coming to an end.

She opened her eyes, looking at him. “Yeah?” she said, matching his tone.

He argued with himself in his head for a moment whether or not it was a wise thing to say, measuring any possible consequences. After much angel-and-devil consideration, he decided to just go for it. They were friends, after all. 

“Your voice is nice.”

When He Needs Her In Mid-Fall

Daehwi leaned back in his desk chair, stretching and getting shocked at the way his back cracked with the action. He’d been hunched over his desk in the studio for too long, that was obvious. 

He looked at the clock, scowling at the time. Yet, looking at how much work he’d gotten done, he couldn’t really be angry. But thinking about all the work he still had to get done? 

He groaned, rubbing his heavy, tired eyes. 

He could just go home—he’d gotten enough done—but the perfectionist inside of him really didn’t want to do that. He had this underlying fear that if his work wasn’t good enough, people would just think, “Oh, it’s because he’s so young”.

He clenched his fists. He couldn’t understand why people would doubt him for something as superficial as that. Hadn’t he proven himself enough?

He didn’t want to go to sleep, he didn’t want to work—and he couldn’t seem to find an in-between.

Instinctively, his hand went to his phone, hitting the first speed dial after his mom. Once he heard the other line pick up, without missing a beat, he spoke. “Bring me some food and listen to me whine and complain for a few hours,” he said. 

He could envision his friend pulling away from the phone and staring at it for a second with a quirked brow. “What’s the magic word?” he finally heard her voice from the receiver.

He softened, feeling himself melt into his tired, half-dead state. “Please?” he asked softly. He could picture he gentle smile when she said, “I’ll be over in ten”, before the line clicked out, leaving a resounding dullness in his ears.

Ah, there she was. 

She was the in-between he was searching for. She was the one sure thing in his fuzzy gray area of life.

He nibbled his thumbnail, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. ‘What a good friend...’ he thought, though he felt a little shaky on the conviction behind it. He wasn’t sure why, though. By all accounts, she was a good friend.

The best of the best. 

Maybe that’s why she made him so nervous.

When He Needs Her In Summer

Daehwi looked back and forth, trying to search through the crowd for any signs of his friend’s head of hair. He stood on his tip-toes every five seconds or so, trying to get a better look.

Nothing.

He huffed, tapping his foot impatiently and waiting for her to come around the corner. “You’re dead when you get here,” he muttered under his breath. He checked his watch, feeling his heart sink a little. 

She wasn’t even late. He was just early and anxious, which was never a good combination. Without thinking, he started pouting, leaning against the unlit streetlamp behind him with his arms crossed. 

Tap, tap he felt on his shoulder.

He whipped around at the familiar touch. “Hi!” he said, a little quicker and a little louder than he might’ve hoped for. A little more excited too, earning a few stares from passerbys.

She looked shocked for a moment before smiling, a giggle falling from her lips. “Well, aren’t you being cute today,” she said, poking at his stomach.

He flinched away from the ticklish sensation. “Stop it!” he said, trying to sound stern. “We’re literally in public—don’t embarrass me.”

She raised a brow. “Did being in public ever stop you from embarrassing me before?” His lack of response was her confirmation. “I rest my case!” she yelled, casing after him with fingers ready to dance across his torso. 

He screeched, running and shouldering through the card, trying to get into the mall. Hopefully, he’d be able to lose her in there. 

...Did he really want to lose her, though?

When She Needs Him In The Bad Times

Daehwi flopped on the bed, tired, sweaty and exhausted after a long day of schedules and practice. His cellphone—dead and black-screened since lunch time—was held loosely in his hands, barely any grip-strength left in him.

With his last burst of energy, he sat up and reached for his charger, plugging in his phone. He was sure he’d missed a few notifications, but he didn’t think they’d be anything important. 

In a matter of seconds, the screen blinked to life, sporting a disheartening 1% full battery icon in the upper right-hand corner. His notification started popping up. A few missed texts, a missed call from his mom (he’d call her back later), a few Twitter and YouTube notifications, and...

His heart sank. 

12 missed calls from 👏Hon👏

Suddenly, all of the energy returned to his body, making him fly to his feet, a concerned furrow between his brows. She never called very often unless something was very, very wrong. He was the one that called her more often, she just let him do his thing, because she never knew when he’d be busy.

But it seemed this time—when she saw it urgent enough to call 12 times—she didn’t care much whether he was busy or not. She just needed her friend. 

He felt his eyes water. She needed her friend, but he wasn’t there, all because he’d fallen asleep playing games the night before.

“Hey, Daehwi,” he heard Youngmin’s voice. The door opened. “I was wondering if—” The leader’s eyes widened. “You’re crying,” he said obviously, worry lacing his tone. 

With a quick sniff and a swipe across his watery eyes, he grabbed a hoodie out of his closet and shouldered past the older boy. “Sorry, Youngmin,” he said. “I’ve gotta go.” 

The rapper grabbed his arm, very gentle and nonthreatening. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he said seriously.

Daehwi turned his head to look at him. “Yeah,” he said softly.

He nodded slowly. “Knew it,” he said under his breath. His fingers slipped away from his wrist. “You know you love her, right?” 

Daehwi’s blood ran cold, yet his skin felt so hot. It was a stark, goosebumps-raising contrast. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. Not yet.

“Later, okay...?” he whispered. 

He could tell Youngmin was a little disappointed in his lack of admission, but the kind older brother he always was, he just nodded, sighing a little. “Go find her,” he said simply, ushering him toward the door. “Don’t forget your coat!” he called after him.

                                                      +++++

He didn’t need to go searching all around Seoul to find her, because he knew exactly where she saw. She didn’t wander when she was sad. She didn’t go to some nostalgic place that made her feel and remember—she blocked herself away and hid in her house, shutting almost everyone out.

She made  a proverbial pillow fort in her heart and played music with earbuds in, so that way she couldn’t hear the cars passing by or her own thoughts. She was her own worst enemy, in every way. 

When she was good, she was great. But she spent up all that good energy taking care of everyone else, so she had nothing left for herself. 

He was someone who used her kindness and unselfish heart quite often. He felt another pang in his chest and he waiting impatiently for the bus to drop him off. He massaged his temples, feeling more tears threaten to well up in his eyes.

“Did I tired you out...?” he breathed out, his breath fogging up the window next to his face. “Focus on yourself more, you jerk,” he mumbled, sniffling a little. He shook his head a little, staring down his reflection with a vengeance, as if saying: ‘You will not cry on this crowded bus, Lee Daehwi’. 

He cried a lot as a stress-reliever, but only in private.

The thought suddenly dawned on him. He saw her as another version of private. Anything that he would do or say by himself, he could do and say in front of her. He could tell her anything, because that was the level of trust he had in her.

His breath shook to the point that he had to discreetly cover his mouth, muffling the sound in his cold hands. “That must be so much pressure,” he thought to himself. “Being someone’s confidant. Their safe place.” His stomach churned. “...My all of that.”

The bus came to a stop, idling by the poorly lit bus-stop—one he’d become quite familiar with from his trips to her place. He scooped up the hoodie he’d grabbed from the dorms, a sense of adrenaline rushing to his legs and propelling him out of his seat. 

He flew past the driver and straight out the doors, skipping the two steps down all together. His feet made impact with the ground, and maybe on an average day it might’ve stung a little. 

The bus driver’s eye widened. “Hey, kid!” he called after Daehwi. “Be careful, you hear?” 

He didn’t hear him. He didn’t hear him at all. 

The only thought in his head was her—how different, yet painfully similar they were. On an average day, they both carried themselves in different ways and had different thoughts, but on their not so good days? 

They both wilted. 

They wilted, and they needed something or someone to help them bloom again.

After following his feet through the turns and bumps he was so used to going over, he saw her. She was sitting where she always did when she wasn’t feeling well—on the hood of her car, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes damp and her nose and cheeks painted with red due to the late night breeze. 

He stood there off to the side, catching his breath.

She noticed him, but she didn’t say anything. She usually didn’t, because she was always scared that she’d start crying again if she spoke.

Daehwi took a deep breath, the cold stinging his lungs. It didn’t matter, though. With a sigh, he crawled onto the hood with her, noting the way she scooted over a little to give him more room. 

He tapped her shoulder and gestured to the orange hoodie in his hand. Without any argument, she lifted her arms, letting him slip it over her head. He was gentle and he took special care around her ears. He pulled the hood down so her could see her better, flattening her hair with tender hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Those first two words were quiet as the flap of a butterfly’s wings, but that didn’t matter. She was always good at listening to him. “This sounds like such and excuse,” he continued, rubbing her arms, “but my phone died.” He frowned at himself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

She looked him in the eyes, still not saying anything. He could read her well enough, though. That was a look that said, “It’s okay, I understand.”

He sighed, pulling her into a soft hug. “It’s not okay, though...” he mumbled, rocking her gently back and forth while he brushed through her hair with his cold, blue-tipped fingers. “I’m sorry that I’m still not good enough—”

She cut him off with a short smack. “Don’t make this about you!” she choked out, her voice hoarse. Daehwi was shocked that she spoke. “This is about me!” she said. “I had a shitty day!” Her eyes teared up. “For no reason,” she finished. She took a deep breath, trying to study herself. 

She buried her face in his neck, nuzzling him. “You’re more than enough,” she whispered weakly. “You’re here. That’s more than I can say for anyone else, and it’s better late than never.” 

He was very grateful for the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, because if she did, she would see the tears in his eyes. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. “Who do I have to hurt that made you like this?” he breathed. “Tears in your eyes and frown on your lips... It doesn’t suit you at all.”

She shook her head—he was greatly aware of her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

He knew what that shake of the head meant. 

“Don’t do anything,” it spoke more than a thousand words, “just stay with me.”

When She Needs Him In The Good Times

She couldn’t say that she was expecting a call from Daehwi at 4PM to invite her to be his friend-date to a company dinner, but she also couldn’t say that it was unwelcome.

All she’d been doing most of the day was just laying on the couch, watching TV and skimming through a few home living magazines so she could get a few tips on adulting. 

“Yo, hon,” Daehwi said once she picked up, which only took about two rings. “You free tonight?”

She didn’t even bother checking her calendar. “Yeah, I’m free,” she said, turning down the volume on the TV. “Why? What’s up?” 

“There’s a dinner tonight at Brand New and if I want, I’m allowed to bring someone,” he said. She could feel the excitement dripping off his words. “You wanna come with?”

Her ears perked up with interest. “To the company?” she asked. He hummed a positive answer. “Like a date?” she said without thinking.

Daehwi coughed. “Don’t get it twisted,” he said. “Friend-date,” he clarified. “Friend-date.”

She smiled. “Okay, sounds cool.” She jumped off the couch and shut off the TV, shuffling to her bedroom. She cringed at her wardrobe, rather barren in the fruits that it could offer. “Hey, Hwi...?” she started, putting him on speaker and tossing the phone onto her bed while she rummaged through the closet.

“Yeah?” 

She started searching for a pair of heels, realizing suddenly that all of hers were really old and worn. “How fancy is this shindig?” she asked, suddenly feeling a little timid. “Like... Dress code and stuff?” 

She heard him click his tongue. “I’ll be over in 20 minutes,” he said before hanging up. 

                                                        ++++

“Why do you own a big fat nothing?” Daehwi asked exasperatedly, tossing clothes messily onto the floor as he scoured through her closet like it was a desolate land with nothing to offer.

She crossed her arms, a bit of a pout on her face. “Now you’re just being dramatic...” she muttered. To be honest, this actually brought back a lot of memories for her; him helping her pick out the outfit for her first ever date, her parent’s anniversary, highschool graduation after-party, etc,. 

To be frank, she used to have a better fashion sense, but that all changed a few years ago. Daehwi started chasing his career and she just stayed behind, dressing comfortably, working hard and trying to find her way through life.

Sometimes she felt a little felt behind by her dear friend, but then she realized that was silly, because he never forget about her, and she knew that. Not even once. He was like a deeply rooted tree in the respect.

Every one had their own pace, and hers was just a little more relaxed than his. That didn’t mean their paces didn’t still match up every once in a while, leading to moments like this.

She chuckled, recalling how they actually used to comfortably change in front of each other, putting on little fashion shows in their chosen outfits. Of course, they were a lot younger then. 

Sometimes she wondered why age changed people so much—things that were normal, comfortable and accepted when they were younger were suddenly such foreign and strange ideas. 

She always just shrugged it off as the way life was. Things changed, some things positively and some not so much. Either way, it was unavoidable, and that’s okay.

Daehwi glanced over at her, catching her expression in the corner of his eye. “What’s with the smile?” he asked, a chuckle passing his lips. 

She shrugged. “Dunno,” she said simply. “This just feels nostalgic.” 

He looked back at her, mirroring her smile. “It does,” he agreed. With a huff, he stood up with a pair of black heels in his hands. “Do you have a Sharpie?” 

She furrowed her brows. “Yeah...?” she said, grabbing one off of her desk. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna draw on my shoes.”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he said cheekily, taking the marker from her hand with a sassy twirl. “I don’t know how you managed to scratch these up so bad, but this is a quick fix for it until we buy you a new pair.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Shush!” he said firmly. “Don’t argue with me.” He bent the shoes a bit, pointing out the way that they were frayed around the area the foot bent. “We’re getting you new ones. Soon,” he emphasized. 

He uncapped the Sharpie. “But until then, I’m drawing on your shoes while you change into that,” he said, looking over at the dress he’d hung on the closet door. “I can’t believe you still have it,” he chuckled.

Her eyes raked over the white tea-length halter-top with the exposed back. The skirt was lightly longer in the back, lace hand-sewn around the hem to make it look more fancy. “Of course I do,” she said. “You bought it for me.” 

He sucked in his lips, holding back a smile. “Where’d you wear that one?” he asked, trying to pick through his memories. “Your sister’s wedding reception?” 

She clicked her tongue, giving him a disapproving look. “Close, but no cigar,” she said. 

“What?” The realization dawned on him. He smacked his forehead. “Oh, duh!” he groaned. “Your brother’s!” 

“Yup,” she laughed, nodding. She looked back over at the dress, fond memories filling her mind. She’d forgotten that she still had it, but she also didn’t think that she ever could’ve given it away. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on this lips. “No problem,” he said. “You look good in white.” His smile faded a little, a question forming in his eyes. It was as if he were debating with himself. “You’re gonna make a really pretty bride one day,” he finally said. 

She stared at him, but he refused to make eye-contact with her, focusing very closely on his shoe ‘repairs’. She felt a smile break out on her face, showing her teeth and pushing up her cheeks. 

She walked to him. He still didn’t look up at her. She pulled him into a side-hug, patting his hair for a moment. “Thanks, cheese-ball,” she said before pushing him back into a fully upright position. He still hadn’t stopped scribbling over the heels’ scuff marks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but she noticed the blush on his cheeks. “Just go get changed—we’ve gotta go soon.”

When They Need Each Other On The Lazy Days

“Hey, Hwi?” she said, looking up across the table. They’d gotten a free moment on the weekend, so they decided to have lunch together at an unpopular (but spectacularly delicious) hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was never too crowded.

He looked up from his noodles, letting the ones he’d already scooped up fall back into the bowl. “Yeah?” he said, giving her his undivided attention. He smiled a bit, that cute and funny one at made his eyes crinkle. “What’s up?”

She scanned his face. His expression, his irises, the slope of his nose, his lips—everything about him. “Do you have a crush on me?” she asked without hesitation. She wasn’t afraid to ask him questions like this, because she trusted his honesty and his heart.

He’d never purposely do anything he thought could hurt her.

His eyes widened. If he’d had water in his mouth, he surely would’ve spit it across the room in shock. “I...” he stuttered, struggling to find words. He straightened up in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep eye contact with her. “Why do you ask?”

She set her fork down with a small clatter. “’Cause I’m curious,” she said. She tapped his knee with her shoe under the table, trying to urge him to be a little less stiff. “You can be honest with me.” 

He nibbled his bottom lip. “I know I can,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I have a crush on you.” 

She smiled, flashing him a thumbs up. “Cool,” she said, going back to eating.

Daehwi stared at her, mouth hanging open. “Do you...” he started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “...feel the same?” 

She looked up at him, humming thoughtfully. “Not yet,” she said earnestly. A smile played at the corner of her lips. “But you’re definitely the type of guy I could fall for. Just gimme some time.”

When He Needs Her Always And Forever

He needed her comfortable silence, because he didn’t have to speak understand or be understood.

He needed her driving for him, not just because he didn’t have a license, but also because she looked for focused and endearing.

He needed her shoulder to lean on when he was having a bad day. Or a good one.

He needed her putting his hands in her hoodie pocket when he forgot his gloves, because it felt like she really cared.

He needed her ability to share the responsibility of ‘mature adult’ depending on who was more sulky that day. They were both more mature than they let on, and sometimes, they needed each other to bring out that aspect of themselves.

He needed her to listen to his rants, and he needed to listen to hers in return, because they were always interesting and slightly amusing.

He needed her to make funny parodies of their songs and sing them too loudly in the car, even when the windows were rolled down. Especially the famous, “I should’ve brought gloves~” to the tune of ‘Blind For Love’ when it was really cold out.

He needed her emphatic and often times dripping-with-sarcasm movie commentaries and her post-film in-depth analysis. 

He needed her ability to always see him as the coolest guy ever, despite his condition. Whether he was bright and bubbly or not didn’t matter to her. He could be totally emo at times and she’d still think of him in the same way as she always did.  

He needed her.

Maybe... He was in love with his best friend.

When She Needs Him Every Minute of Every Day

She needed his “Well! Later, hon” at the end of every phone call, because it was a dumb and familiar nickname, and she’d grown attached to it.

She needed his gentle singing voice, because it made her feel calm when she didn’t even know she was feeling anxious.

She needed his random back-hugs, because they always caught her off guard in the best way; a warm and lovely way.

She needed his late-night phone calls, ‘cause she’d never initiate them and they felt simple and mindless.

She needed the random videos that he sent her, because she didn’t think she needed a video of a panda cuddling its mom with a little puppy friend trying to nuzzle its way in there in her life, but apparently she did.

She needed his random, thoughtless back massages when they were hugging for a while.

She needed him to brush her hair for her when they had sleepovers.

She needed his daily compliments that always made her feel confident, said compliments being different every day—but she also needed his roasts and brutal honesty, always keeping her humble and in check. 

She needed his good days and bad days.

She needed him.

Maybe... She was okay with her best friend being in love with her.

.

.

.

*takes a deep breath*

I LOVE LEE DAEHWI WITH MY WHOLE CHEST, EVERY HAIR ON MY HEAD, AND ALL 20 OF MY PHALANGES. 

I hope you enjoyed it, Anon! Honestly, I wrote so many different versions of this, but I scrapped all of them, settling on this one. I need to learn to write shorter things, but I always feel like I’m cheating y’all. XD 

I hope it turned out okay! The other ones were shorter, snappier and more to the point, but this one had a lot more... Potency, I suppose? Hopefully my sincerity was delivered. 😂 I hope you enjoyed it, beautiful person! 

Also, I chose this gif ‘cause he looks so best-friend right here. 

[sunlightbabe]

how sweet it is

Pairing: ben hardy x reader A/N: i'm in a soft mood (but when am i not lbr) and james taylor came up on spotify so here's some disgustingly domestic fluff xx

You didn't consider yourself much of a morning person. Waking up early and getting out of bed right away to start your day never sounded all that appealing to you. You'd much rather laze around in bed for awhile, checking your phone and enjoying the warmth of your blankets. Ben was the same way and so when the two of you moved in together? You were lucky to roll out of bed by noon on the days you both had off.

Today was different.

Sunlight filtered in through the open kitchen windows and soft notes from an acoustic guitar played from your phone from where it rested on the counter. You quietly hummed along and gently rocked from side to side as you cracked an egg into the bowl before you, careful to avoid getting any bits of shell into the batter. A faint breeze shifted the curtains and a small shiver trailed down your spine. It was the first day of Spring that had actually felt like Spring and you were comfortable in just sleep shorts and one of Ben's t-shirts.

You tucked the eggshells into the open mix box and double checked that you added everything you were supposed to. Baking mix, eggs, milk. Check, check, check. With a satisfied little smile, you crossed the room to toss the box into the trash and went to the cabinets to grab the vanilla extract, a secret your mother had taught you years ago.

You didn't consider yourself a morning person and yet here you were, wide awake and baking before noon. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just a few minutes past 9:30 in the morning.

Earlier that morning you had woken up naturally and for the first time in a long while, you felt well rested. The ever present grogginess that accompanied your mornings just hadn't been there. It didn't hurt that Ben had been fast asleep, curled up on his side and facing away from you, head shoved under the pillows. Getting out of bed would have been harder if the two of you had been tangled together, and you would have curled up against him, your chest to his back, but your stomach grumbled and you remembered that there was a box of chocolate chip muffin mix waiting for you in the kitchen.

The song changed from one acoustic song to another as you poured the batter into the lined muffin tray, careful not to get any of it between the cups or on the counter. Soon enough, they were baking away in the oven.

You were at the sink, rinsing out the mixing bowl and softly singing along to the music, when you felt something cold and wet press against your calf.

"Good morning to you too lovebug," you cooed as you smiled down at Frankie. She sat by your feet and looked up at you with wide eyes and you swore you saw a hint of a smile on her doggy face. You dried your hands off on a nearby dishcloth and wasted no time in bending down to scoop her up.

"Thought for sure you'd come running when I opened the fridge," you said as you scratched behind her ear and her eyes drifted shut in contentment. "Guess you were still sleeping though, huh?"

Frankie yawned and you smiled as you pressed a kiss against the top of her head. You started to sway to the music and it wasn't long until you were full on dancing with Frankie in your arms, singing along in a hushed tone, movements sweeping and languid as you moved in small circles.

The pup tolerated and even seemed to enjoy your dancing, her tail thumping against you as you bopped around. The song came to an end and you finished your dance with a careful dip.

You heard a slow clap come from the doorway and you giggled as Frankie eagerly wiggled out of your arms and ran forward.

Ben, wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants, pushed himself off from where he was leaning against the door frame and held open his arms. With an excited 'boof', Frankie leapt into him, paws landing on his chest as she licked all over the lower half of his face. Ben chuckled quietly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he hugged his dog to his chest and the sight of it made your heart swell.

"How long were you standing there for?"

"Long enough," Ben said, "but what are you doin' out of bed so early?" Ben asked, flickering his gaze up to you.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" You took a few steps back to lean against the counter.

Ben took a moment to ruffle Frankie's fur and kiss her nose. "I rolled over and you weren't there," he said with a small shrug. He gave Frankie one last pet before setting her back on the ground and standing up. "What's your excuse?"

"Muffins," you said with a small hum. Ben smiled as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. He lowered his head to your shoulder and you giggled as he nuzzled against you, hair tickling against your neck.

"Thought I smelled somethin' good," he mumbled against your skin. You ran a hand slowly over his back, earning a happy little noise in response.

The two of you stood there, wrapped up in each others  arms as music continued to play from your phone. Ben turned his head and you could feel his nose bump into your neck. "Come on lovely," he said before pressing a kiss under your jaw. "Come back to bed."

A content sigh slipped from your mouth as Ben continued to softly kiss along your neck and jaw. "I have to wait until the muffins are done," you said, biting your lip to hold back a giggle as he huffed against you.

"How much longer do they have?" His arms flexed as he held you closer to him, his hands starting to wander to your sides and hips. Ben nipped at your pulse point when you didn't answer right away.

"Just a few more minutes. They don't take too long." You brought a hand to his shoulder and he straightened up to look at you. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were half-lidded, pupils wide as he gave you an all too familiar look. "Not nearly long enough for whatever you're thinking about, bub," you teased.

Ben gasped in shock. "Excuse me, but I have nothing but the purest of intentions." He batted his eyelashes and before you could call him out, he pinched your butt. You let out a squeak, Ben smirked, and you playfully slapped his chest.

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, impossibly adorable." Well, he got you there.

The two of you stared at each other as a comfortable quietness settled between you. You brushed his hair away from his forehead and he smiled at you before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss.

You loved these moments. Your lives could be hectic sometimes and that was putting it mildly. Ben's work would take him away from home for months at a time and even when he was home, he still had auditions and photo shoots and interviews and all that fun actor stuff. You had your own life too- you had work, and family, and friends, and sometimes it was hard to juggle everything.

But you didn't have to worry about any of that. Not now, not with Ben's arms wrapped around you, bodies held close together, so close you swore you could feel his heart beat.

The song changed once more and after a moment, Ben started to sway side to side, his arms pulling you along with him as he rested his head on top of yours. You smiled and danced with him- although calling it dancing would be generous.

"You know," you started, fingers tapping along to the beat against him, "for someone who played a drummer, you're awfully bad at keeping time."

Ben chuckled and squeezed you closer. "Give me a break, 'm not fully awake yet."

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, fingers caressing his cheek. Ben leaned into your touch. "Go back to bed, hon."

"Without you? You're delusional." The way he looked at you, so warmly and fondly, made you feel weak in the knees. You brushed your fingers against his lips and he kissed your fingers.

The timer on your phone went off, interrupting the song, and you could hear Frankie bark from the next room over.

"Perfect timing," Ben said, looking just a little too smug. He stepped away from you and out of the way as you turned the oven off and removed the muffins. The tops were the perfect shade of golden brown and a quick test poke with a wooden skewer showed that they were done.

You barely had enough time to remove the oven mitt before Ben was reaching for your hand and tugging you out of the kitchen and back towards the bedroom.

"Hey!" you giggled as you trailed after him. "I've been slaving away in the kitchen all morning to make breakfast for us."

"Muffins can wait. Sleep can't."

You didn't go back to sleep. And that was perfectly fine with you.

[holycrapharry]

Thank God for Rain

The night was humid, making your hair frizz up in these little curls around your forehead and the back of your neck. You were starting to regret coming to this little backyard get together at Mel’s. Always having a shindig, that one. You were a bit quiet at these functions, you only really knew Mel and her boyfriend. She, of course, introduces you to all of their friends but none of them ever stuck around to chat. There’s was always one who lingered, though. It was always Harry. He was king chatterbox around everyone so you never understood why he’d ask a few questions and sit longer than everyone else. He would still venture off but always keep an eye on you. Many times did the two of you catch each other looking. It never bothered you, it made you blush and it made him smile.

The fairy lights draped over the patio hold you in a daze. You aren’t really thinking about anything or the awful humidity. Just kind of spacing. Music starts up and you’re snapped out of it, jumping a little bit with it. There’s a soft giggle coming from the other side of the patio. Turning your head you spot Harry leaning against the brick of the house. He looks fantastic. The lights glowing above him make it seem like he fell straight from the sky. He’s just always glowing. He walks over and has a seat with you on the glider, slowly moving it back and forth. The silence is always comfortable with Harry but there’s always an eagerness to talk his head off and to know silly things about him like, is he left or right handed or what he puts on his toast,  things like that.

Harry twirls his cup in his hands when he begins, “I like that you always wear dresses to these things.” He brings a hand to the hem of your sun dress and rubs the material between his fingers.

“It’s been really humid this summer and I think I might suffocate in anything else,“ you laugh a little before looking at him, “thank you for noticing, though.”

Scooting closer and resting his arm in the back of the glider he lets out a sigh. “Y/n, I always notice. You know that? You’re always the most beautiful girl here and it’s hard not to look.” You’re blushing again when he continues, “I love that you like talking to me and not the others. It’s going to sound kind of weird, but I feel like you picked me.”

“Well, I guess I do pick you in a way. There’s something about you that makes me want to never shut up. If I’m being perfectly honest, when Mel and James are too busy mingling and I hope you’ll sit with me longer. The only silence I like here, is when you’re here.” You haven’t looked up from your lap yet and you hope he’s still smiling.

Standing up, Harry’s asks, “You wanna dance with me?” Out of all responses he asks you to dance. What. “It’s a slow one. We can dance right here. We don’t have to go out there.” You accept his offer with a smile. One hand lands on your lower back and the other holds yours. The two of you sway back and forth to the music, but it’s somehow quiet - like there’s a bubble around the two of you. In the few times, you have spoken to Harry, you’ve felt connected to him. You would’ve never of danced with any of the others here.

It only takes a second for Mel to notice you dancing. Grasping James’ arm and turning him to face the two of you, she says, “Never have I seen Y/N be this comfortable with someone she barely knows.” James just laughs at her and tells her that her matchmaker days for y/n may finally be over.

“You smell sweet,” and Harry hopes that he doesn’t scare her off with his next statement, “I bet you taste sweet too.” Instead of running away like he thought, you twirl until you spin back into him.

“Harry, I think you’re flirting with me. Keep it up.” You press your head to his chest and listen to his heart beat.

“Oh I am, baby. I’m gonna flirt your shoes off.” You loved that Harry always kept a sense of humor. He could say something like ‘flirt your shoes off’ and still remain sexy. You also liked that he gave you a pet name, even though it may be the most common one there is. The song comes to an end but you don’t want to leave his arms. “I hate to leave you after a dance but I think now is the time that I go off and get you a drink.” You giggle and sit back down on the glider. Ugh. You can’t help but watch his tiny little ass make its way to the drink table. There’s a bit of a crowd and your eyes lose Harry. You turn your attention to the music, tapping your foot and humming.

A breeze shakes the trees finally cooling you down a bit. But then a few rolls of thunder shake through the party which of course is then followed by an untimely downpour. You jolt up in shock and begin running to the door when a hand grabs you, it’s Harry’s. “Come home with me,” he’s soaked and the rain is dripping from his lips, “please. My car is just outside the gate.” You hesitate for a moment because you do in fact barely know him but Harry feels right. And Harry’s wet white T-shirt is showing off tattoos you had no idea he had.

“Ok.” You smile as you both run to his car. The ride to his isn’t very long, you had no idea he lived this close. Taking his hand once more, you sprint for the house. Making it inside was such a relief that you forgot that you weren’t home. You’re not sure where to go from here but you know Harry is staring at you. “What are you looking at?” He doesn’t say anything at first but walks towards you.

“I’m looking at a beautiful girl who is currently making a puddle in my entry way,” he bends down to take your shoes off and says, “let’s get cleaned up. I’ll hang your dress to dry.” You follow him down the hall into his bedroom where he hands you a worn out t shirt and even older boxers. You don’t mind, the fabric is soft and smells like spice with a hint of laundry detergent. Before you walk into the bathroom you ask Harry if he can unclasp your dress so you can unzip it. His fingers are so gentle you barely feel them. Once the clasp is free, you give him a small thank you.

While changing you have a little argument with yourself about what’s going to happen. Are you even going to do anything? Are you going to cuddle? Are you going to go at it like animals? You have to convince yourself to relax. The comfort of his clothes he gave you eases you some but that’s short lived as you walk out of the bathroom. You see Harry in the middle of putting his shirt on. His shoulders flexing and the slight stretching of his tummy. He’s very toned but there’s a softness to him. You can tell his skin is soft and would feel good against yours. There are plenty of tattoos but the butterfly stands out to you the most. It’s beautiful and intricate, it fits him perfectly.  You don’t know how long you’ve been zoned out thinking about his body but he definitely caught on.

“Now, what are you looking at?” He stays in his spot leaving you to come to him.

“Oh, you know. A very beautiful boy. The usual.” He matched your grin as he sits down in the bed. You’re standing in front of him, between his legs, when he plays with your fingertips.

Pulling you close so that his nose his poking at your belly, he says, “Thank god for rain.”

[ikesenhell]

And Again.

Again., Chapter 15 and the Finale–a collaboration by myself and @a-shout-to-the-void​ AKA Vaya. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here, and Vaya’s here. NOTES: WOW THE FEELS HERE. Sorry on taking forever with this part. I’m not going to spoil anything, but... just put on your feels vests.

Ieyasu and Kenshin started taking lunch together. At first, it was by coincidence; they kept running in to one another on the street with takeout clutched in their fists. But slowly, gradually, their schedules twisted and merged until they were sitting on the same park bench together, picking over leftover hibachi.

“Care you spare any carrots?” Kenshin mused, poking a mushroom with his chopstick.

Ieyasu shoved one toward him. “That’s a change.”

“What’s a change?”

“Mitsunari hated carrots. We couldn’t get him to eat them for the life of us.”

Kenshin’s ocean eyes crinkled in a smile as he popped the carrot in his mouth. “You know, he asked me about marrying the two of you on a bench just like this.”

Ieyasu hesitated. “He did?”

“He did. He asked me how I knew I wanted to marry Isehime, how I knew she was the ‘one’.” He dipped a piece of zucchini in soy sauce, idly waiting for it to stop dripping.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I knew I loved her when I was doing things to make her happy, just because they did. Wearing her favorite colors, cleaning the tiles. Things like that. He said he felt the same way about you two.”

Ieyasu fell silent. The breeze skittered through the park, tossing dead leaves over concrete. “Weird.”

“What is?”

“That he asked you. And now, you’re--we’re--”

Kenshin smiled his beautiful, crystalline smile. It knocked Ieyasu’s breath away. Without thinking, he shut the styrofoam lid of hibachi and shunted it behind him, his hands cupping the other man’s cheek. “Come here.”

The other man just chuckled. “Should I?”

“Yeah. You really, really should.”

Finally, Kenshin scooted closer. At last--after what felt like years of yearning--Ieyasu leaned in and kissed him.

---

It took a year before Kenshin joined them in the bedroom. For so long it had been just Ieyasu and Williams that it felt taboo--but the moment she took Kenshin’s hand in hers and pulled him over the threshold, it felt right. The very first time he peeled his shirt away the two of them just stared.

“You can’t be a decade older than me,” she laughed. Kenshin just frowned.

“And why not?”

“Because--” Ieyasu sputtered his way through the thought. All those years of therapy had certainly helped his jealousy, but for the first time in a long time he felt that primal, confusing call of arousal he so often confused for it. “Because we’d both bang the hell out of you.”

Kenshin’s sly, silver-fox smile sent shivers down his skin. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

That they did.

Ieyasu was used to waking pinned between Mitsunari and her. Kenshin didn't try and take that place. Instead he cradled her body and rested his hand on Ieyasu’s waist, mouth buried into the curve of her spine. She stretched when she woke in the morning and her hips would ride back into his, and then they’d all wake with need. They were too old now to do all they used to. Apparently Kenshin was still as insatiable as he’d ever been. The man blinked sleepily between blonde strands and worked his lips over her shoulder.

“Good morning,” she giggled, nuzzling into Ieyasu’s chest.

“Mornin’,” Ieyasu managed.

“Good morning indeed,” Kenshin sighed, threading a fine line with his tongue over her neck. She moaned and rocked back her head.

“Can’t give her even a minute when she wakes up?” Not that he hated it so much. Ieyasu wrapped his arm protectively over her shoulder blades as her hips ground back into Kenshin, the man’s hands disappearing between her thighs and conjuring more sighs with it.

“When she’s this eager? Wouldn’t it be criminal to wait?”

“I think there’s a statute somewhere,” he conceded reluctantly. “Dunno if I could quote it.”

Her flushed smile was a thing of beauty. Ieyasu pressed his mouth against her forehead and she sighed again. “Please?”

Kenshin shot a questioning stare up at Ieyasu for consent. How could he say no to those eyes?

“Fine,” he pretended to grouse. “But I hold her.”

Trailing one thin line down her spine, Kenshin treated her neck to another kiss before stripping away the covers. “I wouldn’t imagine taking that from you.”

---

Years rolled on. Nari grew tall and willowy like his father, amethyst eyes flashing against dark skin, an infectious smile and an analytical mind. He learned to debate between his three parents and to drive from Kenshin, adopted Ieyasu’s love of spicy food and his mother’s deft hands for his hair. When he graduated from high school, it was as valedictorian.

And along the line, he and Leyla Toyotomi-Akechi grew close. What started almost as a parental in-joke--wouldn’t it be funny if?--evolved.

They were all older now. Kenshin’s hair was as white as Mitsuhide’s, Ieyasu’s fast behind. Williams had laugh lines that measured every happy year she’d spent with them. Their house was cluttered with photos of the four of them and Isehime and Mitsunari, vacations with the prosecutor’s office and albums of Nari. They still maintained Nari’s room, even though he was in his senior year of law school and rarely there.

When he visited that March morning, they all knew why.

“So.” Nari shuffled his hand through his hair, a near-perfect imitation of a nervous Ieyasu, and smiled at his three parents on the couch. “So, I kind of--I have to ask, cause I--tradition, you know.”

“Mm.” Kenshin rapped his fingers on the side table. Ieyasu just put an arm around Williams and waited.

“Well.” Their son--their beautiful, beautiful son--smiled broadly and tapped his fingers together. “So I’ve been seeing Leyla--you know, for a while, it’s been a while, and--”

“Oh my god.” Williams covered her face.

“No! Don’t cry, Mom--”

“I’m going to!” She choked a laugh. “My baby--”

Nari swooped forward and scooped his mother into his arms. The two of them stood there, swaying together in the living room. Kenshin and Ieyasu exchanged a single knowing glance.

“Excuse us.” Kenshin got to his feet.

“Bring the other one, too,” Ieyasu instructed quietly. “You know where it is.”

“I do.”

Nari watched with wide eyes as Kenshin disappeared upstairs. It was only a few moments before he returned, a pair of small boxes in hand.

“You’ll need these.”

“I--” Now it was Nari’s turn to tear up. “You don’t have to--”

“You can get them resized,” Ieyasu pushed forward, taking the familiar purple ring in his hand. “Your father would want this to be used. It makes sense that it would go to you.”

“And Isehime,” Kenshin followed through gravely, “Would be proud to be part of this.”

Swallowing back a sob, Nari rushed forward into their arms. All four of them huddled together in the living room--or six of them--all enveloped together.

---

They grew older still.

Nari and Leyla moved away, following work to the west. The house was quieter. Countless hours of work-weary footfalls and dashes out the door had softened the place, lending the gentle hum of a place well-loved to keep the silence at bay. Slowly, slowly--the years slid away from them. Nobunaga retired. Then Mitsuhide, then Kenshin--and one day, Ieyasu turned off the lights to his office and knew it was his turn as well.

Mornings were soft. Ieyasu woke to his spouses together in bed, the warmth enough to make him want to stay, stay, stay. Days passed in dreamlike quiet. Ieyasu watched his loves grow beautiful and old alongside him--tending to the pepper garden and the rabbit hutch out back, weaving flowers into Williams’ twists…

And then came the inevitable.

He didn't even know it happened at first. He went to sleep, and when he woke, it was to a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Yasu?”

Ieyasu squinted awake. What about that voice was so familiar? He struggled to right himself and sat up with more ease than he’d managed in at least a decade, the fingertips smoothing out his eyebrows. “Nari?”

A quiet laugh. “Yes. Hi, honey.”

Not Nari. Ieyasu blinked rapidfire, realization dawning. “Mitsunari?”

And there he was--violet eyes and silver hair, radiance and sugar and sunshine and a thousand other things Ieyasu had lost so many years ago. Mitsunari smiled with the grace of an angel and his heart ached. God. How he’d missed that smile! And in what felt like the blink of an eye, there was Williams, too, and Kenshin, and a woman he’d never met but recognized as Isehime.

“Hi, honey,” Mitsunari repeated, soft and sweet. “Hello, my loves. I’m so happy to see you again.”