#i did have a moment of guilt when i was putting on my scarf like but what if some hilariously bad fate befalls me out there...

[coquelicoq]

so i did just go outside and it is mad slick. i was like whatever i've got shoes and so forth. then the wind picked up and i could hear all the ice-covered branches clacking ominously against each other and decided i should get the hell out of dodge. have you ever tried powerwalking when the sidewalks are sheets of ice? i wouldn't recommend it.

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

all the time in the world | hikaru hitachiin

summary: Hikaru received a love letter from you, and allows Kaoru to talk him into putting you through their old test - but it only hurts you.

warnings: none i think, out of character maybe.

note: stunning lack of ouran fics to be found

"Hikaru is enamored with another, I'm afraid," Kauro said, leaning against a lamppost.

Your shoes crunched against the freshly fallen snow. It was unexpected, the snow, not supposed to start for another week. But here it was, falling to the ground all around you. Your cheeks turning rosey against the crisp air.

There was nothing to answer to Kaoru, what would there be to say? The note you'd left Hikaru, telling him about your feelings and asking to meet was clutched in Kaoru's hand. The pink paper crinkling in his hard grasp. You wanted to reach out and take it from him, yell that it wasn't his to read, wasn't his to sully, but you did nothing, just lifted the scarf higher around your face, blocking your trembling lip from Kaoru's cold stare.

"But you know~," he smirked, unmoving, "I'm always found you extremely cute."

You didn't know where this was going. There were never any signs he was interested in you, but how would you know? You'd clearly misread the notion from Hikaru.

What you didn't know was that Hikaru wasn't far away, eyes tightly shut and fingers crossed beside him. He was desperate for you to pass, he hadn't even wanted to do it this time, it felt wrong. But still, he allowed his brother to take his place at the meeting time, wanting to know it was truly Hikaru you felt for. Truly, Kaoru didn't know if he pushed for this out of protectiveness or out of spite. The way you two spoke in class, whispering and giggling and not involving Kaoru...

"Maybe we could hangout sometime," Kaoru finished, with Hikaru simultaneously mouthing to words silently in his hiding spot.

Hikaru couldn't see what was happening, but Kaoru watched you bow slightly.

"I'm flattered Kauro-kun," you said, voice wavering slightly, heard but Hikaru but not his twin, the cold politeness of the honorific wasn't lost on anyone. "But it's really Hikaru I-...." your voice broke, betraying you, showing how deeply you hurt.

He wanted to run out from hiding, beg you to finish your sentence, tell him how you felt, tell him you love him, but the script proceeded, and he stretched his fingers over the cool brick behind him. The scratchy texture gave him no comfort.

"Well!" Kaoru feighned excitement, "I really am Hikaru!"

"No, you're not."

Hikaru's eyes opened, and he felt a wave of guilt and shamed run through him.

He thought maybe you knew which was which, but, in the snow, in a time of obvious discomfort, you knew that it was Kaoru in front you you. He pulled the note out of his pocket, unlike usual, he wasn't willing to hand this one off to his brother, only the envelope. He never even let his brother read it, and that's how Kaoru knew this one was different, this is a situation where Hikaru actually had feelings for the one who professed their love.

"How did you know?" Kaoru asked, sure the game was over, but being nearly as curious as his brother, he had to ask.

"You don't... look at me the way Hikaru does, you don't... you don't say my name like he does."

It wasn't a physical tell, wasn't a cadence or voice thing, wasn't even personality. You knew from the moment Kaoru greeted you that it wasn't him.

"I should go," you said, "Tell Hikaru I'm sorry."

"Is there anyway I could convince you to stay with me?" Kaoru asked.

"No," you said, resolute and final, the game was over. You had won. "Goodbye, I'm sorry."

And you turned to leave, snow crunching under you as you walked away, tears freezing as soon as fell, causing your cheeks to sting. You'd nearly left the courtyard when you felt a hand on your arm, you jumped, having not heard anyone follow you.

And it was Hikaru, the way his hand felt wrapped around your wrist... this was Hikaru.

You'd barely looked at him, but still you whispered, "Hikaru?" and his heart nearly broke in two, the pain in your voice caused by him.

Hikaru hadn't thought this far ahead. What could he say? What should he do? Could he... should he kiss you? Fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness? Ask you to go for a walk? Call you a car? He couldn't figure it out, he was frozen, watching as you moved to look up at him, tears glistening in your eyes and on your cheeks.

"What is this?" you asked, "Was this some test?"

And before he could think he answered, "yes," not wanting to hide anything from you ever again.

"What - why? Was this to humiliate me?"

He was taken aback. "What? No, no, of course not."

"You showed him my letter?"

"No, I didn't, I swear I kept it, I have it," he said, pulling it out of his coat pocket. "I didn't let him read it."

"Why would you do this? Set me up to reject me like this? You could've been nice, I thought - I thought we were friends."

"We are!" he said, heart beating in his throat, threatening to jump out and land at his feet. He felt panicked, like he couldn't breathe properly. "There isn't anyone else, I care for you a lot..." he said, his hand tightening ever so slightly around your wrist, to show he cared, to keep you from running away, he didn't even know. "I just... I had to be sure it was actually me you wanted and not, someone who looks like me."

With that you huffed, yanking your arm out of his grip. He looked wounded, but not like you, not the way you hurt.

"Then why didn't you just ask me? All the time we spent together? All the excuses to come to my desk? Why did I need to prove myself to you? What did I ever do to deserve that?" Your tears continued, encouraged by the anger and humiliation. And Hikaru took all of it. He never defended himself, never blamed Kaoru or turned it on you. He just took it. "I'm not some client at the host club! I didn't want some fantasy version of you! I didn't want someone who could just replace you either. I just wanted the guy who started watching a show after I said I liked it so we could talk about it." You continued, not fazed by the blush blossoming across Hikaru's cheeks, even now, he was beautiful. "I have no issue with Kaoru," you said, "but you two are two separate people, and it seems like maybe you forgot that at some point."

Hikaru whispered your name, sadness etched into every letter. He wanted so badly to hug you, to tell you that he was that guy, the one who broke his pencil just so he could come talk to you. Or the one who called you on thursday after your show aired to talk about it. And especially the guy who just did anything he could that he thought would make you smile.

"Don't-" you said, holding your hand out, "please don't say my name like that I can't, I have to think."

"Think about what?" he asked, but he didn't know if he was brave enough to hear the answer.

"I don't know," you whispered, the anger faded as quickly as it came, and you were left feeling sad and humiliated. "I just need some space to think, please."

"I'm so sorry," he pleaded, desperate, "Will you call me?"

"When I'm ready, maybe."

And he sat in the snow after you left, in disbelief it had gone this wrong. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew they'd grown too old for these games. And yet, he'd done nothing to stop it. Whatever outcome this had, whatever fate he'd just sealed, he had no choice but to live with it. If it meant spending the next year trying to get back in your good graces, he would do it.

"Hikaru?" Kaoru asked, voice tender and calm, reassuring and warm. "Are you okay?"

"No," he answered, seat of his pants getting wet from the snow, but he didn't move. He wanted to cold to seep into his bones, that's where all the aching was, deep in his bones.

And Kaoru didn't say anything else, just dropped to his knees beside his brother and pulled him into a hug.

Kaoru felt totally responsible for his brother's despondence.

A week had gone by, and you hadn't called. Barely looked their way in class. When either of the twins walked by, you bowed your head, hiding your eyes from them. The way you refused to catch Hikaru's gaze... it was killing him, and it was all Kaoru's fault. He really, really thought he'd been helping. He thought he was protecting his brother, but maybe, deep down, he was just trying to protect himself, by keeping you at arm's length.

Kaoru had been a fool, and his brother was suffering because of it.

"Senpai," Haruhi asked, joining Hikaru on the couch, Tamaki sandwiching him on the other side. "What can we do?"

The whole host club had noticed that Hikaru just wasn't himself. He was constantly lost in his thoughts, drifting far away from the room he was in without ever leaving the couch. The guests were starting to catch on to the heartbreak. How there was no sincerity in his eyes when reciting their scripts.

Hikaru looked between his friends, and sighed. "There's nothing to do but wait, I guess. I hurt..." he trailed off, "I just have to wait for her."

Haruhi understood. You deserved the space you asked for, and she really couldn't fault you for that. They couldn't pull some scheme to bring you together, and she'd already had to stop Tamaki twice this week from various ideas, reminding him that you were hurt, and you needed space to be hurt.

"Have you tried talking to her?" Tamaki asked, wrapping his arm around his friend.

"She's asked me not to," he said, "She needs to think. What we did was cruel. She was vulnerable and we exploited that." Hikaru's shoulders slumped, and he fell limply into Tamaki's side, desperate for warmth, desperate for comfort.

Kaoru stood silently nearby, Hikaru's sad, crackly voice sending knives through his chest. He had to do something, he needed a sign of life from his brother, a sign that something was going to be okay. Hikaru had never blamed him outright, only himself, but the aura at the house... the amount of time Hikaru spent in bed, not speaking with his twin, it was a palpable tension.

And then, when he walked over to the big window, he got his chance. His eyes widened when he saw you, sitting in the cold by yourself, kicking some snow around with the toe of your boots, looking blankly at the frozen water.

Kaoru left the music room silently, trying his hardest not to alert the others. Mori watched him leave, but he said nothing.

You watched Kaoru approach. You weren't even sure how you knew who was who anymore. Just a glance and you knew that was not your Hikaru.

"Hey," he said, hands deep in his jacket pockets to avoid the cold. He gestured to the snowy seat beside you with his elbow. "May I sit?"

"Not if you're going to try and ask me out again," you mumbled. He nodded, brushing the snow off the bench the best he could and sat down.

"Scouts honour," he said, not taking offense to your comment. "I know you asked Hikaru for space, but he misses you."

You looked away, tucking your chin into the shoulder facing away from Kaoru. In your silence, Kaoru continued, "He's so upset with himself. We just... we don't get a lot of people who see passed our... ugh, this is hard. Sorry, I should've thought about what to say."

You turned to him, nodding him on.

"We're used to- shit, okay, I'm used to building walls. I thought I was looking out for Hikaru but really, I think I wanted you to fail. I didn't want him to go and fall in love and find someone who cares about him as much as me but... I was wrong. I was selfish, and childish. I wasn't ready to let go."

You took a deep breath, but Kaoru carried on before you could say anything. "I have feelings for someone, but I can't have her, she's taken. And then you come along and give Hikaru that note and he was so excited... and I was jealous."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me, I get it, I was being a jackass pushing Hikaru into that test, okay? We did it as kids and he didn't want to, really. I'm not just saying that so you'll forget about it. It was my fault. And you and I can figure that out later. And... and I'm not even asking you to forgive him, okay? I am only asking you to talk to him." Kaoru sounded so genuine, and he wasn't being pushy, or mean. He was only trying to help his brother, you knew that. "He cares about you so much, I think you're all he thinks about. I think you're exactly what he's always wanted, you're - you're a really good match for him. I think you make him happy. And I was so wrong to make you feel humiliated, and I'm so, so sorry. So just please, think about it, okay? Will you think about it?"

"I'll talk to him," you said, "I don't want him to be hurting."

"I know you don't," he said, "I was wrong to doubt that."

You smiled at him, and it didn't quite reach your eyes, but it was a start. Kaoru smiled sheepishly back, reaching a hand up to the back of his neck. "I should probably get back to Tamaki and Hikaru, Tam said a costume is what Hikaru needed to feel better so... so I should probably go check on that."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow, okay? I need to gather my thoughts."

Kaoru was quiet for a moment before he whispered, "thank you," leaving you to your thoughts, relieved that even if you didn't forgive him, you might forgive Hikaru.

"Hikaru-kun?"

He was startled by your voice, and he turned quickly to see you, his mouth agape. It felt like years since he'd heard his name fall from your lips, way too long, even if you were being too formal for his liking... you were talking to him, and he wouldn't complain.

He whispered your name, so soft and sweet. His eyes held the same look for you they always did, tender, happy to have you anywhere near him. "It's nice to hear your voice," he said, earnestly.

"Mm," you hummed, not really knowing how to answer.

Hikaru wanted to break the distance between you. He wanted to run to you, spin you around and tell you how beautiful you are, but he stayed where he was, beside the window in the empty music room. He had been watching the rest of the club from the window, watching as they played one of Haruhi's childhood games. Watched as Kaoru stood off to the side, watching as Tamaki and Haruhi gravitated to each other.

"I've missed you," you said, head hung, unable to see him while you spoke, fear that you'd lose your nerve if you saw how sad he looked.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking as he tried to speak. He cleared his throat, trying to cover the tells of his sadness.

"I know," you said, looking up at him. He looked tired, and sad. He didn't have the same spark he usually did. "I know you were just trying to protect yourself."

"But that's the thing... I," he paused, waiting to see if you wanted to say something first. He didn't want to take your moment, when you said nothing he continued, "I don't think I have to protect myself from you. I fell into old patterns, and it was so easy to try and push you away but... I don't want to. I think I'd rather be hurt later than shut you out now, and it's terrifying."

"You have to promise to just talk to me," you said. And his eyes widened with excitement and fear. Did this mean what he thought it did? That you would welcome him to try again? He moved closer to you, holding his arms at his sides, resisting the urge to reach out for you. When he was right in front of you, you spoke again, "if you get scared you have to talk to me, and I'll do the same. It's the only way it will work."

"I'll tell you everything," he vowed, "I'll give you the world if you'd let me."

"I don't want the world, Hikaru. I just want you," you said, you reached out to him, holding a hand out to caress his face, gently stroking his cool cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into it, placing his larger hand over yours, savouring the softness of your touch on him.

His throat felt tight, he choked up. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, eyes closing as you calmed him, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"I forgive you," you said, "I understand why you had to protect yourself. And I understand why Kaoru didn't trust me. It's okay. I forgive you both."

He opened his eyes to look at you, really look at you. Your eyes watered, emotional at the reunion. You'd missed each other so much, being so close to one another yet so far.

"I hated not being able to talk to you," he said, "you were three desk away but I'd pushed you so far."

"Hika..."

"Wait, please let me say this," he said, taking your hand off his cheek, and holding it delicately in both his hands. "When I got your letter, I felt something I'd never felt before, in my whole life. I felt like... I had something that was just for me. That was my beautiful thing in the world and I didn't have to share. And I got so insecure, but I'm learning. I know I can be the man you deserve, I know it. And I can't promise to never make any mistakes, I promise to always care for you, and I vow to protect you from hurt and..."

"Hikaru," you laughed, and he smiled, goofy grin finally reaching his eyes in a way it hasn't since that day in the courtyard. "While I appreciate the sentiments, I don't think what you did was that awful. I was sensitive and I reacted hypocritically, and... and I promise to always care for you too. And always talk to you when I'm feeling upset, or hurt, or insecure. I wouldn't ask anything of you that I wouldn't return."

"I promise-" but you cut him off in the sweetest way. You leaned up, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, and his eyes widened in shock for only a moment before he close his eyes, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

"No more talking," you mumbled between kisses.

And he just hummed in response, melting into you. Letting you in, letting you have all of him. No walls, no games. Just shared affection and tender kisses.

Your hands placed on his chest, you pulled away, but kept your face close to his. He looked down at you, a small happy smile playing on his lips.

"Tell me how you know it's me," he said, hands stretching out over your back.

"I don't even know really, I just look at you and I know who you are. I can't explain it."

"I think you said something about the way I say your name..."

"Well yeah, that helps. You say it like it tastes good."

He smiles, a grin so happy and wide it makes his eyes close. "It does."

"And you just, you're you Hikaru, I know who you are."

And he kisses you again, with more passion. More joy, more affection, more everything. His lips move over yours like that's where they were made to be. Your hands move higher, and you tangle them in his hair while pushing your chest into his. Bodies built for each other, affection made to give to him, and him alone.

When you pull away this time, you're out of breath. And both of you have a rosy hue to your cheeks. He's just so happy to be here with you.

"Are you free tonight? I'd like to take you on a date."

"I'd love that," you said, kissing him quickly on the nose, then detangling yourself from his hold, finding your way to thread your fingers into his, holding his hand as he guides you out of the music room, holding the door open for you and gently guiding you under his arm to walk through first, never letting go of your hand in the process. He'll hold it as long as you let him. "Shouldn't you check with Kaoru first? Did you guys have plans?"

"He'll be okay," Hikaru said, not bothered by the few stragglers that saw you guys holding hands, walking through the hall like it was normal - which from now on, it would be. "We'll be okay, he thinks it's good for us, actually, to get out there more with other people. And he's gunna have to get used to me sharing my time with you anyway."

You hum, "Maybe we should make some time for all three of us to hangout soon."

"We will," he said, "but for now I just want you all to myself. Besides... we have all the time in the world."

[notmyprey]

Pt 2 of this

I sit there crying for a while. I can feel Clair shaking inside my stomach. She's probably crying, too, but I can't hear her over my own sobs.

Soon, my tears devolve into sniffles, and I hear her muffled sniffling as well. I instinctively rub my hand against the sheets on my bed, trying to find a way to calm myself down.

Soon, my heart settles, and I take a moment to try to understand what is happening. Clair is, somehow, inside my stomach, that I know for certain. I also know that she is smaller than me, decently smaller, but even then, she isn't small enough for me to swallow. It, by all means, does not make sense.

As I think about the situation at hand, another thought crosses my mind. Is this a dream? It can't be. Everything feels too real. But, even knowing that, I still find myself using a technique I read that helps differentiate dreams from reality.

I look at a poster, read the words, look away, and then look back to see if they change. Of course, they didn't change.

I sigh, I just can't wrap my head around anything right now. My brain feels foggy, probably from all the crying I was doing.

I hear and feel a small gurgle come from my stomach, forcing me to look down.

It is so strange. Little parts of my stomach jut out in weird ways, each bump seeming to move constantly. But the weirdest part is that Clair is right there. Right under my skin. If I just reach out with my hand, I will be able to feel her, not only inside me but also with my hand.

Without thinking, and without the panic and guilt I was feeling earlier, I put my hand on top of where Clairs head was under my skin.

My touch makes her squirm a bit, almost as if she is trying to move away from me. It is a sensation that I never thought I would feel. What was sickening only moments ago now feels like butterflies, not unlike the feeling you feel when near someone you care for, and with each touch, one flutters.

She shifts again, and I cant help but smile. I now find that I am starting to feel better, almost happy, about the situation at hand. Yes, it feels strange still. But it's starting to be in less of a bad way. I am perfectly full, making me tired. The only person that I truly care for is here, right under my skin. Maybe I can let myself be happy about this. It's peaceful, and I couldn't be more grateful to have Clair so close.

That is until I hear her start to cry again, and I quickly discard any ounce of joy I have been getting from this. My heart breaks all over again, this time, though, from the fact I had decided to disregard her feelings so quickly. How could I be so mean? She obviously isn't enjoying this, and I shouldn't either.

I remove my hand, "I'm sorry." I wisper, a new guilt festering.

"Can you try again, p-please?" Clair said through tears.

I don't waste any time and quickly begin heaving, trying to force her into my throat. Again, nothing happens except for Clair being smashed even more than she is already.

I can't think of what to say. She doesn't want to be here. I can't just tell her that I can't get her out, I can't disappoint her like that. But I also can't just lie, get her hopes up, and break her all over again.

"Clair?" I bring my hand up, wanting to hold her even closer, but decide against it, and place my hand back down.

I hear another sniffle and a quick shove, followed by Clair moving around. Quickly though, she stops and asks in a defeated tone, "You can't get me out still, can you?"

"Im sorry. I-I promise I didn't mean to do this. I dont even know how you ended up..." I pause, staring down at my stomach, "in here..." I trail off, ashamed.

Clair stiffens, her only movement being her breathing. "You dont remember what you did? You dont remember going bat shit and scarfing me down?" She spat, her voice low and icy.

"No, I-I dont..."

"The fuck you dont." I feel a sharp pain, any it quickly registers that Clair had kicked me. "I dont- I dont understand why. I just- I'm supposed to be your friend, and I thought... I thought..." Slowly, her anger turns into sadness once more.

"Clair," I say, my voice breaking, "please. You have to believe me. I don't remember-"

I feel another sharp kick, this one aimed at my lungs, knocking the wind out of me. "I dont need to believe you." She asserts, hurt seeping into her voice.

"Clair, I can't get you out. Please, I promise I tried. I don't want you to be here. I didn't want this..." My tears drip down on top of my stomach with a gentle splatt, then drip downward.

"I just want out. I hate it... Please... Please.."

[fezwearingjellybananas]

trick or treat? 🧡🍭🧡

Would you like some post Knit Two, Purl Two headcanons?

Barry and Cisco talk to Joe and Henry together, and it goes much better than Joe finding out about Iris dating Eddie

Iris was mostly joking- the Iris/Linda/Patty group chat is only a little bit for Barry gossip, and she does wait for Barry to say it's okay before telling them both all about Barry's great knitting ideas.

Caitlin gets an invite to join too after that, and Kendra when she gets back from doing Legends stuff

Escape From Earth-2 is mostly the same, except Cisco kisses Barry when he phases out the cell. And Zoom didn't catch them, and I did like your post the other day about Barry being in danger triggering some of Cisco's powers, and one of them is temporarily cutting a speedster off from the Speed Force...

Which, speaking of, Cisco can use so Henry doesn't die and there's no Flashpoint. The Dominators do still show up and blame Barry's time travel, but they mean the time with Savage and the time with Hartley and maybe the tidal wave time, so extra guilt for Oliver because he's the one who told Barry to change time after Barry warned him it would have consequences

Barry does teach Cisco how to knit, and Morse Code, and Cisco takes to knitting like a duck to water. The first thing he makes it a scarf for Barry and he very quickly picks up enough to start designing his own patterns

The first of which is, naturally, a cowl for Barry, with some Morse Code on it

These two end up constantly trading knitted items with Morse Code on them, often socks (Barry gets through a lot of socks), either cute little "you're my hero" and "I love you" sentiments or Star Trek quotes.

They probably end up on Ravelry publishing some of their patterns- they test knit each other's pieces, and now Cisco's talking about learning to crochet and Barry wants to learn how to spin, when they move in together their place is going to be covered in yarn

Barry takes a while to make Cisco a jumper- not that he believes in the Boyfriend Sweater Curse, but he'd hate to risk it just in case- but he does eventually knit a big warm one, he spins his own black yarn with a few flecks of silver and gold, and he makes a colourwork pattern so the front has a picture of the Enterprise and the back has the "to boldly go" quote

Cisco puts it on so quickly there's a brief moment Barry thinks he's developed super speed too and before he can even say anything else, Cisco's on one knee asking Barry to marry him

Barry's love confession cowl will always be his favourite though. He meant what he said about them taking it off his corpse, he's getting buried in that thing. He can wear it to the wedding too, right?

Barry just laughs and kisses him

Thank you!

[Fic Writer Trick or Treat]

[portwellbabes]

A Caswell Apology

EJ got up off his very comfortable position on the couch and dragged his feet over to open the front door. Lately, he found it hard to find the motivation to do anything but sulk on his bed or couch.

He went over to open the front door, at first blinded slightly by the sunlight but then surprised to see his cousin at the door. She was shivering and bundled up in a coat, scarf, and gloves. He hadn’t really realized when summer had slowly transitioned into Utah’s typical cold fall weather. Huh, had it been that long since EJ stepped outside his house?

“Oh Ash! Hey, come in.”

Ashlyn smiled at him graciously before stepping into the house, taking off her shoes and many layers.

“Um, it’s a surprise to see you here” EJ mumbled awkwardly, “My parents aren’t really home”

Ashlyn’s heart broke at the fact that EJ assumed she was at his place for his parents and not for him. She really needed to fix things with her cousin.

“No actually, I’m here for you”

EJ tilted his head slightly in confusion. Ashlyn sighed, trying to form a proper apology. But she couldn’t at the moment so she just threw her arms around her cousin, pulling him in for a tight hug. A hug that she should’ve given him months ago, at the beginning of the summer. EJ blinked before reciprocating as he tried to make sense of why his cousin was so troubled.

“Ashlyn, hey. What’s wrong?”

“EJ I’m… I’m so sorry!” she blurted out as her eyes glossed over with tears.

“Sorry? Whatever are you sorry for Ash?”

Ashlyn had broken out into intermittent sobs so EJ pulled her to the couch with one hand behind her back as he massaged her to try and calm her down.

“I’m such a horrible… cousin!” she said in between sobs, “I completely neglected you this whole summer when you needed me the most! I cant believe I didn’t realize- And after everything you do for me!”

EJ looked at her sadly. While he didn’t want to admit it, he had been lacking in his favorite confidant and counselor or a cousin this whole summer. Although he had Val by his side to keep him sane, Ashlyn knew a lot about the relationship he and his father had which he hadn’t told anyone. But if EJ ever felt neglected, he definitely did not show it.

“Hey, hey, look at me. You are not a horrible cousin Ashlyn. You had your own things going own this summer, with Maddox and Val and stuff” EJ spoke softly, squeezing her hand.

Ashlyn chuckled, “Why are you like this Eej?”

EJ tilts his head away from her, confused at her comment.

“Why are you so nice?” she blurts out exasperately. “You make excuses for people’s actions towards you even if they don’t deserve it. You put everyone’s needs above everyone else. You forgive too easily. Eej this why your dad takes control of your life! This is why you and Gina-“

EJ raises his eyebrows, letting go of Ashlyn’s hand. She immediately stops herself, looking at him concerned. A wave of guilt washes over her as she scrambles to stop EJ from punishing himself for the downfall of his relationship.

“I didn’t mean that… you were not- are not why Gina broke up with you.. it was“ she looks at EJ’s eyes avoiding hers and takes his hand in hers, “either way, she didn’t deserve you Eej.”

EJ looks up at her with shock in his eyes

“Ash, she’s your best friend”
“And you’re my cousin”

He looks at her dumbfounded as Ashlyn continues.

“I know she’s my best friend and my roommate but that doesn’t mean she can’t make mistakes. And the way she treated your relationship wasn’t right. I mean I can’t even imagine what it would feel like if Big Red strung me along in a relationship while he had feelings for someone else. I should’ve realized that. I shouldn’t have…” she looks up at him sadly, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you that day during rehearsals. And in front of everyone, too.”

“I forgive you”

Ashlyn looks up at him, “Really?”

“I do”

“Thank you, Eej”

Ashlyn wraps EJ in a hug, as he hugs her back with a soft smile on his face.

“Now what do you say we go out for some thai food? I could use a trip to the other side of this door” he joked.

Ashlyn chuckled, “Yeah you kinda lost touch of society in these last couple months. Plus it would be nice to spend some time with my favorite cousin”

“Let me take a quick shower and I’m all yours, Ash”

Ashlyn smiled at him as he got up off the couch. As he was walking back upstairs he stopped at the foot of the stairs with a slight smirk on his face. Without turning to look at her he said, “maybe then you can fill me in on your little ‘discovery’ with my good friend Val?”

“Eej!!” she exclaimed, blushing furiously as he laughed running upstairs. Ashlyn shook her head with a smile on her face, proud to see her cousin’s obnoxious yet charming self back. And she knew then that no matter what, they would be okay.

A little redemption for Ashlyn after she very publicly outed her cousin in ep 3.05 🫢

[brwnsugcr]

brwnsugcr  is  whipping  up  your  order  !

shi I wrote ( potential series ? )

movie date night. eremika. originally published: jan 16, 2016

The ending credits roll, but it escapes his notice. He's too busy staring at her.

They brought out the strawberries and chocolate and are sharing a bowl, using the chocolate syrup like cheese dip. Eren coats his strawberries completely in chocolate, while Mikasa takes dainty bites and dips, which to him is no fun at all. But he finds himself paying attention to every little thing she does. The way her cheeks puff out slightly, the way her pink lips shape around the fruit, the way she gives this little moan of delight that's so innocent and pure and -

"You're making a mess." A breathless laugh ends him. Actually ends him.

"But that's the point," he whines, smirk curving his lips.

"Now I have to wash my sheets when you leave."

Leaving. He doesn't like the sound of leaving. Not yet. He doesn't want this night to end. "You make it sound like a big deal."

"It is when I won't have anything to keep me warm."

Warm.

"It's warm, right?"

"You'll be warm," he says, using his hands for leverage to push himself out of her bed.

"Where are you going?"

Turquoise hues scan the room until they spot the object of desire, neatly folded atop her dresser. He goes to the other side of the bed, where she sits, and extends a hand.

She takes it. No hesitation.

Eren pulls her up effortlessly, and they're both walking across her bedroom, fingers subconsciously weaving together. His heart is racing, but it feels good. The adrenaline. The anticipation. The soft feel of her skin, like silk. He stops walking first, angling himself in front of her while still holding her hand.

"Why didn't you wear your scarf?"

"Because...I don't know. I thought it would've clashed or something." Her voice is soft, guilt-ridden when she answers him. She's not looking at him anymore, gaze downcast, wishing she had put the scarf on so she could duck her face and hide in the beloved cloth she always wore.

Eren lets go and she chews down on her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood but the stream of scarlet never comes. She can't look at him. She - she can't.

But then her world is...red? The sudden change is enough to startle her out of her embarrassment, and she sees his eyes before her vision is blocked by red, red, and more red.

"There," he utters, fingers hovering over her cheeks, down to her shoulders. He never did get the hang of getting it right, but that only made this moment more special. He wrapped this same scarf around her the day they met. "That's better."

Mikasa's eyes gleam, an ever so subtle sign that tears are close to follow.

"It's warm, right?" he echoes himself from almost ten years ago.

He can tell she is smiling, even when the bottom half of her face is hidden from view.

"Yes," she breathes, voice muffled, and she pulls the scarf down. He sees teeth. Pearly white, shining teeth beaming up at him. "It's warm."

It's getting late, he knows. He should probably head home, as much as he'd rather stay all night with her. But her parents will be home soon and he's not allowed to be at her house after a certain time of the night. He doesn't want to overstep his boundaries, and he definitely doesn't want to be on bad terms with her father. Mr. Ackerman was always nice and patient, but Eren respects him.

"I should probably...get home." He begins to make his leave, taking a few steps back. Each step he takes away from her only makes the urge to stay stronger, and Mikasa pointedly following him because they both know that she doesn't want him to go either isn't exactly helping his struggle. "Wouldn't want to give your dad a heart attack."

"You've been in my room several times before," Mikasa protests, reaching for his hand again, and it's so natural how they just come together and walk down the steps, Eren leading the way with Mikasa right behind him, fingertips curved around to clutch the inner part of the other's hand.

"I know. I just don't wanna give another person a reason to be upset with me. I've already done enough this week," he grumbles. The cool, crisp night air hits his face first and he inhales deeply. There's something about the atmosphere after the sun goes down that he loves.

"Eren."

He's yanked lightly but he turns as if she had used all her strength, making a swift one-eighty spin to meet that steel gaze of hers. Their faces are closer this time.

"Yeah?"

[cicidarkarts]

Blood Defied - 13: Anne

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Credence heaved the reins around Ellis’ haunches. Ellis stuck her head high into the air and tapped her front hooves. 

“Been feeling a little cooped up, huh, girl?” asked Credence.

She patted the thestral on the neck then turned to rein Knight, too. Knight nibbled on her winter coat as she ensured everything was taut but comfortable. Jane galloped up to her parents and nuzzled against Ellis. 

“Don't worry,” said Credence when Jane gave her a mournful look. “They'll be back. Besides, you have Uncle Umbra to keep you company. You'll be fine.”

Ashes trotted close behind and nudged Jane's flank to play. Jane gazed at Credence for a moment longer before shaking off and hopping away. Ashes followed, bucking and huffing in excitement. Credence led Knight and Ellis toward the carriage waiting for them by the North gate. As they went, Credence tried to keep any negative thoughts about Ominis and Anne out of her mind. She thought for sure she'd blab and say something humiliating and stupid on the ride there. That's why she brought her enchanted satchel: to ensure she'd have a book to occupy her mind if she needed it.

Sebastian and Ominis waited by the carriage, chatting with the older driver. When Sebastian saw her, he grinned and waved so vigorously that he almost knocked off his patchwork scarf. She and the driver hooked the thestrals up to the cart.

“You did great with that new foal,” said the driver, smiling behind his bushy grey mustache. “She's healthy as any other now.” Credence smiled. “Thanks, it was my pleasure. And Ellis helped, being as patient as she was.” Ellis snorted and lifted her head toward the sky.

Once the thestrals were in place, Sebastian boarded the carriage first. Then Ominis held Credence's waist and helped her on. She took his hand and led him up and onto one of the hay seats. 

“Feldcroft you said?” asked the driver. “Yes!” said Sebastian, bouncing in his seat and beaming like he'd struck oil.

Then they were off through the North gates. Ominis pulled the collar of his dark winter coat a bit higher. It wasn't too cold, but the chill was worse by the speed of the carriage. Still, they all needed a pair of gloves to stay warm, especially given Sebastian gesticulated as he spoke.

“I didn't even tell her you guys are coming,” he said. “She'll be so happy!” “It'll be wonderful to see her again,” said Ominis.

Credence cuddled closer to him. His body blocked the frozen winter wind and his regal black coat had the most pleasing soft tweed texture. She and Sebastian were ever the function over form types, with patchwork jackets. Sebastian's forest green coat looked well-loved from the years, with a few unidentifiable stains dotting the front and a poorly sewn tear running down the side that Sebastian had to constantly stop himself from playing with. Hers had a few rips as well, being a hand me down from Kameron that she refused to sew back up.

While the boys talked about times they had playing and chatting with Anne, and about a place Ominis called The Undercroft, Credence reached into her satchel. She retrieved Dracula by Bram Stoker, a new Gothic horror she'd been wanting to read anyway. It was better than having to see Ominis’ face light up from talk of Anne.

She buried her face in the text and loudly enunciated each word in her head. It took her a few minutes to get through just the first two pages, and she had no idea what she just read. All she remembered was the force of trying to retain the words and her guilt over ignoring Anne-related stories from the boys. She started over, repositioning herself against Ominis to remind herself that, yes, he still had his arm wrapped about her waist.

“Cree!” called Sebastian. “Look!”

She looked up and he was pointing at the sky. At the same time, shadows grazed the carriage. A herd of hippogriffs flew overhead. Her mouth fell open, chest swelling with glee. They were heading into the forest. She put her book down absently to scramble to her feet and watch. Her hands rested upon Ominis’ shoulders as she used him to stay upright. The gorgeous feathers of the hippogriffs glinted in the sunlight. The charcoal grey one gave a cry and a massive flap of his wings.

“He's beautiful,” said Credence. Knight snorted.

One of the feathers floated down. Sebastian aimed his wand. 

“Accio!” The moment the feather was in his hand, he held it out to Credence. “Here, Cree.” “Thank you, Sebastian!”

She took the feather and admired it. She could've kissed him. The feather was long and rigid with dark grey plumage; bits of black and white flecked the barbs and it ended in a shimmery black. It gleamed in the sun.

“This is so gorgeous,” she said. “It's one of the hippogriff's flight feathers! A remex—from his wing. These are exceedingly rare to get a hold of. They don't molt very often. The lower barbs on this feather are so soft and downy, but pretty sparse since this is from his summer plumage. Judging by the damage to the shaft and the vane here, and some missing bits of feather at the top, I’d think he’s the lead stallion, or another strong member of the herd.” “Okay, Ms. Encyclopedia,” said Sebastian.  “I can’t help it, it’s so pretty. I think it could make a really nice quill.” “Quill?” asked Ominis. “Don’t you always use a fountain pen?” “Well sure, but I’d make an exception for this.”

Her grin waned a bit when she saw Ominis’ face stiffen. He didn't seem interested in the feather so she stashed it away and dropped the subject for now. When she cuddled up beside him again, his tense body loosened and he put his arm around her.

Despite that small setback, Credence felt a bit lighter. She engaged in conversation with them and wound up putting Dracula away for now. She laughed when Sebastian reminisced about one of Anne's hijinks. And even though Ominis also laughed, Credence’s spirits were higher than her jealousy.

They soon came upon Feldcroft; a quaint little hamlet, simple in its beauty. Leafless trees abound, encircling the short cobble fences and single-story homes, many of which had gardens out back. The small homes looked rather cozy with their thatched roofs and cottage windows. Some of the houses had plumes of smoke puffing out of their chimneys. 

After the valleys and plains, the hamlet warmed her chilly bones. The people who lived there went about their days. A witch in her back garden swiped her wand through the air, cutting stems of her final harvest of the year and floating the food into her basket. The carriage stopped at the stables where a couple of highland cows snacked on clumps of hay while being milked.

“It's beautiful here,” said Credence. “Very,” said Sebastian as he leapt out of the carriage. “And peaceful,” said Ominis.

When he got out of the carriage, he turned toward her and held out his hand. She took it and hopped out.

“C'mon,” urged Sebastian. “Let's hurry!” “Let me help stable the thestrals first,” said Credence. Sebastian groaned, hands dramatically running down his face as if the thought of waiting had him in great turmoil. “Don't worry, Credence,” said the driver. “I've got them.” “You sure?” she asked.  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat and smiling.

She tugged Ominis over to the thestrals and gave Knight and Ellis a pat.

“You guys did great,” she said. “Try to get some rest.” Ellis blew through her nose and Knight just barely missed a goodbye nip.

With a wave to the thestrals, Credence and Ominis followed Sebastian toward his house. It was in the midst of the town, hidden behind a couple of thick evergreens that grew near the town square. A large man had his back to the walkway, crouched and working on the wilting garden. Sebastian paid him no mind as he jogged into the house.

Inside, sitting at the round dining room table, was a woman with her hair in a messy braided bun. She faced away from them, taking deep breaths of some sort of small pouch. Sebastian silently put his finger to his lips at Credence before tip-toeing up behind them. Credence assumed by the twinkle in Sebastian's eyes that this was his sister.

He stayed low behind her and tapped on one of her shoulders. He ducked out of sight before she looked then poked his head above her other shoulder. She smiled when he tapped her again. Just as she turned to look, Sebastian went to her opposite shoulder and was caught in her fake-out. They laughed and Anne shot up to throw her arms around Sebastian's shoulders.

“Seb, you're back!” said Anne. He held her tight. “And I've got great news, too.”

He pulled away and motioned at the door where she and Ominis stood. Anne's freckled face beamed when she saw Ominis. 

“Ominis! I can't believe you're here!” She slammed into him so hard that he grunted like he'd been punched in the gut.  He hugged her. “Glad to be here.” Anne turned her ecstatic sights onto Credence. “And you must be that American I've heard about!” “Yeah, I'm Cre—”

She also grunted hard when Anne smashed their bodies together like sparring graphorns. Anne pulled back and looked her over with sparkling chestnut eyes.

“Oh my God, you're gorgeous! Ominis, you lucky dog!”

Credence tittered, avoiding Anne's gaze and fiddling with her scarf. Her face felt so hot. Before anything else could be exchanged, heavy plodding feet came up the walkway. Ominis, being the one mostly in the door, moved out of the way as the large man from outside entered the house. He was somehow even taller than Sebastian who was already nearly half a head taller than Ominis.

“Ominis,” said the man in a curt greeting. “Afternoon, sir.” “Good to see you again, Sebastian,” said the man.  “Hey, Uncle Solomon.”

Credence shifted and resettled her body. The whole aura of the house tensed up and her muscles went with it. 

“Uncle Solomon!” said Anne. “This is that American Sebastian wrote about!”

Solomon looked Credence over. His harsh brown eyes were softer now. Whether it was a lack of history or her being a woman or something else entirely, she didn't know. But a small smile creased Solomon's rugged skin, wrinkling even behind his black mane of a beard and brow. He held a large hand out to Credence.

“It's good to meet you. I'm Solomon Sallow. My nephew has told us about you.” She took his hand and firmly shook it. “Credence Painter. All good things, I hope.”  “Mostly,” he replied with a deep chuckle. “I hear you've got a witty mouth.” “She's a Ravenclaw,” said Anne, grinning like that made Credence a celebrity. “I'd expect nothing less!” “Anne's always wanted to be a Ravenclaw,” clarified Ominis. “She’s obsessed.” “Oh, stop! I just think they're cool. And so smart!” “Not me,” said Credence. “I'm the dumbest Ravenclaw.”

If Ominis found that funny (which he did, given his ill-suppressed laugh), then Anne thought she was the funniest person alive. Anne cackled so hard that Credence was shocked she didn't pop a blood vessel. Sebastian’s laugh rose with every second Anne carried on.

But that all halted when Anne coughed. Then she hacked and sputtered. She grasped at her stomach and hunched over. Sebastian put his arm around her and led her to a chair as she rode out her coughing fit. Ominis went to her side and rubbed her back as Sebastian ensured she didn't fall over. Solomon retrieved that opened pouch off the kitchen table and wafted the contents under Anne's nose. All the while, Credence stood there, staring and fidgeting. She wasn't sure if she should try to help or just let the others handle it.

“I'm sorry, Anne,” she said. Anne waved at her and tried to smile under her easing coughs. Once she caught her breath, she said, “Don't worry,” in a haggard voice. She sniffled a bit and wiped her messy dark hair off her face.

“All right,” she said, nudging the guys away. “You're crowding me.” Solomon tied the pouch up. “Are you all right?” “I'm fine, Uncle Solomon. Really.”

The room calmed, though the air hung heavy on Credence's chest. She shuffled a little closer to Ominis for comfort as everyone came down from the anxiety and worry. Anne was the first to smile it away. 

“Well, let's not sit around feeling sorry for me! You guys came all the way from Hogwarts to have fun!” Sebastian smiled, small and uneasy. “That's right. Anything you wanna do, Anne.” Anne cupped her chin, letting out a dramatic, “Hmmm.” Then she snapped her fingers in a faux eureka moment. “I know! Let's head out for some fresh air.” Solomon furrowed his brow, ruffling the hair like a dog's hackles. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” “Please?” asked Anne, hands pleadingly together. “Just around the neighborhood for a little while. I think it'll do me some good.”

Solomon eyed Sebastian, which was a little more subtle given he stood next to Anne. But his gaze very obviously turned to Ominis. It seemed Ominis realized eyes were upon him as his hand met Credence's lower back, wand pressing into her skin as he stroked her. With a sigh, Solomon capitulated.

“All right. But don't wander off. Stay in the village.” “Thank you, Uncle Solomon!”

After giving Solomon a hug, Anne snagged her coat off the rack by the door. She led everyone outside into the brisk air. She took a deep breath (well, deep in comparison to some of her other breaths) then shuddered and pulled her coat shut.

“Nippy out here,” she said. “Christmas is around the corner,” said Sebastian as they walked along the path through town. “You'll have to tell me what you want!” Anne whirled around toward Credence. “There's that cute guy in Ravenclaw. Duncan. Maybe Credence could get me a date with him!” Sebastian scoffed dramatically. “That git?” “He's an utter coward,” agreed Ominis. “Afraid of puffskeins, isn't he?” “But he's a weirdo,” said Sebastian. “And Anne loves weirdos.” Anne nudged him, giggling. “Shut up!” “Well,” started Credence, looking more at the ground, “I'm not so good at talking to people so I probably couldn't get you that date.” “Damn.” Anne frowned and slumped, a dramatic gesture that reminded Credence so much of Sebastian. “Cree is a Ravenclaw, Anne,” reminded Sebastian. “That means she's good with books, not people.” “I can't even be mad,” said Credence. “I was just reading on the way here.” Anne perked up. “What were you reading?” “A book that just came out this year. Dracula. My mom got it for me—” “Wait, a muggle book?” Anne's lips pulled into a huge grin.  “Yeah, it's a muggle book.” “She has loads of them,” said Ominis.  Anne bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “Really!?” “I've got Sherlock Holmes, The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, Frankenstein, Moby—” Anne moved closer to her, eyes shimmering. “That's so cool! What are they like?” “Um… Well, they're a lot of Gothic horror and mystery. Maybe I can let you borrow one sometime and you can see—” Anne gasped with glee. “You'd really do that for me!? Thank you, Credence!”

As they continued walking and Credence went to wave at the thestrals, she realized they were heading quite a ways off from the center of town. Ominis picked up on this, too. 

“Just around the neighborhood, huh?” he said. Anne smirked at him. “I never specified what that meant.”

Sebastian's smirk grew as well. Side by side, the twins looked near identical.

“You sure that's a good idea?” asked Ominis.  “Oh, come off it, Dad,” scoffed Anne, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. “Haven't goblins been taking up residence in that old fort nearby? I'm sure there will be—” “I've been wanting to go down to the beach for ages,” complained Anne. “Now's my only chance.” “Hell yes, let's go!” said Sebastian.

Credence shook her head as the twins hurried off down the path leading away from the village. They giggled together like mischievous school children. Ominis held her hand tighter.

“They're both idiots,” he said as they followed after them. “I can't really blame her. I mean, being cooped up all the time doesn't seem her style.” “No, it isn't. And I wouldn't mind letting her loose. I'm not afraid of goblins; I'm sure we could handle them. But Solomon already doesn't like me much. Imagine what he'll think when he realizes Anne wandered off only after I stopped by for a visit. And if things go south…” “Why doesn't he like you?” “He's an ex-Auror. He's dealt with many a dark wizard over the years, including some Gaunts. Aurors are pretty black-and-white. They see a pattern and think every one of us is like that. Doesn't matter what we tell him or what I do. I'll always be a potential criminal to him.” She put her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Ominis. Maybe we'll get out of this unscathed.” “With those two at the helm? I doubt it.”

They caught up to the twins who waited for them at the fork in the road. The hilly landscape dipped down between two cliffs, where the yellowed grassy pathway disappeared under piles of slippery leaves. They traveled down the valley. Anne took a running start and slid along the leaves, shouting in joy as she did. Sebastian followed suit, sliding just a bit less than Anne. Ominis rolled his eyes as they encouraged him and Credence to try. 

Credence bit her lip. She eyed up the leaf piles, trying to decide which looked the slickest and fullest. One pile had mushy bits of blackened leaves all throughout it. A rock sat before it—not too tall and at just the perfect angle. She took a breath and ran toward it. One foot bounded off the rock for extra height and she hit the leaf pile at the wettest spot. Underneath it must've been a layer of ice as it sent her flying down the pathway. 

“Woo!” shouted Anne. “Go, Credence!”

Credence stopped not long after and turned to the others. They were a couple of yards away. Anne backed up and tried her technique. She jumped a little too far, though, and hit the less slippery half of the pile. Still, she beamed and laughed as she rode it out. 

“You girls are crazy,” said Sebastian. “Thank you,” said Anne with a sarcastic curtsy.

Within a few more steps, the group came upon a sandy beach. Parts of the shore were lined with short grey rocks where the waves deposited seaweed and shells between them. Anne was the first to climb upon the rocks and look in between them. Credence was going to rejoin Ominis for a walk along the beach, but he went with Anne to find whatever they could in the crevices.

Credence looked away, instead focusing on the long beach that stretched down the horizon. Some spaces opened to the ocean, inviting her to sit near the calm ebb and flow of the tide. 

“Look!” called Anne. “A cute little hermit crab!” “Don't let Cree see it,” said Sebastian. “She'll be able to tell you its entire life story.” He adopted a higher pitched voice. “Oh dear, there's a small crack in his shell. This is a Crackus Crab, and I'd surmise he's head crab of his little crab kingdom.” Anne cackled. “Haha,” said Credence, “I'll have you know Crackus Crab isn't even a species of hermit crab.”

Anne laughed harder, leaving Ominis to hold the poor hermit crab so she didn't accidentally crush it.

Credence smiled uneasily as she strolled down the beach. She knelt out of reach of the tide, the sand beneath her dry and soft, and watched the waves. The brine in the air encouraged her to breathe deeply. Despite the sunny sky, things looked dark to her. Grey. Eerie. She couldn't put her finger on why, though. Was it just Anne and Ominis laughing together? Standing so close, talking softly to one another. She didn't want to think she was that petty or jealous.

Sebastian sat beside her. “You all right?” She stole a glance at Ominis and Anne again—so brief she hardly noticed she’d done it. Then she stared out across the water. “I’m okay.”

She watched Sebastian out of the corner of her eye. He observed her, then looked toward Ominis and Anne. He smiled and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” he said. “Worry? About what?” she asked, gripping her arm. He nudged her with his shoulder. “Oh, don’t even pretend. You’re jealous. But you shouldn’t be. Ominis and Anne are just friends.” “I mean, I know.” She hunched down. “It’s so stupid, isn’t it?” “It’s not stupid. You think Ominis never gets jealous over us?”

Her eyes shot toward him, prying his expression for signs he was kidding. But his gentle chestnut eyes gazed at her, as earnest as his smile.

“Really?” she asked. “Yes, really, you big nob. I think he got a little jealous over that feather thing. I wasn't trying to upset him.” She squirmed, remembering Ominis’ soured expression. “Oh. I wasn't sure if—... I didn't mean to upset him, either. Great, now I feel extra stupid.” Sebastian gripped her shoulder. “Don't. I'm the one who started it anyway. But just like how there's nothing going on between us, there's nothing going on between them, either. Ominis has been like part of our family for years now, since he doesn’t feel like he has a real family. Besides, Anne is downright terrified of the Gaunts. She'd never tell Ominis, though.” “I won't tell him that,” said Credence.  His hand squeezed her shoulder again, that gentle grin not leaving his face. “Anne thinks you're brilliant for not letting the Gaunts scare you.”

The heat rose to Credence's cheeks. She looked down at the sand and smiled, immersing herself in the golden rocks while she mulled over Sebastian’s words. If nothing else, Credence tried to take solace in knowing Ominis had people who cared about him. Especially someone as peppy and affectionate as Anne.

Sebastian's grip on her shoulder suddenly stiffened. She looked toward him. Before she could ask what was wrong, a chill shuddered up her spine. Ominis stood taller upon the rocks, his wand already out. Anne put the hermit crab in the safety of the rocks before she stood to attention, too. 

“Well, well,” came a thickly accented voice. 

Several smoky shadows burst to life on the beach. Within each, a stout goblin in spiked armor appeared. Their cold eyes and bared jagged teeth made Credence's stomach lurch. They were out for blood.

Ominis nudged Anne behind him. Credence and Sebastian shot to their feet, hands upon their wands. The dark clad goblins looked them over. That accented voice spoke again from the middle goblin.

“Looks like we got some nosy rotten kids skulkin’ around our beach.” “Your beach?” said Sebastian. “This has been our beach for years. We weren't looking for trouble.” “Ah, but it seems ya've found it anyway, haven't ya?”

Anne groaned in agony and gripped her stomach. Ominis flinched toward her but had to hold his ground and keep his wand ready. The head goblin's lips split into a malicious, jagged grin.

“Ah, I see one among yas has already been infected by one of our curses. A powerful one at that. Poor thing won't last much longer.” “You bastard,” spat Sebastian. “Tell me what you've done to my sister!” “Sentenced her to death.”

[ryanlockheart]

— ₊ ° . ☆ the last thing beau had expected when the two moved in together was to find himself completely enamored with fletcher. if it wasn't for him, he probably would've been scarfing down mcdonald's every night. fletcher took great care of him, and the least he could do is save him from a dead-end job. "i mean, yeah. it's normal to be attracted to somebody when they're half-naked," beau countered. "didn't say y'could help it, princess. just said you were showin' it off, which ya didn't deny, did ya?" he cocked up a brow with a smug grin on his lips. beau wasn't ashamed of his attraction to fletcher. sure, it fucked with his whole thinking about himself, but guilt wasn't going to overtake him. if anything, fletcher had just made him feel more alive... and that was something that beau had desperately needed in the last few months. the monotony of working a shitty job just to keep the lights on had really bogged him down, but fletcher was the one thing that was keeping him going. "we'll clean 'em. i'll take one, you take the other," beau suggested. the thought of fletcher cleaning his own cum off of one of beau's dirty socks was working wonders for him. there was a whole armory of dirty thoughts that starred fletcher locked away in beau's mind. fletcher was just starting to get a taste of them. "if you wanna come park your ass on m'face right now and take a picture, i'll fuckin' let you, fletch. i'm not joking," beau replied firmly. he could understand why fletcher was apprehensive to take that big step, but beau wanted him to know that the risk was worth the reward. "that's my good girl. so eager and ready to be used like a whore. prettiest one the world's ever seen too. can't wait to wreck your pussy, baby girl," beau remarked, fingers stroking against fletcher's jaw. he moved in to press a kiss to fletcher's plush lips. it surprised even beau that he felt compelled to do it, but he couldn't help himself anymore. he was addicted to fletcher already, and their fun had only just begun. "you won't wake up alone, baby... 'less i try to cook you somethin' for breakfast. might just be eggo waffles and eggs, but 's alright, right?" beau said softly. it was a tender moment shared between the two of them, despite all the raunch and filth going through both of their heads. it was how he knew that this was something serious. ashley couldn't even dare try to compare to fletcher in any shape or fashion. "'xactly, princess. you'll have your fun, and i'll have mine gettin' to slut you out... but you're mine at the end of the day, and i promise you that nobody's ever gonna fuck you half as as good as i can, baby doll. you're gonna be addicted to daddy's cock," beau promised. he talked a big game, but he could back it all up. fletcher wasn't going to put his head on his pillow without getting a taste of paradise from beau. he was going to have that lithe little body singing his praises. "you were made to worship daddy's feet, weren'tcha? you just can't help but think about it all the time. 's the hottest fuckin' thing. always wanted her to do it, but she never would... but fletchie, you're my baby girl now, arent'cha?" the chestnut-haired male went on with a proud grin on his lips. "then show her, fletch. hand me your phone and do it. nut all over my foot, 'n' i'll send it to her. let her know 's over, that i've got a better slut now." there was a dark glint in his brown eyes, one of lust and hunger. he was desperate for fletcher, but he somehow had managed to play it cool, which made fletcher seemingly want him more. "oh, princess, you don't even know the half o'it. you'd've been my little foot stool," beau started. "come home from work all sweaty, kick my feet up, play some video games, and have a pretty little slut to clean my feet? sounds like a dream...and you're gonna make that a reality, arent'cha, princess?" his toes wiggled against fletcher's soft skin, tempting him even more. he wanted fletcher to go absolutely berserk for them, for him. "tell your daddy how much you love his big, sweaty feet. wanna hear it."

fletcher wasn't surprised that he was attracted to beau, but he wasn't necessarily thrilled about it either. it seemed like beau was tempting him— leaving sweaty socks around the apartment, putting his chiseled body on display to be gawked and drooled over. he was the personification of a habit that fletcher was trying to break, and beau wasn't making it easy for him to do. "you really think that everything you're saying is perfectly sane, don't you?" fletcher said incredulously. "are you seriously blaming me?! 's not my fault i have a nicer ass than your girlfriend!" fletcher couldn't deny that beau's confidence was appealing. something told him that beau had never heard the word no, and fletcher didn't know if he had the strength to introduce him to it. "i would give 'em back to you, but they're pretty... stained. so maybe i'll just buy you new ones," he chuckled awkwardly, neatly trimmed fingernails scratching at the back of his neck. "unless... you wanna clean them up. just saying." fletcher knew he was getting himself into an insurmountable heap of trouble— but everything pointed to beau being worth it. no one had ever been able to pull his card so effortlessly, and just by looking at him. fletcher had wanted some excitement in his life, and that was precisely what beau was offering him. "how do i know you aren't just messing w'me? how do i know this isn't some fucked up prank?" fletcher asked with a pout. he could already picture how it would go down. beau would get him pliant and needy, ready to risk everything for his straight roommate and then boom— ashley, and maybe even a few of beau's friends would jump out and laugh in his face. he hated to admit that the fear came from experience, but some things were inescapable. "y-yeah, 'm your toy. you can bend me over every surface in this apartment, invite whoever you want to watch or join in. i want you to use me, daddy— my pussy's all yours," he promised, feigning an expression of innocence. beau wasn't the only one in the room that could toy with someone's emotions. "just 'til i'm asleep? surely you wouldn't have me wake up alone, daddy," fletcher said, lips curled into a smirk. he wanted beau all to himself, and he wasn't going to stop until he got it— he could only play second position for so long. perhaps that was devious, but... ashley didn't deserve him anyway. "of course i know that, daddy. the other guys will be our little playthings— buncha dildos for me to use and sweaty feet to worship, just to prove that i'm your dirty slut. at the end of the day, 's all about you," he giggled mischievously. as beau wiggled those sweaty toes in front of his face, a tiny bit of drool escaped his lips and dripped down his chin. it was pathetic, but fletcher wasn't even trying to act like he didn't want it anymore— there was no point. "i'd show her that a real slut is willing to do anything to prove to her daddy that she belongs to him. i'd teach her that a whore's place is at her man's sweaty feet, not running her mouth 'n making demands," fletcher hummed, hands wrapping around beau's feet gently. he pressed his face into each sweaty sole, letting the scent take over his senses entirely. "i wouldn't even have to fuck them, daddy. i'd keep one on my face, and i'd rub my cock against the other— you'd have your girl's pretty little cock busting all over the place. i'd show her how pathetic i am for your feet." fletcher couldn't believe what he was doing, what he was saying. or that beau was the guy to finally pull it out of him. he was going crazy for the taller boy's feet, dragging his tongue along the soles and slipping it between each and every toe. beau began to take control, and all fletcher could do was moan out— probably too loudly, but he couldn't have cared less. "tastes so good, daddy. i could stay down here all night long," he whimpered, nuzzling his face into beau's sweaty soles. "bet you would have been using me this whole time if you knew that your roommate was such a little footslut, huh?"

[hogarthwrites]

safety

pairing: samuel drake/reader (m/f)(m/m)

genre: fluff, comfort, romance

words: 1,038

summary:

Sam comes home with a nasty flu.

note: song recc: Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran (sorry)

for reference: 38.6°C is 101.48°F

Sam knew something was wrong the moment he walked through the door and his throat felt like it was on fire and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. It started in the middle of the night when he woke up shivering and he couldn’t breathe through his nose. 

“Great,” he sniffled when he saw his temperature: 38.6°C.

He put on his thickest sweater and climbed back into bed, but he found that trying to go back to sleep was harder than he thought. It didn’t matter what position he was in, he just couldn’t breathe. It got to a point where his head started to hurt from his sleepiness and the congestion, and he didn’t know if he was just going to give up on sleep.

He grabbed his phone to check the time, but he couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw his wallpaper of you and him on vacation at the lakes. Sam couldn’t help but wish you were there with him right now, but he didn’t want to wake you or bother you with a silly little cold. He eventually fell into a very shallow sleep, sitting up against the headboard.

It was around 8 a.m. when you got to Sam’s apartment, excited to see him after he’d been gone on a trip for weeks. You found him slumped on his dining table, wrapped in blankets and a bowl of soggy cereal in front of him.

“Oh, my god, Sam, are you okay?” You quickly took your scarf and your jacket off, then walked over to him and placed your hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

All he could reply was a little grunt as he sniffled.

“Did you sleep at all?” You took the bowl of cereal to the kitchen and Sam shook his head.

“Barely,” his voice was deeper than usual and you noticed he was breathing through his mouth.

“Oh, Sam,” you walked back to him and helped him move to the sofa.

Sam was shivering and he felt exhausted as he watched you go into his bedroom, listening to the sound of you rustling around in his closet. You eventually came out with a light blanket that you wrapped around him. 

“Is that better?” You asked and Sam nodded. You stuck the thermometer into his mouth to check his temperature and he took your hand as you waited. His hand was warmer than usual and you couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek.

He still had a fever and you frowned.

“Take your sweater off,” you ordered.

“What for?”

“You still have a fever, Sam. You need to cool down.”

He didn’t say anything as you helped him out of his sweater. You noticed he had a hazy look in his eyes and he could barely keep them open.

“I’ll make you some congee. It doesn’t seem like you’ve eaten at all.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sam mumbled. “I’ll be fine. Really. And I don’t want you getting sick too.”

You ignored him as you went to the kitchen, prepping the soup. A pang of guilt hit Sam as he heard you humming in the kitchen. He didn’t think he was worth you wasting a perfectly good Sunday taking care of him. After all, he’s gotten through thousands of colds and fevers before with no one to dote on him the way you were doing that moment. Still, a warm feeling spread through his chest as you started softly singing, and he knew that wasn’t the fever.

Sam groaned as he put a spoonful of rice in his mouth.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t really taste anything right now, baby, but…” Sam sniffled.

“But?”

“I can’t…” He put the spoon down. “I can’t breathe when I’m eating.”

“Sam,” you placed a hand on his cheek. “You have to eat.”

He groaned again and you took the spoon, scooping up a little of the congee and held it up.

“Open up, buttercup,” you pushed the tip of the spoon against his lips and Sam rolled his eyes before taking in the food and quickly swallowing it.

He wouldn’t admit it, but it felt a little nice to have some warm food go down his aching throat, he just didn’t know how he felt about you spoon feeding him.

“You really don’t have to spoon feed me,” he pouted.

“Pfft,” you waved him off before scooping up more food. “If I don’t force feed you, you’re not going to eat. I know you, Sam. You’re stubborn.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn’t say anything.

“Just let me take care of you, okay?” You pushed back some hair off his face. 

Tired, he simply nodded and let you feed him more porridge.

After some food and a cup of hot ginger-lemon tea, Sam was feeling a little better. He watched as you came back from the kitchen with a cool, damp cloth and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. 

“Thank you,” he whispered as you placed the cloth on his forehead. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you, right?” You gently caressed his cheek. 

“I can never understand why.”

You kissed him softly. 

“Babe,” Sam pulled away. “You’ll get sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” you replied.

Sam smiled at you. “You’re just as stubborn as me, you know that, right?”

“That’s why you love me.”

“Can’t deny that,” he laughed before bursting into a coughing fit. “Oh, I feel like shit.”

You climbed off his lap and helped him lie down on the couch. “Get some sleep, my love.”

Sam simply nodded as he laid his head on the soft pillow under him. He closed his eyes, but he still couldn’t breathe. He turned to his side, then the other side, but it wasn’t any better. 

You noticed him fidgeting around and you sat down on the sofa.

“Come here,” you guided his head in your lap, stroking his head. 

Exhausted, Sam just gave in, the feeling of your hand on his head and the warmth of your lap finally lulling him to sleep. 

[mothdruid]

properly

pairing: slight dom!Druig x sub!female reader

summary: after your relationship with Ikaris is falling apart. druig is the only person you can turn to and he shows you what you really need. 

wc: 2.9k

warings: 18+, smut, minors dni, angst!, pet names (love, babe, baby), cheating, oral sex (male to female), vagina fingering, penetrative sex (male to female), cream pie, swearing, alcohol consumption. 

a/n: i don’t not by any means condone cheating by writing this fic. this fic was inspired by an audio that had heavy cheating connotations and thought it’d be hot for a ikaris x reader x druig thingy. and this is the audio it’s based on. fyi it’s extremely nsfw

"What do you mean?"

"Ikaris, do I have to spell it out? What more do I have to say?" You stood in the living room watching as your boyfriend's facial features shifted into utter confusion. This wasn't how you wanted it to happen. It had been going on for weeks and weeks. Every time the two of you became intimate it just wasn't satisfying for you. The lack of foreplay, the length of time, and even no aftercare. You didn't plan on bringing it up tonight, but you just couldn't bear the thought of suffering another bad intimate moment with him. 

Over the weeks you had thought more and more about what your relationship had become. Not only were things lacking in the bedroom, it lacked everywhere. It was bright and fun in the beginning, charming you would even say. But as the days went on they felt more like dragging, the charm and emotion fading. You couldn't help it, things had just become too mundane. Even when you tried to spice it up Ikaris just always seemed not into it. You needed something more. 

"I haven't changed anything since we got together." His eyes drifted up towards you from his glass of wine. His gaze felt painful as if it was searing through you. After shifting awkwardly under his gaze you stood up, moving towards the coat rack. 

"I think that might be the issue." The sound of wood shifting under Ikaris' weight as he stood up, stepping towards you filled the room. The wool material of your coat felt scratchy under your hand as you grabbed it. Ikaris stood near you now, waiting for you to say more. "What?" Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. A hurt look took over Ikaris' confused one. 

"Are you leaving? Really? Right now." A pang of guilt settled in your chest. The wool in your hand scratched harder as your grip tightened. Ikaris didn't understand, he never did. You weren't doing this to spite him, you were doing all of this to help mend your relationship. Ikaris' hand reached out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. He gave you a concerned look, as if he wanted you to stay. Say it. You stood there waiting for the words, waiting for any kind of affection. Tears pricked at your eyes, lips pursing together as you looked at him. 

"And you can't even tell me to stay." A sigh left your lips as you pulled your wrist from his grasp. "I need to leave for a bit. Clear my head." You grabbed your scarf after putting on your coat, wrapping it around yourself. Not a word left Ikaris' mouth while you got ready to leave. Only silence hung between the two of you as he hovered around you. 

After you closed the door to Ikaris' apartment you reached for your phone. There was only one place that you wanted to be at. Only one person you wanted to be around. You thumbed at your screen as you made your way towards the stairs, pausing over the name. The guilt and frustration bubbled inside of you as you made your way down, step by step. You wanted it to go back to normal, but it wouldn't until Ikaris realized his own mishaps in your relationship. You waited till you reached the last step, clicking on the name to dial. 

"Well well, to what do I owe this honor?"

-

The heat radiated in your cheeks as you took another shot, slamming your glass back on the table. You hadn't expected this to turn into a night of drinking at Druig's apartment. The expectation was actually a movie and maybe some advice you wouldn't take. Druig always had a habit of giving advice whether it was wanted or not. 

"Hell yeah! Let's do another!" His accent thickly laced the words as he encouraged another shot. He leaned over to grab the bottle of liquor, unscrewing the cap and filling both your shot glasses in record time. Klink! Another shot down. This time you brought your hand up to your mouth afterwards, holding your face as you took a moment to digest the moment. Druig paused watching you with his radiant blue orbs. His hand came over and settled above your knee. You barely noticed as you laid back on the couch and closed your eyes. You're way more fun than he is.

"Than who?" Your eyes shot open as you bolted up. Druig looked at you with a confused and curious look. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, implying again that he didn't know who you were talking about. 

"I didn't mean to say that." Embarrassment flooded your system, your hands both coming up to cover your face.

"Is there something going on with him?" You felt the couch shift as Druig moved closer to you. "He isn't doing it huh?" Your fingers slivered, allowing you to peek through at Druig. It could have been the alcohol but you didn't remember him looking that good when you arrived. A dusting covered his cheeks, most likely from the alcohol. A smirk appeared on his lips as he titled his head. He hit a nerve and knew it. Your reaction gave him a new found confidence, making him lean in towards you. His breath was hot on the point below your ear. "Want me to show you what it feels like to get truly fucked." 

Frozen by his words you sat there while he rested his hand on your thigh. You would have never suspected this to actually happen. It wasn't like you had never thought of Druig in this manner. "You want to be fucked, I know you do." His whisper went straight to your core, causing wetness to develop in between your folds. "He doesn't do it for you anymore, huh?" His words floated in your head as images of Ikaris pulled forward. The way his face looked when you left, sullen and hurt. Druig tightened his grip on your thigh, his fingertips felt like daggers driving into you. "You're thinking about him, aren't ya? Thinking about how he can't fuck you like I'd be able to." 

You dropped your hands into your lap, settling deeper into the couch. You looked over at Druig who was only inches away from your face. His hand drifted up your thigh causing your legs to separate. "You want me to fuck you like a proper woman. That's why you came over, right?" Your lips crashed into his own while your eyes fluttered shut. Druig's hand finally made it's way to your core, rubbing against the cloth of your pants. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dominating the kiss in one single motion. 

Suddenly his lips were gone though and so was he. You opened your eyes to find him standing in front of you, looking down at you. Instinctively you sat up properly on the edge of the couch. You didn't understand how Druig had some spell over you. Thoughts continued to swirl in your head, guilt and grief but it wasn't enough to stop your actions. This was something you had wanted for awhile, something you needed and craved. To be treated like a proper woman. 

Finger tips caressed your cheek as you looked down at you. You looked up through your lashes at him, drunk on how his eyes raked over you. "You like that don't you? The way I look all over your body." A nod. "That's what I thought, now strip." The cold air against your skin was exhilarating. Your nipples were hard while your cunt became more wet. You could slowly start to feel your wetness on your thighs. You looked up at Druig again to be greeted with a devilish grin.

"Look at you," he kneeled in front of you, his hand coming up to your chin. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, pulling a sigh from you. "So obedient for me. I bet you're not like this with him." Your breath hitched when he brought Ikaris up. "Yeah, I know you're thinking about him. But you're mine now." His gaze on you was piercing, the feeling of prey consuming your body. You tried to turn your head to look away, but the grip on your chin tightened and pulled your gaze back to his.

"Don't look away love, tell me you want this." HIs facial expression changed as seriousness settled on his features. 

"Yes. I want this." 

"You want what?"

"I want to be fucked properly." His lips curved into the devilish smile again. The hand on your jaw moved back towards your hair, fingers threading through it. Druig's lips crashed into yours again, his hand tightened in your hair causing you to let out a whine. He pulled your face back from his, his eyes scanning your face. The tightness in your hair disappeared as he watched you. A shiver coursed through your body as his fingertips ran down your neck, drifting lower over your bare chest. A gasp left your lips while he flicked a nipple. 

"Oh, did that feel good baby?" You study his face as his eyes raked over your body, watching his own fingers follow the curve of your breast down your stomach to your abdomen. His eyes flicked up to meet your own. Heat flooded your cheeks when his icy gaze connected with yours. "You want me to own you. Use you and abuse you." His hands hooked behind your knees, spreading your legs while easing you back against the couch. "Look at that, you're already fucking soaked." A gentle kiss was applied to the inside of your thigh. You watched as he kissed down your thigh, eyes still locked with your own. 

A sharp pain settled on your thigh as Druig bit into your thigh. You threw your head back, moaning loudly at the pain. "Leavin' marks wherever I want. How are you gonna explain this to him?" His words went straight to your cunt, it flexed around nothing as it became more wet. "I know you want my cock. Want me to fill you up to the brim." You whined while nodding your head. "That's gonna have to wait dear, want you to cum on my face first." His tongue dived into your folds, slurping up all of your juices. The wet muscle flicked and dragged across your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your hips started to rock against his face as moans ripped through your throat. 

"Fuck! Druig!" He brought a hand around to your cunt, his fingers keeping a circular motion on your clit. 

"That's so fucking hot baby. The way you lose control, you trying to fuck me face with your pussy." His mouth went back to your cunt while his fingers entered your cunt. The noises Druig made were down right sinful. He moaned into your cunt, the vibrations making you throw your head back. He latched onto your clit and sucked hard. Your cunt tightened around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you watched him give you the most attention you'd received in a long time. Fire set across your skin as your orgasm took over, making your hips stutter. 

"Oh fuck yeah baby. You look so good cumming for me like that." Druig's fingers kept pumping, helping you ride out your orgasm. "Yeah, that's it baby, keep on going." Your breath was uneven as your body convulsed as pleasure continued to rack your body. This was the hardest you had cum in awhile. Ikaris could never. The thought shot through your mind as the waves of pleasure started to subside. Druig moved up your body, his mouth leaving wet kisses as a trail. He nipped one of your nipples before connecting your lips together again. The taste of your own juices flooded your mouth. 

"You're so fucking filthy. You just want to be a toy for me, huh?" Druig moved to the couch, making you get on all fours. His hands glided over your ass as he marveled at it. He pressed himself against your ass, letting you feel his hardened cock. "I think it's about time I gave you my cock now. Let you feel what it's like to be fucked like a proper woman." 

"Yes, fuck me."  You moaned out as Druig undid his belt. His thick cock was heavy against your ass. He guided his cock between your folds, gathering some of your wetness before sliding into you. The stretch was heavenly, making you moan loudly. You pushed your hips back against his, making him moan. 

"Your cunt feels so tight. I have no idea why he wouldn't use you more." Druig snapped his hips forward aggressively, setting a brutal pace. "Like how my hard cock is stretching you out, going deeper and deeper inside of you." Druig's hand came up to your hair, pulling it back and making your neck crane. "Oh, look at how pretty you look, looking up at me while you're being fucked raw." Druig stopped his thrusts, stilling inside of you. "Bounce your ass back on me, fuck me." His other hand came up around your throat while the other remained tight in your hair. 

You started moving your hips, bouncing back against him. "Harder." You put more vigor into each movement. The tightening in your core started again once you found that one spot. The head of his cock kept hitting the sensitive part inside of you, giving you more motivation to fuck him. "Fuck yeah baby, you look so good like this. Back arched for me while you use me." A whine broke through your lips as your orgasm rippled through you.

"There you go baby, fall apart on my cock, cover it in your cum. Look at the way you're shaking while my cock makes you feel so good." Tears started to prick at your eyes as the waves of pleasure continued. "You want my cum, don't you?" You nodded quickly. "Beg."

"Please Druig, give me your cum, fill me with your cum." 

"Want me to fill you so you feel it for weeks. Feel it while you lay in bed next to him? You're so fucking filthy." The hand around your throat dropped to your waist, gripping tight enough to leave bruises. His moans and groans started picking up as he started up his thrusting again. "Fuck baby, I'm close." His hand in your hair pulled back again. His thrust started to become uneven as he chased his orgasm. "I gotta give it to you now baby." 

"Give it to me, please please." You begged.

He slammed into you one last time before you felt his cum shoot into you. The thrusts continued as he unloaded himself inside of you. His head fell forward, his forehead connecting with your shoulder blade. His breath was hot against your skin as the both of you tried to regain your breath. A moan fell from your lips as his cock slipped out of you, letting his cum slowly pour out of you. You slowly lowered yourself the lay down on the couch. Druig moved and sat back on the other end of the couch. He tucked his cock back inside of his boxer briefs, shucking his pants off and leaving them on the floor. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while before Druig got up suddenly, disappearing only to return with a warm wet washcloth. You let out a soft moan as Druig cleaned you up. He disappeared one more time, returning this time with a large shirt of his. "Hey love, put this on, I don't want you to get cold." You sat up and snatched the shirt from him, quickly putting it on. Embarrassment and guilt wracked your body now. You couldn't bring yourself to even look at Druig. 

"Listen. I uh... I'm sorry... I shouldn't hav-"

"Don't. It wasn't only you." You finally mustered the courage to look at him, tears falling down your cheeks. Druig's face fell as he rushed over to you. 

"Hey, hey love, don't cry love. It's okay, it's okay."

"It's not okay! I- I cheated! I'm still in a relationship!" Druig pulled you close into his chest as your cries got louder. The warmth of his body was graceful and comforting. One hand rubbed your back while his other petted your hair. 

"Love, love it's okay. You were gonna leave him anyway." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

"That doesn't make it reasonable." You pulled back from his chest, looking at his concerned facial features. 

"Hey, I understand that what just happened should have probably waited. You need to calm down though because getting worked up isn't gonna make you feel better. Just stay the night with me. I'll go back with you tomorrow to make sure things don't get out of hand." The hand in your hair came up to your cheek, his thumb whipped away your tears. Druig helped you stand up then guided you back to his bedroom. Druig wrapped his arms around you while the two of you settled into his bed. 

You woke up the next morning surprised you had slept so well. It was also  almost as surprising as how well Ikaris took the break up. Druig waited patiently outside the apartment until he watched Ikaris leave. Ikaris paused for a moment as he and Druig sized each other up. Ikaris' hand patted Driug's shoulder, "Take care of her."

“Oh don’t you worry, I’ll take proper care of her.”

​

[shmothman]

Judgement | Forgiveness

Part Eighteen

Previous Chapters

AO3 Link

Tags: @veethewriter​

“You.”

At Irida’s feet, Glaceon stands at attention, its hackles raised. 

“Hold on,” you say, panicking. “Irida, please just let me explain.”

There’s hurt in her eyes—hurt and anger and betrayal—and guilt crashes over you like a wave, pulling you beneath its tides. Behind you, Volo is wide-eyed, terrified, his hands up in front of his chest in a gesture of submission.

“Yeah,” Irida says, eyes narrowed—her tone isn’t venomous, but it is wounded. “Yeah, why don’t you explain what you’re doing here with him.”

She glares daggers, and Volo shies under her gaze, his eyes fixed firmly on the snow in front of him. 

She wasn’t there, in Jubilife, the day you brought him back from the Distortion World, but you know that she heard about his apology. His banishment. And, beyond that, she knows what you told her the day you came to her home, weeping of his betrayal. She knows how you felt for him. She knows how he hurt you.

If you have any chance at salvaging this situation, Irida needs the whole truth, now—even if there are some things you’d rather keep secret. Even if it might put both of you in danger.

“We’re looking for artifacts,” you tell her, speaking slowly as if to calm a frightened pokemon. “The verses, like the one I brought to you.”

She seems unimpressed, but gives you a look that says to continue.

You do your best to tread carefully. “Volo is an expert. He knows myths like nobody else. And we aren’t violating the terms of his banishment.”

Although, Irida sees right through that, her jaw dropping as she realizes: “you’ve been helping him this whole time, haven’t you?”

You sigh. There’s no hiding it. “Yes. I have.”

The anger builds in her eyes, but you cut her off before she says anything else, your voice growing desperate. 

“What did you expect me to do, Irida? Leave him to die? He’s my friend!” You can’t help the way your voice cracks on the word ‘friend,’ and you know you’ve given yourself away entirely when she shifts her weight and looks between the two of you—back and forth, back and forth.

Mouth agape, she shakes her head, incredulous. She’s looking at you almost pleadingly now. “After what he did to us? To you?”

You grit your teeth, growing slightly angry yourself. If she would just listen to the whole story... “Yes, and will you please stop talking about him like he’s not here?”

Though, the look on his face says he much preferred being ignored as she swivels on him, irate. His eyes flick to you, wide and terrified, and you give him an encouraging nod, your eyes pleading—though pleading for what, you aren’t sure.

“I…” he says, quietly stuttering, before taking a shaky breath that steams in the frigid air. “I know that I caused harm. To Palkia and to your clan. And for that I am sorry.”

“Sorry,” she repeats, rather sarcastic and disbelieving. “Well, that fixes everything, doesn’t it—”

“I know that it doesn’t,” he says quickly, interrupting her. “I know that I cannot make up for what I’ve done.” He looks to you, then back to her. “But I will say it anyway. I promise you I will not ever hurt you, Palkia, or your clan ever again.”

Her brows furrow, and she looks to you, then back to him, then back to you. “And you believe him.”

It’s not a question.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I do.”

And you tell Irida the whole story. You tell her of bringing him back from the Distortion World, of offering him help after his banishment. You tell her of his injury, and of finding the first piece of poetry; of seeking his help with it. You don’t bring up the emotional moments you’ve shared with him—you may tell her of your feelings, later, certainly not in front of Volo—but you reiterate that you believe that he means what he says. All the while, he remains quiet beside you, but even beneath his scarf, you can tell that his face has reddened.

When you finish speaking, silence rings through the snowy wasteland. You all but hold your breath.

Finally, Irida heaves a great sigh, and some—but not all—of the anger seems to leave her. “Unbelievable,” she mutters, under her breath.

Despite your better judgment, you reach for Volo’s hand, and when your fingers brush his, he almost jumps. He looks at you, alarmed, and you can see in his stormy gray eyes what he’s thinking: do you want to make her angrier?

But your expression softens, and when you give him a nod, he accepts your hand, trembling just slightly. 

Irida sees this and shakes her head again, pinching the bridge of her nose. If she hadn’t already guessed the feelings you still hold for him, well... she certainly knows now. 

“Right.” She says. “Great. Fantastic. Any other big secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“No,” you say, wracked with guilt. “No, honestly.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well. You’re not a very good liar, anyway.” 

You hold tight to Volo’s hand, anchoring yourself as much as you anchor him.

And Irida sighs. “I trust you,” she says to you, and your eyes snap up to meet her intense gaze. “I trust you not to let any harm come to this region. I don’t trust him—” he tenses as she looks to him, “—but I trust you.”

“Irida—” you start, but she holds up a hand.

“Honestly, I don’t want to hear anything else right now. You lied to me, and I’m angry. I’m going to go home, drink some tea, and attend to my duties as Clan Leader. We can talk more later.”

You deflate. 

When she turns to Volo again, he grips your hand tighter. “As for you,” she says, “I’d better not see you again. If you try anything—” her gaze flicks between you, and you blush, her implications clear, “—I will be the first to stop you. Mighty Sin—er, Lord Palkia, is not happy with you. Just know that.”

Glaceon circles her feet with a cry, and she gives it a pat on the head. Then, she gives a decisive nod, looking between you once more, and turns on her heel, leaving you standing in silence, joined by the hands, at the mouth of the cave.

And when her retreating back has grown small in the distance, Volo collapses to his knees.

You follow him down, tears in your eyes, and he breaks entirely, not protesting when you wrap your arms around him and hold tight, both of your breath steaming heavily in the freezing air, coming out between the folds of your scarves. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, and although he’s sniffling, he gives a short laugh of surprise.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Great, fat tears begin to spill onto your cheeks, and you scrub at them fruitlessly with your gloves. “I don’t know. I should have told her sooner. I should’ve told all of them.”

“You were trying to keep me safe,” he reminds you. “It’s my fault.”

“I need to be able to do both,” you say. You need to protect him and tell the truth. “I can’t… I can’t keep lying to my friends.” 

When he gives a sob in return, you pull back to press your forehead to his, clinging to his coat. He looks at you, wide-eyed and teary. The closeness of him is as dizzying as it is comforting, the look in his eyes tumultuous, fearful, sad.

“Why are you putting yourself in danger for me?” He asks, so broken, so vulnerable—and you know what he’s really asking. Why don’t you just leave him.

And the thought occurs to you that it would be so easy to show him how you feel. Pressed together like this, it would only take a simple tilt of your head to kiss him; to explain why you would put yourself in any danger, why you would lie to the people you care about, why you won’t leave him. It’s because you love him. 

It’s because of the way he lights up when he hears about mythology, and the single-minded focus with which he pursues his passions. It’s because of his smile, his laugh, the way he jokes with you; the way his hand feels in yours, the way he hugs you. The way he tries to make things right. The way he’s been putting one foot in front of the other.

But more importantly than that, it’s because you don’t think his mistakes need to define him. It’s because you want to see him grow, to see him have a future. Even if he didn’t want you to be a part of that future, you would want him to be happy.

And so you whisper, “because I care about you, Volo,” and you hope the rest is self-evident. 

You wish you could tell if he understands, if he realizes what he means to you, but you don’t know what the look in his eyes means—this sad, hopeful, teary expression that pulls on your heartstrings, that makes it all the harder not to pull down his scarf and press your lips to his.

But you shouldn’t cry out here. Salt water or no, the tears will freeze right onto your faces—so you gently wipe his cheeks with gloved fingers, and try not to lose yourself in the way he leans into your touch, the little of his face that’s exposed to the elements pink in the cold. 

You pull the both of you up to standing, still huddled close together, shivering. “Come on,” you say. “Let’s get this verse back to the hut.”

He sniffles. “Do you... need to follow her?” He asks, looking after Irida.

“No,” you shake your head. “She needs some time. I’ll go see her tomorrow. She’ll... she’ll come around. I know it.”

There is a fondness in his tearful voice when he says, “if anyone can convince her, it’s you,” that makes your heart flutter.

“I really hope so,” you tell him.

[umewisteria]

He felt a cool hand laid on his back and a face appear, illuminated by the shadow of a candle. 

“Stay there, don’t move. It’s instant death if you move. ”

Hero’s outstretched hand laid on the tubes connected to his wrist was halted in its tracks. Villain laid the candle down on a nearby surface and summoned an open void. The void expanded larger and larger revealing a void filled with the galaxy as Hero peered in to take a look at this.

He knew he would not be able to escape should this entire labatory be swallowed by the void and this was a prime opportunity. He only needed one confirmation of the identity of the intruder.

Ding. The sound of wind chimes.

It was definitely Hero’s fellow hero, he hadn’t died in the explosion and he was definitely here to save him. Hero knew that this was his chance to escape and that questionable soul who saved him was someone who went against his agency. Hero’s fellow hero was a gentle soul who would never attack someone without a given reason to unless the target was the villain.

It was his chance. Hero made a lunge for it and knocked Villain down with his elbow, ripping out the wires connected to his wrist. Making a run for it, he ran towards the nearby wall and launched himself at it, materializing through the wall, he could feel the strong wind whip around the entire labatory. He was going to escape this, he could see his fellow hero standing right in the midst of the whirlwind.

As Hero felt freedom rushing through his veins, he froze. His body was frozen, his leg was held in empty space. It was the leg that she had installed the canister in.

She was a villain, down to her roots. He once again was thrown around like a little ragdoll by them.

“I knew it. Eager to escape right? When did you think I was so generous to donate a total of 20 of my precious inventions to you? Those canisters are by no means something I would give without demanding some serious prices.”

She tapped his shoulder and laughed, appearing from the side of the laboratory from a void. Grabbing Hero by the shoulders, she dragged him into the void and conjured an even bigger one on the spot. In one moment, the laboratory sunk into the void, disappearing from complete sight.

The last thing Hero saw was the face of his fellow hero, lunging for the ends of the disappearing scarf of the villain.

He was floating. Floating in empty space, surrounded by the galaxy in weightless motion.

She was there too, tangled hair and battered scarf by the strong winds.

He stared at her, in mute shock, in anger and in guilt. Hero looked at his body, he lost all autonomy of himself, in exchange for putting his life in the heads of a random girl. He would rather die.

“You know that you look much better than your fellow hero right. Your blonde curls highlights your pretty grey eyes and your pale eyelashes. Very much resembling of a pretty animated character.”

Her nonchalance irritated him, but he knew now she was someone who was definitely talented. Very much. His agency would have recruited her immediately if they saw the extent of her abilities in void manipulation and in her inventions.

She was his enemy but he could do nothing, just watch on helplessly as they floated through the galaxy.

Done with part 2, yay! Might write more and give them names if I find time. Maybe draw their character design, I’m dying to draw them out. :P

Here’s to hoping I come back for Part 3

Prompt #205

Villain picked her way across the rubble remains of the hero agency. Supervillain’s burning, smoking triumph. A message to every other agency in the area to back off and accept Supervillain’s coming reign.

She kicked a scorched piece of drywall out of the buildings frame, turning it to powder on the collapsed roof tiles.

Huh.

She wasn’t going to find anything after all. Usually she benefited from following in Supervillain’s wake, picking scraps off the bones of places like a vulture, but every once in a while things turned out unsalvageable. What a waste.

She turned on her heel to exit when the hic of a stifled sob penetrated the silence.

Villain frowned, spreading her arms and balancing across a fallen support beam to a small alcove.

She ducked her head sideways under the debris, blinking a couple times in the dusty shadow before picking out a curled up figure swathed in stained orange.

“Hey.”

The figure jolted, scrambling out of their cape cocoon to face Villain head one. Overgrown blonde curls were streaked ashy and his eyelashes were heavy with building dust. Pale streaks marked where tears had cut through the grime on his cheeks. It took a two seconds to identify him: a hero.

He pressed himself further against his ruble shelter, causing the pile to groan.

Villain held up her gloved hands. “I’m not one of the bad guys. I’m like…the rescue crew. Yeah.”

The hero’s shiny eyes drifted up and down, weighing the truthfulness of that statement. Apparently it wasn’t too ridiculous because he slowly uncurled his knees, scooting a few inches closer to the opening.

“You’re alright. Just come towards me. That’s right, step by step. Just come—“

The hero collapsed into her arms.

His cape draped over Villain’s elbows, exhausted limbs splayed at odd angles. And Villain just held him, circling him in false safety as he fully, truly broke.

“It’s ok,” she shushed. “I’m going to keep you so safe.”

Maybe this scavenge wasn’t a total dead end after all.

[lollytea]

There’s Sunshine in Your Smile: Chapter 4

[READ ON AO3]

Hunter had stabbed himself in the foot.

(Not literally, of course, though that would certainly have shown Willow that his vigilance over potential stabbings in her garden was not irrational. However, she probably would have argued that self-infliction was both a petty and nonsensical way to prove a point. Hunter was forced to concede that she was correct in this imaginary debate they were having in his head.)

He hadn’t realized he was hungry until he had scarfed down the last of his food, which was small enough that it wouldn’t have taken long in normal circumstances, unless he wanted to make it blatantly obvious that he was stalling. But Hunter had cut his already brief time in half because he was so thoroughly enticed by a juice box and an abomination goo sandwich.

(“You need to stop calling it that.” Willow complained with a sniff of disgust. This was a side of her that Hunter was beginning to take impish joy in igniting. “I’ll never be able to stomach jelly again if you get that imagery stuck in my head.”)

He took his time with the goreberries and even Flapjack had caught the hint to pace himself. His bird had left the remaining fruit for Hunter and was currently racing Clover over the heads of Willow’s trees. The two palismen had clicked together like magic.

And then, only a single berry remained, its existence a palpable reminder that once it was gone, Hunter had to be gone.

But he couldn’t just leave it there. Now its lone inhabitation on the plate was drawing attention to itself. He had even caught Willow glance down at it.

She knew.

They both knew.

The anticipation was outright crackling from the damn thing and when Hunter finally couldn’t take it anymore, he popped it in his mouth and sealed his fate.

And then, there were no more excuses. No more obligations to tether him here. He had to leave.

The claw of guilt was already digging in deeper, though he knew it wasn’t entirely about the job itself. Afternoon patrol was minimal work at best and totally tedious at worst.

For Hunter, the appeal was the authority it represented, the Golden Guard in all his eminence. And during weeks when assigned missions were scarce, it was his only opportunity to get out of the castle, so it was something he looked forward to.

And now here was this girl and this garden of hers, smiling and shining and melting away all of his devotion to the task at hand. He didn’t care about the gold mask right now. He wanted to stay here, and that was the true source of his guilt.

The title of Golden Guard had been a gift from his uncle, an honour to receive, and something he had promised on his own soul to uphold.

And what was he doing right now? Fighting with himself not to blow it off for the sake of…

Of…

Of something completely insignificant to his life’s one and only purpose.

“Hunter?”

Willow was watching him intently, apprehension straining her features. He had been silent for a moment too long, and she seemed to know what came next.

But that didn’t stop her from shooting to her feet alongside him as he abruptly stood up.

Hunter had put his metaphorical foot down. Which hurt a little, as it had already been metaphorically stabbed.

“I have to leave.” He announced, a clipped tightness to his voice.

“But you just got here,”

“Yeah. And now I’m just leaving.”

“But--”

“No buts. I did something for you, you did something in return. That’s where it ends.”

Hunter paused in his dutiful march out of the backyard to look over his shoulder at Willow. He nodded purposefully, with an expression he hoped read as sincere as he felt. “Thanks, by the way. To you and your Dad.”

She did not smile at this. Her frown only deepened.

“You can’t just--”

“Captain, I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but I’m not the kind of witch who wastes time. I’m not gonna linger around for no reason.”

“What if there was a reason?”

“That being?”

“Um…”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Hunter would not let himself entertain the notion for very long, as it would surely weaken his resolve (and burn his traitorous ears) but…

She really wanted him to stay.

“Hunter, just…just wait a second.”

He was caught by the wrist.

In that miniscule beat of total silence, Hunter strategized on how to logically approach his next move. He considered how she might ensnare him once again, and how to avoid falling into the trap.

Let’s see, the first time, when she convinced him to follow her home, it had revolved around the Lump of Hell and Pain. But what had been the turning point where he completely folded?

He remembered how she had looked at him.

And then the second time, when she had insisted he stay for a snack, even when he had pushed against her efforts?

Once again, she had looked at him.

So, when Willow gave a tentative tug and he reluctantly turned around, he refused so much as a glance at her face. He kept his eyes resolutely locked on the spot where she was gripping him, her fingers bunching around the cuff of his glove.

“I was thinking… maybe you could help me with my garden?”

“That’s not a dire reason for me to stick around and you know it.”

“Well…” Her fingers loosened, as she fumbled for excuses. They absentmindedly spidered up his arm. “It’s a scorcher today so it’s really important that all my friends are watered properly…”

Still not dire enough.

“But there’s all this garden and only one me so…”

Her voice faltered, clearly realizing that this simply wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t plead her flimsy case in a way that sounded urgent, and even if she could, Hunter was done playing along with her games today. It was immature anyway.

Willow’s hold came almost completely undone, save for the fingertips that still hesitated to let go and, on the verge of defeat, she sadly drew her hand away. As she did so, her thumb slid a line down his inner forearm, the gentlest brush, a tickle against his skin.

His knees liquidized so fast, Hunter nearly collapsed on the spot. His legs buckled, subtle enough that Willow didn’t notice but mentally captivating enough that he felt a flash of worry for his health.  

Then came her last effort, not even remotely confident in her odds, as she said in the softest voice that ever fell off her lips “Please…”

The sensation in the back of his mind scuttled down his neck, leaving a prickle of goosebumps in its wake.

His answer was instantaneous.

“Okay…”

Well. Damn.

“Okay?” Willow blurted. She had been so certain that this wasn’t going her way, that she didn’t even sound convinced.

She didn’t believe him. He still had a chance to back out. He could leave.

But then, but then, Titan help him, this hopeless excuse for a Coven official….

But then Hunter did such a frantic inventory of Willow’s garden that his brain threatened to overheat from the rapid-fire calculations. He managed to rack up a conclusion regardless.

“It looks like--” He cleared his throat, annoyed with how feeble his voice came out. He shook out the arm where Willow’s touch still tingled, in a gesture that probably looked pointless and ridiculous to the girl in front of him.

But once it no longer felt boneless, he was confident to proceed.

When he spoke again, it was detached and succinct. The Golden Guard. “It looks like you have the ingredients here for a whole plethora of essential goods.”  

With his regained composure, he was capable of finally looking at her.

She was staring at him strangely, somewhere between confusion and suspicion.

Hunter swept a hand across the garden, gesturing from one plant to the next.

“Sleeping droughts, energy supplements, key components for important potions and elixirs, etcetera, etcetera…” He rattled off.

“A lot of your harvest is edible too, thus would be necessary ration in case of emergency. And that’s not even touching on all the rare specimen you have here, the properties of which I’m not familiar with, but would be foolish to disregard.”

Willow’s arms had crossed, her weight shifted to one hip. With one eyebrow raised, he couldn’t recall her ever giving him a more unimpressed look. And he had locked this girl in a cell.

She did not seem to like the Golden Guard very much.

“What are you even saying, Hunter?”

“I’m saying that it’s irresponsible that you haven’t yet registered this garden for official Coven protection.”

Her eyes flared.

“You’re not seriously calling me irresponsible for--”

“But considering its value, it must be sufficiently maintained. And the current heat is concerning.” He shrugged one shoulder, eyes betraying him by glancing askance. “And as you’ve informed me that it’s too difficult a task to handle alone…”

The anger left Willow like a snuffed out green fire.

In a matter of two days, Hunter had successfully become the stupidest witch in the Emperor’s Coven.

And there were a lot of stupid witches in the Emperor’s Coven.

He could not begin to describe the full extent of Willow’s delight, as his brain was already in complete tatters. But all the semblance of competence he possessed was used to register that giddy grin, those crinkled eyes and her unforgettable dimples as she shoved a watering can into his hands and put him to work.

Hunter should be outright furious at himself right about now. But after a moment of staring at the pale green object, painted with flowers, his facial muscles decided that he desperately wanted to smile. And though it twisted reluctantly on his mouth, smile he did.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Willow was chattering away about her limits, (Yeah. Apparently the terrifying force of nature known as Willow Park had limits.) namely that she was incapable of conjuring a spell to water all her plants at once.

She demonstrated with a spin of her finger. A puny spell circle poured a gush of water over a singular shrub.

“Sometimes I wish Luz hadn’t told me so much about her world.” She lamented with a sigh. “I mean, I don’t really. But I also do. Sorry, you probably don’t know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

He wasn’t lying. Hunter had become quite familiar with his emotions torn in opposite directions. (Case in point: Literally everything that had led him to the point of ditching patrol and watering some girl’s flowers.)

“I’m always thinking about that world, how easy it must be to keep a garden healthy.” Willow’s head tipped back to the sky. And then Hunter was reminded that not only did she belong in the garden, she belonged in the air.

She peered at him over her shoulder, one of her pigtails spilling down her back. “Did you know rain doesn’t boil in the Human Realm?”

“I’ve heard.” Was all Hunter said, careful not to splash too much or too little water over the plants he was tending to.

Willow’s eyes slid shut, as the sun bathed her face. “I hope I can see it one day.”

They worked in parallel, Willow seamlessly intertwining her body through the bushes and blooms, (He wasn’t certain how much sentience they had, but they seemed to clear paths for her.) and Hunter methodically stepping from one plant to the next. Start. Stop. Water. Start. Stop. Water.

Every so often, he would steal glances at Willow out of the corner of his eye. He learned that not only did she talk to her plants, but she had a specific routine with every sprout in the garden.

To some she whispered, to others she announced with a royal air and a dramatic flourish, some liked corny jokes, some liked to be fawned over and some liked an affectionate stroke around the petals.

Now, as far as Hunter was aware, plants did not possess personalities. But then again, he would not be surprised if Willow had somehow tapped into some kind of nature mental link, similar to that of a witch and their palisman.

He was pretty sure Terra could do….something like that. He was never explained the specifics, as Terra liked nothing more than to pretend Hunter didn’t exist.

He probably wouldn’t have bought the notion that a fourteen year old girl would have a budding ability akin to a Coven Head. But underestimating Willow’s capabilities with the words ‘fourteen year old girl’ could be a dangerous mindset and Hunter wasn’t dumb enough for that.

Or maybe…

This was also a possibility…

Maybe Willow couldn’t actually telepathically communicate with her garden and she was just odd.

With this perspective in mind, Hunter listened to her babble away to the friends she had grown herself, bright and bubbly. Without making the conscious decision to do so, he wound up watching her.

She flittered around a scalectrica bloom, making a huge fuss over the intensity of its fire stained petals, fluffing them up as though it were a hairdo. The voice she was doing was so foreign from her own soft lilt and so goofy sounding that it may have been solely for her own entertainment.

At this very moment, was Willow demonstrating herself as an extraordinarily powerful witch…or was she just being a kid?

He kinda liked the latter. It was…it was weirdly…

Immature.

No. No, that wasn’t the word for it. Hunter recoiled a little at the use of the word he frequently used to criticize himself in order to describe Willow. It was something else entirely.

(He knew the word. But it would be far too troublesome to let himself think it.)

He didn’t realize he was smiling so wide until his cheeks ached. And though he tried to subdue it, he could still feel it linger on his face as he averted his attention to a cluster of moonflowers.

The sprinkle of his watering can reminded him of rain.

Rain.

Though he had remained tight lipped on the subject from earlier, the concept had been plucking at him.

Belos said the Day of Unity would bring upon an era of pure Utopia. And Hunter truly believed him, and so he knew in his bones that if this supposed era was as wondrous as his uncle had described, then surely, Willow Park would get to see the rain.

He hoped she got to see the rain.

Hunter would like to see it too.

Maybe, though probably not, but maybe, maybe when she saw it, Hunter would be standing beside her.

Though probably not.

He imagined a Utopia would need its Golden Guard, not a dumb boy possessed with childish curiosity. Exploring the new world with Willow likely wouldn’t be an option for him.

And that was a good thing. It had to be a good thing.

Just as he was edging dangerously close to considering how he felt about this whole situation, Hunter stubbed his toe. It hurt a billion times worse than the metaphorical stabbing.

He broke out into a loud string of curses, alerting Willow, who had been in the middle of asking a gallberry bush about the hot gossip between the nearby bloodwheat and fire hedge.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk like that in front of my Dads.” She warned. “Are you okay?”

“No. What even is this and what’s it doing here?” He hissed through clenched teeth, gesturing wildly at the large, battered cauldron that Willow had turned into a makeshift flowerpot. It was overflowing with a crowd of magnificent dragon lilies.

“That’s my leftover cauldron from when I was in the abomination track.”

Hunter’s shock was so pronounced that he entirely blanked on his throbbing toe.

“You were in the abomination track?”  

Willow’s brow furrowed at that, and in a stark contrast to her precocious nature, jutted her lip out in a pout. “You don’t have to sound that surprised.”

“Captain, you eat, sleep and breathe plants. The only way I can picture you raising abomination is if you build them out of bushes or whatever,”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Willow’s lip tweaked. There was a perilous glint in her eye as she shuffled into Hunter’s space and whispered “Wanna hear something cool?”

And.

So.

This was around the point in the afternoon where Hunter gave up.

He let it go. Dropped it. Just completely and utterly abandoned any intention of carrying out the rest of his patrol shift. Nah, nope, nuh uh, it was simply not happening today.

The ever-present guilt, the anxiety, the duty, it all flew to the far corners of his mind, shoved away before it all burst out of him at a later date, (And by the Titan, it certainly would.) because for the time being, something far more powerful had seized control of him.

Willow had opened her mouth and spoke of wild magic.

Hunter often left his window open ajar on hot nights, which had once led to one particular moth fluttering in, bewitched by the heady glow of his wall torch. Predictably, the stupid creature had caught itself on fire.

Hunter had been thirteen at the time. Sure, he had some sympathy for the thing but his first reaction was an eye roll. Surely there was at least an ounce of instinct hardwired into that microscopic insect brain that told it not to get too close to something that radiated burning heat.

Well, as Hunter grew older, he learned that every living creature had its flame. And at this stage in his life, he could admit (to himself anyway.) that wild magic might be his.

(Something he was not willing to admit just yet was that there might also be a second flame, one still early in the developmental stage.)

So. Yeah. Vindication for the moth. Sorry, moth.

“Okay, okay!” Hunter hovered excitedly around Willow as she multitasked between tending to her plants and laying out the basics of a hypothesis.

Flapjack had arrived from above, sensing Hunter’s shot of adrenaline and was now flapping and twittering between him and Willow, basking in the flying sparks of the Unknown(!)

“So, what you’re saying is that they would be able to function entirely independent from the witch who conjured them? So, they wouldn’t require their creator’s magic source at all to survive?”

Willow shook her head, not as jittery as Hunter but clearly enthusiastic. She was grinning ear-to-ear. At some point, she had magnetized so close to him that he could smell the floral scent off her, which was either perfume or a side effect of being a plant witch.

“They would need a daily intake of water but if the transfusion worked and the shrub inside them took root, a plant based abomination should be able to keep itself functional through photosynthesis!”

“That’s the sun, right?”

“Yep!”

“A solar powered abomination? And it grows berries? Ha!” Running his fingers through his hair, Hunter couldn’t help the wired laugh that split out of him. His mind was reeling. “That’s so fascinating! Has anyone ever attempted it bef--”

He stopped short. No, of course they hadn’t. It was illegal.

And for good reason too. It was highly unlikely that sort of experimentation would be successful. It was danger waiting to happen.

Willow had taken notice of his sudden silence. “Everything okay?”

“We….really shouldn’t get too carried away talking about this.” Hunter muttered firmly. It was a reminder to himself, an indisputable truth that Belos had seared into every facet of his mind through an intricate braid of episodes, blood, nightmares and the drip drip drip of that deathly sludge.

“Messing around with this stuff could get someone hurt.”

But when he got all tangled up in his studies of the forbidden, he allowed the reality of it all to slip his mind.

Sometimes it was too overwhelming to unpack just how selfish he was to forget.

Willow was silent for a long moment, He wondered if she was gearing up to argue about this, or perhaps his abrupt rejection of her innocent theory had upset her.

They shouldn’t have talked about this in the first place, and now he had to deal with the fallout of ruining a conversation in which he was actually comfortable.

He didn’t even want to stop talking about it.

Finally, Willow shrugged.

“It guess it can be. Any kind of magic can hurt.” Her tone was nonchalant, conversational.

“But not in the way wild magic can.”

“Well, I’m not really a wild witch. I mostly stick to plant spells,” She placed one hand on her hip as the other dramatically tossed back her hair. Her demeanour was a faux air of chilliness that was so strange on her, that it was funny. “But when I had you in those vines earlier, I could have crushed you like a goreberry.”

Hunter smirked, loosely folding his arms. He subconsciously mirrored her posture, arrow straight and challenging. “You’re way too nice for that.”

“Maybe so.” Willow agreed, that hilariously stoic look on her face. “But if I had made that threat, your first thought probably wouldn’t be how grateful you were that I was using by-the-book magic to kill you. It’d be ‘oh no. Death.’”

Something about her monotonous delivery made Hunter crack up, though he was extremely conscious to the giggles slipping out being a stupid noise, and he made an effort to stifle it with his backhand.

But then his amusement cracked the walnut that was Willow and she burst out laughing too. And of course, once it spread, it became difficult to stop.

“I would not have said ‘Oh no. Death.’”

Flapjack agreed with a cheep, landing atop Hunter’s head.

“Sorry I got it wrong.” Willow cocked her head playfully. “You’re just such an enigma.”

“That,” Hunter pitched a pointer finger, the pad he raised just an inch from Willow’s nose. Her lashes fluttered, eyes crossed. (Something squeezed at Hunter’s heart.) “Is very true.”

Her eyes lifted to rest on Hunter, smile glowing.

That look caught him off guard, brazen and undone. His finger faltered.

A moment earlier he would have second guessed himself, unsure of what to make of it, unsure if he had said the right thing.

Being seen as odd to other people had never bothered him before, it went in tandem with being annoying and he was well accustomed to that. Being liked hadn’t been Hunter’s concern for quite a long time.

But then he met some kids who called him a friend and it was like a door blown off its hinges, a door he hadn’t even known was closed, let alone locked. It had felt like such a delicate thing, having friends, like one fumble could shatter it all.  

But Earlier and Now were two entirely separate realms.

He wanted to say this was surprisingly easy, being here with Willow, but that wasn’t the right word for it. His breath still hitched, he would still open his mouth with only a sputter instead of a sentence, but it was alright. Willow botched her words sometimes too.

And that was okay.

It was more like breathing or falling asleep or the language of quiet whistling that he shared with Flapjack alone in his room.

Natural. That was the word.

This friendship felt natural.

“Do you want to help me sow seeds?” Willow had asked once they finished watering.

How the Hell do you sew seeds?

“I don’t know much about the whole gardening thing,” shrugged Hunter, scratching his cheek. His thoughts snagged on his disastrous attempts to stitch the Golden Guard sigil into his cloak, before Darius had intervened. “Also I’m….not great with a needle and thread so,”

Her giggle was tiny, barely even there, and Hunter wondered how she managed to laugh at him so frequently yet never made him feel like he was being ridiculed.

“I promise it’s easy.” There was something so simplistic and innocent about the way Willow made promises. Hunter had a difficult time doubting her. Which was strange, as it defied everything he knew about promises as complex, sacrificial things. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

She showed him.

He had found that he quite liked it when she showed him things, even if the Lump of Hell and Pain was involved.

Willow prattled on about the shrubs they would be planting as she spread out a layer of fresh fertilizer. When Hunter shifted to assist her, she drummed two fingers against his wrist.

“Before you do anything, you should lose the gloves,” She suggested.

Hunter’s dumbstruck look made her backtrack.

“I just don’t want you to get them dirty. But if you don’t want to--”

“It’s fine. I’ll take them off.” Said Hunter, far more snappish than intended.

It wasn’t that he had any big grand reservations about the thought of flaunting his bare hands, it was just….it was just weird. Most of the time, he didn’t like looking at them. But he figured it would be even weirder to make a big thing of it.

He pinched the fabric from his fingertips and slowly pulled off his gloves, one after the other.

One wrist was disguised by a branded sigil, though the other spotlit trails of dark protruding veins. He had pale narrow palms that splotched red in odd places, knobbly knuckles that bulged against his long fingers and chipped uneven nails. Lining the edges were faded scars and remnants of blisters.

Naked hands, riddled with faults. Not so different from the rest of him, really.

Hunter’s lip tightened with distaste. They were perfectly standard pair of hands but he would never stop viewing them as sorta pathetic looking.

When Hunter was little, long before he had developed caution as second nature, he had been a recklessly curious thing, who tended to paw at everything he didn’t understand.

He hadn’t understood anything.

This led to a smattering of nicks, bites and burns documented over the years in the glove buried canvas of his skin.

He liked to detach himself from these hands. These scarred, curious hands that had once been small and stupid.

When Hunter lifted his head, Willow snapped hers in the opposite direction, the colour in her cheeks like a dusting of pink pollen, as she plunged her hands into the soil.

Willow’s hands were nothing like Hunter’s. They were small, most of their size in the wide, cushioned palms. Her fingers were short, blunt and practical, with dirt already digging under her neatly clipped nails.

Three cinnamon coloured freckles were splayed across the side of her wrist and Hunter mused, for longer than he should, that if you connected those dots with your fingertip, you could draw a little triangle.

The skin of her hands was drier than the cloudlike softness of her face, and depending on how she fluttered them, he caught one or two peeks of her cracked calluses.

If his bare hand were to touch hers it would be a lot rougher than he originally thought.

Not that he had given it much thought, of course.

By the time Willow’s took note of his staring, Hunter had already cut his gaze away to rake his fingers through the fertilizer. He didn’t know what he was doing just yet but he could certainly make it look like he did.

Willow walked him through the process of planting seeds and yes, her first promise to Hunter had not been broken. It was easy. Ridiculously easy.

This aspect of gardening was swift and relaxing and Hunter didn’t even mind the texture of soil as much as he thought he would. It was soft and crumbly in his hands.

“You know, I always figured plant witches just sprung stuff out of the ground,” Hunter remarked, tracing a useless circle where he had just planted a seed.

“So, Most Powerful Witch in Her Track. What’s the deal with you down on your knees, digging in the dirt?”

Willow wiped back her sweaty forehead and turned a broad grin on him. The only way she could possibly look more in her element was if her ears begun sprouting leaves. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. With a perspective like that, you’d never make it in my track.”

That wasn’t the only reason.

“Enlighten me.”

She hummed thoughtfully, readjusting herself into a more comfortable sitting position.

“This garden was my passion long before my powers developed,” Her gaze pooled with pride as she skimmed across her worlds upon worlds of thriving life. A slight breeze rustled the trees.

“So when I finally started to grow into myself, I had an immediate connection to plant magic. Nobody knew plants like me, nobody loved plants like me and the plants could sense it.”

“But you have magic now. So why do you still have to--?”

“I don’t have to.” She deadpanned, as though it were obvious. “But it’s always nice to put in the extra effort for what you love. I still love plants and they love me. Plus a more hands-on approach enhances our connection,”

Her dimples popped with a smile. “And that in turn enhances my magic! Cool, huh?”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh…Huh. Weird.”

“Weird?”

“Well, it’s just…this is the human way, right? It’s just weird to think there’d actually be value in that.”

“A lot of witches think like that.” Willow said with an exasperated shake of her head. “Which is why nobody believes me when I tell them this is how I got so good.”

“Hey, it’s less competition.” Hunter shrugged.

“I don’t care about that, Hunter.”

“That’s fine. I’ll care about it for you.” He did a sarcastic little spin of his finger. “Less competition. Woo.”

Willow smirked, a teasing glitter in her eye. “Okay, that’s settled. You shan’t tell a soul about the secret of my power, are we clear?”

Hunter set a hand to his heart. “Shan’t tell a—smmph!”

“Ssssshhh” Willow had smushed the pad of her filthy finger against his lips. “I am a soul and you were about to blab.”

“Captain!” Hunter protested. “Stop, that’s gross, it’s—Ugh!”

His face scrunched up in disgust. “Dirt in my mouth, dirt in my mouth, blech, uck,” He frantically spat into the ground as Willow cackled at him.

And when Hunter laughed in response, it was a low warning.

He pounced on her and she shrieked, attempting to bat him away with her flailing hands but Hunter refused to relent until he had successfully gotten her back. Once his thumb had managed to leave a smudge across her cheek, he was satisfied.  

But Willow just could not let him have his win and things escalated. It was all a bit of a blur, actually. Around five minutes of rolling in the dirt later, both Willow and Hunter were caked in the stuff and their faces were stretched into lunatic grins.

Willow had announced that there was no clear winner, only for Hunter to say that while he respected her opinion, she was wrong and it was him.

She responded by flicking another spot of soil at him.

By the time Hunter’s giddy buzz died away and he began to worry that returning to the castle like this would draw attention, Willow had already spelled the two of them clean.

He then proceeded to dirty his cheek two minutes later and all she could do was throw her hands up and sigh.  

The time spun by and the only determination of the passing hours was the gradual droop of the sun. Hunter had decided that once streaks of pink painted the sky, that was his sign that he must leave.  

They continued to chat as they worked, topic fluid as it had been during their morning message thread.

Willow had asked about Hunter’s favourite book at some point and wound up receiving a barrage of information about Ruler’s Reach. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was just asking for a basic synopsis before he had reached the gore dripping contents of chapter 46 in in his page-by-page recount.

He stopped abruptly, figuring that being a fanboy was not the image he wanted to represent, and asked her favourite book in return.

Willow had obliged, eyes alight and happily explained that while she wasn’t a huge reader like Luz or Amity, she had this one beloved novella that had been tucked away under her pillow for years and years and she still wasn’t sick of it, pouring over the memorized words when she had trouble falling asleep.

“It’s not in great condition though. It’s sort of falling apart,” She added with a sheepish smile.

Hunter liked that idea. Willow owning a book with a damaged spine and frayed corners and pages well worn by time.

Just like Hunter.

Maybe, on occasion, they had read during the same hours, vastly different stories for vastly different individuals, and yet everlastingly connected by the same night, the hang of the same moon.

It was a totally dumb and insignificant notion, but Hunter pocketed it in his heart to think about the next late night in that deathly silent castle, as he turned a tattered page and felt the icy bite of being entirely alone.

Willow told him a story pillared on themes of politics, life, and the relationship between witches and nature. It focused on a warrior queen who grew a new kingdom from a forest beneath the sea, only to realize forty years later that she had destroyed the already existing ecosystem that had been there before, and her efforts to undo her hubris.

There were battles peppered here and there, but it lacked the raw emphasis on violence that Hunter’s book had revolved around, which he considered detrimental to his overall review.

He didn’t really get the appeal but Willow certainly did, and he liked to listen to her recite the quotes like poetry, they sounded prettier when she said them then they probably looked written down, her voice imbued with some kind of magnitude that one could only understand if they poured over the pages like she did.

She seemed to care more for the beauty of flowery prose and symbolism than the gaping plot holes. Which Hunter also didn’t get, but she loved it in such a way that he hoped she never stopped loving it.

“Would you, as a plant witch, have a favourite plant, or are you, like, obligated not to?” Hunter asked, once they had pattered around the subject of Willow’s track.

At this point in the afternoon, they had phased out of garden work without noticing. Hunter was now lazing by the goreberry bush, having invented a game of tossing a berry high into the air and Flapjack would swoop in and attempt to snatch it in his beak

He was successful nine times out of ten, though Hunter and Willow still cheered and clapped every time, hyping the little bird into a frenzy.

“Huh.” Said Willow, like Hunter had asked something profound.

“What?”

“I don’t think, for as long as I’ve been alive, that I’ve ever thought about a favourite plant.”

“So, I’m about to witness a milestone.” Hunter said dryly. He quirked a smile. “Cool.”

Willow tutted, winding her arms around her tucked up legs. She plopped her chin on her knees. “Now, that’s just putting pressure on me.”

“Even better.”

“Hmm…” She rocked back and forth as she ruminated, gazing around the expanse of her garden.

“Any day now.”

“It’s a tough question!”

Hunter snorted.

“I think…” She said finally, slow and pensive. “If I were to consider a favourite plant, I would probably just consider my mood and equate it to the language of the flowers.

Hunter clenched a triumphant fist. “So, they can talk!”

This was becoming one of his favourite Willow laughs, where he uttered something that she hadn’t expected and it surprised a laugh right out of her. It made a very pretty jingling sound.

“Not like that. I mean….look at this.” Willow climbed to a stand and drifted past where he was sitting. When she realized he wasn’t making any effort to follow her, she lifted a finger.

“Up.”

Hunter let out a strangled yelp as a plump, fuzzy bloom erupted directly beneath him, successfully launching him to his feet. He was stumbling where he stood, arms thrown out to keep his balance when he processed what the Hell just happened.

“Hey!”

Willow’s giggles wobbled high the air, catching in the breeze.

She led him to a patch of technicolored flowers. They resembled curled up wrinkled paper, all crawling up stems and tight for space. Willow gestured to it all with jazzy hands and a silly little “Ta da~”

“I’ve never seen flowers like this before.” Hunter commented, crouching to his knees for a more thorough examination. “And these are your favourite? In the whole garden?”

“No, they were my favourite plant yesterday. Because that was when I was determined to start my Flyer Derby team. It was game time.” She emphasized, punching a fist into her palm. “And that’s exactly what gladiolus flowers represent. Battle! Strength! Integrity!”

With every declaration, her fist pumped closer and closer to Hunter’s face and if this were anyone else, he would swear he was about to be socked in the jaw.

This new bout of information had piqued his interest, and something was beginning to bubble, to sizzle, to explode.  

“There’s a….a code for flowers?” He asked, making absolute certain that he was hearing this right.

“Exactly! Of course there’s also a language behind plants native to the Boiling Isles and it’s pretty much common knowledge. However, there’s barely any witches who are interested in the meanings behind Human Realm flowers. Which is a little sad because I’ve always found them--”

“Teach me.”

Willow’s prattle came to a staggering halt and she gaped at Hunter like he had suddenly turned himself upside-down. She even cocked her head in an attempt to see him right side up. “You—you’re really….? I didn’t think flower language would be your thing.”

“Are you serious? This is exactly my thing.” Hunter corrected her, grinning.  

There was potential here for something structured and elaborate, which was very much within the realm of Hunter’s interest, and he was so willing to expand on it further that his head was beginning to spin.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, you said so yourself, when it comes to Human Realm flowers, it’s practically a dead language, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So!” Hunter did not recall leaning into such close proximity to Willow until she took an instinctive step back, and when he clapped his hands on her shoulders, he was too filled with enthusiasm to second guess it.

“Just think of the information you could conceal in a bouquet without risk of it being compromised! Secret plans, strategies, all things confidential. It’s a completely untapped method of communication.”

“Hunter, I don’t think the meanings behind plants are detailed enough for that,”

“Then we’ll add to it! We’ll develop it into something more complex, using the already existent language as a basic structure. It’ll be fun!”

He didn’t realize he was jostling her until he caught the glasses sliding down her nose. The sense of something out of place bothered him, so he absentmindedly pushed them up.

Willow’s eyes were blown wide, which was to be expected when he was spitting out so much information at a possibly overwhelming rate. He thus made an effort to speak slower when he opened his mouth again.

“Look, I picked up texting fast and I know I can pick up this too. Just teach me a basic understanding of deciphering flowers, that’s all I ask.”  

At that, Willow’s bewildered face twitched into something mischievous. “And just who exactly would be sending you flowers, Hunter?”

Hunter blinked at her, uncomprehending.

Was she seriously not following him here?

“Who else? You, Captain.”

In what was an extremely perplexing reaction, Willow was so stunned that she blushed pure fire, a strange noise squeaking from the back of her throat.

She turned away from him, fingers gripping the hair from her scalp like she was having some sort of meltdown, before seizing tight on her pigtails.

Hunter stared at her, wondering the extent of her reservations about awesome new forms of language. He had expected her to be a lot more enthusiastic about the whole concept of what was essentially texting but with flowers. Now, he knew Willow loved both those things, so what was all this about?

He inched closer, attempting to peer at the face directed firmly on the ground. This fuss was truly bizarre.

“Captain?” He murmured, voice thick with hesitation.

She chanced a glance up, only to immediately lock eyes with Hunter. He picked up the soft stutter of her breath and the wild flare of jungle green irises, but before he could say anything more, she had shoved him away by the face.

“Ack-- ” Hunter grunted, attempting to pry away the hand that was squishing up his nose.

“Fine, Hunter.” Sighed Willow, and once she finally let her hand fall, he got a clear look at her.

The ghost of a full face flush still blotched in her cheeks but she had regained enough composure to smile. It was that peculiar smile that Hunter had seen touch her lips quite a few time today, and the only emotion he could compare it to was exasperation.

“I’ll teach you some flowers. Maybe we’ll start tomorrow. And…” Her voice lowered, gaze retreating to the ground. “Maybe once you’re semi-fluent, I’ll send you one or two messages. Maybe.”

Hunter guessed that he had failed to disguise how pleased he was, as Willow promptly laughed at the look on his face.

“You still haven’t answered my original question.” He said as he followed her through the garden. Because if there was one thing Hunter was becoming accustomed to, it was following Willow around.

“Which question?”

“What’s your favourite plant? Today’s favourite plant?”

Willow’s footsteps halted. She sucked down on her bottom lip in consideration before fixing a look on Hunter that he could not hope to untangle the meaning behind. Her eyes travelled from his bare fidgeting hands all the way to the stray forelock that dangled over his eye.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

[kazemitsuyuri]

Sweater weather

summary: you convinced yourself to make him a scarf for the cold seasons. with the quite unpleasant results, you expected him to hate it. but bakugou left you with nothing but butterflies.

genre: hcs, fluffy fluff 😊

warnings: swearing

a/n: funny how i'm writing about cold seasons while it's literally july lol anyways enjoy this little piece (kinda like a part two of "warm on a cold night") 🤩

so it was the cold seasons

this year, the weather was especially cold with temperatures going down daily

last time, bakugou made you a damn sweater (read here) which you absolutely adored

so it would be reasonable that you wanted to get him something in return to fend off the cold

you initially planned on buying a scarf from the stores

but looking at the sweater he took his precious time and effort into crocheting for you, your guilt insisted you on knitting him one yourself

now... you're not the best at doing crafts as you'd describe yourself as clumsy and uncreative, not to mention your laziness

and bakugou spoiling you, having you do absolutely nothing when he's around is to blame

yet you decided to step up your game and knit him a damn scarf

how hard could that be?

well unbeknownst to you, this wasn't as easy as you thought

you didn't even know how to knit to begin with and your craftsmanship wasn't the best per say

but the important thing is that you try, right?

you used orange and black wool because when you look at those two colours, all you could think of is bakugou

and after sprinting accross town to buy the supplies, watching tutorial videos online, cursing at your inability to be patient, almost crying and giving up, you've finally finished

the results were... not what you've anticipated

and by that i mean it was completely a disaster

it was shaped like a scarf, yes, but the colours were all mixed up and did not form little "x"s like you wanted

"if i were him i'd never put this thing around my neck," you mumbled, holding up the piece while frowning to yourself

ugh but you tried so hard on it too so you didn't really have the heart to throw it away

so instead, you hid it under your pillow and went to do some house chores

you had to cook dinner because he had a late night patrol shift which meant you don't cook = both of you starve, so you got busy and kinda forgot about the scarf

remeber how you hid the thing under the pillow? the one on the bed? the bed in the room you two shared?

gee, what a great hiding spot, he would have never found it

he found it that very night, having had an early leave from work

after showering, he saw some wool poking out your pillow

he got curious and so he took it out of its brilliant hidding place

you panicked when he asked you about it

you tried to lie, tried.

but apparently heroes can detect lies just as well as policemen, or was it just because it was bakugou you were lying to?

"y/n, you made this?"

"yes, i mean i tried to make it for you. i really wanted to give you something in return for this sweater," you pointed to the one you were wearing, "but then it... didn't come out as well as i hoped..."

now,,, as blunt and honest as bakugou was, you were expecting a laugh to the face, a harsh feedback, something like "this looks weird as fuck"

you've gotten quite used to those, they hurt sometimes but wouldn't hurt you too much

you knew him like the back of your hand, you trust and love him so those words don't really mind you much

but all he did was held it to his chest, observing it with his ruby red eyes while nothing escaped the lips you kissed every night

you reached out your hand to retrieve it, thinking he didn't like it but didn't want to hurt your feelings,

"it's okay, katsuki. i know it doesn't look good, i'll try to make you another one, of if you want i can just go to the store to buy an actual scarf"

but the moment you touched the scarf, he huffed and turned away from you

to your surprise, he wrapped the scarf around his neck

his back was facing you so you couldn't see his blushing face, his nose hidden in the scarf, slowly inhaling the scent of the hand lotion you always used

you protested, still believing he was pretending to like it, "it's really not good, you know what, i'll buy you a decent scarf tomorrow."

he turned around, catching you off guard

his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into a hug

"i don't want some shitty scarf from the fucking stores, idiot. this one... smells like you."

you hugged him back, smiling ear to ear, your heart melted like butter as he kissed your cheek, his way of thanking you

but then, you'd keep asking him if he was sure that he didn't want another scarf

to which he replied by flicking your forehead lightly and scoffed, hand holding up the scarf on his neck, "no. i like this and this only. this is the best fucking scarf in the universe."

and he actually really loved it

true, it wasn't the best looking, but you - the person he loves so much - made it for him

you're his damn partner, of course he knew your clumsiness and your imperfections

but he loved you no matter what, because you're... well, you.

he wore it constantly, at home, at work, on missions...

it's like how often mikasa wore eren's red scarf from attack on titan - ALL THE TIME

he refused to take it off

the only times he took it off were to take showers or to sleep, and of course to wash it

the heroes and interns that worked at his agency would awe at the sight of him wearing your scarf; they felt all fuzzy inside seeing how much their boss loved his beloved,

while you were embarrassed to see your disastrous creation being seen by everyone

which he would always reassured you, "if anyone talks shit about it, i'll blow their ass into outer space."

oh and the teasing from the bakusquad

no, they weren't teasing you. it was him.

"bakubro is a total softie for y/n~" -sero

or "dude have you even washed it? i mean you've been wearing it everyday🤷‍♂️" -kaminari

they all got blasted into space and lived happily ever after:) the end. lol

nevertheless, bakugou would let you know he loved your gift when ever you felt insecure about it

"a little bit of practice and you can knit our future kids some clothes, babe"

"oh yeah? how many kids are we talking about here? so i could buy enough wool for them" you joyfully joked back

"a fucking soccer team"

"KATSUKI!"

🤭🥴

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

–––––

CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘The_gr8_bugaboo@yoohoo.com’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S.  Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

[shutupanddance]

New follower here! Could you write a piece with Benoit Blanc and a reader who is a shy timid secret admirer who gives him little gifts on his desk then sneaks out. But Blanc being the awesome detective he is finds out and ends up giving the reader a little kiss on the cheek?

Gracias!

Adorable!! Love it!! Enjoy ;)

It had been happening for months now, on and off. The detective would return to his office after being out in the field, and find something gift-wrapped on his desk. Sometimes in a paper bag, sometimes in wrapping paper, sometimes simply tied with a ribbon.

The thing is, you were leaving them.

A friend of yours had been helped by Benoit Blanc, and you were involved. Since then, you have followed every one of his cases, and left little tokens of appreciation on his desk while they were being solved.

You figured he deserved it, after all the service he put in for the community. And for how he helped your friend. Secretly, though, you just thought he was an amazing guy, and wanted your gifts to send that message.

Today, you have the same goal. You just left Blanc’s office, and are now making your way back home, having deposited a simple candle with an ornate holder.

You smile against the biting cold, shiver, and pull your coat around you. Your scarf had blow away just a few days ago while you were out ice skating, and you haven’t had time to replace it. You find that the cold doesn’t do as much damage, though, when your cheeks are already pink with excitement and happiness.

You don’t notice that anything is different when you first enter your apartment. It isn’t until after you’ve changed into some warm clothes and put a kettle on that you realize there is something on your kitchen island. A gift.

It’s wrapped in decorative paper, covered in blue snowflakes and glitter, and tied with twine.

A small gasp escapes you, and you feel the air whoosh over your lips. What is this?

You gingerly untie the twine, and the paper falls away. Inside is a beautiful, deep purple scarf. To replace the one I lost, you realize.

You’re trying to figure out who could have left this. And why would they give it to you? How did they know you lost your scarf? You pull it out from the paper and begin to wrap it around your neck, when you notice a note, tucked away in the fabric folds.

Y/N -

I don’t mean to intrude (although I know you have already been in my office), but I believe you are in need of a scarf. I hope this serves you well.

- B.B.

You feel many emotions run through you at once. Panic, guilt, embarrassment, but then surprise, warmth, and excitement. And something even softer that you can’t quite place.

Without giving yourself time to think, you grab your coat, tie the scarf snuggly around your neck, and head back out into the cold. You know the way to Benoit Blanc’s office well, so it doesn’t take long.

You practically burst in, to find the detective lighting the candle you had just left.

Benoit looks at you for awhile before setting down the lighter. You’re smiling, even though you’re a bit embarrassed. He notices your neck.

“I’m assuming you like the scarf?” He chuckles. You nod.

“It’s beautiful.”

There’s a strange moment of silence, and you really aren’t sure what to say. Thankfully, Benoit takes care of that for you.

“I simply wanted to thank you for your gifts. I know you have a great appreciation for what I do, though I can’t quite understand it, and to have an admirer during the tougher cases has lightened my day many times.

I suspected it was you, but I didn’t want to assume. I was following you a few days ago to confirm my suspicions, when you lost your scarf.”

You smile. 

“Well, thank you.”

“Thank you. Now, I believe it is your day off? Best be getting you back to your warm home.”

You nod, a little worried you’ve made him uncomfortable. But he’s smiling so gently, and his eyes fall on you with such softness…

He gets the door for you. And as you say goodbye, he plants a gentle kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the cold, you’re sure he’d notice your blush.

“If you ever become more interested in my work,” Benoit says slowly, “I could always use an extra hand.”

You can hardly believe your ears.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

If only you knew the adventures that await you…