#maybe i’m teaching the lessons gentle parents are too afraid to teach

[halechief]

i do believe in beating children at games. the real world is a rough place. pack it up short stack. you’re through.

[andtheydontstopwriting]

𝘾𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙨 -【Rodrick Heffley x F!Reader】- One-Shot

rating: pg

word count: 6.2k

summary: [y/n], daughter from a wealthy family from New York City, has been keeping her relationship with rodrick heffley a secret from her parents, though what happens if it’s brought up and her parents want to meet the secret boyfriend?

author’s note: here it is! hope you guys all enjoy it!! though i did want to let you know that i wrote this originally as a piece of work for my original character, which is why it is in third person! if you want to request anything feel free to!! once again, thank you for reading it!

keys: [y/nn] - your nickname

“I didn’t mean to tell them, [Y/NN].” Caleb spoke in hushed tones, as he attempted to prevent any outburst that he doubted would come from his younger sister, but it was still something that he felt that needed to be stopped, “But I’m sure neither you or Rodrick would exactly be thrilled if you ended up going to homecoming with David or Chad, and you know how dad-.”

 “Listens to you, yes, I do know that, Caleb,” [Y/N] began, though her train of thought was shooting off in a million different directions, “And I do appreciate you trying to stick up for my happiness, but now we have to deal with what comes with doing that.”

 It did not take long for Caleb to know what [Y/N] meant, because their father did bring it up in the conversation that started this whole situation. 

 “Father and Mother want to meet him.”

 “And I don’t know if I can teach Rodrick to have the manners and social know-how that we and whoever Father believes would be more acceptable.”

 “Maybe it’s for the best that’s the case, [Y/NN],” Caleb pointed out, placing a gentle hand on his 

sister’s shoulder, “Give yourself the chance to step out of the spotlight for once, your happiness is what’s important.”

 [Y/N] merely just nodded, because she knew that the standards their father placed on both of them were vastly different. Caleb could afford some level of security in the notion of not being worried about what their father thinks, because he does not have to work so hard to make their father happy. 

 This was something the teenager always had to grapple with growing up. Eventually, coming to terms with since she was the youngest, her future compared to her older brother’s was uncertain, unclear, and too many factors were up in the air: where was she going to college? What would her major be? What would her future career be? What sort of family would she have? Who would she marry?

 Whereas Caleb had his future planned from the moment he was born: attend an ivy league for business then take over the family company, marry a family friend/one of the daughters of their father’s business associates or a family that would be useful to merge with and have a family. It was always clear and never questioned, even when they were kids. It took little effort on his part to make their father happy, because the expectations were clear as day and never took a moment of thought to figure out.

 It was her burden to bear, and never had the strength in her to expect anyone to understand the judging gaze always cast her way, as if waiting for her to mess up or make a mistake to remind her of her failures no matter how perfect she appeared to the public eye. To her own boyfriend, even.

 And part of her subconscious wished it would remain that way forever. But life has a funny way of working out in the end.

 Her parents at dinner the same night her and Caleb conferred, they brought up having this mystery boy their daughter had been seeing secret over for dinner so they could have a chance to finally meet. [Y/N] had little say in the matter and the Saturday before Homecoming was agreed upon.

 As soon as she returned to her bedroom for the night, [Y/N] knew she had to bring it up to Rodrick as soon as she could if they were to have any chance of staying together after that Saturday. The week they just about had was not going to be enough, but [Y/N] still felt she had to put the effort into trying to teach Rodrick at least table manners her parents would expect. But perhaps even that was pushing it.

:~+~:

“Your parents want to meet me?”

 “Well, they did say they want to meet you, but I don’t think it’s because they know it’s you, Rodrick.” 

 Perhaps on their near nightly phone call was not the ideal place to tell Rodrick about the dinner, but it was the first instance she could get it out without her anxiety getting the better of her about telling him in the first place. It saved her having to tell him in person and save herself from seeing how he reacted in real time. 

 “And dinner was the best place for that to happen?” Rodrick questioned after a brief moment of silence and a familiar squeak of some springs faintly resounded into the speaker on his end. He must have 

 “With my family, yes,” The blonde confirmed, “With all things considered, with the holidays too far away and Homecoming approaching sooner, and they specifically said they wanted to meet you before the dance, a dinner is the only way.” 

 “Okay…” Rodrick trailed off, going silent for a moment, “When is dinner anyway?”

 “Next Saturday,” [Y/N] replied, though quickly added before her boyfriend could speak, “We’re gonna have to have etiquette lessons, Rod, so I can teach you everything that you’re gonna need if you’re gonna make it through the night.”

 “What do you mean etiquette, babe?” 

 “Like how to sit at a table, which fork and spoon to use and when to use them, what you can and can’t say, that sort of stuff. The basics.” 

 “Do you think a week is enough time to teach me all that junk?”

 “Luckily for you, you have a great teacher and someone who has been taught this stuff her whole life, I think something will stick.”

 “Alright, whatever you say babe,”

 “I’ll even help you get ready,” [Y/N] promised, though had to amend it with, “I’ll try to, anyway, I'll at least come over to make sure you have an appropriate outfit because t-shirts won’t cut it.”

 There was a clear groan of annoyance on the other end of the line before the teenager spoke, “You know I hate wearing ties, [Y/N], and I’m already pushin’ wearing it for Homecoming and not to church.”��

 “I know, I know,” [Y/N] sighed as she brought a hand up to her face as she stood from her bed to start pacing her room, “But it’s just for one more night than normal, Rodrick, I promise.”

 “And what do I get in return, huh?”

 “A girlfriend?”

 “Okay, yeah, that’s a pretty solid deal.”

 “So lessons start tomorrow, okay?”

 “After the band practice,”

 “After the band practice then.” [Y/N] confirmed as she sat on her bed once more, “Good night, sweetheart.”

 “Night, babe.” 

:~+~:

Okay, so the lessons did not go great, but they went about as well as [Y/N] expected. Teaching Rodrick how to behave and act as closely to the way she and her brother had grown up being taught was like pulling teeth, and much like chemistry, it was looking like nothing was sticking. And if anything was sticking, it was gone by the next day and they had to start over.

Meaning, come that fateful Saturday, [Y/N] could only hope that her very quick rundown of the basics, the true basics of what Rodrick needed to know the night before when she went over the Heffley’s house the previous night to get possible outfit choices ready and wrinkle free knowing the state of his bedroom and how clothes could be just...existing on the floor and if it was a process for her to find clean t-shirts of his to steal, then she figured the dressier clothes he owned were living the same way.

“What’s troubling you, little bird?” Her mother asked her daughter, as she had noticed that [Y/N] had been a little distracted in chopping the vegetables up. Not only that, she had been on edge since had left her bedroom that morning.

 “I’m worried about dinner tonight, Mother,” [Y/N] answered, shaking her head a bit to refocus her attention on chopping the vegetables.

 “I’m sure your Father will be on his best behavior, there’s no reason to be worried.” Helena spoke softly, reassuring her daughter with the soothing tones and having set the spoon down beside the stove top to go over and gently brush [Y/N]’s hair back, “Everything will be fine, little bird.”

 As much as [Y/N] wanted to believe her mother was right, that things would be fine and everything would go smoothly,she also had to remind herself of her father’s constant attempts to control her life, and everything in her life. That included who she dates and there had been plenty of failed attempts in the past because of this meddling, and [Y/N], for once, just wanted to be free of the constant puppet strings attached to her that her father controlled. 

 “Father’s best behavior is turbulent, Mother, you know this,” [Y/N] pointed out with a sigh, “Rodrick isn’t exactly what Father believes to be best for me, and I’m afraid if Rodrick says one thing he doesn’t like, that's it, we’re through.” 

 “Your father’s opinion does not always matter, remember that his say is not final-”

 “It’s been final before.” [Y/N] interjected, “Remember he wouldn’t let me try out for the cheer team?”

 “He’s just looking out for what's best for you, that’s all.” 

 After that, the kitchen was silent save for the sounds of cooking, because once more [Y/N]’s anxiety took over and Helena simply did not know how to comfort her daughter anymore. It was easiest to just finish dinner and then go get ready for it, adn say nothing else on the matter for fear of making things worse.

 However, just as [Y/N] was finishing up getting ready when she heard the familiar sound of an engine rumbling up the driveway. And gazing out of one of her bedroom windows that overlooked the front of the house, she saw the familiar van park in front of the garage.

 So that is a good thing, Rodrick managed to remember to get there early as she insisted numerous times upon. Not that much earlier than the time she said dinner would start, but it was something, at least. 

 Next came the issue of watching Rodrick getting out of the van. While he did dress the part, the part was also distracting her that she kept her eyes trained on him before he disappeared under the roof that covered the front porch. It was indeed a rare instance for [Y/N] to see her boyfriend dressed up, considering she never exactly went with the Heffley family to church on Sundays. 

 So it was easy to understand as to why she had zoned out, nearly daydreaming and ogling over what she saw from a distance what her boyfriend was wearing. Though before she could fully dive into the daydream, the echoing sound of the ring of the doorbell echoed across the house and it was enough to snap [Y/N] out of her head and she was quick to stand from her vanity, hoping to make it to the front door before her parents or brother could open the door.

 However, her attempts were in vain because of the delay it took her to stand and began the mad dash to the front of the house and the size of the home itself, and by the time she had reached the top of the stairs, she saw her mother already at the front door and as [Y/N] made her descent down the staircase, she heard what was spoken.

 “Ah, so you must Rodrick,” Helena spoke, though [Y/N] could get a hint of confusion from the tone used, which [Y/N] assumed was because her mother had recognized Rodrick from the couple times she had seen him before when she first started to tutor the boy, but that was not brought up when Helen added, “Come in, come in.”

 “Uh, thank you, Mrs. Clemens.” [Y/N] heard Rodrick speak as she continued her descent down the staircase, smiling to herself because at least something else stuck: always use formalities, never call my parents by their actual names. 

 As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was met with a beat of silence and then Rodrick saying without much hesitation, “You look beautiful,” 

 A dust of pink appeared on her cheeks and she briefly looked towards her mother away from Rodrick, who looked between the teenagers before taking the steps towards the dining room, allowing the young couple a moment alone before the dinner began.

 “I have to admit, I know you hate getting all dressed up,” [Y/N] spoke as she neared Rodrick, reaching up to gently adjust the tie around his neck, “But I wouldn’t be opposed to you dressing up more often.”

 “There isn’t a chance of that happening, babe, you know that.” Rodrick pointed out, though a teasing smile graced his face, which [Y/N] mirrored.

 “A girl can dream, can’t she?” 

 Just as Rodrick was about to lean down to give [Y/N] a quick peck on the lips, he froze in his movements as he both heard a voice from down the hall echo around them and the fact he felt [Y/N] slightly tense up.

 “Ah, [Y/N], dinner is about to start, I expected you to be in the dining room already.”

 [Y/N] took a deep breath as she began to speak as she stepped to stand beside Rodrick instead, “Father, we were just heading there n-”

 “This must be the secret boyfriend, then, Rodrick, wasn’t it?” Charlie interrupted, which was something [Y/N] was used to by then, and held a hand out to Rodrick (another thing [Y/N] could see right through--the charm of a businessman), “Charles.”

 “Yeah, that’s me,” Rodrick said as he briefly glanced at his girlfriend to see what to do, before [Y/N] replied with a glance down to her father’s extended hand, which Rodrick took with a little too much fervor, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Clemens.”

 The energy behind Rodrick’s hand shake with her father was something that would not be much of an issue, but [Y/N] never had a how to shake a hand lesson herself, so it was overlooked when she was teaching her boyfriend what he would need to know. She was a girl, and the only thing she ever got on the subject matter was to be light and certain in the handshake, and that was all. So one look at her father’s face said all that she needed to know.

 It was already off to a bad start and they had not even sat down for dinner yet.

 Luckily her mother had called them into the dinning room before much more could already add to the poor outcome [Y/N] could start to sense coming already, no matter the words that echoed to counter the notion, hoping that things would look up from there forward.

 And for the first part of dinner, it was as her mind had hoped it would be, as everything went smoothly. Any questions her parents asked to Rodrick, it took a moment, but he was always to pull something out that also did not make him nor his family look bad. The looks shared between the Clemens siblings were a mix of relief and happiness as the dinner progressed, because the lessons and seemingly did in the end stick with Rodrick more than [Y/N] previously had suspected they did. 

 “So, what is it you want to do with your life after you finish up high school, Rodrick?”

 That was the question she was dreading, and one she was hoping for once her father would overlook and just accept that fact, move on that the future did not matter as much as the happiness of his children. 

 And the question must have also thrown Rodrick off for some reason, as he glanced once more at [Y/N] and in turn [Y/N] glanced at Caleb, a look of panic settling on her face.

 “I think the team has a good chance of winning the game next week.” Caleb brought up, “So Homecoming may be a celebration for that win, too.”

 “The football team has won every year the past several years, Caleb,” Charles pointed out, sighing as he set his fork down on the plate before him, “But that is not what we are talking about now, my boy.” 

 “The marching band is probably the best we’ve had in years, Father,” [Y/N] quickly added, clearly buying Rodrick enough time to try and find an answer to Charles’ question, “It’ll be worth going to the game for more than just the football team this year.”

 “[Y/N], I believed I asked Rodrick a question, so I would appreciate it if you would allow him to answer.” Charles said, his tone rising from calm coolness, to slight agitation as he took a deep breath to calm down once more, “Now, Rodrick, what do you want to do with your future?”

 “To be a musician.” 

 “Oh, a musician,” Helena tried to express some happiness in the discovery, “Are you in the school orchestra with [Y/N]?”

 “N-no, Mrs. Clemens,” Rodrick realized his mistake of bringing up the fact he wanted to be a musician, but at the same time, if he said he didn’t know, he was sure he and [Y/N] would be over then and there, “I’m in a band with some of my friends.”

 “What type of music do you play then?” Charles asked and [Y/N] and Caleb once more exchanged looks before [Y/N] looked to Rodrick once again. A look that said there was no point in lying about it now.

 “Heavy metal.”

 “Oh…” Charles began, glancing between [Y/N] and Rodrick, before his eyes landed once again on Rodrick, “That’s an interesting choice, have you not considered going to college or another career path?”

 “Charles,” Helena interjected, giving her husband a look from across the table, “Now is not the time.”

 “What?” Charles asked, clearly confused as to what his wife could mean, “What’s so wrong about getting to know the boy who my little princess is dating?”

 From there, Helena merely just shook her head and dinner continued in silence, The only sound was the clatter of utensils as they hit the plate. [Y/N] kept her gaze down at the plate in front of her, merely just pushing what food was left around on her plate. Though, at some point, under the table, she reached over to gently grab a hold of Rodrick’s hand. To which, Rodrick merely just briefly looked over to [Y/N] and the only thing he could really do in reaction to it, was to let go of the tension in his shoulders before attempting to finish the meal before him.

 As expected, her mother announced that she would go and get dessert not too long after, but it would be a few minutes to warm it up once again. So as [Y/N] stood to start clearing the table, her father also stood.

 “[Y/N], could I speak to you for a moment?” Was all he said before he started his way towards the office he had at home.

 [Y/N] knew what would come from this conversation, and she had to try to be strong this time. She knew that this conversation would be her dad trying to get [Y/N] to break things off with Rodrick--something she knew was going to happen as soon as her father brought up the question of what Rodrick wanted to do with the future. His dream was not to be anything her father expected the man [Y/N] to be with. And it was time for her to take her own life into her own hands after so long of being looked down upon and controlled by the plan her father had for her.

 “What is it you see in that boy, [Y/N]?” Charles questioned as soon as the door to the office was shut behind [Y/N].

 “I can assure you that Rodrick is someone with more than meets the eye, Father.” [Y/N] answered clearly as she rose to stand up a little straighter.

 “But you are aware that he is not ideal, don’t you?” Her father spoke as he folded his arms behind his back, taking the strides to stand in front of his daughter, “You should be with someone like Edward Vill or Chad Danford. Not someone who you met tutoring, and someone who believes his heavy metal band will take off.” 

 He waited a moment for [Y/N] to speak, but all she did instead was lower her head and folded her hands at her front, so Charles continued, “All you have to do is end things with Rodrick and your future already looks brighter, my princess.”

 “That’s your plan for my life, though,” [Y/N] pointed out, her tone quieter than she wanted it to come out, but she soon found her confidence once more as she added, “For once I want to do things my way, so with all due respect father, I don’t think I will break things off with Rodrick no matter what your standards are for me.”

 “The standards I hold for you are meant to ensure you have a future.” Charles began, using a variation of the same speech [Y/N] heard time and time again, “As you know, your brother will take over the company, so I just want to make sure your foundation is strong in whatever ways I can provide. You’re young, you know little of how the world works.”

 “Have you not realized that in trying to live up to your expectations, I’m putting my own happiness at stake?”

 “The real world knows nothing of individual happiness, [Y/N], success is the only thing that will cultivate any sense of the word.”

 “I’m doing my best as I am right now, and then some, trying to gain the success you wish from me,” [Y/N] finally lifted her gaze up, though the tears starting to well in her eyes as soon as she did, looking at the man she called father, but had not felt like one in years, “But even with all that I have accomplished and juggled since we moved, you still think I’m a failure, and nothing I ever do is right.”

 “There’s always more, you never have to stop working and aiming high.” Charles’s voice began to rise once again, “And being with that boy is going to prevent you from doing such.” 

 [Y/N] shook her head just as the tears started to fall from her eyes, “I’m done trying to be what you think I am, because I’ll never be good enough for you.”

 “Young lady, you listen-” Charles began, but [Y/N] was quick to interrupt for once.

 “No, I’m done listening and following whatever it is you say for me to do, I’m choosing my happiness for once, which means I am not breaking up with Rodrick just because you do not approve of him.”

 And while Charles attempted to persuade [Y/N] otherwise, he did try to get her to understand why he does what he does, but [Y/N] was not having it. And despite his efforts to also get her to stay, [Y/N] was quick to make her leave, knowing if she stayed any longer it would turn out uglier than it had already become. And they did not need that to happen.

 Instead, [Y/N] tried her best to compose herself, keep herself together, as she went back into the dining room to get Rodrick. She did not need her brother or her boyfriend doting on her immediately, and she had to stay strong as she left the family home because she could not afford any more signs of weakness. 

 Though the soft hand on Rodrick’s shoulder and her quiet yet slightly quivering voice as [Y/N] asked, “Can we leave now?” was all Rodrick needed to have to know things did not go well when she talked with her dad, but he didn’t know what was discussed. 

 “See you around, Caleb,” Rodrick said before he stood from the dining table and [Y/N] was quick to grab a hold of his hand to walk out of the house. 

 “Young lady, you stay in this house or you’ll be grounded for the rest of your life!” She heard her father call out as he was approaching the foyer, but Helena was quick to hold him back.

“Charles, let her go,” She tried to reason with her fuming husband, “You two need some space right now,”

 [Y/N] shot a quick apologetic look to her mother as she grabbed her purse hanging by the front door before opening the large wooden door and stepped outside.

 “Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Clemens, it was real good!” Rodrick felt like he needed to say something before he shut the door behind him, and that was what happened to come out. Perhaps it was nerves talking and not filtering his thoughts that were not filled with concern for his girlfriend. And when they cleared the steps of the front porch, the boy was quick to make the steps to walk side by side, gently squeezing [Y/N]’s hand as they got to the van.

 As soon as everything was unlocked, and both were in their respective spots, Rodrick turned the noisy van on, backed up, and began the drive down the long driveway and back onto the street. [Y/N], meanwhile, just leaned her head against the window, staring mindlessly out the side view mirror and watched as the house she had started to call home grew smaller and smaller as they moved away from it, and she could see two figures standing on the porch but soon as they turned the corner onto the street, they were out of sight. 

:~+~:

Rodrick did not know what [Y/N] wanted to do, and she had been silent since asking him to leave her house. So he assumed it best to play it safe and drive around town as she calmed down enough to tell him what she wanted to do, or at least, he felt like she could answer when asked what she wanted to do. He knew by then to not push [Y/N], let her do things at her own time, because of his experience during finals last year and how she got so stressed out she shut down for a few hours. 

 Though after an hour of driving, from the corner of his eye, Rodrick could see that [Y/N] made an effort to lift her head off of the window and that was the sign that she was calming down and he made the choice to ask a question.

 “Wanna hit up the convenience store since we bailed on dessert?”

 There was a moment of silence, then two, then three, before Rodrick heard the defeated voice of his girlfriend come from her mouth, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 And with that guidance and direction on what to do next, Rodrick complied and drove to the nearest convenience store. 

 The next thirty minutes or so of the evening for the young couple were spent attempting to rid themselves of the pain and sorrow of the evening that had happened earlier. Trying to be young once more without any burdens or cares. And with this attempt to change how the night progressed, came the night chill and while Rodrick was fine, [Y/N] was not. Luckily, or unluckily, Rodrick had left one of his sweatshirts in the back of the van--which was the unlucky part, because it was found in the back of the van and who knows when it was last washed. But it was better than nothing, so [Y/N] accepted it and was grateful it at least smelled of him--the cologne he started to wear more frequently, that is. Once inside the shop, they moved through the snack and candy aisles with careful thought and consideration of what they wanted, with [Y/N] clinging onto Rodrick’s arm, her head resting upon his upper arm as they moved through the aisles and made their decisions of what felt appropriate for the evening--for Rodrick, a bag of chips and for [Y/N] a bag of sour gummy candy, as well as a bag of chocolate to share between them, and went to check out. 

 They chose to just sit and eat in the back of the van, still parked in the parking lot of the convenience store, as it was easier than finding somewhere else to go. They also sat in considerable silence once again, the only sounds this time were the bags crinkling and the sound of the crunch of the chip whenever Rodrick ate one, side by side as close as they could be and eat with ease at the same time. 

 “I’m tired of trying to be good enough,” [Y/N] suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that fell over them once she had decided she had finished with her candy for now. 

 Rodrick, who had been in the middle of eating a chip when [Y/N] decided to speak up, was grateful that he had something in his mouth as it allowed him the time to process what his girlfriend just said and figure out what he was going to say in return. In the meantime, he set aside his bag of chips and shifted enough to reach out and grab a hold of [Y/N]’s hand.

 “I’m tired of tryin’, too,” Was what he apparently settled with, having never exactly been good at the whole comforting thing, “So we can be tired of it together.”

 There was no verbal response from [Y/N], but she responded to this statement by gently rolling her head onto his shoulder, her other hand also came up to start playing with his fingers after setting the bag of candy down. So Rodrick took this that she was listening to what he was saying, but wasn’t sure in what way.

 “Buuuut, one of the smartest girls I know taught me once that having two negatives together ends up canceling out the other, so we can just be tired together, instead.”

 With this addition, a breathy laugh was heard in his ears and a proud little half smile appeared on his face as he heard her voice once again not being plagued by anxiety, but simply by sleepiness.

 “I don’t think you understood that full lesson, sweetheart, remember how you almost flopped that test because you didn’t?”

 With her statement being made, Rodrick’s smile grew into a full one before he tilted his head to place a gentle but loving kiss to the top of her head, before he murmured against her hair, “But I would have totally failed without you, babe.”

 “We can just be tired together, Rodrick,” [Y/N] confirmed after a moment of quiet enjoyment of the moment, “And deal with all the teenage bullshit together.”

“Wow, did you just swear, babe?” Rodrick said in joking disbelief as he leaned away to look at [Y/N] head on.

 “It’s been a long night, sweetheart.”

 “My place?”

 “I don’t think either of our parents would appreciate us sleeping in the back of your van, so yes, your place.”

:~+~:

“Where have you two been?” Was what they were greeted with as soon as they arrived at the Heffley family home, “We’ve been worried sick!”

 “Sorry, mom,” Rodrick began, stepping in front of [Y/N] as he added, “We just went on a drive and stopped to get snacks, that’s all.”

 “Your mother called, [Y/N], and she was worried when I said you weren’t here, but I’ll go call her to come get you, okay?”

 “N-no,” [Y/N] began, the stammer in her voice stopped Susan from going to the phone in the living room, and Frank just looked at her confused, “I, uh, don’t want to go back home tonight, can I please stay?”

 “What happened at the dinner that made you not want to go home?” Frank questioned.

 “Just some family stuff,” [Y/N] covered easily, though she took a step to stand closer to Rodrick as she continued, “...Didn’t leave on the best of terms.” 

 “Oh, then of course you can stay, and we can figure this all out tomorrow, but I am going to call your mom back and let her know you’re safe, okay?” Susan said with a gentle smile and [Y/N] reciprocated the smile with a quiet, thank you, before Mrs. Heffley added, “You can sleep on the couch, after I make the call I’ll go get you a blanket,”

 “Can she actually sleep in my room?” Rodrick brought up, his tone rushed, to which both his parents gave him a stern look but before his mom could even get the answer of no out, he added, “I don’t want her to be alone after what happened, is all.”

 Susan and Frank gave each other a look, before they looked at Rodrick and [Y/N], and they caught the young couple glancing at each other and they saw the softest expression on Rodrick’s face they have ever seen on their son and once more looked back at each other.

 “On an air mattress.” Frank said, pointing a finger at the both of them, to which the pair nodded before Mr. Heffley turned to go get the air mattress from the basement. 

:~+~:

So [Y/N] never ended up sleeping on the air mattress. 

 She started out there, trying to do right by Rodrick’s parents since they allowed her to sleep in their son’s bedroom, which she could not be in past 8:30 on a school night usually. But sleeping in some of Rodrick’s clothes and with him only feet away, she was crawling in right beside him not even five minutes in of trying to fall asleep.

 When she awoke the next morning, [Y/N] felt a weight on her chest, and not the emotional kind. No, it was almost the entire dead weight of her sound asleep boyfriend sleeping over top of her, his head resting on her shoulder, his wild bed hair tickling her neck. She did not move him off or attempt anything, instead choosing to bask in this moment they rarely got to have and enjoy a quiet Rodrick for once, a version of him totally at peace. Gently, she started to run her fingers along his back through the t-shirt he was wearing, before the fingers of her other hand started to gently card through his hair, which only settled the sleeping teenager deeper into her.

 When he settled a little deeper into rest, this was when she had a slight struggle with breathing, and [Y/N] knew that she had to do what was usually impossible: waking Rodrick up.

 But luckily for her, she knew a solid weak point that often got him up if he ended up falling asleep before one of their tutoring sessions: tickling his sides.

 The action did not shoot him straight awake, but it was enough to shock his brain into making him open his eyes, and groggily lift his head up. 

 At first, it was clear he was about to settle back into the sleep he just awoke from, but before his eyes fully shut, they opened once more as he processed he was not laying on his mattress, but instead his girlfriend and the sleepy grin that appeared as he lifted his head once more and gazed down at her with half-lidded eyes was a sight [Y/N] would never get used to no matter how much she saw it. 

 “Good mornin’ babe…” Rodrick mumbled as he began to lean down to give her a good morning kiss too, before he was promptly pushed away with a gentle hand.

 “Your morning breath is atrocious, sweetheart,” [Y/N] pointed out with a quiet laugh, “It could kill.”

 “C’mon, you know I would never kill you, babe.” Rodrick pouted, “Now c’mon and give me a good morning kiss.”

 Rodrick instead kissed all over her face as [Y/N] kept moving her head to avoid Rodrick meeting her lips, but their playfulness was cut short as they heard Susan’s voice from down the staircase calling up to them: 

 “Rodrick! [Y/N]! It’s time for breakfast!” 

 And fearing that Susan would come in to check on things, the pair moved--Rodrick faster than he ever had in the morning--to get [Y/N] into the air mattress. It was a bit of a scramble and [Y/N] nearly tripped getting off the twin bed, but she had slipped under the throw blanket on the air mattress just as Susan began her descent up the staircase, and the teenagers pretended to be asleep.

 Until they heard the sigh and Susan making her way back down the stairs, their eyes were shut but the moment she heard his mother’s voice away from the attic door, [Y/N] quietly slipped off the air mattress and made her way back to Rodrick’s bed, where she leaned down to give his a soft kiss on the lips.

 “We should probably go down stairs soon, sweetheart.”

 Rodrick opened his eyes at the feeling and smiled up at [Y/N], who smiled down at him in return. 

 “I hate it when you’re right, babe.”

 It was this moment they both realized something very important, very pivotal.

 They both loved the other, and it was a somewhat scary yet exciting thought.

[all-about-seggs]

A pact in blood-

Rating: 18+, Explicit

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Semi-incest (Satoru is your cousin/ distant relative), masturbation, Cunnilingus, fingering, hand job, the relationship is a bit messed up, yandereish undertones.

A/n: This takes place when he's still in the academy.* Image source*

“AA-ahhh! Please don’t- don’t stop…”,

Your broken pleas reverberated through the room as Satoru’s deft fingers worked their way in and out of your sopping wet hole. You gripped the sturdy jacket that covered his shoulders, folding the fabric between your fists was the only thing you could do to maintain the last shred of composure you had.

He was like a passing cloud who offered you momentary relief and was on his way as soon as your were done, the fragments of longings that remained on your body etched deeper after every night.

Position after position, he went from your pussy over his lips to eating you out ass up and face down, all for the pleasure you couldn’t seem to get by yourself. You were now splayed out on his lap, face buried in his neck and one arm draped over him for support. Waves of his sweet scent and the euphoria assaulting your senses at the same time, taking you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s been quite some time now but the memory of your first encounter with your unfairly gorgeous cousin Satoru has been etched into your mind as if it happened just yesterday.

You were in the manor of the esteemed Gojo clan for a family event and even though you didn’t shared the same surname you were related nonetheless and were hence invited. It was a four day and three night celebration where the entire place was abuzz with excitement.

It didn’t really mattered to you, being here with a go with a flow kind of attitude, you just minded your own business until spoken to and not mingling with the faceless crowd of people you didn’t even knew the names of.

Thankfully your room was in the separate building which was a little bit further from where all the riotous events centered around. After just half a day of being in the middle of the chaos you wanted to find a way to unwind and that’s when it happened.

Stark naked and two fingers up your little cunt, there was no explaining or bullshitting your way out of this situation when the heir of the household, Satoru Gojo himself walked in in you. Feeble attempts to cover yourself and half hearted stutterings died in your mouth as soon as the young man opened his.

“ Wrong”, the deadpan reply of his made your already shaken up state worsen. Panic flooding in your system begged you to make excuses or atleast request him to not speak of this to anyone, after all families of high status are nothing if not conservative and you didn’t wanted to cause anyone any trouble.

“ I meant, y/n chan, that you’re doing it wrong”, not paying any mind to your internal conflict he continued speaking form where he stood near the door, “ don’t you know how to masturbate? I thought you were in highschool?”

His genuinely perplexed tone made you reconsider your previous opinions about the heir to the clan. Satoru, a guy who walked in on a relative masturbating, was supposed to show courtesy and leave the second he entered but instead he was rating your technique, which in all honesty may have been lacking indeed but you were desperate to cum and he seemed to pick up on that.

“ Since you’re clearly having trouble getting off”, he loosened the obi of his particularly formal kimono and shifted his uncovered ocean blue eyes towards your form, “Want me to teach you?”, his question made you gulp, then gauge your eyeballs out in disbelief. Sure you weren’t closely related and have only spoken once or twice but you attended all the occasions and holiday celebrations at their place and knew that your relationship was only platonic. His offer to cross that line made you flinch back at first.

Heaving a sigh he closed the door and sat cross legged on the tatami mat next to your futon.

“ Relax, t’s not a big deal”, flashing a toothy grin he leaned forward until your noses touched.

“ Afterall, I AM your big brother”

“ wait- you’re also in highschool!”, You retorted, “ I bet you’re a virgin too. So what CAN you teach me anyway?”, overcoming the initial embarrassment, your mouth started moving in its own accord only getting encouraged by his laid back demeanor.

“ Pfttt- so you get defensive when cornered? How cute!”, he giggled, a smile teasing at his lips at your obvious attempt to hide the shame burning in your core.

“Don’t worry, I know my way around a pussy just fine”, light hearted words fell effortlessly from his mouth and you could swear half of your brain was short circuiting because of his crude way of speaking. For all his regal appearance, he was just like any other highschooler, a year older than you but his stature and delicate features gave him a magestic aura that exceeds that of people decades older than him.

Just by the few encounters from the past, you figured he wasn’t one for following traditions or rules if it didn’t suit him. He was way above the rest, in his own distant world everytime you saw him, the school he went to, the things he had experienced were all different.

Forgetting the other's existence after passing each other by with a few formalities exchanged was all you had done with each. You two were never close or even friends but now the chance presented itself to take your non existent relationship to the extreme end through your bodies.

You wanted this.

To feel good. The hormones of youth pumping your impulsiveness you relax your muscles and lie on your back. You could clearly hear Satoru’s playfully indifferent chuckle from above when you slowly part your legs to show him the sides of yourself that even you have never completely seen.

“Just this once, okay?”

He said he was just teaching you how to masturbate but it wasn’t that simple. The only person to get naked was you and the only person who experienced the mind numbing pleasure, was also you. He only needed his deft fingers and mouth to make you feel better and for a while you didn’t even question.

That one lesson of self pleasure which you both were supposed to forget turned into an entire session as day after day Satoru would show up at your parents house unbeknownst to a soul and you both crossed the same lines of platonic relationship everyday.

The euphoria was endless but with a single rule that you weren’t allowed to touch him in turn and it goes without saying that the two of you never went all the way. It would always start with small talks about the day, even when you’d be talking, all your focus was on what was to come next.

That’s why after a few weeks of the detached pleasure he provided you, it got you thinking what he actually wanted from you. Satoru had already seen, touched and tasted all your body had to offer, never revealing any of his own.

You wondered if he ever felt sexually frustrated by always giving and never asking for anything in return. You knew he was not THAT nice. At least that’s what you believed considering his sadistic streak in bed. He did seem to be enjoying himself when he's messing you up so maybe he didn’t have many sexual urges that he needed to satisfy and was just acting on curiosity or maybe he had someone else, someone older with more experience who he didn’t constantly had a upper hand with and was able to see them as an equal. This thought alone made your chest tight, with an unnatural pain that threatened to break your heart.

You had to catch your darkening train of thought before it reached to the conclusion you were most afraid of. Knowing full well that this was just a fleeting moment that is only supposed to be enjoyed through a lens of carefree thinking, you push the budding feelings of the some very complicated emotions out of your system. The surge of jealousy you felt may have born out of falling in love with a family member but it was wrong on so many levels.

A love that starts with lust never ends well for anyone but as you were laying in his arms, the control over your body handed completely to him, your mind wondered how things would feel vice versa.

“ You seem distracted y/n”, Satoru looked at you, with his glasses off the beautiful azure eyes hidden beneath a delicate layer of white eyelashes filled your vison.

“ I’m obviously not doing it right if you have time to get lost in your thoughts”, putting you down on your bed, he started to move away and for a minute you got your hopes up, thinking your chance to finally have him completely and you cursed yourself for wanting at the same time. But no amount of berating would scrub off the insatiable thirst you had, for its roots had already made their way to your heart.

“Please let me help you too”, these few words took a lot of guts, letting go of all the inhibitions and threads of morality you fix Satoru with an unwavering gaze.

“ That’s okay babygirl, I’M the one who does the teaching here afterall”, you saw what he was trying to do, his airy yet gentle tone didn’t left much room for argument but the gray zone of your relationship was blurring to the point of confusion urged you to give into your clamoring emotions.

Without a second thought you jumped on him with all your might, closing the distance he put within seconds to cover his mouth with yours. You knew how much you weighed but despite your aggressive actions his sturdy form didn’t even deter form his position while catching you. You twirled your tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste of your juices still lingering in there.

Hoping to have proven your resolve that wasn’t going to settle for getting brushed aside you break the kiss and look expectantly at him. An invisible bond between the two of you taking shape, strengthening the magnetism that attracted you to him.

“ That eager for my cock are you?”, Taking your face in one of his huge hand he makes you look straight at him, “You really want more? More than I'm already giving you?”, just one more push. You thought, with just a bit of coaxing, you were sure Satoru's wishy washy rules would crumble to make way for your upcoming actions.

“ I do. I know exactly what I want but”, steeling your nerves you face him, eye to eye, “ What do YOU want?”. The question was simple but the conflict swirling within Satoru’s eyes was evident and for the first time you realised that maybe this wasn’t just a case of casual hookup for him as well.

“ I want all your firsts. That’s all.” After a short stretch of silence he spoke, ironically the borderline obsessiveness of his glib response, like magic, cleared away the fog was previously clouding your mind. The nonchalance of his smirk should've been the red flag that made you rethink your life choices but the heat of the moment only seemed to ignite your lust.

Not uttering a single word, you quickly work on shedding him off his cloths, he doesn’t make any attempts at stopping you this time around, this knowledge pulling a smile out of you. By the time you reached for his boxers your hands were shaking.

Whether from excitement or nervousness you couldn’t tell but looking down through the veil of his heavy eyelashes, Satoru’s passion was evident.

Eyeing up his exposed body you still for a moment to take it all in. You ran you hands through his sculpted chest and down to his abdomen, your nails scratching the surface of his defined muscles. All of his masculinity contrasted with his oddly sweet scent and velvety pink lips that never failed to lure you in for deep soft kisses.

There’s no doubt girls must be always fawning over him and his perfectly smooth skin was something that even made you jealous. You were so captivated by his looks that you had to shake yourself free from your lovesick stupor .

You feel him up a little, hands running across his toned chest, you drag your nails through the rise and dips of his abdomen down to the contours of his defined V- line before turning your attention to his hardening member. Your breath quickens as your trembling fingers hook beneath his waistband.

Taking out his pulsating member you run your eyes up and down his entire length. He was big, to say at the very least. Bigger than you'd expected and more than you thought you could handle but backing out now would be straight up hypocrisy when your drooling mouth said otherwise.

With your ass right next to his chest, you start licking and sucking his tip with fervour, not wanting to waste even a single drop of his cum that you wanted so bad. You heard him moan lightly behind you, his voice only fuelled the fire that was burning your core. Having never given a blow job to anyone before you struggled in keeping a steady pace and his girthy cock didn’t make it any easier on you.

In just a few minutes you jaw ached and your entire face hurted but Satoru showed no signs of cumming.

In your own world again, you racked up your brain to figure out how to please him when suddenly you felt a hand climbing up your thigh. With the other hand he gripped your hips and pulled your lower half until you were straddling his mouth.

“ It’s a lot better like this don’t you think?”, as he spoke you felt his breath caressing your nether lips and you shivered in delight at the new position.

He snaked his hands in between your thighs and spread open your slit, glistening with your dripping arousal using his thumbs. Every single fold of yours now in display Satoru licked his plush lips before leaving open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin. His lips pulling out a series of appreciative hums as you desperately try to focus on your own actions.

Taking his hard length half in your mouth and half in one of your hand you tried to match the skilful movements of Satoru’s tongue that relentlessly lapped at your clit. After a few minutes of trying and failing to suck him up properly your senses got completely clouded by the heavy onslaught of that familiar release you had gotten used to.

You wanted to ask him to stop so you catch up to him but he the vigor in his actions and your own overwhelming surge of desires made you decide against it, the broken stings of his name died down with you still half choking on his length.

The only thing your lust laden mind could decipher except for pleasure was shame. To you, it was shameful how, being the one who asked to touch him, you were the one tethering near the edge. Before long your convulsing pussy was dripping with your juices, trickling down from his face that was still buried nose deep in your crotch.

Messing you up always filled Satoru with a kind of affection that he didn’t thought he was capable of.

Your cute whines getting muffled by his cock that you could only take half way past your llip sent waves of ecstasy down his spine. The cum that kept on flowing from your aching hole that he was the first to taste and the last as well took him to a high that no amount of pleasure could.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be the provider of your everything who had complete control over you or if he just wanted to spend hours into the night, praising every fibre of your being that was so eager to make him feel good. This duality of his thoughts confused him further and in that moment he knew he had to see this to the end.

Your heavy pants was the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise silent room, guilt and pleasure leaving you tongue tied. You move yourself from above him, your quivering body falling like a sac just beside his own.

“ I’m sorry! I couldn’t make you-“, before you could finish your breathy apology he brought up a finger near your frowning lips to quite you down.

“Its okay sugar, it was your first time. Not a big deal.”, the soft notes of his voice took the edge off of the disappointment you felt, “I told you. I’ll teach you everything.”

Those eyes. Two shining orbs of brilliant blue gazed at you in the same way you found yourself staring at him. Watching over you like it was their birthright and oddly enough, the scrutiny made you feel completly at home just like the warmth of his long arms that wrapped themselves around you.

" Realx Y/n, I'll be very thourough with my teaching, afterall,", your heart thumped loudly in your chest in response to his smooth voice, "I don't do things halfway.

The pleasent fatigue that had taken a hold of your body slowly dissipated but the growing haziness of your mind got you wondering if you were falling in deepness of his ocean blue eyes but as soon realization hit you, you were already halfway through blacking out.

That you’d never be forgiven for wanting.

From that moment on, you knew.

Part 2? Idk you tell me(╯︵╰,)

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.8]

Pairings:  Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death.

A/N: **TW: A certain death is finally explained in this chapter. It is the second half of the chapter. It’s not in crazy detail but there is some important plot stuff mixed in.  I decided to post despite someone stealing my work. 😤 Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​​ for looking this chapter over for me. Enjoy the sad I guess. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Stepping away from music for those ten months turned out to be the best thing you could have done for yourself and your career. Without the small reprieve, you doubted you would have found your way back to teaching, and you loved teaching. Not that it had been intended as a break at the time you walked away. You had every intention of never looking at another sheet of music again, but then Bucky came home and things became more complicated and somehow easier. You doubted that he knew what he was doing, and why should he? It wasn’t as if he had planned on coming home to pick up all your broken pieces so he could help put you back together. He did -- whether he realized it or not -- help you get some of your old life back. The bit that you could take with you into this new one. You even called a few of your former students and asked their parents if they were interested in picking up their lessons. Most said they would love to pick up where you left off, and a few said they found someone new in your absence. You couldn’t blame them. The world had continued while you chose to stand still.

Bucky must have noticed a difference because he told you he liked how pretty you looked when you were smiling. 

Lessons started with the school year, and fall was here before you could blink. You were surprised to find you weren’t dreading the holidays as much as you thought. It would be the first holiday season since you got the call and you had expected it to feel like the rest -- hollow and grim. Along with Easter and Memorial Day, you had skipped celebrating Steve’s birthday. There was a small cake you shared with Bucky, three bites in, and you couldn’t force any more falsities down. You spent the rest of the night in your room. It was one of the rare nights you hadn’t slept next to Bucky since he had been home. You needed the night to yourself, and he understood that. By morning, your wedding ring had found its way from your ring finger to a chain that Steve had given you years ago. It felt strange at first. From the moment Steve slipped it on your finger, it rarely left your skin, and when you did, it always felt like there was a piece of you missing. That feeling didn’t show up this time, but you imagined there weren’t many more pieces of you that could go missing. You didn’t want to make it a big deal, so you kept it tucked inside your shirt. Of course, Bucky noticed the absence right away. He never questioned it. 

It was a step forward (or maybe backward you weren’t sure some days). They were small, slow steps taken, but at least you were moving.  

You’re not sure when it happened, but one morning you woke up and everything didn’t hurt as bad, you guessed it started right around the time Bucky came home. While moving forward was necessary (as everyone continued to remind you), there were days when it felt like a betrayal. You are moving on, and Steve can’t come with you. A little guilt blackens your heart every time you smile on those days; so you falter and take those arduous steps back. It lessens with every laugh and smile Bucky draws out of you, but it’s there under it all, and there’s the fear too. You’re afraid if you move on and keep up with the rest of the world you will forget. You will forget everything you and Steve had, and it will be as if you were never anything at all. Bucky shook his head when you confessed that to him late one night with your forehead pressed firmly against his shoulder, fighting your sleep and the nightmares you were sure would follow. 

“You’re holding on to the past, Y/n. You gotta let it go. I’m not sayin’ you have to stop lovin’ him, but you gotta let go of the part of Steve that’s keeping you from moving on and being happy. Or it’s going to continue to tear at you until there’s nothing left.” 

“And if I forget him?” 

“You won’t, Trouble. You can’t forget a love like that. Trust me, I know.”

Bucky didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t dare ask. He’s never mentioned anything about falling in love in all the years you’ve known him. You’ve never seen him hold onto a woman for longer than a month and the idea of Bucky being in love, holding on to that love all these years without ever getting to know it turns your stomach inside out and shades your heart a bitter green. You’d rather not dwell on those feelings long enough to understand them. 

Neither of you spoke about it again, and you were thankful. You didn’t think you could handle discussing Bucky’s long lost love when you could barely pick out an outfit. You’ve been staring at your clothes for an hour now, and everything either looked awful or felt wrong. Maybe you needed to buy new clothes and start from scratch. Every piece you owned had a memory stitched into the fabric, and you didn’t need to be reminded of things you would never have again. Bucky pulled a grey flannel out of his closet, and you reached across the bed, yanking it right out of his hand to slip over your head. That would have to work for today. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back to the closet to grab a blue Henley for himself. 

You always did like the way he looked blue. 

“I can go see Sam so you can have some time alone with Tasha and Wanda.” 

You didn’t say anything. Just gave a simple nod of the head, refusing to look up from the pile of clothes on the bed that now needed to be put away. You could leave it. The girls would be here any minute, and with Bucky gone, you could deal with it then. Bucky reached out to wrap his fingers around your wrist and gave a gentle tug, forcing your gaze to follow the motion up to meet his eyes. He ran his thumb over the soft thumping in your wrist and stared at you for a while as if he was working something out. 

“Or,” Bucky suggested gently. “I can stay right here and work on my bike.” 

Your lips curled up in a small smile despite your brain’s wish to keep them in a permanent frown. 

“Okay,” You agreed with an easy smile. You slipped your wrist out of Bucky’s loose hold and made your way towards the door, stopping before you crossed the threshold and looked back at him with a deep frown replacing the pretty smile you were wearing only a second ago. 

“You don’t have to babysit me, y’ know?” 

Bucky’s laughter was followed by an exasperated groan. Of course, that was why you were upset. 

“Yeah, I know. You’re just fine on your own.” 

There was no fighting the grin Bucky’s words caused. “Yes, I am. But… you can hang around if you want to.” 

“I’ve meant to clean up my girl anyway. I’ll hang around today, Trouble.” 

Bucky assurance made your heart rest a little easier and maybe his too because he looked relieved when you nodded. The doorbell broke your silence and forced you to leave his side; you barely made it to the top of the stairs when you heard Bucky mutter, “Pain in my ass.” There was a fondness in his voice that made your heart leap. 

Even though you were back to teaching you made sure not to overwhelm yourself; Tuesdays and Thursdays you worked late into the evening. It was nice to have something to look forward to, and Bucky always had something to eat ready when your last student left around 8:30. That was nice too. 

Natasha had called earlier in the week wanting to come over Thursday night, and you had to explain that you went back to work. There was silence on the other end of the line, and silence was never good with Natasha. She was probably mad you didn’t tell her and that you were keeping things that important hidden, but it wasn’t something you wanted to advertise. Besides, Friday was as good a day as any to have the girls over. No one had to work the next day and took some of the pressure off. Everything felt normal when Natasha and Wanda arrived; you shared a hug or two. Okay, three. Wanda liked to hug, and she showed you the muffins she baked while Natasha held up a bottle of something that looked as if it could melt the glass it came in. You didn’t know what you expected. You hadn’t thought you would feel so excited to see them. Not because you didn’t love them, but having excitement around anyone but Bucky has been rare these last few months.  

Sometimes the unexpected was good. 

You chose to sit on the window bench that happened to overlook the side yard where Bucky had his black and chrome bike parked and was sitting on an old milk crate hard at work. That didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. Not that anything ever does. 

“So are you two living together now?” 

You slowly draw your gaze up from the wine glass in your hand to look at Natasha and Wanda, who was skillfully avoiding your eyes as she blew on her tea for far longer than necessary.  

“Yes. Is that a problem? It’s not like we talked about it or anything. It just sort of happened.” 

Natasha shrugged in answer to your question and waited for you to go on. She wanted more of an explanation, so you rolled your eyes and explained why Bucky was staying with you. 

“He didn’t have anywhere to go when he came home.” 

Natasha smirked at the suggestion that Bucky would have been homeless if he hadn’t come to live with you, and you knew right away what you said had been a mistake. “Besides his mom’s, right? She lives twenty minutes from here. What about Sam’s? Or at my place with Clint and I? And I’m a hundred percent certain Sarah Rogers would have taken him in if everyone else in his life let him down for some unknown reason.”  

You turned to look back out the window right as Bucky looked up, catching his eye, and you felt the panic in your chest lessen. Bucky gave you that pretty smile and scrunched his nose at you before going back to work. You fought to keep your smile small and lost the battle before it even got started. Wanda’s voice pulled you back into the living room; it was gentle as if she was trying to offset Natasha. 

“I think what Nat was trying to ask is if you are planning on staying here together, or is he going to get his own place eventually?” 

“We haven’t talked about it. I suppose he will at some point, though...” 

You frowned at the thought. Why did that bother you so much? 

“He doesn’t have to do anything, you know?” Wanda added at the sight of your upset. “He might want to stay here.” 

“Maybe, but he has to move on eventually,” you added, dread filling your voice from the mere thought of Bucky leaving you. “He can’t stay here just to keep me from falling apart for the rest of this life.” 

They were right. Bucky will eventually want to get back to his life. He can’t babysit you forever.  There was going to come a time when he will want to date, fall in love, and get married. Maybe even have kids. Do all the things that you were supposed to do with Steve. The thought of Bucky leaving you to have that life with someone else made you sick, and you know it’s selfish. It’s unfair to expect him to stay there with you because you don’t want to lose him to someone else. 

“How are you doing?” Natasha sounded a little softer this time, sensing your unease. “Are you sleeping?”  

“Yeah, I started sleeping in Bucky’s room with him. It seemed to help.” 

They stayed quiet but shared a look. You weren’t fond of whatever that was.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Wanda rushed out far too quickly, but Natasha was quick to cut in, and by her tone, you could tell she’s been feeling this way for a while. “I’m just wondering how long you are going to keep punishing yourself?” 

Natasha stared at you and Wanda swore under her breath. They talked about this before coming over. That was clear by the glare Wanda was settling Natasha with. You briefly wondered how often your friends discuss you like that. More often than you approved of, you were sure. 

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m allowed to be sad. My husband died--”

“You’re right. You are allowed to be sad. Just like you’re allowed to find new things that make you happy and start putting your life back together.” 

“I’m fine, Nat. I don’t need anything new. I have our house and my music--” 

“And, Bucky?”

While she was right, you did have Bucky, in a sense. Bucky wasn’t new. You had a feeling what she was suggesting would be very new and not a notion you wanted to entertain.

“Natasha--” 

“It’s okay to be happy again, Y/n. It’s okay to let your heart get put back together and heal. It doesn’t cheapen what you had with Steve. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, and it doesn’t mean you are betraying him. You aren’t doing anything wrong by letting yourself find happiness again. Even if that happiness is found with Bucky.” 

You had a feeling what Natasha was hinting at, but hearing it outright like that made you a little queasy. Did people, your friends, talk about you and Bucky like this? Is that what everyone was worried about, who would get you next?  

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid Y/n. You’re a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” 

“He’s been my best friend since I was thirteen. It’s not-- It’s never been--” You took a deep breath and told them both, firmly. “He’s my best friend.”  

Wanda pinched Natasha’s thigh and grabbed your hands from where she sat on the floor between you and Natasha. “All Nat is trying to say is if you wanted to find happiness again... with Bucky or anyone for that matter, it’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong by moving on.” 

“It’s been nearly a year since you lost Steve. It’s time to start picking up the pieces, Y/n. With Bucky or without. You can’t stay stuck in this in-between, and you can’t go back.”

You turned your gaze back out the window to catch Bucky staring at you. He quickly looked back at his bike and fiddled with the wrench in his hand. It reminded you of all those days he would hide you in Shop class so you could skip Geometry with Mr. Coulson. The memory makes you grin. The girls might be half right. Maybe you couldn’t go back, but that didn’t mean you wanted to let it go completely.

----

Three hours after Natasha and Wanda left, you found yourself wandering around the house with what you thought was purposeless. It started in the kitchen, and you slowly made your way through your home, somehow ending up in the doorway to Bucky’s room. Your heart must have told your feet where to go and left your brain in the dark. His hair was still wet from a fairly recent shower. The ends were darker than the rest and shiny from being wet. It wasn’t long enough to tuck behind his ears, but it was long enough that he could slick it back. His beard had become relatively thick due to his laziness these last few months. To be fair, most of his attention has been on you. When he mentioned trimming it a few weeks ago, you wrinkled your nose at the thought, and at the time, he had laughed. 

He never did trim it after that. 

Bucky glanced up at you, hovering at the threshold to his room, and he smiled, crooking his finger for you to come in. You pushed off the doorframe and made your way over to where he was resting on the end of the bed, wet towel lying on the bed next to him. You wanted to tell him it was getting your side of the bed all wet, but you thought better of it. 

It’s not your bed, after all. You have your own you should probably start to sleep in and let Bucky get back to living his own life. 

“Have a good time?” Bucky asked. There was a softness in his voice he saved for you and you alone. 

You shrugged.

“Tasha called me stupid on the way out. Got any idea what that is about? Should I be scared?” 

You grinned and brushed a fallen strand of hair back to lay with the rest. “I don’t know, but being scared is always a safe bet when Nat is involved. How’s the bike? It looked like you got a lot done.” 

“She’s good. Just cleaned her up a bit and changed the oil. You know, I like fiddling with her a bit, and she’s been sitting at my mom’s collecting dust.” 

You cupped his cheek and gently rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. He nuzzled your palm right away, eyes falling closed, and he seemed to relax a fraction. There was tension in his shoulders you hadn’t noticed before, a darkness that has never lingered in his eyes this long, and his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore. He’s spent all this time taking care of you, and you never once noticed how badly he was struggling. 

He was lost just like you. 

“Hey.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice and quickly pulled away from your touch as if he remembered he shouldn’t be doing that. You slowly drew your hand back, letting them drop to your side and choosing to sit next to him instead. 

“Wanna talk?” 

“‘Bout what?”

He looked dejected, troubled. A little scared, too. 

“What’s been weighing on your heart.” Bucky dropped his gaze, his tell for waiting to drop the subject, but you pushed a little more. “I didn’t see it before. I was too wrapped up in my shit, but I can see it now. The guilt and the hurt.”

If he honestly couldn’t talk, or didn’t want to, you would drop it. 

“Y/n, you don’t want to hear about that.” 

So it was about Steve’s death then. You had a feeling. 

“If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have asked. I need to hear it, Bucky, and I think you need to talk about it as well.” 

It took a long time before Bucky made any movements at all. He shifted further away from you, tossing the towel onto the desk chair and turned to face you. You mirrored his position tucking one leg under you on the bed and letting the other hang off the edge. He was still quiet, gathering his thoughts and a little courage, too. You nudged his barefoot with yours and he gave you a small smile.

“Steve was… He was walking in front of me. Like he always does-- like he did, and Sam was on our left.” Bucky licked his lips, tossing words around his head to find the right ones. This was harder than he thought it would be. 

“I wasn’t paying attention. I should have been. That’s my damn job. I was too busy staring at the damn…” Bucky stopped short, and the look of guilt he gave you said he feared you already knew his crimes and found him deserving of judgment. 

“At what, Bucky?” 

Bucky dropped his eyes and shook his head. 

“You’ll hate me.” 

“Bucky… I could never hate you. Nothing you could do would make me hate you.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, squeezed them shut really. He didn’t want to see your face when he said what he had to say next. “I was staring at your scarf. It was sticking out of his collar, poking up right out of the back of his BDU’s and all I could think about was you, and how I could never have-- I was distracted.”

He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes with the palm of his hand. You had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him close. Bucky needed to get this off his chest and you needed to hear it. 

“Next thing I knew, there was a shot fired and then about ten after that. Maybe more. I don’t know. Steve was down, and at first, I thought he dropped to take cover, but my damn ears were ringing, and shots were flying everywhere. I tried to yell out, but I couldn’t hear my voice over the noise. Sam was trying to drag me away, but I couldn’t leave him lying there…” 

Bucky’s words became stuttered and choked. You could follow along, but you had to piece together the holes Bucky couldn’t fill. He explained how Steve had taken the bullet for him, how he had been distracted and didn’t see it in time. Bucky told you that he had pulled Steve undercover, and Steve had begged for Bucky to take care of you for him. Bucky left out the reason Behind Steve’s choices that day. You didn’t need to know that when Bucky asked why he did that, Steve told him with that stupid lopsided smile, “You’re my best friend, Buck and Y/n... S-she can go on without me. She can’t live without you though.” 

You wiped your tears away with shaking fingers. Bucky blamed himself for Steve’s choices and you couldn’t let him go on thinking he was at fault for something he had no control over. Scarf or not. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Yn...” 

“No, Bucky. It wasn’t your fault. If it had been the other way around, you would have jumped in front of him. We both know you would have.” 

“But if I was--” 

“It’s not. Your fault, Bucky.”  

You crawled into his lap and pulled his head to your chest. Bucky tightened his arms around your waist, clutching at the thick fabric of his shirt still clinging to your skin. “I don’t blame you, and I know Steve wouldn’t,” You cooed softly in his ear. ”He would do it a hundred times over, and I know you would do the same for h-him.” 

Bucky tucked his nose into your neck and took a shaky inhale. The two of you sat like that as the glow of the room slowly faded from orange to dark blue. Bucky’s quiet sobs had settled into barely-there sniffs along with your own. There was a new heaviness resting on your chest, but despite the pain that came with knowing the truth, it gave you a tiny bit of closure. He never said if he believed you or accepted your forgiveness. You prayed he did. You hoped now he would be able to forgive himself, too.

“Bucky?” 

There a beat of silence. Bucky rubbed his beard against your neck making you shiver. You could feel a faint smile on your skin when he finally spoke. 

“Yeah?” 

Bucky slowly lifted his head, so the two of you were sitting nose to nose now, you were so close that when you whispered he could feel your breath against his lips, “I’m glad you came home… to me.” 

Maybe now, you could both heal and move on to something new. 

“Me too, Trouble. Me too.”

Previous // Next

[matiiiih]

Still deeply in love with them <3 <3

aka I updated my demestrap family human au designs a bit!

Munk is greying already cause he’s stressed af 24/7

I don’t know why but this ended up looking like some kind of single parent au, so that made me to make it into a single parent au:

-Demeter is a single mom of Jemima. She’s gone through a lot of shit, moved to a women’s shelter away from her abusive husband and therefore is very skittish and trusts hardly anyone besides her older sister Bomba. 

-Jemima is naive though and wants to go to music lessons after school. Deme hesitates but in the end can’t say no to her so she lets her. While collecting Jemima afterwards she meets her music teacher = Munk 

-In the beginning Deme’s really uncertain and maybe even a little bit afraid of him, because she is still affected by her abusive marriage. But Munk is really kind, gentle, smart, respectful, they have shared interests and views of the world and of course Jemima likes him a lot too. by the time she notices she has started to wait those music lessons just as much as Jemima does because she gets to meet Munkustrap again. 

-They don’t really get to have a much time together, since Demeter only comes to pick Jemima up after the lessons but maybe there’s always this little gap when Jemima goes to another room to get/do/leave something and the adults are left to socialize alone for a moment. At some point Dem is also invited to follow the class and it’s a lot fun for all of them.

-At first their relationship is completely platonic: Demeter enjoys chatting with someone who isn’t aware of her past and therefore doesn’t see her through any colored glasses/doesn’t treat her differently because of that. Munkustrap is sensible, they both like literature, evenings at home, gardening and cooking (things that are often seen as boring by all their loved ones) but also music, theatre and dancing. And it’s just nice to have someone to talk to regularly. 

-Munkustrap persuades Demeter to come to the music school’s concert where Jemima too is gonna perform. They sit next to each other the whole night and Deme is actually having fun for the longest time. Afterwards Munk escorts them to their car and lingers there talking longer than necessary. Demeter has a nice, fluttering and warm feeling in her stomach. 

-Demeter is afraid when she finally realizes she might like her daughter’s music instructor a little bit too much more than she should. She still has a small fear of commitment, but she also fears that Munkustrap sees her just as a client and she’s just overreacting and being the insensible one. 

-They continue the music lessons, Deme falling deeper in love with Munk and being desperate about it.

-At some point Munkustrap’s schedule changes and he is no longer Jemima’s teacher. Deme is really devastated because she doesn’t have any natural reason to see him again. Jemima is sad too, but well, she is a kid and her new teacher is just as nice so in the end she doesn’t mind it too much. After wallowing in despair for a while and having a heart to heart with her sister, Deme shows up to Munk’s work and straight up asks him out, voice trembling. He ACCEPTS! 

-They go on a date in some quiet and cozy cafe and finally have actual time to talk and get to know each other even better. They plan the next meeting already and it becomes almost like a habit to meet once a week.

-By the time they start to meet more often and go to actual dinner dates in the evening. Demeter doesn’t really know what there actually is between them since they have never talked about it specifically but at the time she doesn’t mind since labeling it too early might ruin everything and she doesn’t want that to happen. 

-There is some drama when Deme’s ex has tracked her but it gets dealt with somehow, I don’t know how because I’m too invested in all the sweet sweet romance. Deme is shaken up by this and reminded of all her fears and she finally tells Munk about her past and is afraid how he reacts. 

-he takes it well, seriously and understandingly. He promises to be there for Demeter and finally tells that he’s absolutely in love with her.

-something. Deme tells Jemima that she’s seeing Munk and Jemima is happy and excited.

-They don’t kiss until the very end when Demeter finally feels herself ready and it’s very sweet and tender and they all live happily ever after as they deserve! 

-sideplots/something about Bomba and Munk’s family including Tugger and Deuteronomy. Demeter dreams about picking up the music hobby again after childhood, going to college to study english and buying own home for her and Jemima. Munk has some kind of character development too? Maybe he takes too much responsibility, is worried about basically everything and doesn’t have too much other life than his work. Deme teaches him to relax, take things easy and enjoy the moment and of course makes him leave the house just by existing.

-I got way too carried away

-full of cliches, I know, but some things are cliches for a reason

-Someone write this for me

[sapphirelass]

Not you too... - NevillexSister

Hi! So... it’s been a while, but I have been extremely busy with school work and... well to be honest that’s my only excuse XD Anyhow, with maths and physics exams out of the way, it’s finally time for a new uplifting story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈1600

Warnings: Torture, The Cruciatus Curse, The Carrows, Light swearing, Extreme angst...

OC: Louise Longbottom (born 1981)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1998

March

Hogwarts

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?!”

The frightened first-year trembled and tried to back away.

“I...I.. I was just on my way to the Ravenclaw com…”

Alecto grabbed his jumper and pinned him to the wall. 

“Oh I don’t think so! This isn’t the first time we’ve caught you wandering around, Matthews, and I’m afraid we can’t let you get away with it…”

Amycus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the young boy’s throat.

“DON’T YOU DARE!!”

A furious sixth year Gryffindor sprinted through the corridor, her right hand clutched around her wand.

“Leave him alone! He’s eleven!? And has done nothing wrong! Levicorpus!”

Amycus was hoisted into the air by his ankle as the older student carefully approached the younger.

“Hey, are you oka-” 

But before even getting a chance to comfort the boy, the tip of a wand was pressed forcefully against her throat. The young Ravenclaw knew better than to stick around, especially when Alecto Carrow disarmed his saviour and pushed her against the wall.

“Longbottom… No bloody surprise there, c’mon!”

Amycus was back on his feet and, sadly, a fight between one wandless sixteen year old and two death eaters could barely even be called a fight. The Carrows grabbed an arm each, and made their way towards the dungeons.

***

Neville was, despite the gloomy atmosphere, in high spirits. It was Friday, his last class of the day had been herbology, and he hadn’t received detention a single time that week. He entered the common room and sat down on the sofa with a copy of A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions.

Later that night, Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan climbed through the portrait hole and approached him slowly.

“Hey!”, he said, “Everything good?” 

“Neville… Where’s Louise? Is she okay?”

Neville frowned, “Wha.. Why shouldn’t she be? Where is she anyways, I thought she was with you?!”

“Neville…”, Seamus began, putting a hand on his shoulder, “She-”

“What, Seamus!?”

“She ran into the Carrows.... They were threatening some Ravenclaw first-year and she interfered before she could help herself.”

Neville felt his blood run cold.

“So? What did they do? Where is she?”

“I don’t know, we thought she would be back by now… We… we thought she was with you.”

Neville closed his book, not bothering to look for a bookmark, and left without a word. He didn’t dare to think about what could have happened to his sister, but he knew that he had to find her. Making his way through the corridors, he kept trying to tell himself that she was fine. That she was okay. That he would find her unharmed. Deep down, he knew it was highly improbable, but one can hope, right?

***

“Incarcerous!”

A thick, bloodstained rope wrapped itself tightly around her wrists and ankles, effectively preventing any movements or attempts to escape. 

“You, Longbottom - you and your ‘good-for-nothing’ brother have had your fun. I think it’s about time we teach you a little lesson.”

She sent the professor an angry glare. “So you’re finally going to start then?”

“What?”, Alecto spat

“Well, you are our teachers after all. One would think you would have planned on teaching us stuff from the beginning - it is your bloody job - but I’m glad you finally wanna give it a go…”

With a furious look on his face, Amycus grabbed Louise’s jumper and threw her violently to the floor. He charged and delivered a rough, well placed kick to her cheek before pulling out his wand.

“You really are a stupid little blood traitor, aren’t you? Do you honestly believe you’ll get out of here unharmed?”

“That kick was rather nasty so no, I think it’s too la…”

Her response was interrupted by a swift wand movement followed by a single word.

“Crucio!!”

Louise let out an ear piercing scream and began shaking violently. It wasn’t unexpected, yet she had feared this moment her entire life, and the realization that the time had finally arrived was just as horrifying as the pain itself.

“Maybe that’ll teach you something. Then again, your family never were the brightest of our kind, were they? Not even this lovely curse got the message across so… perhaps a few more times would suffice!”

The death eaters smirked evilly.

“CRUCIO!!”

“CRUCIO!!”

“CRUCIO!!”

***

Hours later the torture momentarily ceased, and Louise’s pained screams had drifted further and further towards what most would call hoarse whimpering. She was shaking, struggled to breathe, and no longer fully capable of taking in all that happened around her. 

“Well, well, well… looking rather shaken, Longbottom. Had enough yet? What do you reckon, sister?”

Alecto looked down at the trembling sixteen year old with disgust. 

“It does seem like the message has sunken in… But don’t you, dearest brother, feel like we should grant her some more… long lasting evidence of what she went through? Something more... physical?”

“What a splendid suggestion! Will you do me the honours?”

“Gladly!”

She pulled a small dagger from her cloak, though Louise had by the time almost passed out and lacked the strength to turn around and look. The girl lay motionless on the cold floor as her teacher grabbed her Gryffindor robes and threw them roughly into a messy pile. Alecto rested her hand on Louise’s collarbone, and repeatedly pierced her delicate skin. 

A couple of minutes later, the siblings stood back to admire their work and muttered sectumsempra before finally leaving and locking the door behind them.

Louise still didn’t react, but was moments later resting in a puddle of her own thick, red, hot blood.

***

“Lou?!” 

“Lou?!!!” 

“L..Lou?” 

As soon as Neville laid eyes on his sister, he ran up to her and pulled her into his arms. The word ‘traitor’ written across her neck caused him to look away for a moment, but he held her close. She was unconscious and her breathing was very shallow, but there was no doubt about it - she was alive!

“Louise, please wake up for me. Please”

 She was barely bleeding anymore, but had lost copious amounts of blood and was in need of immediate medical care.

“Neville, we’ve got to bring her up to the Room of Requirement.”

“But she needs healing!?”

“Yes, but it’s not safe here. They might return, c’mon.”

“Fine, let me just…”

He bent down and untied the ropes before picking her up. Seamus brought the cloak and they left the dungeons hoping that they, for the love of Merlin, would make it without getting caught.

***

“I...not..that!”

“Nev… just saying… don’t know… she’ll… what they did!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna give up!?”

At first it was all incoherent, but eventually she started to pick up full sentences. The pain did however return as soon as she woke up, and she groaned slightly, causing the conversation to die out.

Her brother was by her side in an instant.

“Lou!? How… I.. Are you okay? Here, let me help you!”

He reached out to help her into a sitting position, but she flinched and moved away from his touch. This reaction caused his heart to completely shatter, and he raised his hands in surrender as a few tears left his eyes.

“Lou”, he muttered carefully, “it’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you, I could never…”

She looked back at him, eyes filled with dread and an uncertainty completely unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

“C’mon , L”, Seamus said as he put a hand on her shoulder, “‘tis just us.”

This move, though a very gentle one, caused her to quickly withdraw further as her breath quickened.

“Shut up Seamus”, said Ginny angrily, pulling their Irish friend away as Neville sat down on his knees. He was careful not to touch his sister - the thought of him scaring her being far too much for him to handle - and then placed his wand on a table a few feet away.

“Lou”, he said, once again holding his hands up in surrender, “I won’t hurt you, okay, just… do you know where you are?”

She didn’t respond, but did however look less terrified than before. Deep inside, Neville realized that Louise calming down should make him feel better, but there was something about her that gave him the creeps… There was something uncomfortably familiar about her posture, the nervous shifting and the way she seemed to be staring into nothing, yet he found himself unable to put his finger on it.

Then it hit him. He immediately understood who she reminded him of: 

Their Parents

He closed his eyes tightly and shuddered at the thought. It-it wasn’t possible! It couldn’t be...Neville Longbottom had never been so afraid in his life, but he knew what he had to do. He had to ask. He had to know.

“Lou?”, he repeated softly, “Lou, do you know who I am?”

Not receiving an immediate response worried him, but he gave it the benefit of the doubt - Maybe she just needed some time? 

So he waited. 

30 seconds. 

And waited. 

A minute. 

And waited. 

Five minutes.

No answer.

That’s when it burst. Neville broke down completely. He put his head in his hands and let the tears flow freely, having absolutely no desire to stop them.

“No…”, he stuttered, “No, no, no...not... not you too…”

“Not you too”

~ L

Masterlist

[thegoldenavenger]

Avatar the Last Airbender Fic!! Rated T for TEENAGE ANGST Canon typical violence! It's Zuko so also implied Canon child abuse sorry

CONVICTION (what's in a name)

Part One Sokka + Katara

___

"What can I do to prove to you I've changed?" He rasps, frustratingly desperate, hands almost clawed into the stone of the temple dias.

Katara sneers and draws her water whip to ready, like she can erase even the memory of Zuko kneeling here in this temporary haven. "Nothing!" She yells.

But Sokka raises his hand to his chin and thinks, quickly. There's not much less that he wants than Zuko in their space, helping them. But, here's the thing, Zuko has followed them doggedly, faithfully, since the South Pole. Zuko has found them even now, must have resources to have gotten here, knowledge to have found them. Zuko is the prince of the nation they're fighting... it stands to reason he has intelligence about them as well.

"Then take me prisoner," Zuko starts saying, unfurling his fingers from the stone and offering them.

"We don't want you!" Katara yells and splashes Zuko with enough force he rocks backwards.

Steam rises from Zuko's shoulders, his eye wide as his hair drips in his face, before he steels himself. To try and entice them again, to pick himself up and turn away for once, Sokka doesn't know. He interrupts Katara's next words.

"Give us your soul name," Sokka says.

The silence that follows is deep.

"Sokka?" Aang asks, stepping to see Sokka's face.

"It doesn't matter then, if you have changed or not. We'll have your name if you try to betray us." He tilts his head towards Aang, towards Katara but his eyes don't leave Zuko.

"That's--that's too much," Aang is saying, shaking his head, but Katara considers it. Her mouth is a straight line and her eyes are harder than Sokka has seen them.

Toph says nothing, has said nothing besides her first entreaty to consider Zuko's offer. Sokka doesn't turn to look at her reaction.

Zuko's is enough to look at on its own. His shoulders stiff, his skin pale, there is the smallest rainbow refracted from a bead of water on his sunlit cheek. He's surprised, shocked, maybe even afraid, Sokka has never seen Zuko afraid before just angry, but now, Sokka wonders if Zuko's anger and his fear are two sides of the same coin.

Sokka remembers Zuko crouched over his Uncle, feral almost in his anger--his fear, Sokka thinks now. And who wouldn't be afraid in this moment? To give a peice of your soul away and trust someone with it.  Sokka can count the soul names he knows on one hand; his sister, his father, his mother, Yue.

He's only wanted to share his soul name with Yue, before. He remembers the fear and excitement. He hadn't had to share his name with his parents or Katara, they knew him when he was a kid, when that part of your soul is open and effortless, but he wanted to give that part of himself to Yue. She beat him to it.

Even now, her name lives curled inside him, like a gentle-sleeping thing. A perfect reflection of the moon on the surface of ink-black water, icy wind against the back of your neck, and resettling your hood to keep warm. The knowledge that something deep, and beautiful, and so, so kind lies beneath the water, but not daring to break the surface tension.

And Sokka watches Zuko close his eyes. When he opens them it is with resolve.

"Okay," he says. "Okay."

Zuko gets back to his knees, back straight and hands lifted as if in supplication. He keeps his unsettling yellow eyes on Sokka. 

It was his plan, so Sokka makes himself step forward. He feels Aang's hand reach out to him, but Aang doesn't stop him so he keeps stepping forward until he stands over Zuko.

It takes him a moment, but he puts his hand in Zuko's and asks for his name.

He feels a rush of heat, and he thinks they should have prepared for if Zuko tried burning them in this moment--but no, it's just. It's just Zuko's name.

Fever-warm--of course, fire bender, Sokka thinks--but also the spray of salt water, which is surprising. The smell of iron, Fire Nation Steel, like the forge at Master Piandao's but thicker in the air. Sokka hears sliding, like silk over silk and the weight of something bearing down, like the gemimite that had crept up Sokka's arms until he couldn't move. And even though Zuko is all firebender heat and steel the feeling of eyes on his back makes Sokka think nothing more than of standing in the middle of the ice fields, knowing an Orcawolf is watching you but not knowing where it is.

It's knowing there is shelter a thousand steps ahead of you and also knowing the moment you step forward the Orcawolf will chase. Zuko's name is taking that step anyways.

Sokka steps back away from Zuko and blinks and blinks. Zuko looks exactly the same, it's only Sokka's understanding that has changed.

Zuko's eyes are predator-yellow, orcawolf-gold, Sokka thinks.

"Zuko," he says to test it. He lets the feeling of fever and forge heated sword steel rise and he says it again. "Zuko."

Something in Zuko's jaw clenches, his eyes sharpen and Sokka feels that lonely ice field again, but Zuko nods. "I think we can say that worked," Sokka announces and turns away from Zuko. He shoves Zuko's name back down, tries to find somewhere that isn't next to his family's names to store it.

______

Sokka leaves first, then Toph with a disgruntled noise. Katara and Aang stand where they're left, with Zuko still... there. Waiting.

Katara looks at Aang and finds him unaccountably sad, his wide grey eyes distressed. To her ears, Zuko's name had sounded the same, flat as ever, from her brother's mouth. But you know when someone speaks with power, it's just that the only name she knows for Zuko is the one her experiences with him have given her so she can't understand yet.

Or ever. She thinks of Zuko and she thinks of fear, she thinks of shadows of violence flickering on the walls of homes, of ice melting as red, red, red licks up and devours entire families. She doesn't want that living inside of her, hates that Sokka is carrying that now.

"I'm going to check on Sokka--Aang. Keep an eye on him." She orders and turns. Of course now they have to keep him, they have his soul name, that changes things. He can teach Aang Firebending and then they can drop him off somewhere he won't be able to bother them anymore, but for now at least they have to keep him.

"Yeah, uh--come on," she hears Aang say, to Zuko she guesses. "No more names today," he says. Katara stomps away.

She keeps her resolve for a couple days. Sokka bounces back, Toph is quieter than usual, Aang dutifully keeps his lessons for Earth and Waterbending and half-heartedly asks for Firebending lessons. Katara puts her foot down. No Firebending lessons until she can be sure Zuko isn't going to fry Aang when they aren't looking.

Sokka is her brother and she loves him, but he shouldn't have to be Zuko's keeper by himself. He'd taken Zuko with him to find their dad, and he had to take Zuko, he wouldn't leave Zuko alone with them. They weren't defenseless but Sokka takes responsibility hard, the same way he had taken protecting their village.

It's the same way he will stay up at night, redrafting their schedule and Katara will have to physically unclench his hand from his vine of charcoal and wheedle, drawing his name from her chest, telling him, please Sokka, it's time for bed everyone is tired.

Sokka doesn't use her name very often. The last time had been at the South Pole when he didn't trust Aang. Before that, he hadn't used her name since their mother had died.

Katara uses his name a lot. She loves Sokka's name. Her mother's name is too sharp a memory, it flutters behind her breastbone like it might escape if she speaks it. Her father's name is tucked in her core, as if she can curl around it and keep him safe from the dangers he faces away from them by keeping it quiet. But Sokka's name lives in her lungs.

She uses it when she scolds him, when she hugs him, when she is afraid for him. She won't let him forget that she's right by his side, and that she won't leave him, not like mom left, or dad left, or Yue left.

Every time Katara says Sokka's name she shades it with her understanding of him. Ice walls sheltering from howling bitter winds and the sturdy foundation of a home. The peircing howl of an orcawolf as the spirit lights dance in the night sky, and polardogs pressed together sharing strength and warmth. Sokka's name is understanding you are part of something more than you, part of a family, and Katara will remind him that he's stuck with her for as long as she lives.

And, well. There's something in her that wants to know Zuko. She wants to taste ash on her tongue. She is sure Zuko's name is fire and violence, but if she knows it then she can keep him in his place. She can make sure Aang is safe, from this threat at least. If she knows Zuko's name, then she finally knows who he is.  No more tricks in Crystal cities, he won't be able to prey on her weaknesses anymore.

So when he comes to her, and says, "I know who killed your mother," Katara has already decided what to do.

She says, "Give me your name." And she holds out her hand.

She's vindicated, seeing his eyes widen, the scar pulling around his left side. He inhales, then nods sharply his breath releasing in a cloud of steam. The night is cold, even Katara's breath puffs small clouds in the air, but that doesn't stop herself from thinking he should have more control than this.

He puts his hand in hers and his fingers are shockingly warm, surprisingly callused for a prince. Katara remembers Yue's hands, smooth and fine and elegant.  The Earth King's hands as well were soft and weak. That is what she expected, she realizes. Hands that have never seen work in their life.

Zuko's hands are scarred and rough in places, if well kept.

He tells her his name.

Heat at first, of course. Like a burn from the sun, making your skin tight and red, then the cool-sting of salt water making Katara think, ridiculously of spending too much time at a beach. Then blood, biting your cheek on accident, the pain negligible but the metallic tang overwhelming, that's what she expected. Hearing someone or something shift behind you, heart beating panic-fast and then getting wrapped up tight, and squeezed until your bones creak, like when her dad swings her around and around because he missed her. No, Katara thinks, it's getting wrapped up like ice spears, the cold burning as much as fire, and being unable to wrench free. It's remembering how Master Pakku looked at her, knowing she was good enough but refusing her anyways.

Zuko's name is someone, everyone saying no, and then doing it anyways.

Katara takes her hand back. Of course, that's the Fire Nation through-and-through, she thinks. "Take me to him, Zuko," she says. She orders. The copper tang that tints his name isn't ash, but it's close enough.

Katara never needed Zuko's name to show him she was a threat. She's a Master Waterbender under the full-moon, a healer who knows the secrets of the body, she can stop the rain if she has to. And she does.

Zuko doesn't flinch.

He doesn't overstep, he accepts her lead, stays quiet unless he needs to speak up. He's not cowed, he doesn't wait for her permission to speak if he sees something or notices something. He's just.

Respectful, Katara realizes. This is about her, she realizes. She knows this is about her. It's about Zuko trying to prove himself too, but it's like Zuko has forgotten that, in the moment. That helping Katara find justice--or revenge--is all that he's after.

It would be ironic, Katara thinks. Zuko has terrorized her home, he knows she wants justice--revenge?--from him too. Here he is, watching her ready to kill a man for crimes Zuko could be accused of as well and he stands there like this is right.

Like he hadn't knelt in front of her, hands offered, and asked her--them--to sentence him.

She sees him out of the corner of her eye, sees the same calm as when he'd knelt. When she stops the rain she sees the same surprise, the same acceptance as when Sokka had demanded his soul name in answer.

Something heavy settles in her stomach, when she realizes that perhaps, this isn't ironic.  That if she had said, I need you to die for your crimes, he would have said okay, okay, in the same exact way.  She lets it rain, again.

She says this, half to Zuko half to herself, on the way back. "If I had said you needed to die, for us to trust you instead of Sokka asking for your name. What would your answer have been?"

Zuko blinks at her, wary. "Really?" He asks. She doesn't elaborate, and he falls quiet again.

She starts to think he won't answer when he finally does. "I came to you--to the Avatar, I mean--to... atone. To stop my father and my family, to make things better. I, uh, Uncle says, said, I don't think things through," here he laughs, bitter. "I guess I forgot that I'm my father's son."

Katara sees his face shutter and she turns away, not wanting to see whatever expression he puts on his face. "My father cannot be allowed to continue as he has been. My family cannot be allowed to continue as they have been. I have been complicit in their crimes." He says. "If death is the answer to my father, then for the years as his loyal son I should share it."

Katara narrows her eyes and looks back at him. Zuko is considering his knee, his fingers worrying at a loose thread. Katara knows Zuko now, knows by the cadence of his words Zuko was not calling himself Fire Lord Ozai's loyal son. There was a breadth of history in that phrase she didn't understand.

"But..." he says and looks at her. "I'm done letting my father dictate my destiny. I want to help fix what my family has broken. I don't know what I would have said back then. But I am going to help where my family has only hurt before. I can't do that if I'm dead."

Katara only hums in response, and watches as Zuko's shoulders find their way to his ears. He turns red and looks away from her and mumbles an apology.

Zuko's name is sun burned skin and bitten lips and, Katara is realizing, standing up when no one else will. Not because you're the only one who can, but because if not you, than who?

Something settles in her, and she relaxes. She isn't ready to forget--not Yuan Ran, not the Fire Nation's crimes--but maybe this one boy. This one boy she can try to forgive.

[princesssarisa]

Assorted thoughts on “Little Women”

 In no particular order.

*I’m glad I waited this long to read the original, unabridged novel. If I had read it as a teen or a preteen, I just might have followed countless girl readers’ example of having a crush on Laurie and being angry that Jo doesn’t marry him. Reading it now, I’m able to see him as the well-rounded, likable yet flawed character he is, not just as a girl’s prize, and realize that while he and Jo have a beautiful friendship, they wouldn’t have worked as a couple. The canon pairings of Jo/Friedrich and Amy/Laurie are the right ones.

*About the controversial issue of the characters’ ambitions... None of the young leads achieve their childhood dreams in the end; Alcott’s intended message was clearly  “We don’t always achieve our dreams, but life can still be happy in ways we never expected.” That’s all well and good. But apart from Meg’s gender-neutral dream of being rich, the characters’ “castles in the air” are all in defiance of their expected gender roles: Jo wants to be a famous author and Amy a famous artist, two fields normally reserved for men, while Laurie wants to be a composer instead of going into his grandfather’s business. And all three of their endings are distinctly more gender-conforming: Jo becomes a schoolmistress, Amy becomes a society lady, both become wives and mothers, and Laurie goes into business “like a man.” I think it’s fair for modern readers to be disappointed by that conformity, even while appreciating the realistic message about childhood dreams. Those feelings aren’t mutually exclusive. For modern audiences, I think the standard adaptational change of Jo publishing her own version of Little Women at the end (instead of 20 years later in the last sequel) is a good change.

*About Jo needing to control her temper... I understand why this annoys some feminists. So often women are expected to suppress all anger and never stand up for themselves. Maybe it is problematic that role model Marmee explicitly never shows her anger, but only purses her lips and leaves the room. But personally, I think it’s presented in a healthy, gender-neutral way. Jo’s anger isn’t a problem because it’s “unseemly” or “unfeminine,” but because it can lead her to do cruel things to others. The mistake that teaches her the lesson in “Jo Meets Appolyon,” letting Amy skate on the thin ice, isn’t a loud, aggressive act of rage, but a cold, silent act (or rather inaction) of spite. Besides “control your temper” doesn’t mean “never stand up for yourself.” The book has several examples of women calmly yet firmly calling out other people’s bad behavior (most often Laurie’s ^–^) and it’s portrayed as entirely right. And though it’s tempting to be annoyed by Mr. March putting his finger to his lips when he sees his wife starting to get angry, it’s also a nice subversion of gender stereotypes to see a marriage where the husband is gentler by nature than his wife and is a calming influence on her. Stereotypical couples are the other way around.

*As a person on the autism spectrum, I relate strongly to Beth. I fully embrace the headcanon that Beth herself is autistic and that Lizzie Alcott might have been diagnosed as such if she had lived today. So it hurts a little to see other readers call Beth “boring,” “annoying,” a “doormat” and “the worst of the sisters.” Although she is idealized because she was Alcott’s tribute to her dead little sister, she’s not the cardboard cutout of bland feminine virtue she’s so often been stereotyped as being. It’s clear from the start that Beth isn’t “normal,” either by our standards or by past ones. Her crippling shyness isn’t just “sweet Victorian modesty,” but portrayed as a real flaw that she struggles to overcome. She’s been homeschooled because as a child her social anxiety made regular school unbearable for her. She still plays with dolls, believes in Santa Claus and has imaginary friends at age 13. She has no desire to get married, or to have any kind of career, or ever to leave her parents’ house. And because of all this, she clearly has a low opinion of herself: hence she tells Jo that she was never meant to live long, because she would never have been anything but “stupid little Beth, trotting about at home.” But the narrative belies her words. In both of her illnesses, so many people rally around her and reveal how much they love her and how valuable her quiet kindness has been in their lives. Ultimately she dies in peace because she realizes her life hasn’t been worthless after all. With my own social struggles, my tendency to be “younger than my years,” and my own desire to have a quiet life close to my family instead of going out into the big, overwhelming world and doing big, overwhelming things, I find her storyline beautiful, because it gives me hope that my life is just as valuable as anyone else’s.

*I also relate to Jo, as so many readers do. The result is that I’m of two minds of the chapters “Calls” and “Consequences.” On the one hand, there’s no doubt that Jo is at fault in those chapters and does more-or-less deserves to lose the trip to Europe. She’s genuinely, purposefully rude to her aunts and to the other people they visit and she humiliates Amy and harms her social life – at the subsequent fair, the Chesters ban Amy from the art table because Jo insulted them. Plus the only reason why she has to join Amy in the calls in the first place is because she promised she would, so it’s hypocritical of her to whine about it. But on the other hand, I do empathize with Jo. With my own my social difficulties, I relate to her hating formal occasions where she has to dress up, mind her manners, make small talk about topics that don’t interest her with people she dislikes, and always be “agreeable” and “docile.” For Jo and for so many of us, it’s so hard to be that way, yet it’s the mold that all women were expected to stuff themselves into in the 19th century and to an extent still are today. Amy is lucky that she enjoys playing that social game and that it comes naturally to her. So it’s easy to sympathize with Jo’s envy when Amy is chosen to go to Europe, to feel as if Amy is rewarded for her social conformity while Jo is punished for failing to conform, and to feel as if the message is that all girls should conform like Amy. Fortunately, the book as a whole doesn’t send that message: even Amy achieves her ultimate happiness by letting herself be a bit more like Jo and call Laurie out on his laziness and apathy, when back in “Calls” she had argued that a lady should never show disapproval to a man.

*I don’t understand why some commentators think the chapter “On the Shelf” is so horribly sexist. Well, actually, I do. It’s tempting to find fault with John for being “jealous” that Meg is focusing more on their babies than on him and for “neglecting” Meg and spending carefree evenings out while she slaves away with the twins. And for Meg to be told by her mother that this is her own fault for “neglecting her duty to her husband” understandably rankles some feminists. But I honestly don’t think there’s any real problem. Meg genuinely neglects John and overtaxes herself by devoting every waking minute to the twins and letting neither John nor anyone else help her, because she’s afraid that otherwise she’ll be a bad mother. John isn’t jealous of the babies, he understandably feels ignored and useless. Nor (despite what some critics think) does he cheat on Meg, or want to. He just goes to a friend’s house rather than sit alone at home; Meg’s fear that his eye is roving to Mrs. Scott is just a product of her own stress. The resolution is arguably just the opposite of sexist: Meg finally lets John take an equal share of child-rearing duties, lets Hannah babysit often so they can both have time for themselves too, and steps out of her domestic sphere to share talks with John about politics, literature, etc. By the end of the chapter, their marriage is more egalitarian than ever.

*I’d like to read a fanfic where Jo meets Rodolfo from La Bohéme. I wouldn’t ship them, since they’re even more “too much alike” than Jo and Laurie are, but I’d like to see them meet. They’re both lively, passionate, temperamental ENFP writers, whose minds are full of “castles in the air” (they both use that exact phrase), yet whose lives both turn out differently than they had hoped, although Jo’s outcome is much happier. Both also adore a sweet, gentle, sickly young girl (Jo’s sister Beth/Rodolfo’s love interest Mimí) whose death they both regard as the end of their own youth. Furthermore, both of their authors modeled them after themselves. Jo is more down-to-earth than Rodolfo, though, and I’m not sure if they’d be friends or hate each other – Jo would definitely be indignant to learn how Rodolfo emotionally abused and broke up with Mimí because he couldn’t bear to watch her die, when she herself nursed Beth day and night through both of her illnesses and never left her side. But it would be an interesting meeting.

@fairychamber, @thatvermilionflycatcher

[brywrites]

Can we get like a mini story of Reid and Bianca with Elizabeth 🥺🥺🥺

You’re in luck anon! I’d already written up a little drabble like this for a companion piece to The Keeping of Words that I work on here and there. So here you go - a little slice of domestic bliss for the Reid family.

---

The far edge of their backyard slopes downward to meet a creek, and it’s on that gentle hill that Reid lies, his daughter in his lap, resting her head against his chest.

“What’s that one’s name?” she asks, pointing up at the sky. At three years old, Eliza is becoming increasingly curious about the world around her, and he is always happy to oblige.

“That’s a cirrus cloud,” he tells her, one arm wrapped around her to keep her securely in place. “They look like feathers, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” she says. Then, pointing again, “What about that one?”

“It’s called a cumulus cloud. They’re puffy, like cotton balls.”

“They’re fluffy!” she decides with glee.

He can’t help but laugh, caught up in her joy. “Yes, they’re the fluffiest clouds.” The pair are so focused on the patterns of clouds in the sky that neither has heard the car pull into the driveway or the woman standing in a pale blue sundress mere feet away, watching them with a wistful smile.

“I bet if I hugged one it would be so fluffy,” Eliza says, and as she turns to show her father just how she would hug a cloud, her eyes go wide at the sight of the woman. “Mama!” she shouts, scrambling to her feet and running across the grass. Reid sits up, a grin spreading across his face at the sight of Bianca. She kneels down to meet Eliza, catching her in a hug and lifting her up into her arms.

“Eliza Lou, I missed you,” she says, kissing the girl on the forehead.

“No, I missed you,” Eliza counters, throwing her arms around her mother’s neck. Then she gasps, having remembered the important lesson she’s been learning. “Daddy’s teaching me about the sky,” she says, the word heavy with reverence.

“The sky? Wow. That sounds exciting!” Bianca carries her back over to the spot where Reid is, and she sits down beside them. Eliza quickly stands once more to chase a grasshopper, and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss his wife.

“I thought you wouldn’t be home until later,” he murmurs. Not that he’s complaining. Since retiring from the BAU, he’s had to adjust to being the one who waits at home when long cases or the occasional international trip steals her away. Reid is happy of course to see her doing the thing she loves, but he’s just as happy to have her by his side.

“Court finished early. The defense agreed to the settlement, so I thought I’d come home.”

“Congratulations,” he says. Then, doing the math he asks, “How long were standing there?”

“Just a few minutes,” she assures him. “I came outback to find you and you just looked so peaceful, the two of you lying there together looking at clouds. I didn’t want that moment to end.” She kisses him once more, and he can feel her smile against his lips. He reaches up with one hand to caress her cheek, the other hand at her waist to pull her closer to him, but before he can lose himself in the feeling –

“Mama!” They pull away from each other in time for Eliza to come running back into Bianca’s lap. “I couldn’t catch the grasshopper,” she pants. “It was too faster than me.”

“Is that right?” Bianca asks. “Well, maybe Mr. Grasshopper had to go home to his mama and daddy for dinner. After all, it’s almost time for you to eat dinner, isn’t it?” Reid finds it hard to think back to a time when Bianca was so afraid of becoming a parent. Mothering seems to come easy to her. She always has the right thing to say to their daughter when she needs it most, and even when she’s away for work makes a point of finding ways to keep Eliza smiling.

Eliza shakes her head. “No, I’m not hungry. I’m tired,” she adds dramatically, falling against Bianca’s chest. Bianca laughs, and wraps her arms around her to keep her from falling. She lies back in the grass, and Reid does the same. He wraps an arm around Bianca’s shoulders and she inches closer to rest her head on his chest, Eliza nestled between them. It’s so soothing to listen to the pattern of their breathing as they rest together. Eliza Lou has worn herself out from running around all day, and Bianca has just closed a major court case which she’s been burnt out on for weeks. For so long, she was his safe harbor to return to after hard cases, and it feels like such a gift to be that for her now. He doesn’t have to worry about fighting monsters or being a hero. He can come home from the classes he teaches and just be a dad. He can just be a husband.

There are moments he thinks he misses the excitement – the thrill of the chase, the high of solving the puzzle, the electric atmosphere that working in a team provides. But then there are moments like these, with both of his girls in his arms and the golden evening light illuminating the grass. Moments where it is so easy to turn his head and place a kiss on his wife’s bare shoulder as he does now. Where he looks at the little girl between them who has his unruly hair and her mother’s warm brown eyes. And Reid knows without a doubt that he doesn’t miss a thing. His whole world is right there.

Putting an unsub away doesn’t make him feel as safe as when Bianca hugs him tight. Finding an essential aspect of the profile doesn’t make him feel as proud as when Eliza calls, “Daddy!” with a grin on her face. He used to think that the only thing he was meant to do with his life was solve mysteries. And now, there are times he can’t help but wonder if this is what he was meant to do, and everything else was just a means to this end, in this place. With his family.

He would live it all again if he had to. The grief and the ghosts and the relapses and the loneliness. He would take it all for this joy, this immense love. Reid doesn’t even think he has words for it. He doesn’t know how to communicate how happy he is, how thankful he is to have this life with these two people in it. So he just squeezes Bianca’s shoulder a little tighter.

She looks up at him and whatever he feels must be written plainly on his face because she stares at him for a heartbeat and then smiles so softly before nuzzling her head against his chest. Eliza shifts between them, her tiny hand grabbing at his shirt.

Reid looks up at the sky. There are no ghosts here. There is nothing to be afraid of as long as he’s here with them. He closes his eyes and lets himself sink into a feeling of peace that has taken him 14 years to find.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Two

Here’s the second part in the series! You can read the first part here (and you probably should, since it won’t make any sense otherwise and because there are some plot points in there that will come up again later). 

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 2,978

Content advisory: Nothing for this part, however there is adult content to come in later sections, so if you’re underage or prefer to avoid sexual material, you might as well spare yourself the time and effort of reading these early sections.

I rose early the next morning, my body aching from fruitless attempts to get comfortable enough to do more than doze off for a few minutes. The children were still in bed but Kate was already hard at work in the kitchen. Seeing my face, she quickly prepared me a cup of coffee. 

“Are you having a time of it trying to sleep, dear?” she inquired.  

I gave a wan little smile. “It just feels quite different than what I’m used to. I’ll get used to it soon enough.”

She fried some toast in the skillet with bacon fat and served me, Telling me a little of her life and of Bray as we sat in the kitchen together. I learned that the reason people referred to both “the town” and “the village” was to differentiate the newer and more prosperous area- the town- from the older settlement that had been home to the tenant serfs dating back to when the area had been part of a large estate. Kate had lived her whole life in the town, while Susan, who I had yet to meet, was from the village. The way she put it, it felt like the difference between the two parts of Bray marked everything, down to two women who both made their living as servants. 

Susan arrived at six-thirty. She was younger than either Kate or I, although taller by some measure than either of us. She gave a friendly greeting and her pleasant demeanor lasted until she began to sort through the basket of clothing to be washed. 

“Not again,” she grumbled. “They’ve gone out in the rain and just look at the state of these stockings! I’ll never get the grass stains out!”

“Mind your tongue, Sue,” Kate cautions her in a kindly enough tone. “They’re children. Even the best ones can’t help but get into some mischief.”

As she turned to say more to the girl, I saw her expression change.

“Miss Miles, did you not have any of your own clothing to be washed?”

“I didn’t want to trouble anyone. I can wash them myself. I’m afraid that there’s sand and salt on them and I didn’t want to make any more work for…”

Susan gave an exasperated sigh. 

“You’ll have your hands more than full with the children, ma’am. Susan, go collect Miss Miles’ clothing from the garrett and add that to the washing.

Susan made a show of balancing the already full basket on her hip and her footfalls were heavy as she proceeded to mount the stairs to the attic. 

“I should have gone to fetch them myself.”

“Don’t let her moods get to you,” Kate answered. “She’s a good girl but she’s got a lazy streak. If you give in to her, you’ll end up doing all her work as well as your own.”

Eager to change the subject, I decided to tell her of my discussion with the children the night before. 

“The children were regaling me with other stories of Bray before I could get them to sleep last night. Stories of all the fairies and monsters you have here.”

“Oh yes,” she sighed, “they do love their stories. A bit too much if you ask me, although I’m partly to blame because I’ve told them enough myself.”

“They recited a dark little rhyme for me about something named Finn Balor that can’t have helped me sleep any.”

Kate pursed her lips as Susan flounced back through the kitchen and out the back door, my clothes piled on top of the others. 

“They’ve heard that from her,” she muttered with a sharp glance back towards where Susan had exited. “I’ll tell them some stories my grandmother used to tell me but she goes telling them all manner of ghoulish things and getting them all excited over it. They’d no business bringing it up to you.”

“Oh it was just one of the things they wanted to share, like the ghost in the cemetery or the Bog Queen. We have a version of her where I come from too. I believe Balor must be unique to this place, or to the coast. Is it a common story?”

“Common enough, certainly. It’s the sort of thing parents tell their children or young women to frighten them. But Master William and Miss Sophia seem to delight in that sort of thing.”

“Well I hope that I can find some healthier outlets for their imagination.”

Kate collected the mugs and my plate and took them to the sink.

“I suppose I should go and wake the children so that we can get their lessons started.”

As I rose, I saw Kate staring at me. Her face was tilted and filled with concern and her fists closed tightly on her apron. 

“Their father, the Reverend, is as good, as gentle and as pure a man as God ever made,” she began haltingly. “I liked to think that I come from good folk but he is truly unmatched in his character.”

I started to agree with her but she spoke again, her tone darkening a little. 

“The children, though, have a little too much of their mother in them. She was… she was a wild animal. I know I’ve no business speaking of my former mistress this way but you’ll hear it from the townspeople asif you don’t hear it from me. He brought her back from a mission to the Brittany coast and she was peculiar at the best of times. I’ll not burden you with any stories but I can tell you that no other man would have indulged her the way Reverend Devitt did. He treated her well throughout her life and mourned her passing with his whole heart.

“I would never say that the children are bad. They are smart and they can be as gentle as angels. But they do have her blood in them and it makes them prone to a certain amount of… mischief and trickery. And I beg your pardon for speaking so far beyond my station but I know that the other governesses have struggled to take them in hand.”

I shook my head to indicate that I had no problem with her speaking in this way. “How many other governesses have there been?”

“You’re the fourth ma’am.”

“The fourth? How long ago was it that their mother passed?”

“She died when Miss Sohpia was five and her brother four.”

My jaw slacked a little. “There have been four governesses in four years?”

“They are good children but they are always easy to manage. I told you when you first arrived that I felt right away that you could be at home here. I believe I can see a spark in you that the others lacked and I would hate to see your chance to flourish thwarted when I could have offered you a warning. Treat the children with a sense of caution and keep in mind that they are prone to tricks and mischief, more so than they should be. Don’t be afraid to assert yourself.”

I nodded and thanked her before ascending the stairs to rouse my young charges. 

Over the next days, as I settled into the best pace for their lessons, I could see the truth in Kate’s words: much as they had on that first night I had read to them alone, the two of them had little routines designed to lead me where they wanted to get me. They were innocent enough but it made me wonder how far they could push their advantage. It also made me wonder about their mother and what strangeness they might have inherited from her. 

They were fast learners, and the greatest challenge was keeping them from growing bored. It was when they were bored that their tendency to misbehave presented itself. Both of them loved hiding things the other needed and making them work clues to find it. Both loved seeing how far they could push a rule imposed on them without actually breaking it. I had to admit that even their bad behavior was interesting because there was so much thought put into it. After a couple of months, I started to come up with puzzles and games of my own to help them remember and focus on what we were learning. I knew that this would have been frowned on by any school and by most other employers. I gambled that Reverend Devitt would be unlikely to question any method that saw his children happy to be learning. 

The times the Reverend was at home were brief but I treasured all of them. Those times were dominated by the church service on Sunday mornings over which he presided. He went early and we would follow afterward, taking our places near the front, the children and me, as if we were all a family. I loved that hour of the week when I sat looking up at him, flanked by his angelic-looking children. Even more, though, I loved that he almost always invited me to join them for dinner, as if I were an equal. His attention was focused on his son and daughter, of course, but I was never left out and as he saw how much and how quickly they were learning, his warmth toward me grew greater than ever. 

Once when he was back for more than just the day, we packed a picnic lunch and made our way to a rugged area along the water, just past the crescent beach where I had first seen the ocean. I tried to preoccupy myself with the children but it was the height of summer and they only wanted to run around, leaving me for an extended period alone with my employer. 

“Please be careful,” I pleaded with William as he deposited a couple of new shells for his collection onto the blanket. “The path down to the beach is steep and rocky here. You could fall and hurt yourself.”

William was off again without another word. I was about to call to him but the Reverend waved his hand to indicate I shouldn’t bother. 

“Let him work off his energy,” he sighed. “The tide’s out, so if he falls making his way down the hill, maybe the scrapes will teach him the lesson he needs.”

“I just worry that he could-”

“Helen,” he insisted, “they’re children. And you worry too much.”

“I’m sorry, Reverend,” I murmured. “I just don’t want to see any kind of harm befall them, no matter how small.”

“It’s Feargal,” he said softly, leaning back on his arms and regarding me through his long lashes. “I prefer you to call you Helen and I would prefer  you to call me Feargal.”

“Of course, sir.”

He laughed and rolled onto his side to face me. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, Helen,” he told me. “You’ve been a marvel with the children. I’ve always known they were smart but they’ve never learned as fast or as well as they have with you. Most times when I’ve come home, they’ve found something to grouse about with their governesses, but with you, it’s quite the opposite. They adore you. And Kate loves you, by the way. She always makes a point of telling me what a humble, kind woman you are.”

“I am greatly flattered,” I answered, desperately wanting him to say he had similar feelings for me. “I can’t imagine that anyone could be unhappy working in your home and with your children.”

“I assure you, it’s possible,” he said wistfully. 

I thought he might say more but William and Sophia rushed up, dropping handfuls of seaweed on the blanket. Some bits were dry, but most was sodden and stunk. I tried to hide my distaste for the scent but William and his father spotted it right away and teased me a little. We all laughed and I told myself that I would adjust to things such as these strange plants over time. 

“Look at this one!” William exclaimed, scrabbling up next to me and brandishing a new specimen. “Look at these!”

The weed he held was unlike the others he’d brought. It was still soaked but it was built like a vine and it was covered in blister-like growths. I found this one even nastier than the others and my face showed it, even though I tried to contain my dislike. 

“Watch!” William ordered. 

He pressed down hard on one of the blisters and it popped, the viscous contents spraying out and hitting my face. I made a sound, muffled slightly because I didn’t want to open my mouth in case some of the weed guts fell into it. 

Sophia laughed delightedly but the Reverend upbraided his son. 

“That was terrible behavior. I think it’s time I took a switch to the back of you again.”

William looked terrified and I heard Sophia give a little gasp. 

“No, please, sir. It’s just a plant. I overreacted.”

“You’re too kind, Miss Miles. But if I catch any more behavior like that, I can assure you that a hiding will follow.”

There was a moment of silence, after which William tossed his seaweed samples off to the side and wound his arms around my waist. I let my arm rest on his shoulder, unsure of the appropriate amount of affection to show in my position. He clung tighter and I rubbed circles on his shoulder, trying to quell the nervous tension I felt in his arms. 

During the summer, I often delayed going to bed. The garrett was pleasant enough but it was hot even if I opened the window. I was much happier to retire to the drawing room once the children were in bed, where I could write in my journal or read a little. I had finally settled in enough that I was able to sleep a little but the heat robbed me of that. I tried to fight through the fatigue and nerves but sometimes it overwhelmed me. 

One such night, Kate could see that I was in such an overtired state that she insisted on putting the children to bed herself, so that I could rest in the drawing room in peace for a little. It was not quite dark, although the sun had gone. I could see the last streaks of light trailing towards the west, the last traces of a glorious summer day. 

Looking out the window, I saw a dark figure next to the gate. My first thought was that it was an itinerant laborer from the village looking for any work he could find. It wasn't unusual for them to stop at the cottage, but none had ever passed so late. My only other thought was that he was a gypsy hawking door to door. I'd seen a few near the town. I'd never seen one alone, or in this area, but I knew very little of their ways.

I watched the man for a few minutes and realized that he was making no move towards or away from the house. He stayed still and silent. If Mr. Jones had been there, I would have dispatched him to deal with the situation but the gardener had gone home for the night. I didn't want to confront a strange man on my own but I felt a sense of danger coming from him. I had been charged with caring for the two children and that meant protecting them.

I stepped outside and waved my hand to get his attention. 

"You there! What do you want?" 

He showed no sign that he'd seen or heard me and so I walked a few steps on the path towards him. In the distance, I could hear the waves crashing and the branches of the trees clattered overhead, but the wind seemed light in the yard, so there was no chance the man did not hear me when I called to him again. Nevertheless, he paid no attention and I was forced to approach closer still.

As I did, I observed that he was striking at the gate post with his hand. It took me a moment to see that he was holding a rock and that he was actually marking the post with a few scratchy lines. 

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, stopping just out of arm's reach. "Move on and don't let me catch you hanging around this place again."

It was difficult for me to see much of his face, for he wore a brimmed hat that kept most of it in shadow. He had on layers of clothing, completely inappropriate to the heat, that appeared old and dirty. I thought his face remarkably dark but when I looked at his hand, still grasping the rock he'd been using to mark our gate post, it seemed like there was dirt clinging to his skin as well.

"I told you to be off," I snapped.

For the first time, he reacted to me, a sneer crossing his lips. His eyes flickered in my direction, shaded by his hat, and some ugly, guttural sound came from his throat. I could smell a mix of salt and leather and smoke hovering like a pungent blanket around him. 

The sneer spread and I could see a quick flash of teeth before he tightened his grip on the rock and raised his hand.

I gave a little cry and took a quick step back, believing he was about to hurl it at me. However, he simply lowered the hand and placed the rock on the post before disappearing in total silence. I went over and pushed the rock away, tossing it to the far side of the street. There were three parallel lines roughly scratched and nothing else.

[strifescloud]

the winds will lead us somewhere

6.4k words, kuwana gou/koryuu kagemitsu, G rating

getting together, fluff

-

If Kuwana listens, he can hear the joy of the soil at being tilled by Koryuu’s gentle hand, the way the things he cultivates yearn to grow under his practiced care, a joyous chime of things that thrive because they are beloved.

He hums along, because he likes Koryuu too.

read on ao3

There are many things that make up the earth, Kuwana thinks.

There is that which grows on the surface and within it, and that is what most people see, the waving blades of grass in a summer’s breeze and the vegetables of the harvest, the worms that are washed up by the rain and the thick roots of the trees you trip over in the dark. Life flourishes across its surface, gorgeous and fleeting, a cycle born from the rich soil.

But there is also that which lies deeper, the things people dig for - things that are lost and buried by calamity, the bones of the dead that are left behind after their flesh decays and nourishes the life around them, and even the beginnings of metal, the ore from which swords like them were forged.

When Kuwana digs his fingers into the dirt, soil damp and fresh against his skin, he feels like he can sense it - that this is where he came from, the beginnings of his body as a sword, and this is where he will end, his flesh offered to the earth.

The earth also sings, but Kuwana isn’t sure anyone can hear that except him.

“Do you ever listen to the earth, Koryuu-san?”   

It can’t hurt to ask.

Koryuu pauses where he is bent over their flourishing crop of carrots, his hair shifting and spilling over his shoulders as he turns to pin Kuwana with a confused stare.

“I can’t hear anything out here except us.” Koryuu rolls his shoulders, confusion melting off his face as easily as it had formed, and he turns back to his task, “Do you hear something, Kuwana-san?”

Kuwana hums, shrugs, turns his mind back to the feeling of soil beneath his hands as he keeps harvesting for their dinner. It’s a shame, he thinks, that Koryuu can’t hear it, because the soil beneath them sings brightly of his praises, in high, soft tones that echo the end of spring, the sprouting of the sunflowers in summer. If Kuwana listens, he can hear the joy of the soil at being tilled by Koryuu’s gentle hand, the way the things he cultivates yearn to grow under his practiced care, a joyous chime of things that thrive because they are beloved.

He hums along, because he likes Koryuu too.

It’s not something he thinks about too hard, because to Kuwana it is simple. He likes when they are assigned to work the fields together, sometimes in silence and sometimes spending their hours in gentle, slow conversation. He likes Koryuu’s hair, long and beautiful like a field of wheat under the sunrise, even though it always gets in his way. He likes Koryuu’s eyes, always kind and ever-wistful, sometimes staring off into the distance like he wanted the horizon to come take him away. He likes when they sit on the engawa after a long day’s work, their hands no longer in the soil but the dirt still under their fingernails, and they sit and talk about everything and nothing at all until the ache in their muscles begins to subside.

“You know, I always hear you humming to yourself over there. What, are you practicing for Kotegiri-kun’s lessons?” 

Kuwana shakes his head, smiling, and the potatoes he’s harvesting go into his basket. It kind of feels like a secret between him and the soil, but he wants to give an answer nonetheless.

“Things grow better if they know they’re loved.” 

This is true of both plants and people - and if swords could be people now, they would learn to grow as well. So it would be nice if Koryuu was a little closer to the earth, could hear the way it hums beneath them, but Kuwana understands.

I’ve been all over the place, you know, Koryuu had told him once, both of them watching the sun’s slow descent past the horizon, went from person to person, place to place, family to family. Feels like everybody else here has got their thing - lots of talk of former masters, or places they’ve been, the things that were important to them. Things that made them manifest the way they are, y’know?

He hadn’t turned to face Kuwana, but something about the way he stared out into the wide fields had seemed so melancholy as he spoke. 

I’ve been so many places as a sword, and Koryuu had smiled then, but it was neither happy nor sad, and I was wielded by so many people, but I don’t know if there’s somebody I would call “my former master”.

Kuwana had laughed, then, at the voice Koryuu had put on, a dry imitation of so many of their fellow sword warriors. 

Even now I guess I’m still looking, huh? Koryuu had shrugged, an odd vulnerability in the way his shoulders curled in, I like it here and all, but I feel like I’m missing something - that thing that tells you that you’re home. Guess they’ve all found it before, so they can see it again here. 

Kuwana had hummed at him, considering, but Koryuu had barrelled on, almost as if he needed to get the words out while he could.

I know I’m meant to be here, he’d said as he stared down at his knees, legs swinging childishly over the side of the engawa, and I know they’re my master now, for better or worse. But I keep feeling like, I dunno, I just gotta get up and walk and keep walking and see whatever it is I find beyond that horizon. 

Kuwana doesn’t really share the feeling, but he sees it in Koryuu’s face all the time. So he does get it - that Koryuu hadn’t learnt how to put down roots yet, still blowing this way and that like dandelion seeds in the wind, and maybe that airy heart of his wasn’t meant to be so attuned to the depths of the soil.

So if he can’t hear it, then Kuwana will sing along, both in hopes that it might reach Koryuu - might help him understand that the gentle affection he shows to the life he cultivates in the fields is returned, that this place already loves him even if he’s not ready for it - and because Kuwana thinks he is something that grows better with Koryuu, too. 

He wants to reach out, try and capture that fleeting, wandering presence for as long as he can before it flits out of reach. 

“Hope the potatoes can hear you, then.” Koryuu replies, his laugh echoing across the fields, “You really do love fieldwork, don’t you?”

Kuwana smiles, because it’s true, and the greatest joy he’s found since becoming alive is the feeling of soil beneath his hands.

“I was treasured by a farming family.” He says, adding more potatoes to his basket, “We fight our enemies on the battlefield, sure, but agriculture is about facing nature in its entirety. Besides, a healthy body is as great a weapon as your sword, don’t you think? It all starts from here.” He pats the freshly disturbed soil back into place, smiling down at it still like a proud parent, “Healthy soil, carefully cultivated, for a healthy diet and a healthy body.”

Koryuu’s looking at him now with a face Kuwana hasn’t learnt how to read yet, but it isn’t upset, so he doesn’t worry.

“I was with a farming family for a while too, but I guess I didn’t get all of that out of it.” Koryuu replies, but his hands are still gentle as he tends to the carrots, and Kuwana wonders if that is entirely true.

“What did they teach you?” Kuwana asks, because for all Koryuu talks of his journeys he rarely speaks of the particulars. Koryuu shrugs in response, tossing his long hair back over his shoulders from where it had fallen into his face as he leaned over.

“A lot of things,” He says vaguely, “but mostly that humans are full of mysteries, I guess. Can’t say I really get them, even after all this time - getting hung up on the weirdest things, like money and social status and who you or your parents or your parents’ parents were related to.” He shrugs again, pulls a face that makes Kuwana laugh, “It’s all kinda silly, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either.” Kuwana agrees, and they both turn back to their task, silence falling between them again broken only by Kuwana’s quiet humming.

Kuwana finishes first, his basket full for the day’s harvest, so he wanders over to help Koryuu with the last of his own.

“Oh, thanks!” Koryuu says brightly, shuffling his own basket to sit between the two of them. It’s nice, Kuwana thinks as they work side-by-side, silent aside from the sounds of the harvest. Being with Koryuu was always nice, never complicated, always making the work days barely feel like work at all (not that it ever was, really, because Kuwana loved agriculture and he loved these fields). Koryuu’s presence was just warm, as if the sunset on the horizon that he chased had settled into his bones, and Kuwana thought he could spend endless days just like this one.

Koryuu sprawls in the dirt once he’s done, groaning with exhaustion and staring up at the sky.

“Now, Koryuu-san, don’t sit down after a long day’s work.” Kuwana leans down, stretching his hand out, “You’ll never get up again.” 

Koryuu grins back, his hair stuck to his neck with sweat and dirt smudges across his cheeks, and Kuwana’s heart sings in harmony with the earth. Koryuu grabs his outstretched hand, letting himself be hauled off the ground and slinging an arm around Kuwana’s shoulder once he’s standing again. 

“Fine work today again, Kuwana-san!” Koryuu pats him on the shoulder once and then lets him go, bending over to pick up the baskets that hold their harvest, and though he steps away the breeze blows his cape back towards Kuwana, the hem brushing against his ankles, as if to stop them from being truly separated. Koryuu straightens, baskets tucked under his arms, and then immediately laughs in frustration as the wind blows his long hair right into his eyes.

“Ahh, why’d I manifest with all this, huh?” He tosses his head, but the wind blows his hair right back across his face, “I should cut it all off, honestly.” 

Kuwana tugs off his glove, somehow afraid of getting the dirt on Koryuu even though it’s already streaked across his skin and hair, and reaches out with his bare hand, brushing the hair out of Koryuu’s face and tucking it gently behind his ear. Koryuu lets out a breath as Kuwana’s hand continues on its path, following the cascade of hair down his throat, knuckles brushing the dragon that peeks out from his collar before it retreats back to Kuwana’s pocket.

“Don’t cut it off.” He says lightly, Koryuu’s cape still brushing his ankles and the setting sun casting their twin shadows across the fields, “It’s nice. Let it grow.” 

Koryuu stares back at him, his fingers flexing on the baskets he carries under his arms.

“Okay,” he says finally, after the silence has stretched far beyond comfortable, “I will.” 

Kuwana laughs, tapping Koryuu on the arm as he passes, leading him back towards the citadel.

“Kuwana-san?”

The breeze is nice through their little room, a cool balm for the sweat that trickles down his throat and soaks into his shirt, and Kuwana finds himself turning into it, trying to catch more of it on his skin.

“Kuwana-san?”

“Oh, sorry, Kotegiri.” Kuwana replies absently, turning away from the window again, “I got a bit distracted.”

Koryuu is working the fields again - Kuwana can hear the distant, joyous chime of the leaves, the sound of freshly turned soil. Kotegiri frowns at him, peering out the same window into the still horizon.

“Is there something out there?” He asks, turning his confused gaze back to Kuwana, and Kuwana just shrugs.

“I was listening to the earth.” He wishes they would understand sometimes, the ever-present hum beneath their feet that no one else seemed to hear, how his mind would run with its harmonies and leave him behind.

“What’s up, Kuwa? The earth?” Buzen interrupts, clapping him on the shoulder excitedly, “What’s it saying?” Kuwana opens his mouth, but Buzen barrels onwards, “Huh? What’s it say? Anything good?”

“It says you’re nosy, Buzen.” Kuwana replies, exasperated but smiling as Buzen nods enthusiastically.

“I don’t really get it, but cool! The earth talks about me!” He says with a bright smile as Matsui laughs quietly on the other side of the room. He can hear Murakumo whisper something into Samidare’s ear, and Kuwana thinks that’ll be the end of it until the earth rumbles beneath his feet, discontented and amused all at once.

“Ah, Koryuu-san.” He blurts out in response, and he only realises he’s said it aloud when everyone else in the room stares at him again.

“Koryuu...san?” Kotegiri repeats, fixing him with a confused stare. Kuwana feels an odd burning sensation begin to rush across his cheekbones, and he swears the room feels suddenly warmer.

“Ah, it’s - he’s working on the fields today, and-” Kuwana tries to explain, tripping over his words awkwardly, but a loud gasp from Kotegiri cuts him off.

“Is that what you were looking at?” Kotegiri rushes forward, grabbing Kuwana’s arm and shaking him slightly, “Kuwana-san! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Tell you?” Kuwana repeats, because he had only just heard through the soil that Koryuu had tripped over a sleeping Akashi in the fields, hiding from his own duty, the earth resonating with concern and amusement. 

“Do you like Koryuu-san?” Kotegiri’s voice is insistent, shaking him again, and Kuwana smiles at the spark of light in his eyes.

“Of course I do.” That seems obvious - Koryuu is his friend, after all.

“No, no.” Kotegiri leans further into Kuwana’s space, trying to stare past the thick veil of hair into his eyes, “Do you like like him?”

“He’s my friend.” Kuwana says, tone rising almost like a question. Kotegiri sighs, releasing Kuwana from his vice grip and gesturing animatedly as he steps back.

“Not like friends! I read about it in those magazines that Master likes.” Kotegiri’s hands are on his hips now, his presence much grander than his small frame as he stares Kuwana down, “It’s about love.”

Kuwana blinks, and he hears Matsui sigh behind him.

“Ah, it makes the heart race, pumping the blood faster and faster.” Kuwana turns to look at him and Matsui sighs again, staring dreamily out of the window that Kuwana had previously claimed.

“Come on, sit down.” Kotegiri tugs at Kuwana’s hand until they’re both sitting on the floor, Buzen joining them right at Kuwana’s side, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly, “What do you like about Koryuu-san?”

“This is a little embarrassing.” Kuwana says awkwardly, but Kotegiri frowns at him.

“Kuwana-san, this is important!” Kotegiri keeps frowning, looking a little disappointed, and Kuwana sighs.

“I like spending time with Koryuu-san.” He drags one hand across the flooring, wishing it was the familiar feeling of soil beneath his fingers, and continues with a laugh, “The earth likes him too. He’s gentle. I like it when we talk, no matter what it’s about.” He stops, feeling awkward again.

“And?” Kotegiri prompts, and Kuwana tries to continue.

“I like it when he smiles. He’s sadder than he looks, so it doesn’t happen as often as you think.”

He’s treading into territory he doesn’t really want to say aloud, like how he hopes Koryuu finds that feeling of home here at last, that he stops being adrift and lost - that Kuwana wants to reach out and take his hand and hold him here, but he can’t cage him if he wants to be free.

Kotegiri’s eyes seem to sparkle, and Kuwana thinks he might be tearing up.

“Oh.” Kotegiri says, taking Kuwana’s hand again, “I’m so happy for you!”

Kuwana blinks at him again.

“Why?”

“Because it’s love!” Kotegiri leaps to his feet, clapping his hands, “And that’s something very special.”

Love, Kuwana repeats in his mind. 

He thinks he knows love already. He’s been human long enough, been among humans even longer, to know how love sits in the air. It’s comfortable - humans feel love every day. It sits in all the dusty corners of their lives, a foundation as solid as the earth to walk on.

Kuwana knows love. He loves so many things, after all - the earth, the fields, the other Gou swords, Tonbokiri-sama, all the parts of his everyday life. It’s ever-present, a constant warmth in his bones, and he never has to question it.

But does he love…

“Kotegiri,” Buzen interrupts, “why do you know so much about love?”

“When you sing and dance on stage, you have to make your audience feel loved!” Kotegiri responds enthusiastically, clapping his hands, “So I had to learn more about how to make that kind of atmosphere, right?”

“Sounds good!” Buzen stands, leaving Kuwana sitting alone on the floor.

“Let’s continue, everyone!” Kotegiri calls, and the others begin to re-assemble into their formation, “Now, repeat after me!”

“Two halves of a melon…” Samidare murmurs, and Kuwana stands to take his position.

“Five, six, seven, eight-”

There is always a comfort to be found with soil beneath his hands.

Another long day in the fields had passed, the sun beginning to set once again, and Kuwana feels that warmth in his bones. 

“Kuwana-san, are you done?” Koryuu calls, and Kuwana nods slowly.

Love, Kotegiri had said.

“Kuwana-san?”

“Koryuu-san,” Kuwana says, rolling an onion between his palms, “what do you know about love?”

He hears a long sigh above him, the sound of boots crunching the soil as they walk over to him. Koryuu sits across from him, taking the onion gently out of his hands and putting it in his basket. 

“You always ask hard questions.” He says with another sigh, reaching out and tugging at where Kuwana’s collar was slightly askew, patting it into place, and Kuwana smiles a little as the hand withdraws, “Love’s a pretty crazy thing, isn’t it?” Koryuu shrugs, pulling his now-tangled hair out from where it was stuck under his own collar, “Humans do all kinds of weird, extravagant things for love - leaving their whole lives behind, spending all their money, killing people, waging wars.”

“You think so?” Kuwana frowns at the ground again, avoiding Koryuu’s gaze. Kotegiri’s words feel like they’re ringing in his ears, rising above the ever-present song of the earth, but he doesn’t know what to do with them yet, “Were you ever loved by your master?”

Koryuu shrugs again, laughing, the sound carefree but with a note of something Kuwana doesn’t know how to handle.

“That’s different, isn’t it?” Koryuu replies, still with that same note in his voice, “A human will love a tool because it’s useful. It makes you rich, it kills your enemies. When it’s no longer useful, that love will wane,” Koryuu traces his fingers through the dirt beneath him, “like the moon. Maybe it’ll come back one day - or maybe you’ll be sold, traded, forgotten, left to gather dust somewhere. Humans are fickle like that, you know?”

“I was treasured.” Kuwana says firmly, because this is a thing that he knows, as certain as the sun setting in the west, “My former masters cherished me.”

Koryuu laughs again, clapping one hand on Kuwana’s shoulder as he rises, then extending it down to pull Kuwana up with him.

“They loved a sword they could wield.” Kuwana takes the hand and Koryuu hauls him to his feet, “It’s different when a person loves a person.”

Koryuu’s hand is still in his.

Kuwana wonders, absently, if the reason Koryuu can’t hear how loudly the earth sings of him is because he isn’t ready to accept that it loves him yet.

“Koryuu-san,” Kuwana says firmly, “you’re a person now, too. And the other people here love you.”

Plant your roots here, a part of him wants to say, but it’s selfish to keep a wanderer from the road. Koryuu’s smile is unreadable, tilting his head and staring as if he’s trying to see past Kuwana’s hair and into his obscured eyes, fingers shifting in Kuwana’s grasp.

“Our master loves a sword they can wield.” Koryuu repeats the words, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in them, a shakiness as he takes back his hand. 

“There’s other people here, too.” Kuwana says, but that’s all he’s willing to say. He picks up his basket and Koryuu follows suit, leading him back to the citadel in silence. 

Maybe that desire, selfish and selfless at once, is what Kotegiri had seen in him - wanting to spend every day just like this, the two of them wrapped in the endless song of the fields, Koryuu smiling at Kuwana’s gentle humming as the sun passes overhead. But more than that, just wanting Koryuu to know what it means to have somewhere to wander home to, for him to feel the same warmth that Kuwana feels whenever there’s soil beneath his fingers, knowing he belongs right here.

Perhaps you would call that love.

Kuwana’s walking past the kitchen when he hears a long, familiar groan.

“I don’t know what to do, Daihannya-saaaaan.” Koryuu whines, and Kuwana quickly flattens himself against the wall. He’s not eavesdropping, exactly, but the look on Koryuu’s face the other day was still bothering him a little.

“Now, now, Koryuu-kun.” Daihannya’s smooth voice is a little softer, and Kuwana tries to breathe as silently as he can, “Whatever is the matter?” There’s a scrape of cups over the table, Daihannya offering a drink to the other sword, “I’ve never seen you so despondent.”

Koryuu sighs loudly, and Kuwana hears fingers tapping on the table nervously.

“It’s about... you know.” Koryuu sighs again, “We had farm duty again.”

“Lucky you.” Daihannya replies, a note of amusement in his voice, and there’s a faint sound like skin on skin,  “Come, now, I’m trying to help.”

“I’m glad this is funny for you.” Koryuu grumbles, but he continues more hesitantly, “He was asking me about...love.” 

Oh, Kuwana thinks as a sinking feeling begins in his stomach, oh, no, I’ve upset him.

“Love? Well, there you go.” There’s a stronger hint of laughter behind the silky words, and Koryuu groans again.

“No.” There’s a thump, and then Koryuu’s voice sounds a little muffled, “I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t?”

“Noooo…”

“Koryuu-kun.”

“I know."

Kuwana’s breath feels shallow, his skin alight with nerves. What was it Koryuu couldn’t say to him? Had he upset him? Did Koryuu know?

He steps away from the kitchen, feeling like an intruder. He walks through the halls of the citadel, smiling faintly at those he passes, and finds a quiet spot on the engawa to sit and watch the sunset.

It’s not quite the same without Koryuu at his side, cheerful voice in his ears, but the quiet can be nice too. The earth resonates with dusk in time with the gentle breeze and there is comfort in the harmonies, so Kuwana hums along as softly as he can, laying his worries bare.

“Mind if I join you?”

The sudden, smooth voice makes him jump, and when he looks up Daihannya is standing above him, two cups in one hand and a bottle in the other. There’s a faint smile on his face but Kuwana feels his heart beat loudly in his ears, that prickling sensation creeping up his skin again.

“Sure!” He says brightly still, because he likes Daihannya, and he feels like this might be important.

Daihannya sits beside him and Kuwana stares back out at the sunset, listening to the sound of liquid pouring into the cups until Daihannya taps him on the arm, pressing one into his hand. Kuwana takes a sip and it’s a sweet, gentle sake, and he lets it roll around his tongue before he swallows it, savouring the flavour.

“You and Koryuu-kun have been doing more than your fair share of fieldwork lately.” Daihannya says, taking a sip from his own drink, and Kuwana tries not to react, “Thanks for your hard work.”

“Not at all,” Kuwana replies immediately, feeling like his mouth is moving on its own, “I like working in the fields a lot.” Daihannya laughs, nodding slightly as he takes another sip.

“I’ve noticed, actually.” Kuwana feels a heat rise in his cheeks as he ducks his head, but Daihannya pats him on the shoulder, “No, no, don’t be ashamed. It’s lovely, seeing how much you enjoy it.” There’s a wistfulness to his tone as the hand falls away, returning to twine fingers around the cup in his other hand, “There’s so much to discover about ourselves - what we like or don’t like, what to name these feelings we weren’t forged with, how to navigate the world on our own two feet instead of in our master’s hand. I envy how much you Gou swords seem to know yourselves.”

Kuwana blinks, confused, and the words bring back a question that had once floated distantly in his mind.

“Are the Osafune swords close?” He knows some of the others aren’t as close as the Gou swords, the bonds of their smith strengthened by the determined efforts of Kotegiri, but Koryuu spoke of such things in fleeting bursts that it was hard to tell how he felt.

“Yes and no.” Daihannya said slowly, a pensive look growing on his face, “We’re independent by nature, but not so much that we keep a distance from one another. Mitsutada would never let that happen.” He laughs, a more genuine smile taking over, “I think if Koryuu-kun really tried to wander off, Mitsutada would just go out there and drag him back for dinner.” He puts his cup down, shifting slightly so his eyes pierce right into Kuwana’s, “But you can understand that, can’t you?”

Kuwana stills, his breath shallow, and he thinks ah, caught.

“Daihannya-san-”

“I’m not as wrapped up in my own world as he is.” Daihannya interrupts, but his tone is gentle, “but I hope you didn’t take his whining badly. He can be a bit dense sometimes.” Kuwana winces slightly, and Daihannya nods in response, “I see. Well, I’m not here to spill all his secrets, but I won’t reveal yours.” 

“...Thank you.” Kuwana offers hesitantly, and Daihannya pats him again, this time gently on the knee.

“Don’t be so nervous, Kuwana-kun. I don’t bite.” He turns back to pick up his drink again, “But I do wish you would be honest with him.”

Kuwana lets silence stretch between them, unsure what to say. There’s a weight to the words he can’t quite lift yet, and it seems Koryuu hasn’t revealed everything either. He takes a long sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol will steady his frayed nerves.

“We may have long years ahead of us,” Daihannya said, voice almost reverently quiet, “but our joys are still fleeting, and our sorrows deep, as if our lives were as short and brilliant as a human’s.” His long hair spills over his shoulder as he leans forward, conviction threading steel into his words, “Don’t let moments slip by.”

Kuwana blinks once, twice, trying to gather his thoughts, but Daihannya is already standing, taking his drink with him.

“Oh, and Kuwana-kun?” He adds as he turns away, his last words thrown over his shoulder, “It’s not a coincidence it’s always you two on duty together.”

And with that he left, leaving Kuwana alone with the darkened sky and his racing thoughts, sake cup clutched in his fingers.

“What do you think happens to us when we die?”

The question breaks the quiet of their morning, Kuwana’s hands stilling and his hum catching in his throat. Koryuu’s leaning on his hoe, using one boot to worm it further into the soil, and Kuwana frowns at the furrow in his brow.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, like, do we leave a body like humans do? We are basically human now, so it’d make sense.” Koryuu shrugs, gesturing with one hand, “Or do we just, poof, the same way we manifested?” 

It’s an odd question, but Koryuu wasn’t one to let a thought sit in his head for too long.

“I hope we leave a body.” Kuwana replies slowly, hands kneading the soil beneath him, “I want to be buried.” Koryuu laughs, flashing him a grin.

“Of course you do! You know, when I was with a sword-testing family, they used to try their swords out on dead people - well, dead criminals, but they were still people, right?” 

“Yeah.” Kuwana says, his focus sharpening. He treasures every anecdote Koryuu shares, like precious jewels for how rare they were, little glimpses into a vast history.

“Well, eventually they had more swords than bodies, of course. So what did they do? Sewed the people back up and used them again!” Koryuu keeps laughing, shaking his head as he swings the hoe back up onto his shoulder, “It’s crazy, right? Looking back at it now, with my own body, it feels kinda wrong to me. They’d take all the bits out of them too, turn the organs into some kind of miracle medicine.”  Kuwana pulls a face, and Koryuu gestures at him, “Right? Maybe you’re rubbing off on me, Kuwana-san, but I’d rather eat some good, hearty vegetables,” Koryuu picks a carrot out of his basket, waggling it in his direction, “than bits of dead people.” He tosses the carrot back in, shrugging.

“Well,” Kuwana says, “if we do leave a body, I hope I end up in a field just like this one.” The sun’s touch is gentle on his skin, the breeze making grass sway in the distance, and the peace that he feels at the sight runs as deep as his bones, “My body will be food for the earth, to make food for people. Would that be any different?”

“Nah,” Koryuu’s voice sounds a little wistful, a little distant, and Kuwana wonders where his mind has wandered to, “I guess it’s not so different.”

Kuwana hums in agreement, but then lets the sound stretch out as he turns back to his work, weaving in quietly beneath the harmonies of the soil. The earth sings out in joy as Koryuu’s attentions return to it, and Kuwana can’t help but mimic the soft melody, his own heart filled with warmth.

“You’re singing to yourself again.” Kuwana wonders if he imagines the fondness in Koryuu’s tone, the gentle hint of laughter that rolls beneath the words,

“Not to myself.” He says insistently, but then he hesitates, “I’m just...singing with the earth.”

“With the earth?” Koryuu repeats, and Kuwana feels a familiar burn in his cheeks. He knows no one else hears it, knows it’s strange and sometimes he’s still more spirit than human, but he hopes Koryuu doesn’t think it’s too weird.

“Yeah.” And to you, he thinks, because he still wishes more than anything that Koryuu could hear how much this land treasured him, “The earth is always singing.”

“Well,” Koryuu stops his work again, dusting off his soil-stained hands, “I always wondered what it would say when you asked it something.” Kuwana laughs, delighted, and Koryuu continues, “What’s it singing about?” 

Kuwana pauses again, unsure what to say, and Koryuu looks over at him when the silence stretches a little too long.

“You don’t have to-”

“Everything, all the time.” Kuwana lets himself sink into the sound a little bit, focusing on it, trying to find the words even though he knows he can’t describe it, “The sun, the rain, the things that are growing or dying, the insects that crawl between the grass. It sings about me, about you.” He shrugs, gesturing at the field that surrounds them, the line of the horizon in the distance.

“About me?” Koryuu repeats, finally putting his tools down and coming to sit next to Kuwana, brow drawing together, “What’s it saying about me?” 

The question makes Kuwana’s heart thump loudly in his ears, almost drowning out the ever-present hum beneath his feet. Koryuu’s eyes sparkle in the morning light, his hair tousled by the breeze and stuck to his face with sweat, and he looks so beautiful Kuwana fumbles for his words, feeling them trip and tangle on their way out of his mouth.

“Everything here wants to grow for you,” he starts awkwardly, “You’re good in the fields. You care for this land.” Kuwana pauses, swallowing, aware suddenly of the sweat down the back of his neck and how thirsty he is, “Whenever you’re out here it sings endlessly for you, even though you can’t hear it, because the earth loves you. It just wants you to be here, and even if you don’t feel like it’s home it always wants you to come back.”

Koryuu is staring at him with a face Kuwana can’t read, eyes wide but intent, and Kuwana has to look away before he speaks again. He’s so nervous he thinks his hands are shaking but the words are suddenly clear in his mind, Daihannya’s voice ringing in his ears, don’t let moments slip by. 

He wonders if this is the secret Koryuu was keeping, the same fears in their mirrored hearts, both of them too afraid to speak it aloud.

“That’s why I sing with it.” His smile feels fragile even though it spreads wide across his face, a secret freed from his heart at last, “Because I feel the same way.” 

Koryuu had been leaning forward, but at Kuwana’s words he sits back, hands grasping at the fabric of his pants tightly. He looks dazed, a little frightened, and Kuwana feels a spike of fear in his stomach, I hope I haven’t ruined it. The wind has died down and the field is still, so still, and Kuwana abruptly feels like he’s breathing far too loud in the sudden silence. Koryuu shifts, the sound of his boots scraping against the earth grating across Kuwana’s ears.

His hand reaches out, gently working the hat off Kuwana’s head and placing it to the side, but then returning to Kuwana’s face. The knuckles brush against Kuwana’s cheek and he holds as still as he can, almost afraid to breathe as long fingers push the hair in front of his left eye to the side. He feels exposed, goggles still hanging around his neck and trying not to shy away, letting Koryuu find whatever he’s searching for. 

Koryuu’s eyes are fixed on his exposed one and he holds the gaze, feeling like the moment is stretching into eternity. 

The hand on his cheek trails further down, letting his hair fall back into place, breaking the raw gaze between them as Koryuu’s hand fits gently around his jaw. The other hand comes up to mirror it, cradling Kuwana’s face, the touch impossibly gentle as if Koryuu was afraid he’d break him.

“Sometimes I really don’t know what to do with you.” Koryuu says, the words almost like a sigh as he leans forward to kiss him.

Their lips meet hesitantly, chaste and nervous and Kuwana is almost thankful for it because the feeling of slightly chapped skin against his mouth is so odd and unfamiliar. But when Koryuu leans back Kuwana chases the feeling, not wanting to let him go, pressing their lips together again with more force. There’s something so sweet it makes his heart ache about the nervous way Koryuu’s hands shift on his skin and Kuwana kisses him harder, his heart racing, trying to tell him don’t worry, me too.

They break apart as slowly as they came together, Koryuu’s hands leaving Kuwana’s face to take his hands.

“Well,” Koryuu said, a veil of false bravado not quite hiding the shakiness in his voice, “okay. That was, uh, nice.”

“It was nice.” Kuwana agrees, because he liked it and if Koryuu liked it, they could do it again. Koryuu pulls a face, fiddling with Kuwana’s hand, a nervous energy taking over.

“I don’t know what we do now.” Koryuu continues with a nervous laugh, and Kuwana squeezes his hand reassuringly.

It was hard, piecing together how to be human from fragments of centuries, an ever-changing puzzle with thousands of pieces. 

“Does anything have to change right now?” The sun had shifted now, their twin shadows harsh against the field, side by side, “I am Kuwana Gou, and you’re Koryuu Kagemitsu. Today we have farm duty, and afterwards we’ll watch the sun set, like we always do.” 

Koryuu’s gentle smile could outshine the sun, his eyes soft and fond, and he nods slightly at Kuwana’s words.

“Like we always do, yeah. You’re right.” 

Kuwana takes a moment just to hold Koryuu’s hand a little tighter, commit the feeling to his memory, that fickle presence no longer just out of reach. But he lets go as Koryuu stands, following suit, both of them returning to their patch of field as if nothing had happened.

And at the end of the day Kuwana carries his harvest back to the citadel, following the bright stream of Koryuu’s hair in the afternoon breeze. They sit side by side on the engawa, the sun just beginning to set, and the earth sings of the same happiness that Kuwana feels in every corner of his heart.

“Daihannya-san said something to me I was wondering about.” Kuwana says once their silence had stretched on long enough, watching the grass sway in the breeze as Koryuu’s legs swing idly off the edge.

“Oh, geez, what did he say?” Koryuu sighs, and Kuwana shakes his head.

“Nothing bad. It was just about we’re on field duty together.” Kuwana shrugs loosely, “I like working the fields, so I don’t mind, but we do it a lot more than the others.”

Koryuu’s silence is a little longer than usual, and when Kuwana turns there’s a light dusting of pink forming across his cheeks.

“I...may have asked the Master to give us more farm duty. You and me, I mean. Together.” Kuwana’s face almost hurts from how widely he grins, unable to stop the smile from blooming, even as Koryuu continues, “But I can talk to them if you don’t want to, it’s-”

“Koryuu-san,” Kuwana says firmly, taking Koryuu’s hand that rests between them and tangling the fingers together, “I want to.”

Koryuu’s answering grin is almost blinding in its radiance, a mixture of joy and nerves, and as they turn back to watch the sunset Kuwana keeps a tight hold on his hand. They’d figure the rest out tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day after, unending years ahead of them to learn more about living. 

But right now, Kuwana wants to hold onto this one, perfect moment for as long as he can, until the sun sets.

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Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 15: Big Fucking Trouble—With a Capital T

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: Steve has some real Anger Management Issues (capitalized for emphasis). Perhaps he should try some coping techniques, like deep breathing, or restorative yoga, or a hefty glass of straight whiskey.

Word Count: 4,660

Warnings: Language, violence, anger issues

A/N: So I know it's been quite a few weeks, and I'm sorry for taking so long to get the next chapter out! i've been swamped with assignments, and then Thanksgiving happened, and it's just been a hectic time so you'll have to forgive me. Big thanks to my beta, @jessieray98​ --she's AMAZING!!

Masterlist / AO3

“Do you think this is normal?” Bucky muttered to Steve the next night. It was dinnertime and Y/N was sitting at the table, staring blankly at the pizza in front of her.

She had been like this all day. Silent, brooding, sad. She had stayed in bed until noon; although Steve had wanted to wake her up earlier, Bucky convinced him to let her sleep in. They only woke her up when it was time for lunch, which she barely touched. Now at dinner, she still wasn’t eating, although they had ordered from her favorite pizza place.

Steve, who was at the counter with Bucky dishing up their own pizza, frowned, replying in a quiet voice that she couldn’t hear, “She’s gotta eat some time.”

“She’s grieving. If she doesn’t want to talk, we shouldn’t make her.”

“We can at least make her eat,” Steve grumbled, irate at the entire situation. They went to go sit next to her at the table.

“Ready to eat?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his tone cheerful. After Bucky and Steve had already finished their first slices, she still hadn’t taken a single bite of hers.

Steve was fed up, and of course, he had never been the best at controlling his temper. The tension had been building all day, and Bucky should have expected things to blow up soon enough. “Eat your damn food, Y/N,” Steve barked at her.

“I’m not hungry.” Her voice was hoarse from not speaking all day and from all the crying she had done when they weren’t looking.

“Can’t you just eat one slice?” Bucky coaxed, his voice soft. “Please?”

She clenched her jaw, a rush of anger towards Bucky surging through her. Stuffing it down into the depths of her chest, she tightened her hands into fists, trying her hardest to contain the rage within, body tense with the effort. “No,” she answered him shortly, afraid if she opened her mouth for any longer, she would let everything out, every vile thing she wanted to say to them.

Steve had just about had it. “Y/N,” he snapped, “You’re gonna eat a slice of that fucking pizza. Right. Now.”

“Or what?” The petulant girl before him maintained eye contact with him. Steve’s eyes flashed, the vein in his temple pulsing. She couldn’t help but challenge him. Maybe to show him that she wouldn’t bend to his will, maybe to see just what he would do about it.

He and Bucky were both on their feet at once. Steve started towards Y/N, hands ready to grab her by the hair, but Bucky stood in his path, stopping him from touching her.

“Steve,” Bucky grunted, using all his strength to hold Steve back, “Steve, think about this. Now is not the time!”

“The little brat needs to learn her place,” Steve snarled. Meanwhile, Y/N watched on, shocked. It was the first time Bucky had ever intervened in Steve teaching her a lesson. Even before that summer, back when Steve’s punishments didn’t involve sexual misconduct, Bucky had always allowed Steve to rebuke her and scold her to his heart’s content. But this wasn’t a matter of her disobeying little rules or being a brat. She wasn’t going to let them control her anymore.

“Go to bed,” Bucky ordered her in a low growl. She obeyed, not for the sake of following his orders, but because she couldn’t stand to be around Steve anymore. Scurrying to Bucky’s bedroom, she shut the door and locked it just as she heard the front door open and slam closed. The noise made her jump, and she rushed to get into Bucky’s bed,  curling up in his comforter. It smelled like him, his cologne, sandalwood and tobacco.

Despite her anger towards him now, her disgust at the man who helped kill her father, the scent brought back so many memories, and she let herself sink into them.

Snowy days curled up together watching movies, naps taken after school when she didn’t have swim practice, warm hugs and tender touches that didn’t mean anything more than friendship at the time. She and Bucky had always had fun together—he always seemed to encourage her rowdiness, her competitive side. Racing him downhill when they went on skiing trips, or competing who could do the most laps at the pool, or who could build the biggest sandcastle at the beach.

But Bucky was more than just that. Bucky was always her solace, not just a protector or guardian, but a source of comfort, peace. Memories of Bucky comforting her when her father yelled at her, distracting her while her father held tense mob meetings downstairs, keeping her safe when strange men came to their house, their predatory gazes pinned on her whenever she would enter the room. Not just safety, but security, especially when Steve wasn’t available to be that role for her.

Steve, on the other hand, had always been that rule maker, the one to lay down the law, to keep her safe at the expense of her happiness. At one point, he had been a friend, too, sweet and kind and coddling, albeit overprotective to a fault. But he certainly hadn’t always been angry and mean. She was 14 years old when his mother died, and that’s when Steve grew cold—not just with her, but with everyone.

Her memories of Steve before that were different. He always made sure she was fed, and warm, and safe, and happy. He used to pick her up every day after school and buy her food—hot dogs, or pizza, or ice cream, indulge her in whatever she chose. The only time he wasn’t kind to her was when she was a brat, and even then, he would reprimand her and then make it up to her afterwards with gentle words and hugs and treats to make up for it.

After his mother died, Tony took Steve under his wing, focused on him more than the other young men in the mob, groomed him to be cold and calculating and emotionless, just as a mob leader should be. The only emotion Steve was allowed to show was anger, all of his sadness bottled up inside him, waiting to be released as rage and violence.

Occasionally, she still saw glimpses of his old self. Those moments of softness became few and far between, and Y/N cherished them whenever they came. The locket he gave her for her birthday, the time he taught her how to paint, the morning cuddles they had shared just the other day—those rare moments of affection and kindness that she missed dearly, that she yearned for.

As sudden as the thought came, she berated herself for it. Steve had helped kill her father. She wasn’t supposed to want him, just like she wasn’t supposed to want Bucky. Her heart broke for the thousandth time as she recounted how sweet they could be. How could she ever reconcile that with their despicable actions?

Unable to help herself, she cried silently into Bucky’s pillow, until she fell into a light sleep.

Steve came back home a few hours later, knuckles bloody and bruised. In the meantime, Bucky had stress-eaten the entire pizza, half a tub of chocolate ice cream, and he was just considering whether to make a Cubano or a Reuben sandwich when the lock turned and Steve walked in.

Shiny with sweat, dirt all over his clothes, knuckles bruised and bloody, Bucky could tell that Steve had been beating something up. Or someone, based on his split lip and the cut above his eyebrow.

“Steve—”

Before Bucky could get a word in, Steve sent him a sharp glare, stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. By the time he heard the sound of the shower running, he had all of the ingredients out for both sandwiches and was hastily slathering mustard onto bread.

He craved the sandwiches of the deli down the street, but he felt wary about leaving Steve alone with their girl.

The entire situation made Bucky unbelievably anxious, especially since Steve had been such a menace the past few days. Sure, the man had a temper—anger issues, definitely—but it wasn’t usual for him to be so cross with Y/N, even when she was acting petulant and obnoxious. Now, though, the mob was in danger. The tension was so high, Steve’s stress was peaked, and it bled into his mood, making him much more volatile than usual.

Another component was that they had begun this relationship with her. Now that Steve felt a broader sense of ownership and responsibility over her, it was different; her anger and defiance and deliberate disobedience felt more personal somehow.

Her behavior annoyed Bucky, especially the night she had gone to Manhattan with Wanda, putting herself in danger so carelessly. However, for the most part, he was just concerned about her, and frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to help. He knew what it was like to lose parents, and he knew she would be going through the stages of grief. His mood had bounced all over the place in the immediate time after his parents died—until he had discovered unhealthy coping mechanisms, like sex and drugs and suppressing his emotions.

That had been years ago, and it had taken him a long time to get back to some sense of normalcy. He knew that she would be changed forever by this turn of events.

It broke his heart to see her like this. He hadn’t been with her for long—it had only been a week or so since their illicit relationship had begun, but Bucky already felt so strongly for her. He had only ever been in love with Steve—had never fallen out of love with him, to be honest—and he couldn’t help but think it felt much the same with Y/N.

Now wasn’t the time for that issue, though. He would only scare her away during her time of crisis and make everything worse.

By the time Bucky had made both sandwiches and mulled over the entire situation, the water in the bathroom turned off, and Bucky held his breath, waiting for Steve. He exited the bathroom along with a cloud of steam, a towel slung around his waist.

He looked miserable. The anger had worn off by then, leaving a sense of helplessness for the situation.

Steve sat on the couch, not bothering to put on clothes. “She’s never going to trust me.”

“Steve—”

“We did all of this wrong. Now I don’t know how to get a hold of her.” He couldn’t control her, and that’s what scared Steve the most. It scared him to the point of rage, to the point of violence.

Manipulating her had always been so easy. What had changed? Was it him? Had he lost his touch? Was he so terrifying now with the storm of uncontrolled anger and tension within, that he had lost her completely?

Or was it her? Was she old enough now to see him for who he really is?

And if that was the truth—well, no wonder she wanted nothing to do with him. Steve didn’t deserve anything as good as her.

Bucky sat beside him, sensing Steve’s self-doubt, his anger, his sadness. Steve always worked so hard to suppress the emotions, but Bucky could read him better than anyone. He couldn’t hide anything from Bucky.

“Here,” Bucky said, handing Steve the Cubano. “Eat up.”

And they ate the sandwiches, side by side, while the girl who owned their hearts slept in the next room.

The next morning proved to be even harder than the previous night.

“Darling. Honey. Sweetheart.” Bucky was given the task of waking Y/N up for the funeral. Steve stood in the doorway, observing, determined not to get involved. “You gotta wake up. You need to get ready.”

She grunted and shoved his hand away from stroking her hair. “No.”

“The funeral is in an hour. We need to get ready to go.”

“I’m not going.”

Bucky released a breath through his nose. “Honey, I know you’re mad at him. I know he did terrible things. But this is the last time you’re going to be able to get any closure with him. You need to go to the funeral.”

“I’m. Not. Going.”

“You’re gonna be mad for a long time, that’s not gonna change, but in the long run, this will help with—”

“Bucky, I’m not fucking going!” she yelled, smacking his hand away from her. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Rage boiled through Steve, a dangerous drug, a familiar old friend. He couldn’t stop it. “Y/N,” he seethed through clenched teeth, “Get up, you are going to the goddamn funeral.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Everyone is expecting you to be there!” he shouted, losing his temper once again.

Well, Y/N had a temper of her own, and after stewing in her rage all night, she was ready to yell at Steve for any reason. “Fuck you! You can’t make me go, Steve!” she sneered his name with so much disrespect, and Bucky only blinked once before Steve was on her, hand in her hair, dragging her out of bed. Her shrieks echoed throughout the apartment as Steve pulled her into the bathroom, and she scrambled behind him every step of the way, nails clawing at his wrist, trying in vain to keep up with his long strides.

He tossed her in the tub and twisted the shower knob with enough force to yank it off, and once cold water started to spray down on her, her yells only increased in volume, curse words and rude names sprinkled in liberally, language that they had rarely heard her use before.

“You fucking asshole, stop it! Let me go! I’m not going to the—"

Steve ignored the verbal onslaught, crouching down and trying to pull her clothes off. “Help me out, Buck,” Steve grunted when her flailing limbs became too much to handle. Bucky held her down, thwarting each attempted punch and kick, while Steve managed to get all of her clothes off. By the time she was nude, her face was flushed and angry tears began to well up in her eyes.

“Fuck both of you! You’re both bastards! I can’t believe I ever liked you—”

Steve silenced her by aiming the detachable showerhead directly at her face, making her cough and splutter as she got a lungful of water. It provided enough of a distraction for Bucky to start shampooing her hair while Steve scrubbed a bar of soap over her skin. All the while, her tears fell, but her tirade did not lighten between her sobs.

“This will be good for you in the long run,” Bucky said evenly as he washed her hair.

“No it won’t!” she growled, thrashing in their grip until Steve held her down with soapy hands, a bruising grip on her wrists.

“Calm the fuck down,” he grunted, “You’re going to the fucking funeral, you little brat, so help me—"

“You’re horrible!” she wailed, chest heaving as she gulped in more air. “You’re horrible, and despicable, and degenerate—and—and—and your mother would’ve been so disappointed in you Steve—”

Wasting no time, Steve silenced her with his fist against her face, something in between a punch and a slap that left her collapsed at the bottom of the tub, ears ringing, vision blacking out for a moment while she regained her wits.

Bucky pulled her back up, not to comfort her, but to continue bathing her. Rinsing his hands, he swiped his fingers against her aching cheek where Steve had left milky suds against angry red flesh, then continued scrubbing conditioner into her hair. “Tip your head back,” he instructed her, an impassive expression plastered on his face, guiding her head back with utilitarian movements. Not too gentle but not rough, either.

Towering above her, Steve met her gaze. She had never seen him look at her like that before—not just anger, but wrath and disgust written across his features. “Don’t you ever talk about my mother again.” His tone was low, threatening, and his eyes shone with hatred or tears or something else she couldn’t tell.

He stormed out of the bathroom then, and she resumed crying, silently this time.

Bucky didn’t have much sympathy for her, not when she delivered such a low blow. He continued his soothing actions of rinsing out her conditioner, then grabbed the bar of soap to continue washing her body. “You shouldn’t have mentioned his mother.”

I know, she thought. “I don’t care,” she replied with a sullen sniffle, taking the soap bar from him.

“Can you do this yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gritted. “You can leave.”

“Don’t take too long.”

As she scrubbed her skin with the soap, shivering from the frigid temperature of the water, she thought about what might happen at the funeral.

The Catholic traditions her family subscribed to mandate a wake, which was to take place that morning. Then the hour-long Mass to follow, and then the funeral afterwards. There would be so many people from the mob there—they would probably be the only ones in attendance, in fact.

Her father’s parents were no longer alive, and he had no siblings or other family. Her mother wouldn’t be there, of course—and her mother had no family left that cared about Obadiah.

Aside from the mob, who else did Obadiah have?

She didn’t want to see any of the mob, especially not for these funeral proceedings that would take hours. Her father had somehow betrayed them, and then they arranged for his death. Where did that leave her?

It was sure to be long, and tortuous, and painful, and…

Well, she had no intention of going either way.

She turned up the hot water and sat back, letting the stream warm her up and relax her muscles.

Twenty minutes passed and she still hadn’t come out or even turned off the shower, and Bucky was starting to get anxious again. Steve, on the other hand, was seething as Bucky tied his tie for him, a half-Windsor knot tied to perfection.

“Some nerve she has,” he hissed, every muscle in his body tensed up in the effort not to punch something—again. He had put a hole through the kitchen drywall after exiting the bathroom. “What’re we gonna do with her, Buck?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed as he tightened the knot up to Steve’s throat. “But now is not the time. We just need to get through this funeral—that’s it.”

“Well if she doesn’t come out soon, we’re going to be late.”

“I’m sure she’d be pleased with that,” Bucky muttered, leaving Steve’s bedroom and approaching the bathroom door. “Honey, time’s up,” he called, knocking gently on the wood. When he tried to open it, it was locked. There was no answer from her.

“Tony’s on his way,” Steve said, coming out of his bedroom, tapping on his phone. “She ready?”

“She locked herself in.”

Steve’s phone might have cracked from the force he gripped it at that news, face flushing again with anger. With how many mood swings he was having in that morning alone, Bucky wondered if he should be worried for Steve’s blood pressure. Steve stormed up to the bathroom door and practically pressed himself flat against it. “Y/N!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door, the wood rattling against the doorframe. “Open up this door, now! You’re in big fucking trouble!”

Still no response.

Big fucking Trouble—with a capital T.

A stifling panic began to creep over Bucky, a fleeting concern that maybe she had done something—something thoughtless, although she had never had a propensity for self-harm, these were dire times and God knows what was going through her mind—

Steve was yelling again—had never really stopped. “Answer me or I’m gonna break this fucking door down and—”

“Leave me alone!” came her despaired cry. “Go to the funeral without me, I’m not going!”

Relief flooded through Bucky’s mind, thankful at least that the worst-case scenario hadn’t happened.

“You little bitch, you are not going to ruin this today!” Just as Steve reared back to burst through the door, Bucky placed a calming hand on his back. “Steve, let’s just wait for Tony. Maybe he can talk some sense into her.”

“He can try…” Steve grumbled, turning around and storming into the kitchen. “I need a drink…”

“Yeah you do,” Bucky said under his breath. Steve didn’t hear. Bucky felt like he needed a drink, too.

It was only 8:30 a.m.

About ten minutes passed before the buzzer rang, and Bucky let Tony up promptly.

Tony let himself into the house. “How’s she doing?” he asked in a hushed voice. Then he registered the sound of water from the bathroom. “Wait—is she in the shower? She’s not ready yet?” Steve handed Tony a glass of scotch and poured himself another glass. Tony glanced between the glass, Steve’s expression (which could only be described as royally pissed off), and the bathroom door. “What the fuck is going on?”

“She’s being uncooperative,” Bucky said.

Steve snorted. “Uncooperative is putting it lightly. She’s a downright nightmare.”

“She’s being a little combative, using some vulgar language—”

“A little?” Steve rolled his eyes.  “Listen, she’s refusing to go to the damn funeral, and she locked herself in the bathroom.”

“Oh boy.” Tony sighed, drained his scotch, and rubbed a hand down his face. Then he moved towards the bathroom door, muttering to himself. “It’s only eight in the morning and I already have to deal with this shit. Should’ve known Obadiah Stane’s funeral couldn’t go smoothly. He always manages to fuck something up, even in the afterlife.”

Then he knocked gently on the door. “Hey kid, it’s Tony.”

“Go away!” The girl inside shouted, and something thumped against the door, like she had thrown something against it. Bucky thought it sounded like a shampoo bottle.

“Jesus,” Tony muttered, glaring at the other men in the room. “You really worked her up, didn’t you?”

Steve pointed his finger accusingly at the door. “She’s a fucking brat. You try to control her and see if it turns out any better.”

Tony rolled his eyes, then knocked again, harder. “Listen, you’re gonna turn the water off and put on some clothes and then we’re going to have a nice long chat about your behavior. If you don’t come out in the next two minutes, I’m busting this door down and I know you don’t want me to see you naked. So hustle.”

Much to the surprise of all the men in the room, the running water ceased, and a few minutes later, she came out, hair wrapped in a towel and body wrapped in Bucky’s flannel robe. It was way too big for her, the hem dropping to the floor, the sleeves encompassing her hands. Bucky would’ve thought she looked cute if she didn’t look like a tea kettle ready to boil over.

“I’m not going to that man’s funeral, and you can’t make me.”

Tony sighed. “Can we skip all the ‘he’s not my father’ bullshit and get straight to the point? There are people from the mob expecting you there to represent your family. This funeral means more than just you, so you’re going to stop being an insolent brat and get ready to go. We’re already going to be late for the wake.”

She laughed, mean and cruel and so unlike the girl they knew. “I’m fresh out of fucks to give about what the mob expects from me. I expected both my parents to be here for me as I’m growing up, but that’s not possible anymore, so.”

“You think you’re the only person in the mob with a tragic backstory? Abusive, absent parents? Parents dying? Read the room, kid.”

She glanced at all three men, anger flowing out of their eyes.

Tony continued. “You have a responsibility to the mob. We’re your family and we always will be—you can’t escape it, so put on your big girl panties and your funeral dress so we can get to the church on time!”

She sneered. “You’re not my family. And I have no responsibility to you.” Then she retreated into Bucky’s bedroom. Tony followed quickly and caught the door as she tried to slam it shut.

“Get out!”

Tony was getting desperate. “What will it take to get you to go to this funeral? I’ll literally give you anything you want.”

Her eyes lit up with something, and Tony knew he was speaking her language. Spoiled and pampered her entire life (with mob money, Tony restrained himself from pointing out), bargaining was the only way to get her to cooperate, especially with such a large-scale tantrum as this.

“I want to go to NYU.”

Well, Steve and Bucky didn’t like that.

“That’s completely out of the question!”

“How the hell are we supposed to protect you if you’re off in Manhattan?”

Her retort was sharp and bitter, “Oh and you’ve been doing such a good job of protecting me now? I’m gonna have a bruise on my face from your fist, Steve, or did you conveniently forget about that once Tony arrived?”

Tony groaned, rubbing his temples, then ushered her into the bedroom. “Can’t fucking think with you children shouting at each other!” He forcefully pushed her on the bed and she bounced a little as he began to pace around the room. “So they’ve been hitting you? That’s why you want to go to NYU?”

She swallowed down her nerves and glared at him. “I have a scholarship, Tony—I’m not just going to throw it away!”

Tony shook his head. “Your father was never going to let you go. He was going to marry you off to someone in another gang.”

She smiled, bitter. “I’m not surprised. But now he’s out of the picture. I’m 18, Tony, I can do whatever I want.” When Tony didn’t answer, she frowned. “Unless you were planning on doing that exact same thing?”

He shook his head. “Not to just anyone. You already seem to get along with Steve and Bucky. What about one of them?”

She shook her head, vehemence leaving her tone and desperation taking its place. “No, Tony, please don’t make me marry them! I couldn’t live with that!”

“That’s a little dramatic. You know, a few slaps and punches are less than what a lot of mob wives get. Your own mother included.”

“It’s not just that!” She exclaimed before she could think better if it and shut her mouth.

Tony waited for her to elaborate. “What else could it possibly be?”

She shook her head, then laughed. “I know they helped kill him. My father. I can’t marry the men who did that.”

Tony sighed and sat next to her on the bed. “You know, they technically didn’t kill him. They were just the lookout—“

“Oh, don’t try to rationalize it, Tony! They participated in the murder of my father—“

“Oh, so he’s your father now? What happened to all that crap about your biological father?”

Fed up, she jumped up from the bed and faced him, yelling out, “I refuse to live with murderers, Tony! That’s where I draw the line!”

Then it was quiet, and they both knew that Steve and Bucky likely heard her outburst.

Tony finally broke the silence. “NYU? Really?”

“Yes. I want to go to NYU and live in Manhattan. And if you don’t accept these terms,” she thought for a moment, “I’m going to make such a big scene at the funeral that you’re going to wish I had just stayed home.”

Well. He didn’t really have a choice, now did he?

[jean-arclight]

I had a theory dealing with who the last side is. Now this is going to be long but stay with me as I try my best to support my theory and explain it to the best of my advantage.

So what started this? Well, the answer to that is how the very latest episode ended. It felt wrong. Like something was missing.

I can understand both sides but the choice was... odd. Deceit may be a dark side but... he was clearly onto something. So what is it?

It hit me. He was just trying to help Thomas the only way he can. He lies. But in that episode, he was trying to teach all a lesson but why didn’t it go through? Well, thats easy.

He’s a dark side. If he is a dark side, then why listen to him when all he does is lie?

Well, even dark sides have good intentions.

So Yea, negative emotions or thoughts can easily be assumed as bad or in the sides case bad guys. We especially see that when we first meet Virgil, Thomas immediately showed “disgust” or frustrated that he appeared. But throughout each episode, the more he interacts with Virgil, the more he understands. Virgil is not only his anxiety but he is his conscious, his decision making, or in other words, his common sense. I think that all are not just what they are. Meaning like Logan is just Logic, Patton is just Morality, etc. like said in the episode with Harry Potter and the sorting hat, the houses are not just associated with just one personality and not just that house has just that one person.

Logan is not only logic, he is intelligence but can sometimes be too far... perfect. He’s a perfectionist and everything must be in schedule. Sometimes intelligence and perfectionism can be bad. It can lead you off a course and hurt you sometimes. Patton is not just Morality, he is memories as he holds a lot of it in his rooms. He also is emotions, sometimes emotions can also lead you astray. He is also a bit too controlling at times as shown when Thomas has his dark thoughts. You can be fooled or tricked thus can be taken advantage of or when too-controlling things will turn from the best to the worst. Roman is not just creativity, he is passion. But even that could be lead astray and cause a huge ego thus being Arrogant. And just like the others, Virgil is not just Anxiety. He is common sense, he allows Thomas to think things thoroughly before acting. But he is also paranoid when things don’t go as planned or when things turn to the worst.

They all balance on another. Thus it would make sense on why the “dark” sides would balance the others out.

Deceit, lie it is bad but sometimes it is needed to protect yourself or others. Like Virgil, in a way Deceit (Janus) is protecting Thomas in a way. It may seem as bad but he is trying. Remus may be intrusive thoughts or in other words, bad creativity, but it’s also contributes to Virgil. These dark thoughts could come in, when in a bad situation. What could happen? What if this goes wrong and this happens? What if I do this? Will I die? It’s not just what shows in that episode but it’s also these questions.

What I mean is, they are seen as the bad guys but when those times comes when we are in life or death situation, they are the ones we have to protect ourselves. Anxiety can also be fear and thus the flight or fight response comes in. The dark creativity is also the possibilities that may even heighten Anxiety to further help decided what to do. But if heightened too far, it could cause a major downfall, thus Deceit comes in with, oh nothing can happen. Or the police won’t come or will come. Sometimes to calm ourselves we lie (yes I know it’s bad but in that time it may calms us). They may come only when times is of life or death as sometimes when that happens logic goes over our head, or our morals twisted, or our positive creativity disappears.

Which makes me think, if there is one more “dark side”, then we would have 4 dark sides? Is that uneven? Who is even that dark side? Why 4?

Well like said with other theorist, Virgil May be neither dark nor light. I mean, he assumes he is dark due to being unwanted. But he is our common sense. He makes us rethink of our decisions and does protects us. But he can also prevent us from doing things we like or makes us afraid of something that isn’t needed to be feared of. So he is anxiety but in terms with the light side he is anxiety. What I mean is, anxiety is good and bad. Thus we have different names for him. He’s Virgil, he’s Anxiety, he’s common sense, he’s fear, he’s flight or fight. But what is the name the others avoid?

Paranoid

In the dark side, he must have been known to have an eviler side of himself. Virgil may have had too much darkness to even calm down. And what does happen when one side takes too much control? Corruption.

Virgil may have been corrupted to the point of becoming a dark side. I think when one has too much anxiety, they may corrupt them and thus a dark side occurs. Notice, the more time he spends with the lights, the more calm he has become. The more brighter he becomes. He is purple now. He was black but now he is purple. I like to think that when a side becomes corrupted they become more and more darker, until blackened and I will elaborate more on the corruption near the end. Thus Vigil is more balanced now. But what could have made him sooo... corrupted. If the other two known dark sides are not corrupted or fully corrupted... then... what did?

Something tells me that the last side... is the reason... but what is he?

Going back to a comment mention in YouTube, there is a poster where there were crayons in a picture with Thomas in the middle shown below. Four on one side and 3 on another. 4 being out main characters and 3 being the dark sides. But only two are known. Janus and Remus. A green and what is presumed to be orange. But what is pink? Well let’s think.

Green is Remus, the color of ambitions, greed, and jealousy, which can represent those dark thoughts and needs to be a dark green.

Orange is Janus, the color of dishonesty which represents Deceit but it has to be (get this) a dark orange.

Yellow is Patton, the color of happiness and an alternate to dishonesty.

Red is Roman, the color of hot passion, desire, and love.

Blue is Logan, the color of intelligence and wisdom.

Purple is Virgil, the color of... well lots of things actually. Of course for this show, anxiety. But it also has the potential for other things such as when for the lighter sides, nostalgic feelings and romantic. For the darker sides, gloom and sad feelings and even frustration. Which is all shown in Virgil throughout the episodes.

Now... Pink? What and who is the color of pink? We will not know the name until the last side is revealed but what is pink we can theorize.

Now pink can easily be assume to be in the lighter sides yet it is shown in the dark side. So what can pink mean negatively?

Well, pink negatively means the lack of will power, lack of self-reliance, and lack of self-worth. Do these sound familiar?

Well they can be associated with two people. Virgil who is represented as Anxiety... and depression.

Now, I’m not just saying that pink is depression. Pink is mostly know for its light side. The feminism, gentle, sweetness,etc. It allows other to be or feel calm. So this got me thinking. Why is pink on the dark side?

Welp, this is the time to bring back corruption.

Remember the episode accepting anxiety? What happened to the three lighter sides? Well, Patton became more emotional, Roman became more aggressive, and Logan became more informative. But that’s only one thing. What else happened to them physically?

Welp...

They became more darker.

Looking at the color spectrum, there are the main colors of red, blue, yellow, purple, orange, green, and pink. But there are only really two that are not really considered a color. (I do consider them colors but I’ll hold back my impulses for now) Those colors are Black and White. A quote from Logan that he told Thomas was “-the world is not so... black and white.” In a way, he is right. Like said, they ain’t exactly colors.

They’re shades.

Before going even further, we need to understand what each of these shades means.

What is White? Well, white can be associated with the good. It’s pure, it’s innocent, it’s life... it’s light. Do you see where I am going with this? The three (4) are known as the lighter sides. The goodness. When there is light all can be seen and the person is now known as the good guy. It allows purity or positive emotions to go through.

Get the picture? Now this is were things get interesting.

What is black? Well, black can be greatly associated with evil, the darkness. It is also associated with fear, power, and even... death. The more darker it is, the more “evil” you get. See the meaning, now let’s put this information to the sides.

Looking back to Logan’s graph, they all manage to balance each other out and maintain staying in the middle. But if one were to disappear or incomplete the balance, the graph with either go too high or too low.

Looking back to my statement about Virgil, I believe Virgil was a purple before anything. What does that mean? Well, it means that he is originally a light side or was to be... But something may have happened to cause him to go to the dark side. As kids we may dismissed our anxiety but we do not dismissed our common sense. We as kids should understand at the very least the difference in what is good like as in sharing or what is bad in taking it all. With Virgil, he may have helped Thomas as a kid with things such as there’s a monster under my bed, get my parents or things such as stranger danger.

So something must have happened to cause Virgil to be corrupted. He may have been purple, but then he was black. It could have been something traumatizing. Maybe something happened with Pink. Maybe an event in childhood? Or something else. But it one way or another, Virgil healed. You can even see it when he changes clothes. His jacket has stitches and not just any stitches. They’re white stitches that patches purple to his jacket! Indicating that he is healing. So after discussing corruption for virgil. What about how it happened with the other three.

When in the darkest (virgil’s) room, they began to turn darker. Why? Well, its anxiety’s domain. Remember the chart? When one disappears or takes control, the balance is disrupted. Meaning, when in Virgil’s domain, its his place thus he has control. Not meaning to, his control spread and the other slowly became corrupted. I believe when things get too much or when you began to feel too much of one side, the others will began to corrupt. An example, when one gets too much anxiety, you have a panic attack and things began to break down then. The more you have it, the more paranoid you get. But when things calm down, or when you get busy or someone comforts you, you began to calm down. Setting things into balance again. They may have lasting effects but over time, it’ll heal. So getting back to pink.

Pink is the calmness. Pink is the gentle, loving side. Pink was Passiveness.

What is passiveness? Well, passiveness is accepting or allowing what happens of what others do, without active response or resistance.

Pink was innocence. The very essences of childhood.

Pink was hope.

Hope, the very essences of life. The motivation to hope for a better future. Hope is what keeps us going. So... why would hope turn into such... a corrupted state to turn into a dark side? Welp, I can’t answer that. That is something that only Thomas could answer. But that is all I have for now... so I hope you enjoy.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

Thoughts/ reaction to AWAE 3x7

This cold open is… different. It has actual tension. Also, it ties directly to the end of last episode, and gods know I love that. And… it has actual speaking, too? Honestly, Anne is the typical teenager caught sneaking back in at night, while also being socially engaged. I mean, there’s nothing typical about her and the present mission of hers, but an untrained eye might have thought so.

I’m honestly afraid of people’s reaction to whatever Anne wrote in that paper. I have been since last week, and maybe not without good reason.

Have Diana’s parents learnt nothing? Not even from missing their chance with Mary? Apparently these people are immune to redemption. I hope I’m wrong about this.

Diana’s face after excusing Anne oh-so-smoothly is just like, “What has she done now?”, but she’s still not letting anything on. This is the friend we all dream of. 

Poor Josie is getting those judging looks from everyone while Billy just sits there like he has nothing to do with it. In fact, he seems annoyed by the whole situation. Who gave you the right? How dare you sit there like you have no part in this? If I were Anne, I would definitely have done all she did and more. Heck, even if I were just me, I would have done something, and I’m so afraid of speaking up… Billy deserves the worst.

It seems to me that Josie’s father is no better than Billy. Blaming his own daughter and making her marry that little piece of *no swearing on main, but you’ll know what I mean* after what he did to her? Someone needs to teach those men a big lesson. 

“Get him back”? Don’t you mean get back at him? Listen to your daughter, woman, why don’t you?

“How bad could it be?” Let’s just say you’re lucky not to know. I’m screaming right now, but we’ll have to live through this. No change comes without suffering. 

Anne asking Marilla if she doesn’t deserve an opinion, and then bringing up Matthew’s blunder… hitting where it hurts the most, that’s what that was.

“All will sort itself out” Yeah it will, if Billy never so much as goes near another girl again. But we all know that’s not happening.

What? They’re looking for another girl? “More compatible with our interests”? What does that mean? Okay with being assaulted and treated like a piece of meat with no soul or opinion? No girl deserves the monstrosity that is Billy Andrews. 

I knew Prissy would speak up. I hoped and prayed for at least one member of that family to have their mind and heart in the right place. The world needs more women like Prissy Andrews. At least two for every man like Billy Andrews. I still can’t wrap my mind around the two of them coming from the same genes. Biology and blood relations make no sense when it comes to what matters most, I guess. 

Has Diana gone nuts? “Apologise to Josie”? For what? Trying to speak up for her when she herself wouldn’t dare to? Telling the honest truth to a town of people that are apparently too narrow-minded to see it? This isn’t the Diana that kissed Jerry at the fair last week. This isn’t the Diana that would fake an injury to experience freedom. I’m witnessing a full-speed slide down the metaphorical hill of character growth, back to square one. I’m disappointed in my girl.

“You’ve always been jealous of me”… for what? Being engaged to a piece of *see above* that assaulted you? Or for being too blinded by what society has taught you to believe - that you are lucky to be marrying him and are not the victim of what he did to you? Honestly, I feel bad for Anne in the present situation, but I feel even worse for Josie because, unlike Anne, she doesn’t seem to realise that she is the victim here and has rights to fight for. I hope this works out.

But honestly, does none of the girls remember about the Beltane? Does Diana not remember that Josie was in their circle and is therefore their sister now? Does Jane not remember what happened to her actual sister not so long ago - which said sister just reminded her of, in case she had forgotten? Josie is now her sister, too. Does that mean nothing? Is ostracising Anne and treating her like trash all over again going to benefit any of those girls? What is with everybody? Wake up, people!

Oh, shut up, Gilbert Blythe! Or whoever you are these days because I frankly don’t know you anymore. Do you still not realise what this is all about?

And Miss Stacy, too? You’d think she would have a thing or two to say about women’s rights. What is wrong with everybody?

Oh, so she agrees with Anne, but still won’t help her? I see where she’s coming from, but right now everything that goes against Anne even in the slightest is wrong in my eyes and ears. I’m looking at this too passionately. I might need to cool off. 

All of a sudden I sympathise with Rachel Lynde. Who would have thought? But well, she just so happens to be the only woman in a council of men. Them trying to pass her opinion off as “hysterical” fits in perfectly with the theme of the episode about women’s voices and the right to equality. 

Ok, so Diana might not be so lost, after all. I have to admit, I squeal in delight at the sight of her and Jerry. But… wait. What is going on just now? I’m not liking the sound of this. And why do I feel like his heart wasn’t in that kiss? Why are you doing this to me? I should be excited, nay, ecstatic, about Derry’s second kiss. Not hurt by the look on Jerry’s face. What did you do to my boy, Moira?

Miss Stacy seems to have finally come to her senses and is ranting about the stupid censorship that stupid men put on the newspaper instead of the “scandalous” actions that Anne took. And Anne having a full-on raging breakdown and taking it out on the remains of the writing club… “We rest in truth”… I feel for her.

Gilbert has finally come back. I have no idea where he was all this time, but he’s back and there’s at least one thing in this episode I’m glad about. It seems that suffering does bring about change, after all. 

Anne coming back and being accepted with literal open arms… and then Gilbert’s face says it all. “I did what’s right. It was about time.”

“Anne’s farm boy is ever so tall…” First of all, yes he is, isn’t he? *heart eyes* Second of all. though, he has a name, and it’s Jerry. Third of all, he’s not Anne’s farm boy, he’s her brother. But at least we agree on something. Honestly, every now and then I feel that if I were to write a self-insert character for AWAE, I would end up with Ruby. She is just so much like me…

“Wonder if he has a farm girl…” Jerry’s just trying his best to hide at this point, and Diana looks like she would very much like to hide as well. But this is not hiding of the “secret forbidden romance” type. Why do I feel… embarrassment in her eyes? This is not my Diana. 

“I’m certain Billy won’t understand any of it” - and that’s why the business should go to Prissy alone. Also because Billy deserves nothing, whether he understands the business or not. 

What is wrong with Josie? The poor girl doesn’t even understand she’s perpetuating her own suffering. At least Anne tried. Multiple times. I’m afraid some victims deny themselves the chance to be saved…

“My girl”… oh sweet, gentle, wonderful Jerry… I fear she might not be very worthy of you right now… Also, it’s funny (read: cruel) what the fates do to us. I’ve wanted for Anne to know about Derry, but not in circumstances such as these…

“She seems to like the kissing part, but not the part where we talk”… this seems like a half-subtle parallel between their situation and what Billy did to Josie, and I’m not liking the implications this has about Diana. And it seems Anne has got the same impressions…

Poor, poor Jerry… I can barely see what I’m typing right now because I’m bawling my eyes out. I so wish I could be there to give him a hug and tell him just how much more he’s worth. Only, I couldn’t be much help because, as I said, I’m bawling my eyes out myself… That is NOT my Diana. Who’d have known the day I’d take Gilbert back in would be the day I’d lose Diana? But this is not about her. This is about how she made Jerry feel - wonderful, hard-working, smarter-than-he-is-given-credit-for Jerry who deserves absolutely no hurt. I knew the development of Derry was too good to last, but I did not expect the pain to come from within. I expected anything - society, their class difference, their families, even Diana’s higher education - to come between them, but never Diana’s behaviour to Jerry. Excuse me while I go throw pillows at my wall in rage and heartbreak. 

“They can’t take your beauty away from you”… Umm, exuse me? All this happened because Josie was reduced to a “pretty face”. But you wouldn’t know. You weren’t there. She was, though, and she seems to finally realise just what was done to her. Please don’t let me be wrong in assuming that.

“I still like you”? Come again? What has happened that might reduce her likeability other than what you alone did to her? You’re an entitled effing brat, that’s what you are. And she owes you nothing. Good on Josie for finally realising her worth. 

And you dare to just show up and act like nothing happened after what you did to Anne’s brother? If somebody treated my brother like this, I would make them pay. That much I know.  I thought you would know better, Diana. “It doesn’t mean anything”… you better shut your mouth before you say anything else hurtful about the two people you’re alleged to love the most. walking on thin ice there, Miss Barry. 

“Don’t you dare” No, don’t YOU dare! I was afraid Jerry would be just a temporary escape, a little adventure to Diana, but I shuddered to think it would be so anywhere beyond my anxiety-induced nightmares… and now there are some insulting words floating around in my head that I’m not directing at her just because I’m sure that, unlike Billy, she will redeem herself. I’m dying right here. I did not opt to miss my lectures to cry so much. 

A real quote from my reaction to 3x5: “I live and would die for Anne and Diana’s friendship.” Well, now I feel like I AM dying - because this seems like the end of it. My brain knows it’s not, but my heart sides with Anne. And Jerry. I side with respect and equality. What side are you on, Diana?

“Just a suggestion. Not telling you what to do”… Gilbert seems genuinely a bit scared of her and I’m still dying - but now it’s of laughter. Gil has learnt his lesson and as of now deserves to be called Gil again… until further notice. 

And the “rallying” that the episode description promised is in full force now. I’m finally smiling at this episode. It was high time. 

Marilla stading up for Anne in front of the council and Matthew just smiling with pride is the golden content I had already lost all hope to see in this darkest of dark episodes… In Matthew We Trust!

In the name of all that is holy, I hope Moira’s deviations from the source material include the survival of both Matthew and Ruby. Seriously, source material, Matthew and Ruby? The biggest cinnamon rolls of them all? what’s next, Jerry? Delphine? No, forget I ever said that. 

And now Josie joining in is just about the best thing I can hope to see before the hurricane of suffering this episode is comes to its end. 

The “Not a Take Notice kind of guy” scene flashed through my mind when Gilbert said “Thanks for the suggestions”… this moment is so different, so much better… My Gil, Anne’s Gil, is back, and he’s making sure everyone knows it. You should see my face now.

The world needs more teachers - and women in general - like Miss Muriel Stacy.

Anne and Gil being aware of what exactly their relationship is like (Shouldn’t we be arguing about something…”) while not being sure what their relationship is like at all is… the most wonderful paradox I can think of right now. We’re getting a Shirbert kiss… in, like, season 6 or something, but it’s worth waiting for. Some slowburns should remain slowburns. 

The spelling… oh gods, the spelling! #Shirbert

When Anne mentioned Winifred, I couldn’t help thinking of that time she mentioned Ruby… why do you do this to the guy, Anne? He’s trying to take a step forward, I can see that he really is. 

Wait, what is happening? Why do they always make screens so dark, I can’t see what’s going on at all. 

Oh no! When Miss Stacy mentioned the building spontaneously combusting, I didn’t think that was foreshadowing… but then, if I remember correctly, a fire was what made Anne and Ruby friends, so we never know - something good might come out of this. I hope so.

To sum up, in this episode we saw: Anne’s actions and their disastrous outcome; the town isn’t ready to accept the changes that are happening inevitably; Billy is an a**hole, Prissy is an icon - no surprises in either situation; Diana is not Diana; Josie doesn’t realise she’s a victim and has a voice; all the girls except Anne suffer from what we over at TV tropes call Aesop Amnesia about Beltane; Derry’s second kiss was nothing like the first one; Gilbert is BACK; Ruby is me; this is NOT MY DIANA; Anne finds out about Derry in the worst way imaginable; Jerry suffers and I want to kill someone because of it; the fall of Diana and what seems like, but is hopefully not, the death of Anne and Diana’s friendship; Josie realises her worth and puts Billy in his place; Gilbert is back like he’s never been gone; rallying and organised action at its best; In Matthew We Trust; Josie is back for the better; Shirbert knowing their relationship and not knowing it at the same time; Anne mentions another girl yet again - some people never learn; Miss Stacy unknowingly predicted the fire.

[hyunsracha]

magical — hwang hyunjin

word count: 4.1k

summary: hyunjin wants to fix his kingdom. the child of the person who destroyed it in the first place is the only one who can help.

[ a few days late but ...... i love hyunjin sososososso much <3 ]

hyunjin loved his kingdom. he loved the people, he loved his home, he loved the memories. he considered every day there a blessing. he loved waking up and looking out his window to see the sun coming over the horizon. he loved walking through the marketplace and talking to all the people, whether they’ve lived in the kingdom their whole life or if they were a visitor, coming here to sell their goods.

the only problem with the kingdom was the land. nothing grew there. nothing had grown there for almost 20 years. before hyunjin was born, a witch put a curse on the land, damning it to eternal infertility. apparently, the witch had been in a secret relationship with the king, hyunjin’s father, and was banished from the land when the queen, hyunjin’s mother, found out. she was so enraged that her lover didn’t do anything about it, that she cursed the land before she ran away.

this was obviously not good for the kingdom. almost all of the food had to be imported from other lands, which put a massive strain on the economy. farmers were out of work, and many lost their homes. but over the years, the kingdom adjusted, and tried to put things in places that would work. now everything was fine, and everything worked well.

ever since hyunjin was a little boy, he’s been fascinated by the story of the witch. he asked his teacher to give him potion lessons, but the teacher refused.

“your highness, i cannot teach you the ways of the supernatural. your parents wouldn’t approve.”

“but i won’t tell my parents! i’ll keep it a secret, i promise!” a young hyunjin had pouting, ‘zipping’ his lips with his hand.

that didn’t stop him, though. when he was old enough to venture through the palace, he immediately ran off to the library, taking every book he could find on magic. he studied these books day and night, hoping to find some writings about curses on land.

when he was old enough to go to town by himself, he asked the villagers if they knew anything about the witch. most of them just retold him the story he had heard all of his life, but a few gave him a few extra details.

apparently, when the witch ran, she took one of the palace workers with him. he had been her second lover, second to the king, and they ran off when she was banished. shortly after hyunjin was born, there was rumors of the witch having a child of her own. it was said that this child lived in the kingdom part time, and went to the public school like the rest of the village children.

this confused hyunjin. why would the child of a witch want to go to school in the land their other was banned from? he spoke to many of the village children after that, trying to see if any of them gave him...witchy vibes. they didn’t, leaving hyunjin to believe that the story of the witch’s child was just a tall tale.

after hyunjin turned 18, he decided to give the witch child thing one last shot. he reread the books he had studied as a child, learning the typical ways and habits of a witch.

if this child was real, he would find them.

you loved your kingdom. you loved the marketplace, you loved the the school, you loved your friends. the only issue was that...you weren’t a citizen of the kingdom.

you lived outside of the kingdom, in a small house in the woods. you walked to and from school, sneaking in through the suburban area, just to make everyone think you were coming from one of those houses. you didn’t let people come over to your house, telling them that your mom was just super weird and didn’t let other people in the house. which wasn’t a lie, really. your mom was super weird. in the kingdom, witches are considered weird. and she didn’t let other people in the house, especially not people from the kingdom she was banished from. hell, she didn’t even let your father in the house. she killed him the night they made you.

“i didn’t want a man around,” she had told you, “i just wanted a successor.”

you were her successor. you were supposed to be, at least. when your mother first told you what she had done to the kingdom right next door to your house, something in you broke. maybe it was your half-human side, but you just saw something so horrible in her actions. this took you through the rest of your young life, despising your mother and being the closest thing to a perfect citizen you could be without actually being one.

no one suspected anything. you went to school, had friends, made up a whole fake backstory. you had put a spell on all the officials in the school when you were just 8 years old. your mother always assumed you’d be weak, considering you were only half-witch, but somehow, you were extremely powerful, more powerful than even she had been at your age.

when you learned that your body naturally knew spells that you hadn’t been taught yet, you were filled with glee. this power would only get stronger as you grew and learned more, so think of what you could do with this! you decided that you would work on an anti-curse of sorts, a potion or a spell to rid the kingdom of the disease your mother had inflicted upon it. you would become a celebrity of sorts, and you would show the people that witches weren’t something to be afraid of.

remember that boy from earlier? the one who was determined to find the witch’s child? yeah, he found you.

hyunjin had read somewhere that witches liked to spend their free time in forests. so one afternoon, he snuck out of the kingdom and into the woods. it was kind of stereotypical, but you did like spending your time in the forest. you were free to work on your anti-curse without your mother’s peering eyes, and you liked the serenity of the forest. birds were always chirping, and you could hear the soothing sounds of a nearby stream. you were hunched over your cauldron, still dressed in your school uniform, deep in thought, when you heard rustling in the trees. that was rare.

“hello?” you called out. no response. so you got back to work, losing yourself in your creation. this would be your fourth attempt at an anti-curse, and you were really hoping that it would just fucking Work.

you looked up from your cauldron, jumping back in surprise at the figure in front of you, “ah!,” you yelped, placing a hand over your heart, “you shouldn’t scare a witch like that. i could’ve killed you. or worse, turned you into a goat.”

without missing a beat, the boy in front of you replied, “you shouldn’t tell a human you’re a witch like that. i could tell the whole kingdom what you are.”

you narrowed your eyes, poking a finger into the boy’s chest, “i could just wipe your memory, you fool. or send you to some unknown island in the atlantic. you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

he cleared his throat, extending a hand for you to shake, “i’m prince hwang hyunjin. i’m here to see the child of the witch who cursed my land, which i assume is you.”

“i know who you are. i’m y/n, child of the witch who cursed your land,” you gave him a sarcastic smile, pushing his hand away, “what do you want?”

“i need assistance in getting rid of the curse on my land. i need your help.”

“what makes you think i’m any better than my mother? what makes you think i won’t kill you right now?”

“your notes say ‘anti-curse’,” hyunjin tilted his head to the side, eyeing the notebook you had placed on your table. you slammed your notebook shut.

“fine. i’ll help you. but i’m not your friend.”

“i don’t want to be your friend.”

“fine.”

“fine!”

and so it began. after school, you would have hyunjin meet you at the edge of the suburban section of the village. you told him to wear clothes he was okay getting dirty.

“i’ll get anything dirty. clothes aren’t important to me.”

“don’t you need to keep your fancy prince clothes clean?”

“who cares?”

he was more low-maintenance than you thought. and a lot nicer, too. he genuinely cared about his people, and about fixing his kingdom. he would meet with you, and the two of you would walk to your working station in the woods. hyunjin always asked about your life, what it was like being a witch, what it was like having to hide your identity whenever you went to school. it was really easy to be comfortable around him, which was weird considering your first meeting. he was super eager to get his hands on potions and stuff. you were weary at first, worried that he was gonna drop an important ingredient and blow himself up, but he was actually really good. when you told him that he was really good, he had flushed, hiding himself behind the cauldron.

“no, i’m not really. i just studied witches a lot, so i know how to handle some of this stuff.”

“still,” you said, sending him a gentle smile, “it’s impressive.”

hyunjin stayed over late a lot. he would run home in the evening to eat dinner and handle any princely duties before running back to where you were. you would spent entire nights working on an anti-curse. sometimes, hyunjin would return home when the sun was coming up, somehow still filled with energy. then you would have to trudge to school without sleeping, and then meet up with hyunjin after school and do it all over again. you barely slept, but you didn’t mind.

it was one of these late nights that you realized that maybe you did want to be friends with hyunjin. or something like that.

you were peering into the cauldron, your fingers lightly grazing the wooden table it was  set upon. hyunjin was sifting through a shelf of random ingredients you had.

“it’s pink. is it supposed to be pink?” you asked.

“you’re the one with the fancy notebook. i think pink caused the least amount of damage last time.”

you hummed, pulling your notebook to you and skimming the pages.

right. green was bad, pink was good.

“pink is good! we’re doing good!”

“yeah?” hyunjin was suddenly behind you, his right hand placed on the table in front of you. your whole body froze; why was he so close? he had never been this close to you before. you felt your face burn, and you slipped away.

“yeah.” you smiled at him, waving your hand in front of your face, “we’re doing good.”

“why is your face red? are you okay? did you drink it? that’s not a good idea-”

you smacked him arm, “i didn’t drink anything, idiot! it’s just hot. the potion- it’s hot.”

somehow, this kept happening. hyunjin kept getting super close to you, and you kept panicking.

a few months after you started working together, winter began. this was the toughest time for the kingdom, and it was always a struggle to get by. you didn’t have any thick jackets to protect you from the cold. why? you could just make fire and warm yourself up, so it didn’t really matter to you. you were waiting for hyunjin at your spot, making little balls of fire and then putting them out.

“y/n! what the hell is your problem?” you heard a distant call. you snapped your head to the source the of the voice: hyunjin.

“what the hell is my problem? what the hell is your problem, idiot?” you called back, unable to stop the smile growing on your lips.

“you fool. you’re gonna freeze to death! who’s gonna save the kingdom with me if my favorite witch is dead?” hyunjin made a tsk sound, pulling his jacket off in a flash and wrapping it around you.

“so dumb. you’re so dumb! c’mon, dummy.” he closed the buttons on his jacket, pulling you along towards your little workshop. you were suddenly feeling very warm. from the jacket or from hyunjin’s words, you were unsure.

one night in spring, hyunjin told you that he couldn’t stay late. he kissed your forehead and told you that he’d see you tomorrow before running off to god knows where.

that was fine. you weren’t dependent on hyunjin. you had been working on this for years before you even met him. so you spent that night working on your own. you had to admit, it was lonely. you had never felt lonely working before you met hyunjin. but you shrugged the feeling off, working on another pink potion.

when you completed it, you went to the spot where you always tested your trials. right now, the area was looking kind of insane. there were no plants, not even grass. the ground was just purple dirt, and there were little bunnies everywhere. you don’t even remember which potion spawned the bunnies.

you poured about half of the potion on this area, stepping back and shutting your eyes tight. if this was the one, when you opened your eyes, the ground would be back to green, and the bunnies would be gone, and things would be growing.

you clasped your hands together, whispering something like a mantra under your breath. when you opened your eyes, you gasped.

“oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” you squealed. you had done it. you had really, really done it.

you looked to your right, mouth open to say something, only to end up pouting at the empty spot next to you. hyunjin would’ve loved to see that.

“no matter” you mumbled, “i’ll give him the finished potion tomorrow. i’ll see him tomorrow.”

but you didn’t. you waited at the spot for hours, bottles of the potion stored in your backpack. you finally decided to go home once the sun was down. it was a sad walk back, one filled with worry. where had hyunjin gone? surely he would’ve told you if he wasn’t gonna be able to make it, right? he wouldn’t just...ditch you like that? right?

you waited the day after that. nothing.

and the day after. nothing.

and the day after. nothing.

the next day, he came.

“hey! ready to get to work?”

“where the hell have you been?” you crossed your arms.

he laughed, “what?”

“i said. where the hell have you been? i waited days for you to show up? do you have a reason?”

he laughed again, setting a hand on your shoulder, “chill, y/n, i was doing stuff. i was hanging out with my human friends.”

“you can just call them your friends, i don’t see why you have to point that out.”

“well. you know-”

“i don’t. but okay.” you turned on your heel, walking into the woods, leaving him to walk behind you.

after a few moments of silence, he spoke again, “you seem mad at me.”

“i’m not.” not a lie, you weren’t mad. a little annoyed that he didn’t seem to care? yeah.

“okay. it was fun though, hanging out with my friends. i’ve spent all my free time doing this with you, it was fun to get out and do something else.”

you turned again, causing him to stumble back to prevent bumping into you.

“are we not friends, hyunjin?”

“i mean. you said we weren’t.”

right. you did say that. you thought that changed, though. after all that the two of you had done together.

“is this not- do you not like doing this? spending all this time in the woods with me? because i mean, you don’t have to.” you looked down at your feet.

“what? who cares if i like it? we just have to get this done, y/n.”

“you’re not acting like yourself, hyunjin. but fine!” you snapped your head back up, bringing your backpack to your front. you pulled open the flap, grabbing the bottles of the potion.

“if you don’t like this, and you don’t like me, then leave me alone, yeah? take these, these should help you save your fucking kingdom.” you shoved the potions to his chest, waiting for him to grab them before storming off.

fuck, you were right, weren’t you? hyunjin wasn’t acting like himself. he put the potions in his pocket, sighing before turning around and walking home.

why did he always listen to the kids from the other kingdoms?

he was on his way to meet with you when they found him.

“hyunjin! my man, where have you been?” jisung lightly punched hyunjin in the shoulder.

“yeah! we should totally hang out, i haven’t seen you in ages.” that was felix.

“okay. can we do that tomorrow? i’m kinda busy right now…”

“no? your dad said you didn’t have any schedules today. come on, man.” seungmin insisted, pulling hyunjin off his path to see you.

these were hyunjin’s closest friends-  besides you of course. they were all his age, and they would all become the kings of their respective kingdoms at around the same time. so he thought he could trust them. so he told them about you. about how you were a powerful half-witch, and how you were so, so gorgeous. and you were nice and actually wanted to help the kingdom! he gushed endlessly, and expected his friends to be supportive.

“are you kidding me?”

“wh-”

“they’ve got to be messing with you. they’re the kid of the witch who basically ruined your land forever, right?”

“yeah-”

“so they’re messing with you! they’re gonna kill you or something!” damn seungmin and his words that were somehow logical to hyunjin.

hyunjin pouted, “but i really think i like them.”

“then you’re gonna get killed by someone you love, huh?” felix laughed, placing a hand on hyunjin’s shoulder, “you gotta give them up, dude.”

jisung nodded in agreement. hyunjin sighed.

and that’s how hyunjin got here, kicking rocks as he stared down at one of the potions.

“they said this was the one….only one way to find out.” hyunjin mumbled to himself.

he went back home, hanging out in his room until the sun went down. he snuck back into the village, slowly pouring the potions over the land. his eyes filled with wonderment as he watched life be poured back into his kingdom after being dead his whole life.

your steps were heavy as you walked to school the next morning. stupid hyunjin. making you feel things and then basically telling you he doesn’t like you. when you stepped onto kingdom grounds, you could tell something was wrong. there was more chatter than usual, and the ground was green.

“so he used the potion...good for him.” you sighed, continuing your walk. but you got stopped on the main street by one of your friends.

“y/n, look! look at how pretty! we can grow so much stuff now!,” she was shaking your body, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“and! i heard that it was the prince who did all this- oh, look! here he comes now!”

you looked to where she was pointing, rolling your eyes at the sight of hyunjin on his high horse- literally.

the king was before him, and he stopped in the middle of the street.

“everyone. look at how beautiful and plentiful our land is. it has been restored to how it was before that wretched witch destroyed. all thanks to my son, prince hwang hyunjin.”

the people cheered. you clapped slowly, unable to take your eyes off the prince. his smile was so bright, and it made your heart ache. his eyes wandered through the crowd, stopping when the landed on you.

“wait!” hyunjin yelled. the people went silent.

“i didn’t do this alone. i had the help of a citizen named y/n,” he pointed to you. your friend turned to you, gripping onto your arm with all her might.

“because y/n is a witch. and they wanted to help me set things straight. they wanted to help get rid of their mother’s curse.”

a string of gasps from the audience reached your ears. hyunjin jumped off his horse, striding over to where you stood. he held your biceps, his face only inches from yours.

“y/n,” his voice was nothing but a whisper, “i’m really sorry. i listened to my stupid friends when i should’ve just listened to my heart instead. could you forgive me for being a big idiot.”

you almost smiled. almost. you would’ve if he didn’t just out you to the whole village about being the child of the most hated woman in the kingdom.

“no, hyunjin. you don’t get to win yet.” you pulled away from his grasp, turning and walking away before you could see his face fall.

but he followed you, “this isn’t the way to the workshop.”

“i’m not going to the workshop, i’m going home.”

“oh.”

you thought that would be enough to scare him off, but he stayed.

a few feet away from your house, you called out, “mother! i’m home.”

your mom opened the door, peering at you, obviously confused. you never came home this early, and you never told her when you came home.

“my dearest, did you finally decide to stop going to that horrible scho-who is that.” the venom in her voice was enough to let hyunjin know that she was not pleased with his presence.

“h-hi...i’m hwang hyunjin-”

“hwang. as in. the son of king hwang?”

“y-yes ma’am.”

“y/n. i told you about these people,” she disappeared behind the wall for a moment, coming back with her wand in hand, “they’re no good. he’ll ruin your life, my child.” she grabbed your arm, pulling you behind her, “let me handle him.” she raised her wand, the tip illuminating a ghastly green.

“no!” you screamed, the volume sending a shockwave through the area.

you didn’t know you could do that.

the wave knocked your mother’s wand out of her hand. you pushed her to the side to go and retrieve it, holding it behind your back.

“y/n. you’re not strong enough to have a wand. give it to me so i can finish this pathetic human.”

“i won’t let you hurt him.” you stomped your foot, bending the wand behind your back. just a little more power and you could break-

“wait! i’m nothing like my parents.” hyunjin spoke up, “i know you and my father were...together. and i know my mother is the one who banished you. i-i-i would never do that to y/n. or to anybody!”

“and why would i believe scum like you,  hwang?” your mother slowly stepped towards the boy.

“i really like witches. i studied them a lot when i was younger, because of you. y-you guys are really cool…” he started to ramble, talking about all the things he knew about witches. which was things that your mother already knew, considering she’s lived as one her whole life.

“a-and y/n! y/n is really cool. i really like y/n. like really, really like them. i thought all witches were gonna be scary like you - sorry - but they’re r-really cool and smart and super powerful and i. please don’t kill me. when i become king i want to make magic popular. like using magic for nursing a-and agriculture and stuff like that.” his hands were clasped in front of him, and he was avoiding the witch’s glare.

“oh yeah? and how are you gonna do that without any witches in your kingdom right now?” she asked, slowly dragging a finger down the side of his face.

“i-i-i was hoping that i’d have y/n by my side for all that.”

snap.

your mother flinched, clenching her hand into a fist, “y/n.”

“i really like humans, mother. i probably would’ve liked my dad, too. if you, y’know, didn’t murder him.” you brought the broken wand pieces in front of you, opening your fists to show them off to your mother.

“y/n. why would you do that?”

“i know you store all your power in here. that’s probably a bad idea.” you dropped the pieces, stomping on them a few times for good measure. your mother jumped towards them, grabbing them from the ground and cradling them to her chest. you went to hyunjin’s side, taking his hand in yours.

“do i win now?” he whispered in your ear.

you turned to him, noting how close you two were, “you win.”

his kisses were gentle, and he tasted like oranges.

how magical.

[katherinewilliams221b]

Of friends and fights

Summary: After Harry joins the Order in the Noble and Most ancient House of Black, he gets to interact with Kate and listen to her advice. We also learn a little about Kate’s family.

Warning: Kind of out of caracter Tonks and Harry because this is the first time I wrtite him. Well everybody is just ooc because, Molly, we’re all tense and that’s normal.

No pairings, just something I had on my mind.

“Let’s play a game; you grab one of the little flasks you keep under your robes, chug one down and leave. You can even choose which one.”

Snape had gone too far. Bringing Jacob into the conversation was uncalled for and out of line. Kate thought that she was being unreasonable and had promised herself and Charlie that she would control her emotions in front of the Order. It was unavoidable to slip Jacob’s name into the conversation. Well, I can’t stop the storm now.

Molly gasped loudly and shoved her towel on the table. “Katherine!” The room was silent for a brief second, enough time to let all the tension explode.

“You are blinded by your anger and resentment…”

“You don’t know anything about me, Lupin!”

“Hey!” Protested Tonks, which triggered a round of indiscernible fighting.

“Stop shouting, you are going to wake up the children!” The room fell silent again, leaving Kate and Tonks breathing heavily and staring defiantly into each other’s eyes.

Kate turned to Sirius who hadn’t participated in the exchange. “I’d rather be yelled at by your mother’s portrait that keeping up with this meeting.” Sirius just grimaced in acknowledgement. Snape stood up and for a moment Kate thought that he might do something other than speak. In response, she stood up too.

“That would be quite convenient,” everybody turned to him “I’m still not quite sure why Dumbledore let such an irresponsible and problematic child take any kind of task that could be considered of importance.”

She was still thinking how to reply when the proverbial bell saved her.

“Severus.” Said the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore. She didn’t need to turn around and wouldn’t. Great. Just, great. “May I speak with you?”

Snape stole one last disgusted glance at Kate and swished his tunic out of the kitchen. When the sound of steps faded, Kate deflated visibly.

“I didn’t expect this kind of behaviour from you, Kate. I’m very disappointed.” Mrs Weasley scolded.

“Now, Molly, we are just all very tense and, that’s understandable.” Arthur tried to reason.

Kate looked up from the wooden table to Lupin. She was about to apologise for shouting at him when Tonks spoke.

“Maybe she could help cleaning the place to relax, you know, because she hasn’t moved a finger…” Kate snapped her head up at her best friend’s comment.

“I arrived two hours ago! May I remind you that I live a thousand miles away from here? Literally!” She paused and added whispering “And don’t talk about me like I’m not in front of your face! What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you? We’ve never had any problems until you came around. It’s always like that with you.”

“Say that again but with more conviction.”

Silence filled the air again. No one dared to look at each other.

“What a quiet reunion…” Dumbledore and Snape re-entered the room and they all forced themselves to look at the bearded man. “We are already heading into a war, the last thing we need is fighting with each other.” The gentle tone of his voice made Kate shudder with suspicion. She sighed mentally.

Suddenly, her head felt like it was being pressed between two bricks. She frowned and turned around looking at Dumbledore, searching for any sign that…no. It’s not him. Vivid images of his brother were swirling around, mixing with memories of Charlie, her grandparents’ house, Tonks cutting her hair, she trying to ride a bicycle. Her mind stopped at a conversation with Dumbledore, where she’d just joined the Order, not long ago.

She turned abruptly to Snape, not noticing the odd looks the rest were giving her.

“Enough.”

“You are weak.”

“Just because I don’t want to get into people’s minds doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

“Yes, it does. And the Dark Lord won’t hesitate in doing so with you.”

“Have you been dreaming of Jacob lately?” Dumbledore asked solemnly.

“I…yes. But that’s not special. I often dream about him.”

“But now they’re different.” He didn’t ask. “More, violent. Can you distinguish the dream and the memory?” Realisation hit her and she let her mouth hang open. “I respected your decision when you refused training, but now we must act accordingly to the situation. Professor Snape accepted to teach you…”

“And I kindly refuse again…” she interrupted, and Dumbledore raised a hand at chest level.

“To teach you for the rest of the summer before classes start.”

Kate sighed and moved her gaze to Snape, then the rest of the room. Everyone was staring at her except for Tonks.

“Katie, dear, are you…are you a legilimens?” asked Molly “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I knew.” Interrupted Tonks without lifting her gaze from the table. Kate shifted uncomfortably and sat on the chair in front of her. “We found out at Hogwarts.”

“We? Who is we?” asked Arthur.

“Only a few people know; Charlie, Rowan, Penny and me.”

Molly turned to Kate. Her expression blank but, Kate could notice the fear and suspicion. “But can you actually…?

“No. No, I can’t read your mind. I just…kind of…It’s hard to explain.” She grabbed her necklace and started toying with it. “It’s more of a feeling, a sensation, I perceive other people’s energy. It gets really loud sometimes. I really thought it happened to everybody until Dumbledore explained it to me.”

“Some people are born with that predisposition but, it’s an ability that can be learnt, and trained.” He scanned the room and looked at everyone in the eye before adding cheerfully, “Well, I must go now. Arthur, you wouldn’t mind accompanying Harry to the hearing, right?” Mr Weasley cleared his throat. “Of course, of course. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.” “I’ll join you if you don’t mind. As Snuffles, of course.” Added Sirius.

Dumbledore looked at him but said nothing. Kate could see in his eyes that he didn’t approve of that decision, but he remained silent. “Alright then,” he turned to Snape “Severus, you might start as soon as possible.”

Snape gave a short nod and left after Dumbledore.

Kate hesitated for a moment and ran after him. She couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The hearing was in two days.

“Wait!”

Dumbledore turned and stared at her with smirking eyes.

“Have you told him?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Harry. Have you told him what’s going on and what do we do?”

“I believe Harry is been filled in the essentials of the Order.”

“Yes, but you haven’t talked with him. For some reason he is very important, you know why, and he needs to know as well. You can’t skip parts of the truth

 “When the time is right, everything will fall into place.”

I’m going to punch him in the face. Kate thought just as a shimmer lit his eyes, but she couldn’t recognize what it was. “Professor Snape will give you the first lesson tomorrow.”

“And it will be the last one. I must go back to Romania in two days”

“That won’t be a problem. You will continue with the lessons from there.” He suddenly remembered something “Oh, and would you ask Mr Weasley to bring some brandy from Transylvania? But the Muggle one; it has a different taste.”

Kate didn’t make any more comments about the topic, but the idea of having Snape constantly in her head wasn’t amusing in the slightest. That thought created another wave of problems. She nodded, vaguely registering that he was talking about Charlie.

“Do you think Voldemort was getting into my mind?” Dumbledore pretended to think about an answer.

“It is probable, yes. In my opinion, someone told him about you.”

“What’s there to tell?”

“Well, you participated in quite a scandal back at Hogwarts, you know teachers and aurors, both of your parents are involved in international affairs and you are related to important Ministry’s figures. You certainly could be an inconvenience.” Kate’s worried look increased as he spoke, ending in her staring at a stain on the carpet with a deep frown. “The question is not what, but who. I’m sure that with a few of Professor Snape’s lessons you will have nothing to worry about.”

Dumbledore’s voice brought her back to present. She didn’t have time to respond when she saw him disappear into the air.

She turned around with a heavy sigh and found Remus leaning on the door frame to the kitchen.

“I am angry.  And scared” Remus looked down and nodded slowly. “I don’t blame you for that.”

“I think I need some sleep.” She passed him and climbed a few steps. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“Forgotten.” Remus forced half a smile and she nodded before making her way to the bedroom.

The next day, Kate found herself cleaning the doxys out one of the top rooms in the house. Lupin kindly suggested Tonks could help her.

“You have no idea what’s been like working as an auror these days. Everybody is asking funny questions, I don’t trust any of those potential traitors anymore, just Moody.”

“At least you didn’t have to quit your job…” Tonks snapped her head towards her. “What did you expect? That my boss was going to wait for me while I ran around Europe? I resigned as soon as Dumbledore told me what my mission was.”

“And what’s that exactly?” Kate noticed the tone she used had warmed up a bit.

“Fulfil my father’s dream of becoming a Ministry’s employee.” She said rolling her eyes. “I have to go to Albania…”

“You what?! Are you out of your mind?”

“I need to schedule a reunion with the Minister of Albania and unless I have an appointment, signed and approved by multiple old men with black robes it is absolutely impossible. And of course, no one would believe Voldemort is back and that he’d been hiding in their forests for a long time. Pass me that thing” She added pointing to the black spray on a table.

“How do you pretend to get that signed?”

“I don’t. That would take months, even years. I’m here to…to talk with my father. Alright, here we go, cover you nose.” They both covered their noses and mouths and Kate sprayed the curtain were a few doxys were clinging onto. When four doxys fell to the floor unconscious, Tonks quirked an eyebrow and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Wow. How long is it been?”

“Face to face? A while. We owl each other more often than you imagine.” Kate stopped spraying the curtains and looked out of the window. “Honestly, I’m a bit scared. After all these years we’ve never discussed…well, Jacob. And that’s something that will come out sooner or later. I’m not sure if I’m prepared for that.” She grabbed a bag near the window and carefully put the fallen doxys into it.

“What about your mom?”

“What about her?”

“Are you going to see her?”

“I don’t even know where she is. Probably photographing some weird disaster in Asia or America…” Kate laughed ironically and tied the bag.

“Why don’t you tell her to make the Prophet stop talking about Harry?”

“She is just a columnist, she doesn’t have that power and it would start a waterfall of questions: Why are you asking? Do you know something? Do you have a secret source? It’s too risky.” Tonks buffed “Remus was right.”

“Alright,” Kate left the spray and the bag on the floor and rose quickly. “let’s have at it. What have I done to you, hm?”

Tonks shook her head and resumed cleaning the big stain on the wall. “Remus said that you were angry at Dumbledore because of what happened at Hogwarts and that you would disagree with every decision. That you could interfere with the Order. And you know what? He is right, you tend to put everyone in trouble.”

“I think you inhaled too much of this bundimun secretion.” She tapped the spray on the floor with her foot making it tumble. “Listen, I don’t deny that I’d prefer to work with anyone but him, but I quitted my job, put my project on hold and declined a program to become a mediwizard for a cause that is bigger than me, Dumbledore or anyone, and since when do you listen to what a person you barely know says about me? Thank you for being on my side…” she spat sarcastically.

“I’m always on you side, you’re my best friend!”

“Then why are you bein’ such a scutterin’ gobshite!?”

They went silent and looked at each other until Tonks snorted, blowing her hair up a little. When she started laughing, Kate couldn’t help but tag along.

“Bloody hell, never heard you talk like that! Please, Master, teach me!” She bowed comically.

“My grandfather has taught me all he knows, he has a whole repertoire on those.”

Their laughs died down and Kate saw on her face the same look she sees in Charlie when he doesn’t know how to tell her something she might not like.

“Seriously, though, what’s going on?” Tonks sighed suddenly very interested in a loose nail on the wooden floor.

“I don’t really know what’s gotten into me…last night when you…when you shouted at Remus, I wanted to slap you.” She bit her thumb nail but didn’t look up. “It surprised even me.”

Kate moved closer to her and sought her gaze. “Tonks, do you…do you fancy the guy?” She whispered.

Tonks closed her eyes tightly and scrunched her nose. “Perhaps…”

“Oh, Merlin!” Kate squealed making Tonks launch herself to her and covering her mouth.

“Shut it, will you? It’s no big deal, I just think he is nice.”

“Yeah, no big deal…” Kate threw her a brilliant smile and Tonks reciprocated.

“You know, you don’t have to act like an idiot if you like someone.”

Tonks pushed her shoulder playfully. “Oh, come on, you can be… I was afraid that you…”

“Wouldn’t like him? Alright, I deserve that, but were you actually afraid of what I would think or afraid I would embarrass you? I have some interesting stories I’m sure he’d like”

Tonks quirked a brow and shook her head smiling. “Little bit of both. And don’t forget I have a lot of material about you, too. No, but honestly…” Now turning more serious “he…”

“I know a werewolf when I see one, Nym.” She didn’t know how to address the topic and it seemed the perfect opportunity. Tonks’ look of surprise was expected. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about it. Neither of both things.”

“Come ‘ere ye’ gobshite.” They laughed and hugged each other until they heard a knock on the door.

Harry Potter’s head appeared from behind the door. “Uh…Mrs Weasley asked me to help with the Doxys…”

“Thank Merlin! I’m going to wax my comet.” She said opening the door for Harry to enter.

“You can’t even clean the floor with that thing, buy a Nimbus already!” Tonks scrunched her nose and her face transformed into an exact copy of Kate’s face. “Look, I’m Kate, I don’t know the first thing about flying or broomsticks, but I won’t hesitate in giving you advice.” Kate rolled her eyes and looked at Harry shaking her head. He half smiled uncomfortably.

Once Tonks was out of sight, she was left with a shifting Harry. She stared at him while he looked around the room nervously, his gaze stopping at the shaking closet.

“You are free to go, if you want to. I won’t tell Molly. There’s a bunch of them in the closet and I think a queen too, those are hard to jinx.” She offered trying to ease his mind.

“No, I… I’ve got rid of doxys already, downstairs.” He walked to the other side of the room and grabbed the spray that lay on the floor. “Let’s do this.” Kate nodded, grabbed a leather collar from the table and put it around her neck. “Queens are particularly aggressive and more venomous, you should put one too. Necks are sensitive.” He put it on, nodded again and covered his nose before pointing at the closet with the spray.

“When I open the closet, I’m going to jink them to stop them from flying away and as soon as I do that you empty the entire thing on them, okay?”

“I’m ready.”

–

Two bags filled with doxys later, Harry and Kate sat awkwardly on the couch beside the window. Kate broke the silence and shifted her body to look at him. “So, what did you want to tell me?” Harry looked at her with big eyes. “How did you know…”

“We finished a while ago and you didn’t try to escape.” She laughed getting rid of some of the tension in the air. “And you just confirmed it.” Harry sighed and put his hand on his knees staring at the bag of doxys.

“Ron suggested that I could talk to you. He said that…that you would understand what I…? Honestly, I don’t need a therapist.”

Kate looked down and processed what she’s just been told. “Luckily for you I just heal bodies, not minds. How much do you know about me, Harry?”

“Not much, uh…just that you were famous around Hogwarts, and that there’s a picture of you in the duelling club room. Hermione knows more about you than anyone, probably.”

“I guess we have that in common: we were famous before entering Hogwarts and we didn’t want it.” Harry nodded and looked at her. “What exactly did you do?”

“Me? Nothing! Well not nothing, at first nothing but then…” she chuckled, and it was contagious, so Harry followed. “My brother went missing looking for some secret vaults in the castle. Naturally I started looking for him, broke several rules per year and almost killed everybody near me. By accident, I swear! For some reason no one liked that.” She raised her hand to her chest promising she was telling the truth and she laughed.

“How did you cope with that?”

“I mostly didn’t.” She said in a funny way that made Harry wonder how bad of a time she had. “I guess I tried to keep my mind always busy. Studying, practising duelling, I didn’t sleep much anyway, so…”

“What happened to your brother?” The question made her take a deep breath. “Can’t you guess?”

Harry nodded and murmured an apology. “In a deep, deep part of my mind I knew how it was going to end. To accept that was the difficult part.”

“How did your friends take all of that?”

Kate grimaced and tilted her head. “We had our ups and downs.” She knew what this was coming from. “Last year was mostly a down for you, huh?” Harry nodded in a ‘Don’t I know it’ manner. “Last year, and the year before that and every year. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it. I don’t want people whispering behind my back, my own friends whispering behind my back! And no one, ever, tells me what’s happening. Not even Dumbledore.”

Specially Dumbledore. She thought. “Don’t rely on Dumbledore for everything, Harry.”

“Do you think he’ll help me at the hearing?”

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” Something in her tone made Harry not be as relieved as he expected to be. Kate noticed this and rectified, “Harry, you must understand that Dumbledore is…team Dumbledore. He keeps secrets, that’s what he does…”

“He is a good man.”

“I’m not saying he is a bad man. It’s just…there’s a reason behind everything he does, and we, simple mortals, will never know what those reasons are.”

His silence let her know it was dead end, so she resumed a previous topic.

“You can fight with them every day, Harry, but they will be there for you just as you for them. I know that. It is difficult to…transmit something that is important to you and they don’t seem to understand, and they never will, because it’s not happening to them. That doesn’t mean they can’t help you.” She laughed sarcastically and pointed at the door with her thumb. “Tonks here, I would die for her, but sometimes I just want to strangle her.” When their chuckles died down Kate put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed. “You are doing great, Harry. I want you to know that, well, we barely know each other, and I know you’d prefer to stay here, with Sirius…but you will always have a safe place in Romania if you ever want to escape for a while.” Harry nodded in gratitude and Kate smiled trying to lighten the mood.

“And remember: keep your friends close.” She stood up and grabbed the bags. “That’s what kept me sane.” She thought about that sentence again. “Well, moderately sane.” Harry smiled and stood up as well, opening the door for her. When she was almost halfway down the stairs he said from above: “Flitwick says you could be the best duellist of the century.”

She smirked and lifted her chin defiantly. “What? You want to see if it’s true?”

“I want to see if I can replace your picture with mine.”

She laughed and climbed the last steps down the stairs. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Hey, Kate!” he shouted before she disappeared around the corner  “Thank you.”

Kate nodded knowing he wasn’t talking about a potential duelling lesson

.