#mother of the year fanfic

[erinwantstowrite]

Do I look like him?

had a lot of people ask me to make a tiktok for it and i swear i tried but,,, making tiktoks just isn't working for me rn so we're getting still images until i can get my brain to cooperate. anyways!! i am obsessed with chromokopia and when i heard Like Him i ascended into heaven and also cried. and it very much reminded me of LoF

[phoenixtakaramono]

𝘖𝘪. Ladies and gentlemen, The Boys are back 💉🩸

[read-write-thrive]

Hospitals had never been the favorite location of either of the Dead Boy Detectives, and they usually refrained from even approaching the premises when at all possible. In the early days of the agency, it was too risky— too many dying or newly dead individuals meant Death was nearly impossible to escape, after all. Even now, with an expanded agency under the influence of the Night Nurse, and as such without immediate risk of hell if they strayed too close to Death, they still tried to avoid hospitals out of habit and for the comfort of all involved—the boys never knew when someone might see them (and it never stopped stinging when someone suddenly did) and it wasn’t exactly easy for the girls to just walk into a hospital without rousing suspicion. It was easier in some ways, these years later, now that the girls were adults and less likely to be seen as truants, but that newfound freedom did not bring with it any sudden desire to see what they were missing behind hospital doors.

All this caution and hesitation was ignored when Charles tapped on the mirror to check on his parents and was met with an unexpected chaos. A heart attack, from what the paramedics were saying as they wheeled the old man out on a stretcher, Charles’s mother and their neighbor following behind in her car. Charles didn’t witness the incident itself, pure luck on the timing, but the aftermath was a flurry of commotion that left him reeling.

He wandered back to the main space of their headquarters (a bigger place than what it once was, courtesy of the girls’ tiring of the boys being unreachable during a crisis or two and deciding to go all in on a shared flat) in a daze. Charles didn’t hide his checking in on his parents anymore, but still preferred to do it alone. Thankfully, his friends were kind, wonderful people who were happy to leave him to it. Said wonderful friends, however, were also quick to notice something wrong.

“Charles?” Edwin, naturally, was the first to notice Charles’s return and immediately put his book aside.

The girls, engrossed in a new show on the other side of their living room, snapped up in their own ways.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Charles swallowed down the mixture of emotions threatening to drown him, “It’s my dad, he’s had a heart attack.” He screwed his face up in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. Why was he crying? The bastard made his life miserable—

“Good.” Crystal was the first to comment. Niko slapped at her arm. Crystal put her hands up, “What? He was awful!”

“It’s still his dad!” Niko protested, “You can’t just say that!”

Charles tuned out their bickering. Everything felt a little tuned out, actually. And then Edwin was in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“-love? Charles?”

“Hmm?” Charles tried to silence his whirring emotions.

“Are you alright?”

The Charles of even several years ago would have been quick to brush it all off with a smile. But he’d grown since then.

“Honestly? Not sure. Is that bad? Crystal’s right, he was a dick.”

“And Niko makes a very good point as well. He’s still your father.”

The tears were back again. Edwin pulled him in for a hug before Charles could say another word.

The girls had also quieted, alternating between watching the exchange and speaking through meaningful glances.

Niko was the one to break it, “Did you want to see him?”

The very idea shocked Charles, going rigid in Edwin’s arms.

“He might not even be dying, and going to a hospital is recipe for trouble—“ Charles responded slowly, as if waiting for someone to agree with him and take the weight of the decision off of him.

“I mean, a heart attack is probably close enough to death even if it doesn’t get him.” Crystal contributed.

“And our avoidance of hospitals doesn’t matter if you’d like to go see him. The Night Nurse’s lone positive trait is her protection from Death’s clutches, after all.” Edwin said into Charles’s curls.

“I-“ Charles gave himself a breath, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“We don’t have to.” Crystal said softly.

“Yeah, we can just have our movie night and distract you, or if you want to talk to us but not go see him…” Niko backed her girlfriend up, trailing off into the silence.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Edwin echoed, sighing, “But I don’t want you to regret anything, either.”

“That’s true, it might be good for closure…” Niko chimes in once again, positive in the face of it all and determined to see Charles cheered up as well.

“Fuck that. You don’t owe him closure. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go.” Crystal’s anger was not what it once was, but she had her moments, particularly when abusers were the topic of discussion. Thankfully she seemed determined to keep her composure.

“Your call, Charles.” Edwin said, pulling away from the embrace but not letting Charles go just yet. He obviously had more to say, if the turn of his mouth was any indication, but he was all softness regardless.

“Could be my last chance, innit?” Charles said lowly, obviously not thrilled at the prospect, “If the bastard goes…”

Edwin’s face shifted, and Charles knew he’d guessed Edwin’s unspoken comment correctly. Still, Edwin’s tone and posture were the same, “No one expects it of you. And we’ll support you regardless of what you decide.”

Charles had a distant feeling of pride that Edwin had gotten better at this sort of thing. He’d tell him that another time. Once this was all over and the world made sense again.

After a moment of reflection, Charles sighed, “I think I’d like to go. Might help me heal or closure or whatever, yeah?”

The girls were up, pulling on their coats and shoes without a second thought. Charles felt monumentally lucky to have them.

Including the boy who held him still, voice low and meeting his eyes, “Do you want all of us with you? We can stay behind if you’d rather do this alone.”

Charles shook his head with his same sad smile, “I don’t want to think what might happen if I do all this alone, mate. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I lose my cool.”

Edwin clearly saw through the attempt at a joking diversion but smiled regardless, “Very well. Do you know which hospital we’re visiting?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s probably closest to their place, yeah?” Charles guessed, scrambling his thoughts trying to remember which hospital he’d been taken to when he’d broken his arm as a kid. It was so long ago, and so much had happened since…

Edwin once again shook him out of his thoughts, “Some investigation is in order, then. Niko? Crystal?”

“On it!” Niko chirped, already deep into her phone, Crystal close behind.

After some internet sleuthing, the girls had acquired the address of the nearest hospital to the Rowland family home and were taking the long way there while the boys readied themselves in front of the mirror.

“Are you ready?” Edwin double checked, hand outstretched.

Charles shook himself, “Not sure I’d ever be, love, but let’s get on with it.”

Edwin pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek, a sincere smile, and then through the mirror they went.

—-

They stepped out of a mirror in one of the many bathrooms in the hospital complex, disoriented by the amount of beings (alive and dead alike) as they tried to navigate the halls. The A&E department was the worst, with traumatic deaths creating a perpetual plethora of ghosts. Of course, this was also the first place they needed to check.

The boys held hands tightly as they went, both wound tight by the noise and the blood and the general atmosphere of the place. It was far from the most dangerous place they’d been in their decades together, but that brought little comfort in the face of it all.

Phasing through the various doors and curtains, it was ultimately clear that if Charles’s father was in this hospital, he’d been moved elsewhere. They split momentarily, with Edwin going to find a map of the hospital while Charles waited at the nurse’s station to see if he could get any leads on his family.

It soon became clear that there was simply too much going on for Charles to glean any real information, and he was ready to give up and find Edwin when the next phone call to the desk came from a familiar phone number and gave way to a familiar voice. Niko’s voice was clear on the other end, and just loud enough for Charles to overhear. The nurse gave the information with little questioning, informing all involved that Mr. Rowland had just been moved to a private room on a different floor. Charles didn’t stick around to listen to what exact department the man was in, or what the prognosis was—as soon as he knew the number he was off to find Edwin.

It was quieter in this department. Less urgent. Which meant something significant that Charles was pointedly not thinking about, less that send him into another tailspin. Thankfully Edwin’s presence was grounding beside him.

A nurse left the room as they found it, giving a glimpse through the doorway. Charles’s mother sat at his father’s bedside, accompanying neighbor at her side. They couldn’t see his father (or his father’s ghost for that matter) from their vantage point.

Edwin gave one last squeeze of Charles’s hand to get his attention, “I can give you a moment alone if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.” Charles tried to joke, but his voice didn’t seem to cooperate. Edwin’s eyes saddened, but he gave a firm nod and gestured for Charles to take the lead.

The man of the hour looked frail against the white sheets. He was awake, but by the look of his eyes he was definitely on his way out. There was a bulky mask over his nose and mouth, IV in his arm, heart monitor dragging along beside him. Charles's mother sat quietly, holding his hand between two frail ones of her own.

Charles didn't think his emotions could get any more complicated, and then his father's eyes found him. Then Edwin. Then back to him. He rasped behind the mask, Charles's mother shushing him gently.

"Hi dad." Charles sighed more than said, standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed and gripping Edwin's hand so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he managed to hurt him despite all the ghost technicalities.

Another rasp, this time accompanied by a frail hand gesturing towards the boys. Charles nearly slumped in relief when his mother glanced their way but returned to murmuring to her husband rather than reel back in shock. She had some time left, at least. His father, however, continued to try to speak.

Seeing his mother's distress, Charles felt himself snap into his protective mindset without thought, snarking, "Just give it up, mate. They can't see us—you're the only one dying here, so only you get the honour. Trust me, I'd rather talk to mum than you any day, but I cant say I'm too torn up about you going first. Maybe she'll get to have some happy years without you."

The man thankfully stopped his rasping, but his eyes emoted enough that Charles knew he heard him. It gave him the confidence to keep going, never quite sure what his next word was going to be but glad to say it anyway.

"Not that you asked, but I've been having a great time these last thirty, forty years. Yeah my death was awful, don't get me wrong. Kinda wish you got even a taste of that, for all the shit you put me through… Actually, do heart attacks hurt?" He turned his question towards Edwin, who had such a complicated expression that Charles immediately decided that the question wasn't that important, "Doesn't matter now, I guess. But yeah, my afterlife has honestly been better than my life ever was. Not only do I not have to deal with your bullshit, but I've also found people who actually care about me.

"Like this, right here, is Edwin," Charles swung their held hands upwards in an attempt at a wave, earning a slightly hysterical chuckle from Edwin, "He found me dying in that attic, showed me kindness as I died, and I've been by his side ever since. He's the best thing that ever happened to me—"

Charles took a breath as his voice cracked, Edwin's hand squeezing his in silent support. Charles didn't look over to try and keep it together a bit longer.

"He's the love of my—well, love of my afterlife. And I know you’d hate that, or at least hated all that when I was alive. I remember your rants about how all those people dying deserved it. Shouting at the telly like they personally offended you just by existing. Do you still think like that, all these years later? Hell, now here you are, dying on a hospital bed while your queer son laughs at you. What a twist!" Charles laughs, but it doesn't sound right even to himself. He, once again, pointedly doesn't look at Edwin. Looking at Edwin means dropping the brave face, and he's got a few more things to say first.

“You know, you’ll think this is weak or whatever, but I checked in on you and mum over the years. Neither of you could see me, and I never stuck around long, but I wanted—no, I needed to see. If I was the only one you beat, if you’d turn to mum now that I was gone. If you felt any remorse when I died. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I’d seen you raise your hand to her. Probably taken up Edwin here’s offer to haunt the shit out of you.”

“I never—“

“Not in those words, love, I know, I know. But you meant it like that and you know it. Anyway, thankfully I never saw it. And she didn’t cower like I did, or hide any bruises, so I figured you were safe there. As for remorse, well, never really saw that either. I was bitter and angry those first few years over that. Thankfully Edwin here kept me busy. And now I can’t really be arsed, especially now that you’re dying and I can’t find much remorse either. Angry it took you so long, maybe.”

Charles once again looked at his mother, at the tears on her cheeks and her face turned in silent prayer.

“Even if you never beat her, I still wish you’d given her more time without you. Did you ever visit her family? You shot it down every time she even hinted at it when I was alive. And she’d smile and move on like it didn’t hurt her to hear that the man she married hated her family that much. You know, I used to promise her that I would take her to see them again. I’d tell her that once I was grown up we’d run away and live in India where you wouldn’t care enough to chase after us. She’d swat me for that. Disrespecting you. It always came back to you. Which is just how you wanted it, right? The whole world revolving around you? So fucking glad I got out of there. I shouldn’t have had to die for that, but whatever. It let me live free of you. And soon enough I won’t have to worry about you at all.”

Shoes squeaked obnoxiously right outside the door. Charles glanced up just in time to see Niko giving him a thumbs up as Crystal pulled her away from the glass. Turning back, he was glad to see his mother hadn’t turned away from her husband. No need to confuse her or get the girls in trouble.

Charles sighed and turned back to his father, “Not really sure what else to say here. Edwin? Any ideas?”

Edwin thankfully took the playful question as seriously as Charles meant it, “Hmm. You could tell him about hell if you’d like to be especially vindictive. Or take the moral high ground and forgive him for all he did to you. Crystal and I would also be happy to curse him for all he did if you’d like. Literally or figuratively.”

Charles genuinely laughed at how his father’s eyes widened, “While that sounds tempting, he’s already on his way out. All we’d do is freak out my mum.”

Edwin gave him a soft smile, “Of course. Just a suggestion.”

He returned the smile and squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to his father, “Right. Well dad, I’m glad I caught you before Death did. I won’t speak to hell or anything, don’t want to jinx it, but I hope you get what you deserve. I’m not going to stick around to find out. And I won’t forgive you, either. You were a right bastard and I still struggle with getting you out of my head even after literally dying. So you don’t deserve my forgiveness, honestly. I’ll keep an eye on mum, but that’s for her and my sake, not for yours. Probably won’t go to your funeral or any of that, either. I’ll be a little mad if they bury you next to me, but those are just bones by now so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Yeah. I think that’s it. No forgiveness, no love, just hope you get what you deserve and that I never have to see you again. That about sums it up.”

Edwin squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention, and speaking softly, “Does that mean you’d like to go? We can wait if you want to be sure.”

Charles once again felt overwhelmed with it all, particularly with how lucky he was to have Edwin. He didn’t want to start crying here, so he just nodded and pulled Edwin with him out of the room.

“How’d it go?” Crystal asked from her seat in the hall chair, Niko nodding next to her.

“He’s dying alright. Gave him a piece of my mind. But I’m ready to never think about him again, honestly.” Charles tried to make light of it, but it was clear none of them bought it. He blinked up towards the ceiling to keep the tears away just a bit longer.

“Once we get back to the apartment, expect plenty of hugs from us.” Niko informed him, eyes glancing down the hall at the others down the way.

Charles smiled, “Noted. Sorry to make you come all the way out here, guys.”

“Nope, none of that—“ Crystal started, but was cut off by nurses suddenly rushing towards the room, obvious some alarm or something had been pulled. The girls stood in a rush to get out of the way.

“We’ll see you back at the apartment!” Niko called back to the boys as they took their leave.

Edwin held his arm out, the way he did when he wanted Charles to feel especially cherished, “Shall we?”

Charles turned very purposefully away from the door and took the offered arm with a thankful smile. He would need to have a proper cry and rant and rave about all of this later, he was sure. He’d come to learn that all those complicated emotions don’t just go away when you ignore them. But, for now, he was happy to hold onto his partner and get the bloody hell out of this hospital.

~

EDIT: now with part 2 !!

[platonic-soulmates-gencest]

Sam's in first grade. His classmates are trying to show off about how cool their moms or dads are and eventually everyone is looking at Sam waiting for his bragging story.

Sam looking around at a loss because his dad isn't around much so Sam doesn't know what to say about him. But if it's just cool things then maybe...

"Dean let me get in the washing machine while it was off and spun me around." It had been lots of fun and it was worth all the yelling they got from John after.

The kids are looking at him with awe now. See, most parents don't let their kids get into household appliances and play with them so this Dean must be really cool.

"Is Dean your mom's boyfriend or something?" A girl in his class asked. "Is that why you don't call him dad?"

"Dean isn't my dad." Sam frowned. "He's my bro-"

That's when the teacher comes in and starts teaching their lesson. The issue wasn't brought up again. But Sam still felt like he had won something.

(A day later, the teacher catches wind of the story and informs the CPS about potential neglectful parenting. Noone in their right mind would let a couple elementary kids play with a washing machine, right?)

[forbeswho]

Imagine a fic where Lena becomes Lex Corp CEO after Lex is arrested, she needs a COO and there's a few people in mind, but in the moment Kara Danvers says no, she becomes the first choice. Lena keeps going after Kara and making the deal better and better, the more she refuses, the more she falls in love.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Rewatched episode 9x17 yesterday evening with my sister (it's her first time watching) and when Dean is in the bar with Crowley and Crowley leaves to go to the restrooms, Dean spots a guy.

He thinks he is a hunter, but he is in fact working for Crowley. And I realized that the guy looks like Cas somehow. By that I mean he has blue eyes and dark hair. He tells Dean that his name is Jake.

So I thought, what if Dean talked to Jake to stop him on his way of killing Crowley differently. Listen to me. Dean has the Mark, he is on edge a little. So what if the guy provokes him more (he is working for Crowley after all). Dean could push him against the wall and Jake would try to kiss him, because why not, he is probably a demon but Dean doesn't know.

Dean would resist first, but there's no one there. Crowley flew away and won't come back probably. He needs to let go a little bit, because he is already fighting against the Mark.

Dean would kiss him back after all, pushing him further against the wall. Jake would push him away to go hide in a restroom. He would go down on his knees in front of Dean, unbuckling the hunter's belt while he'd look up at him with his bright blue eyes. Those seem too familiar to Dean and reminds him of someone.

When Jake would take him in his mouth and look at him with those same eyes, Dean would start thinking about Cas. And as he comes, he would moan Cas's name.

And then I thought, what if he would moan or think about it so loudly multiple times to the point where it ends up sounding like a prayer and Cas pops in the said restroom, seeing Dean eyes closed, teeth biting his lower lip with a guy kneeling in front of him.

[surr3al1sm]

I very much enjoy the contrast between how I write Wanderlust and his parents and Jack and Night Swan.

[mekachu04]

23. Morning

Kidd - 6 | Killer - 10?

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd gets named

Killer gets a birthday

more scottish holidays I'm trying to twist to fit into one piece

holidays would be the most reliable way for a bunch of homeless kids to keep track of time

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on you'd been squatting there in the first place.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff.

32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The women around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back.

The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut.

"Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh…"

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much…" he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like people looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confused man said a prayer on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha… what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows," Killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, it was never going to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him; some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, the first day to come to mind, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh…"

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

[fruchtfleisch-art]

If micro-fics are still withstanding, why not something about Shinobu’s parents! Perhaps contrasted with how Kosaku’s were, or maybe even Kira’s?

Idk, im just fascinated with in-laws and families !!!

I love thinking about families too, this was a really fun prompt! I wish I'd had some space to write about Kira's parents as well, but this already is a tadge too long... I guess emotional neglect is the thread connecting their families, albeit on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Neglect is so fun and versatile like that!

Big HUGE thanks to @toytle for reading this over for me, you caught so many word repetitions and overstuffed sentences I glossed right over in my first edit, haha. This fic is much better now thanks to you!

It’s unfortunate, but Kosaku can’t stay in the kitchen forever. He eases the flow of the faucet from a torrent to a trickle, sets his bowl in the sink, and listens, his heart in his throat, to the heavy, solid silence emanating from the dining room.

Shinobu hasn’t said a word for almost five minutes, her father twice that, but Kosaku doesn’t want to go back. He would give anything to be somewhere else, away from this cramped little house where everything is dingy and shabby and a little off-kilter, even the yellowed lines of grout lining the checkered tile counter. There’s no towel to dry his hands with, so he wipes them on his pants, feeling the square lump of his lighter in his pocket.

A quick glance towards the dining room confirms a total lack of movement since he went to rinse his dish out.

In five steps, with a brief pause to jam his feet into his shoes, he’s out on the engawa, the door lurching stiffly shut behind him. It’s freezing, the crisp air crackly in his lungs, but the view of the road below is clear. A few stars have emerged in the darkness settling over the sky like a thin slick of oil, following in the rosy wake of the pale sun. Kosaku puts his glasses on, smooths his hair back, and lights a cigarette.

He's not going to be out here for long, just until he figures out what he wants to say. He can’t think around Shinobu’s father, crumbles under his hard stare and his gravel-voiced accusations.

‘What do you want, money?” he’d asked in lieu of a greeting.

“This is a fine mess,” he’d said, after weathering their feeble attempts to talk around the issue at hand. “You’ll be expecting me to feed you, I suppose.”

Then, as they sat down to eat, to Shinobu: “Why are you doing this? Haven’t you caused me enough trouble?”

It’s all the worse for the apathy behind such cutting words, for his complete disinterest in anything said in response. Her father isn’t a big man, but he drains all the energy out of the room, with only cold contempt to replace it.

Shinobu adores romance movies, and there’s always a scene where the male lead swoops in with a heartfelt confession, the admission of which becomes shield and sword against anything standing in the way of his lover’s happiness. But life isn’t a movie, and when Kosaku tried to say something-anything- the words dried up and died on his tongue, and he found himself staring down into his lap, wishing he could wake up and find the last few weeks to be nothing more than a terrible dream.

Shinobu’s voice catches his ear, low and furious and only slightly muffled by the wall between them. The dining room window is cracked open a few centimeters; Kosaku can hear her as clearly as if he had his ear pressed to the door in the kitchen.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me? I don’t know why I even bothered.”

Her father, dull and scratchy: “You don’t call, you don’t visit, but now when you need something-“

“That’s not fair-“

“Life’s not fair. I don’t know why you can’t seem to get that through your head-“

Kosaku feels a sudden rush of gratitude towards his parents, who, although not the least bit pleased with him, at least waited for Shinobu to leave before saying so. He sits down, trying not to shiver as the cold seeps into his legs, then his core, like a stripe of ice creeping up his spine.

He sits and doesn’t think of much at all, letting the argument wash over him as pure noise, as meaningless as the rattle and hush of the wind in the bare branches of the trees. It’s full dark, the glowing tip of his cigarette the only point of brightness on a street cloaked in shadow, as remote and lifeless as the surface of the moon.

There’s the distant glare of yellow halogen headlights further down the road, the remote sound of the motor like a windup toy. Kosaku watches as it pulls up to the house, tires crunching to a stop on the gravel drive.

The man who slides out of the car is thin and shabby, lank hair hanging in his eyes. His shirtsleeves are rolled back to the elbows, and his canvas pants are ragged and splotched with old stains. He looks like a manual laborer, or some kind of repairman, but it’s far too late for somebody like that to come here.

Kosaku doesn’t see the resemblance to Shinobu’s father until he’s at the foot of the engawa, but it’s unmistakable up close. The man glances at Kosaku as he walks up to the front door, then cocks his head, listening to the argument like a spaniel hearing the clumsy wingbeats of a particularly fat duck. A smile worms its way across his face.

“Cigarette?” the man asks, holding his hand out to Kosaku.

“Huh?”

The outstretched hand closes, jabs a finger towards his face. “You’re the runt who knocked my sister up. Give me a goddamn cigarette.”

Kosaku lights it for him, too.

Shinobu’s brother sucks his first draught in hard and blows a dense cloud of smoke, settling down next to Kosaku with a satisfied sigh.

“So,“ Kosaku says, swallowing hard. He wets his lips. Shinobu never said anything about a brother.

“Why aren’t you in there?” the brother asks. His hands are red and chapped, speckled with tiny iridescent dots: fish scales. He must be a dock worker. Maybe she’s embarrassed.

“Sounds like they’re talking about you,” he continues. “You don’t have anything to say for yourself?”

Kosaku doesn’t know what he would say, though. Everything is happening so fast. A few months ago he had a girlfriend. Now he has a fiancé, soon to be a wife. And the baby, of course. Their child. Milestones that were once distant possibilities are suddenly only a hair’s breadth from the present.

“You’re not gonna run off, are you?” the brother asks.

“No!” Kosaku says, startled. “Never. I love her.”

“Alright. If you say so.”

His cigarette is starting to taste bad, thick and ashy on his tongue. Would it be rude to leave, or would the brother follow him inside? Would Shinobu be happy to see either of them?

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? This whole thing?”

“No, it’s not,” Kosaku says quietly.

“What, you don’t think so? She was an oops baby, too. Did she ever tell you that?” He leans in, his voice low and dangerous, close enough for Kosaku to see the stubble on his lip and the shallow pits of old acne scars on his cheek. “Hey, here’s some brotherly advice, from me to you: don’t wait twelve years after your first child is born to start fucking your neighbor’s wife. But if you do, if you really can’t help it, don’t forget to wear a condom, alright?”

Kosaku doesn’t understand what kind of reaction he’s trying to get out of him. He didn’t want to know that. Shinobu’s brother grins, his eyes bright and pitiless under the shaggy fringe of his bangs.

“Well. Best of luck.” He stands, flicking his cigarette off into the bushes, and stretches. “Take care of her, I guess. When’s the wedding?”

Kosaku doesn’t want to tell him. Shinobu has good reason not to talk about her brother. What was it like, growing up with a sibling over ten years distant from you, old enough to understand why his family is coming apart, but young enough to blame you for it?

The front door bangs open and Shinobu storms out, face set in a hard look of resignation. Kosaku scrambles to his feet as she passes him on her way to his car, ready for… something. He’s not sure what to expect: shouting, cursing, thrown shoes?

There’s none of that, just a deep, awful silence that seems to ooze from the gap between door and jamb, the frame swollen from cold, or damp, or both. The quiet shrouds them like a dark, dirty blanket, and Kosaku feels his breath catch, burning, in his chest.

“Be seeing you,” Shinobu’s brother says, but Kosaku doesn’t know which one of them he’s addressing. He pulls the door open, a thin strip of orange light spilling out onto the three of them, and then it groans shut, leaving Kosaku and Shinobu in darkness.

She shifts closer to him, arms wrapped around herself. Kosaku drops his cigarette and grinds it out with a gritty crunch.

“Let’s-“

“Can we-“

“Let’s just go,” he says. It’s not a romantic statement by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s decisive. “We can go to my parents’ place, or your dorm- anywhere you want.”

Shinobu sniffles. She looks cold, her nose red and her face pale and waxy, eyes ringed in dark circles. He wonders how well she’s been sleeping. “It’s a long drive back.”

“I can do it.” Kosaku takes her hand and it’s like a block of ice. He doesn’t start the car until he feels some warmth seeping in, until she clenches back, until he feels the bones in his fingers shift and ache.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotWeek Mar 3 - 9, 2024

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA |🔹Submitted by creator

BACHELORETTE PARTY

Gardenia in Blossom ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| BP NB!MC - @aallotarenunelma

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Blades Full Listing Week Ending March 9, 2024

BLOODBOUND

Hide Me In Thy Wounds - Part 2/2 ✒️🔹| Gaius Augustine x MC - @gaiuskamilah

CRIMES OF PASSION

Crimes of Passion Drabble ✒️🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Gabriel Rose 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @lilyoffandoms

Home Without Part 3 ✒️🔹| m! Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @thosehallowedhalls

Kiss and Say Goodbye 🎨🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @/artbyainna (C: @jerzwriter)

Lilah Rose (COP F!MC) 🎨by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Royalty Over Loyalty ✒️| f!Trystan Thorne x M!MC - @kwaj115

Trystan Thorne Fanart 🎨by @lilyoffandoms

What Doesn't Killy You (Series) ✒️| Sebastyan Thorne, Marguerite Thorne, Trystan Thorne - @choices-ceri Chapter 2

THE CURSED HEART

Kieran x F!MC Fanart 🎨by @bri1234

Oleander Fanart 🎨 by @artbyalz

ENDLESS SUMMER

Never Had a Friend Like Me: Part 1 ✒️ | Diego Soto & MC - @marmolady

GUINEVERE

Lancelot du Lac 🎨🏳️‍🌈by @lilyoffandoms

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 🎨 by @sadxlee

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 2 🎨 by @sadxlee

Esme (ID F!MC) 🎨 by @artbyalz

IT LIVES WITHIN

Freesia Gaze ✒️🔹| Abel Flints x F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

Martin Vanderweil Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

The Three Fates 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Original Characters - @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

Levi & Lily Fanart 🎨by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Zoey 🎨 by @lilyoffandoms

MULTIPLE STORIES

Choices MCS 🎨by @cassiopeiacorvus

NIGHTBOUND

Forever Royal ✒️🔹| Nik Ryder x F!MC - @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Open Heart Full List Week Ending March 9, 2024

QUEEN B

I'm Not Needed, Never Will I Be ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Ina Kingsley x MC - @kwaj115

RED CARPET DIARIES

Classic Hollywood Glamour 🎨| Thomas Hunt by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd for @storyofmychoices

Happiest of Birthdays 🎨| Thomas Hunt x F!OC by @weetlebeetle (C: @theartoflovingthomashunt)

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Best Kept Secrets (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 19: Built to Last

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Liam Rys x M!MC - @justcallmefox89 Chapter 20

Hirbawi ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Drake Walker x MC - @petiteboheme

Maxwell Beaumont x MC 🎨by @bombomangooo

Princesa Real (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 1: El Amor no Existe Chapter 2: Erase Una Vez 🔹

The Royal Romance: Once Upon a Time (Chapter 2) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @fadingreveries

SUNKISSED

You're Always Going to be a Wildflower ✒️🔹| Nate, F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

THE UNEXPECTED HEIRESS

Christie Jane Hayes (MC) 🎨@lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

WISHFUL THINKING

Amaryllis Bliss ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Jamie Lewis x F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

[erinwantstowrite]

I was reading the post about itsy bitsy (fav AU I NEED IT) and was wondering how would Bruce deal with the whole situation. From my understanding he’s so far just had to deal with kids ages 9 and up, never a 4 year old toddler. ( I could be wrong tho. Sorry i don’t read the comics) I imagine Díck going to him freaking out asking him what to do and he’s like “idk 🤷‍♂️”

oh for sure they're running around like "i have literally never had to deal with a kid this young" and they turn to alfred who's the only one of them who has

[vaarians]

today is my birthday and what is my freshly 29 year old self doing?

writing fanfic like the queen she is 😂

[ruindunburnit]

By the way, the Night and Her Shadow 2nd draft is going super well. I am on part 3 of 5 and already have a slightly different ending planned for the fic because I love y'all and want y'all to have nice things.

[tarnussy]

social anxiety is interesting because for a while now I've been on the fence about posting even just mildly svggestive things in the tags, (even if that means just leaving tags on my own posts) solely because I know I have a follower that is extremely against it and sometimes vagueblogging about it is involved and sure enough, happened this time as well

and even though that's a them problem and not mine, why do I feel extremely guilty and anxious about it? it's like my extremely prudish family all over again, this time online, which was the only place where I could be a bit free in that regard

anxiety is awful, I hate it

[alicefromwhichplanet]

THIS.

(Been trying to find the original post but failed on tumblr. But I want to repost this so much. Tell me if the author thinks it’s a violation of their copyright. I’ll delete it.)

[dandelion-wings]

Things I should have done today: chores. Things I could have done today: worked on any of my actual WIPs. Things I did do today: write 5k of loosely-connected and wildly wandering snippets of the AU where Fredrica raises Kaeya to marry Jean, omegaverse version, because my 2024 mood is that I can do whatever I want, forever, and today I wanted to do this. I tried to pack in everything @theabysscomeshome and I have kicked around for their teenage years, and almost (if not quite) managed it!

---

Today is a rare occasion: Mother is letting Jean go out shopping with Diluc, *alone*. It's the first time she's been allowed to spend time with him without Mother's supervision since Mother and Father divorced.

Okay, 'alone' isn't quite true. Mother insisted that she take Kaeya along. But she'd given Jean the purse, and told her she was responsible, and Kaeya is so quietly obedient that she can almost forget that he's there. And that the instructions Mother has given her about looking after him are identical to the instructions she used to give regarding Barbara.

Jean won't let him replace Barbara. It would be weird if he did, wouldn't it? He's going to be her mate someday, after all, and her husband, and so he can't also be her little brother--he's just someone under Mother's care, and anyone her Mother is responsible for, Jean is responsible for as well. Even if he's the alpha and she's the omega, Jean is a *Gunnhildr*, and he isn't yet. Won't ever be one the same way that Barbara is.

The same way that Barbara *was*.

Eager for a distraction from that thought, Jean slows in front of the bookstore, pausing to survey the display in the front window. The bright cover of a romance novel catches her eye: there's no question that the woman on the cover is supposed to be Vennessa, even though she's holding a style of sword that wasn't developed for another three hundred years and everyone knows that Vennessa preferred a claymore. She's holding that sword to the throat of a muscular, short-haired woman whose Lawrence insignia is half cut away, and while the pose is aggressive, the painter has put a look in both their eyes that makes it very clear who this romance is between.

"Are you going to buy that one?" Diluc asks beside her, startling Jean from her reverie.

"Of course not." Face hot, Jean tears her gaze away. Her mother would disapprove of her using the money she'd been given for any frivolous romance, but *especially* this one. No matter how compelling Jean finds it. The cover is so well-painted, that's all, Jean tells herself--it doesn't mean she would truly enjoy the subject material, not when a Lawrence is involved.

"There's a new book from Liyue about economics," she says, scanning the other titles on display. "That sounds educational. Mother would approve if we bought it."

She marches inside to do exactly that. Before she can get to the counter, she sees Barbara, browsing hymnals in the company of a nun.

"Big sister!"

Barbara flings herself into Jean's arms, and Jean instinctively hugs her close before remembering they may have an audience. Diluc won't tell, and the nun is smiling, but she still makes herself pull away. If Kaeya sees and tells Mother....

She can't make herself pull away immediately, though. "How are you? Are you making friends at the Church?"

"I am! I'm spending time with the orphans. None of them are as much fun to spend time with as you, though. I miss you a lot."

Jean feels a pang at Barbara's innocent words. Swallowing hard, she reminds herself that she should be mature about this. She can't encourage Barbara to continue to pine for her when they're always going to live apart. "I'm sure they could be, if you give them time to get used to you. If they're orphans, they're probably shy."

"But they're not *you*," Barbara says, tears welling in her eyes. "I really wish you were there. I don't know why you had to go away. And now you have a new brother-"

"He's not my brother," Jean says, fiercer than she'd meant, and hears a sharp little inhale behind her.

She looks over her shoulder to see Kaeya, whose expression flattens as soon as she looks, and Diluc, who goes wide-eyed and grabs Kaeya's hand to pull him away. Heat tingles in her cheeks. He's *not* her brother, though, she reminds herself again, defiantly, he's her betrothed, and that's a different thing. She didn't say anything wrong, or a lie.

"Oops," Barbara whispers, staring worriedly after them. "Is- is Mother going to be mad?"

"No," Jean says, though she knows all her perfectly correct arguments won't matter in the face of being told that Jean was talking to Barbara in the first place. Her stomach sinks at the realization that Kaeya has every reason to tell. Mother will approve of him if he tells, and disapprove of Jean, and if she hurt his feelings, even though that really shouldn't have....

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Jean reaches out and squeezes Barbara's hand, doing her best to give her a reassuring smile.

"Barbara, dear, I think I've picked out a hymnal," the nun says. "Why don't we leave Miss Jean to her own shopping and check out?"

"Okay," Barbara says, reluctantly.

Jean lets go of her hand just as reluctantly, with one last squeeze, and makes sure to nod politely at the nun. "Don't let me keep you."

The nun takes Barbara's hand and hurries away to the counter, while Jean goes and searches the stacks for the economics text she'd seen in the window. She finds a few simple books for Kaeya, too, ones meant for children, which means he can probably read them. Maybe Mother will be less mad if she can prove that she was looking out for him like she was told.

Diluc and Kaeya are over in the fiction section, heads bent together, whispering furiously. Jean doesn't know what they're talking about, or which book Diluc takes to the counter, cover tucked to his chest like he's hiding it, when she's done with her purchases. He has it wrapped in brown paper before he hands it to Kaeya, who squirrels it away in his jacket with a nervous look at her.

Jean pretends not to see, and doesn't tell Mother, either, when they get home. Either that makes him decide to hold his own tongue, or Diluc bought it as a bribe in the first place, because he doesn't say anything to her about Jean's encounter with Barbara in the shop. Jean is relieved and grateful enough for his silence not to ignore him when he tugs on her arm in the hall on the way to their rooms after dinner and evening drills.

"I'm not trying to be your brother," he says softly, looking down at the floor. "I promise. I know what I'm here for, and that is isn't that. And I know that family is important, even if you can't be with them anymore. I won't... if you want to see her, I can help."

Which is a ridiculous offer. His training schedule is even stricter than Jean's, and even if he had as much free time, he doesn't know anything about Mondstadt. But some of the resentment Jean has felt all day subsides at his words. She nods, and smiles at him, and Kaeya slowly, shyly, gives her a relieved smile back.

***

Once Jean is an apprentice knight, she has more money and significantly more freedom. Spending an afternoon out with Diluc isn't as much an occasion; the apprentice knights are encouraged to spend social time together, it's why they're given twice-weekly free afternoons, so Mother can't do more than make oblique comments about who she spends them with. And having Kaeya along hasn't been an annoyance for some time now.

It's sometimes a convenience, even, when Barbara also happens to be out and about. He's better than anyone at contriving the sort of brief meetings that even Mother couldn't object to, and better yet at finding places for them to talk without prying eyes and discreet methods to get them both there. Which even Barbara, by now, agrees is far better than his strategy of his first year in the Gunnhildr household, when he kept contriving to be injured just badly enough for Jean to have to take him to the Cathedral, but not badly enough for Mother to come along.

If he and Diluc tend to duck off on their own now and then on these trips, too, Jean doesn't have room to complain. It could be a good thing. Mother might not let Kaeya get away with possessive behavior, but all the romance novels she sneaks from the Ordo library make a point of just how strong alpha instinct becomes when other alphas get too close to their mate. If they're friends before Jean and Kaeya ever marry, then Kaeya won't have to wrestle with that instinct in the first place.

She hopes, anyway. She knows better than anyone else just how much Kaeya does wrestle with the instincts that puberty is stirring in him, and that Mother's strict standards aren't the only reason they make him upset. Not to mention just *how* much he enjoys spending time with Diluc on their outings, and why.

*'If you're something other than an alpha, the Church has ways to fix it,'* she'd whispered to him, the night she'd found him crying in the bath. *'Mother isn't so cruel she wouldn't let you, if you tell her what you really are.'*

*'First I'd have to know what I am,'* Kaeya had answered, his expression twisted up in ways she didn't understand. *'All I know is what I'm not, and they can't fix *that*. Besides, I don't plan to leave you in the lurch.'*

He'd looked desperate when he said that, despite his attempt at a smile. Jean could understand. Mother wouldn't stop him from seeking the Church's services, no, but if Kaeya wasn't what she wanted him to be anymore, the well-behaved alpha mate who wouldn't try to dominate the first Gunnhildr omega in uncounted generations.... He's not a Gunnhildr yet. She'd end her guardianship of him and send him to the Church to take a place amid their orphans, or if he was lucky, to live in the Ordo dorms as a rare fostered apprentice. He wouldn't be part of Jean's family anymore.

Jean is selfish enough not to argue with his determination. She doesn't want to lose him any more than he wants to leave. That means that if whatever he *is* under all the uncertainty is someone who can look at an alpha the way he sometimes, when he thinks neither of them are looking, looks at Diluc....

They aren't married yet. He isn't her mate yet. Jean doesn't mind looking the other way and pretending she doesn't see. She just wishes for his sake that Diluc was only pretending that he hasn't noticed.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Kaeya giving Diluc just that look right now, while Diluc picks through the tailor's display of new Inazuman silks in innocent ignorance. Jean turns back to her own contemplations. There's a beautiful robe here, pale green patterned with purple cranes picked out in charming detail, that she can't resist reaching out to touch. The fabric is smooth under her fingers. She traces the line of a crane's neck, turns over the price tag, then sighs and pulls her hand away.

When she looks back again, Diluc and Kaeya are both watching her. She smiles at them, embarrassed, and puts her hands behind her back.

"Mother would disapprove, wouldn't she?"

"If she doesn't pay for it, she can't stop you," Kaeya points out. "Let her frown at you all she wants."

"It's out of my price range, anyway. I'm going to look at their hair ribbons. I could use a few new ones."

Diluc frowns, but Kaeya shrugs, turning back to the silks and commenting on one Diluc seems to have liked. Their voices fade behind as she moves across the store to the hair ribbons, and she doesn't see them again until she comes to the counter with her selections. They're just ahead of her, Diluc counting out mora as the clerk ties string around two tissue-wrapped bundles. Diluc hands the smaller one to Kaeya before smiling at her and stepping out of her way.

It's far from the first time Diluc has given Kaeya such gifts on these shopping trips. It's a generous gesture, but it's also an *alpha* gesture, a courtship gesture, the kind of kindness that has a weight from alpha to omega or alpha to beta that Diluc probably doesn't even imagine it has here. That it wouldn't, alpha to alpha, if Kaeya was the alpha that everyone thinks.

As soon as her ribbons are paid for, Jean follows them out of the shop, clears her throat, and asks, "Kaeya, can you go ahead to Good Hunter and put in our order? I'm getting hungry, but Diluc and I should stop at the cobblers and see how the new boots for the apprentices are coming along. The Grand Master will expect a report."

His eyebrow goes up, but all he says is, "Of course," before taking himself off.

"Since when is it our job to check on the boots?" Diluc asks her, baffled, though he's heading down the street towards the cobbler's even as he asks. "No one said anything to me."

"It isn't, but Mother will appreciate that we took the initiative. Besides," Jean adds, her voice dropping as they pass a fruit cart, "I wanted to talk to you alone. I think... maybe you shouldn't buy things for Kaeya anymore. I think it might be giving him ideas about- about what you want from him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jean doesn't want to confess Kaeya's crush for him, but she forges on with as good an excuse as she can muster. "Kaeya... doesn't like being in debt to people. And- and at your age- for alphas- some of the things people say to him about, um, about us, that he's mentioned or I've heard about- he might think he needs to pay you back a... certain way."

Diluc only looks more confused. "He doesn't have to pay me back at all. It's my allowance, and I like buying things for the two of you with it. He knows that. What way do you mean, anyway?"

"With- kissing, and things." Jean blushes furiously, as much at the mental image of the two of them kissing as at the other word she can't bring herself to say. "Like I said, I *know* people talk like that about... us, and his debt to the family, and he's said some things to me, so I just...."

"Oh. *Gross*. No. Why would I even want that? I'll tell him so," Diluc says firmly. "And if anyone's making him feel weird about it, I'll punch them. The same if anyone makes you feel weird about it, either."

Jean's stomach drops, but at the same time she feels a rush of relief. She doesn't want Diluc to hurt Kaeya, but it has to happen sooner or later, and better that it happen before Kaeya gets too many ideas. And this way, by blaming the gossip that she honestly has overheard, she doesn't have to give up any of his secrets to Diluc. She'll keep those safe, just like he does hers. She'll just keep this conversation secret too, while she's at it.

***

However he might feel, Kaeya is an expert at *pretending* to be an alpha. It actually helps, she thinks, that Mother has spent years drilling into him that he can't be overbearing with her. If he smiles and demurs instead of posturing, and slides his way sideways out of most attempted challenges, and doesn't say a word about anything Jean does when another omega might look to their alpha for approval, then people blame Mother and not Kaeya himself. Mother meets every criticism with a pointed reminder that all dynamics are meant to be equal in freedom-loving Mondstadt, and Kaeya meets any scorn with a smile and an exact echo of her words in a faintly sardonic tone.

In the meantime, Kaeya mimics everything that Mother wouldn't reasonably have stomped out of him with aplomb. Most of it, she can tell, Diluc has taught him. Jean doesn't know when he'd shared that particular secret, or if he even has--Diluc may simply think that he's counterbalancing Mother's repression--but he imitates Diluc's straight shoulders and fierce grin when he does have to accept a challenge, and Diluc's careful backstep to signal disinterest when he's introduced to a new omega, and Diluc's fashion of cupping his hands around her own when he gives her a gift.

Which he does now and then, now that they're dating. The dating itself is a gift, too, Jean is well aware. Kaeya's disinterest in omegas is just as real as Diluc's, and it encompasses her, isn't because of her, despite the public facade that's all that makes those other omegas believe it. But she hadn't been able to keep herself being wistful, this past Windblume, and it must have been so openly that he had caught it, because she'd found herself the recipient of a bundle of roses and the worst poem she's ever read, and he'd taken the calla lilies and heartfelt if clumsy lines of her response with a smile and a cheeky reminder that, as a captain, she could afford better than he could to pay for a dinner out.

It's the least Jean can do to thank him for bothering.

Now that they are dating, Jean tries hard not to look too closely at things she isn't going to buy these days unless she's very sure that he can't afford it any more than she can. This jewelry set, though.... It's ridiculous, heart-shaped earrings and a heart-shaped pendant, set with colored glass in exactly her favorite shade of blue. Mother would disapprove of how cheap it is even if the motif wasn't so childish. Jean couldn't possibly buy something so gauche. No matter that it's cute.

And Kaeya can't buy it for her either. Necklaces are symbolic in ways that Mother would *despise*, and this particular one, with the romantic motif, would be utterly inappropriate for an alpha to give any omega but their mate. Even one they're betrothed to.

"What are we looking at?" Kaeya pokes his head over her shoulder just as Jean had expected, leaning in close. Jean enjoys the press of his shoulder against hers, and the brush of his breath on her cheek; that he means nothing by it doesn't mean that she can't take pleasure in it, so long as she doesn't discomfit him by letting it show. "Oh, that's pretty."

"I can't imagine where I would wear it, though. Mother would have a fit, and it wouldn't be appropriate on missions. It wouldn't be worth the mora."

Kaeya sighs against her ear, and it takes all Jean has not to shiver. "You don't have to talk yourself out of anything you think you want too much, you know."

"I just don't want it that much, that's all. There's no need to blow things out of proportion. And don't buy me a necklace you can't give me," Jean adds in warning. "You know how Mother would react."

"Yes, I know." Kaeya chuckles and leans back again, and Jean fights down a pang at the loss of his weight against her shoulder. "Sister Barbara! fancy seeing you here. You wouldn't happen to know how Sir Taute is holding up, would you? Jean's been worried."

Which is, if not a lie, *mostly* an untruth--Jean knows Taute is fine--but she grasps eagerly for the excuse, turning to smile at Barbara. "Yes, I would like to know."

"Let's step aside, for her privacy," Barbara says, in a cue Kaeya has long since taught them both, and smiles back at Jean as she leads her aside for a private conversation.

It doesn't occur to Jean how much of a distraction that was until hours later, when Kaeya stops her on the front porch to cup her hand and set a small box into it. Jean opens her mouth to scold him, then closes it again when she opens it. She had only told him not to buy her the necklace, after all.

"I still don't know where I'll wear them," she protests, resisting the urge to clutch the little box with its heart-shaped earrings to her chest.

"You can wear them on missions if you pass the Grand Master's uniform test. Which you should ask to take anyway. Half of your earrings dangle, and I know you wish you could wear those more often. You'll pass it with flying colors if you do."

Jean swallows down a sudden surge of emotion and puts the lid very carefully back on the box before smiling back up at Kaeya. "Maybe I will. Thank you, Kaeya."

"You're welcome."

He leans down and brushes his lips against hers in a familiarly chaste kiss, one that sends a thrill through her nonetheless. Jean takes a deep breath, taking in the rich spice-edged fruitiness of his scent, which seems to grow stronger every day. Then she pulls back before she can give into the urge to try and coax more out of him than he wants to give.

She doesn't comment on the second box she feels briefly through his jacket while they're pressed close. Kaeya may be an expert at pretending to be an alpha, eschewing jewelry for more prominent displays of ornate clothes and ornamented hair, but he ought to be allowed to experiment in private without Jean's prying. All her dreams of buying him whatever he *does* like most founder on the realities of their situation, so perhaps it's better if she doesn't know what he spends his mora on when she's not there.

Just as she shouldn't dream of a necklace to go with the earrings, and a claim he wouldn't want to make even if he dared.

***

Mindful as she is of Mother's disapproval, Jean does take advantage sometimes of having her own money to buy things that she knows Mother would never have let her spend her allowance on. The romance novels in particular. It's been years since she's had to skim them quickly in the shop or sneak them out of the Ordo library. Now she can buy them herself, at her discretion.

As long as she has good enough cause. Mother may not object aloud anymore, but Jean can still hear her voice in her head when she indulges too frivolously in some luxury she doesn't deserve.

This week, what she doesn't deserve is a beautiful first edition, with gilt edging on the pages and the author's signature on the frontispiece, of one of her favorite romance novels. She already owns a copy of the book, so it's an utterly self-indulgent purchase, but she'd thought she might have been able to earn it for herself anyway if only her company had come first in the survival games Grand Master Varka has decided the Ordo needs to run.

Unfortunately, Diluc, as always, outdoes her. Very slightly--a handful more points on foraging, which would have been balanced out by her company's better score in scouting if he hadn't made it back to base camp a mere hour before her--but it puts her company in second place, while his is first, and second place isn't good enough. She doesn't need Mother to tell her that.

Mother tells her anyway. "You *cannot* let an alpha outdo you," she says through gritted teeth, an old refrain, as she paces back and forth across their front room. "No Gunnhildr can let themselves be outdone by their peers, and that only goes double for you. Every alpha in the Ordo is primed to dismiss you, whatever excuses they may give for it. That means that you cannot give them *any* to seize upon. We have been over this."

"If it's anyone's mistake, it's mine," Kaeya says, even though he should know better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture. "I was the one who fumbled the net and lost us all those fish."

"And you cannot let him defend you!" Mother rounds on them both. "Never, *ever* let him defend you. The moment anyone perceives you as hiding behind an alpha, it will be him they look to in order to win your obedience."

"Mother," Jean begins, because ill-advised as Kaeya's words were, she owes him her defense in return.

She never gets further. Mother has significantly more to say, first to them together and then to Jean alone, and afterwards she sends Jean out with the instruction to send Kaeya in. Half of what she says to him is audible through the door.

Jean knows that all this anger is on her behalf, that it covers up the fear Mother has always felt that people will look at Jean as lesser, will disregard her accomplishments because of what she is and how she was born. That doesn't make it any less cutting. She's still raw and smarting by lunchtime the next day, though she makes sure not to let it show when she dismisses her company for their meal and heads herself to the Cathedral on the pretense of checking on two of her knights who had been particularly foolish in the games.

If that route takes her past the bookstore, well, she can look, can't she? Even if it's sand in the wound?

Maybe it should be a relief that the book is gone. The bottom drops out of Jean's stomach, though, and the rest of her day is dismal, only made more so by the discovery that Barbara is in choir practice when she arrives and won't be out before she has to go. She goes through the motions with as much efficiency as she can muster and is grateful for her bed.

She's more grateful still when Kaeya slips in through her window. Mother stopped checking on them after bedtime years ago; Jean still doesn't know if that's out of trust, or because she has some concept of what she might find teenagers up to on their own, not that Jean knows if Kaeya can stomach touching himself in the same way she couldn't resist doing in the rush of all the hormones at that age. If she still does so after he departs again from these nighttime visits, well, she's only overwhelming the room with her own scent to disguise his, or at least that's what she would try to claim if he knew.

"You know I wasn't defending you as your alpha," Kaeya says without preamble.

"I know."

Jean doesn't bother ask if Mother believed him. She doesn't know what Jean does, and Barbatos willing she never will. Not until he and Jean are married, anyway, and Kaeya is a Gunnhildr whether Mother wants him to be or no. Jean is determined to insist that he can present as whatever he is, then, or not present as whatever he isn't, and never mind the Gunnhildr reputation. It will be as welcome to her as it is to him when he stops playing the romantic alpha she wishes for in public.

Kaeya sighs in relief, as if he somehow thought she might not believe him, and sinks down onto her bed. Above the covers, while she's below, but Jean pushes the quilt down a little to bare her shoulder and he nuzzles into her neck as if he's seeking her scent. His own clouds around her. Jean breathes it in and feels herself relax.

"Do you want-"

"*Please*," Jean says, her voice nearly cracking. "Otherwise I don't think I'll sleep at all."

He pulls his face from her neck and leans down to nip at her shoulder, well below the line of her uniform, where no one, even Mother, will notice a mark. Well away from her bonding glands, too, which Jean refuses to be disappointed by. She'll get what she wants once they're married, once, if probably never again, and until then this is kindness enough.

The pinprick of pain as his teeth sink in is soothed by the brush of his tongue. His venom sweeps through her, calming her almost immediately, relaxing her muscles until she's lying nearly limp on the bed. As soon as it eases her tension away, she can feel the exhaustion throbbing in her temples surge forth to start ushering her into sleep.

She's selfish, though. Kaeya is already giving her one comfort, and she still wants another, something pleasant to take into her dreams. They used to do this through letters, hidden beneath matresses and passed back and forth in secret during the day, writing answers before bedtime to titillate each other with their secret fantasies. But they're both braver now, if only with each other. All she has to do is ask.

"If you were a pirate-" Kaeya likes pirates, so much that she's fantasized sometimes about saving up to buy him a tame dusk bird, as if Mother would ever permit such a beast in her house "-and I was a stowaway you found in the hold, what would you do with me?"

"A stowaway, hmmm?"

"A beta stowaway," Jean adds impulsively. "Promised by my family to-" she yawns "-to a powerful mated couple in, hmm, Fontaine, whom I loathed enough to flee."

Kaeya props himself up on one elbow and cups her cheek, running his thumb gently down it. With his venom in her veins, Jean couldn't resist her shiver if she wanted to.

"Well, if *that* was the case, you'd be quite a prize, wouldn't you? You'd have to convince me that it was worth my while not to give you up for a reward...."

He starts to detail exactly how Jean might convince him in warm, suggestive tones. Jean lets his voice wash over her, and as she sinks into sleep, all her disappointment fades away. She doesn't need first place, or that book, or even Mother's approval. She already has everything she really needs.

***

Her future with Kaeya is so certain, so solid a factor in Jean's life that she doesn't realize how fragile it actually is until Mother, with one private meeting and the slash of a pen, throws it all away.

Jean is still reeling as she follows Mother home, her throat hoarse from shouting protests that went nowhere against the united wall of her and the Grand Master and the Seneschal, all furious in different and equally terrifying ways. Mother's fury is quiet, grim, and sharp, and leads her straight to Kaeya's room. She doesn't even seem to notice Jean right on her tail.

She tosses Kaeya's room with vicious efficiency, emptying drawers, flipping his mattress, digging into the back corners of his closet, and then circling back to pry at solid furniture and slit everything soft in search of hidden compartments and stashes. Which Kaeya *has*, as it turns out. Jean is only briefly shocked; she would have hidden some of this from Mother, too, if she'd had certain of his secrets, or even if she'd simply known how to conceal things as cleverly as he has.

None of it, though, is evidence. Mother's frustration mounts as she dumps out jewelry and hair ribbons, toys and harnesses that under any other circumstances would make Jean blush, and books with featureless red covers that even now do. She tosses a necklace atop the pile of earrings and bangles with a snort of disgust, not seeming to recognize the blue glass heart that makes Jean freeze in place, nor note that betraying reaction. While she turns back to the closet, Jean reaches out with shaking fingers and dares to snatch it up. Had Kaeya bought that for himself...?

The back of the closet is full of bedding that Jean knows no Gunnhildr has ever purchased. Most of it is the same shade of pale sky-blue as the necklace, just enough lighter than Mondstadt blue a proper Gunnhildr should prefer that the difference is obvious. None of it has the feather and bird motifs that Kaeya most likes, nor the diamonds that are his second-favorite; there's a duvet embroidered with fine white dandelion seeds blowing in an invisible wind, a scarf with orange tabbies, a pair of pillows with several increasingly pale shades to suggest clouds, a brown-and-green quilt whose interlocking blocks are, she realizes, in the shape of tortoises.... Mother tosses another piece upon the pile, a green silk robe decorated with purple cranes.

"This is nesting material," Jean says aloud, her voice scratchy in her throat.

"He had *ambitions*, didn't he." Mother's lip curls. "Let's both be grateful that his nerve failed before he got that far."

Jean swallows hard. Mother moves on to the closet's top shelf, where the red-bound erotica had been, and pulls out a few more books that she tosses out atop the pile with such carelessness that Jean nearly cries out in horror. All are romances, and every one is familiar, from the old and yellowing one where Vennessa holds a Lawrence at swordpoint on the cover to the fine leatherbound, gilt-edged first edition she hadn't won the right to buy last year.

Kaeya has never cared for romances. These are all to Jean's taste, ones that she had wanted and for some reason or another had never purchased. She doesn't remember the details, but she finds herself certain anyway that she'd either eyed them or mentioned them in Kaeya's presence.

A feeling is stirring inside her that isn't shock, or grief, or even horror. Jean realizes, staring at the hard lines of Mother's back as she jerks a hidden bag out from where it was tied beneath the wardrobe and pours out only mora, that it's defiance.

She takes a step back, then another, then turns and flees the room while Mother is still distracted. Nothing in there is going to be evidence. Not of Kaeya's supposed treachery, nor of the loyalty that Jean can't help but believe in. One way or another, she'll have to find her own.

Mother has discarded enough of Jean's family. She was a child when she lost Barbara, and powerless to act; now she's a woman grown, a knight and an officer, with a Vision at her waist and all the power of her recent promotion at her disposal. This time, Jean won't let Mother throw away someone she loves. She'll get Kaeya back.