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novantinuum · 10 months ago

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Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 3.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

W o e, more OC content be upon ye

In this one, Jean meets Greg and the Crystal Gems. (There's a bit of Greg POV at the beginning, just to mix things up.) I had so much indulgent fun writing it, and hope anyone who checks it out enjoys.

Enjoy! <3

Absentmindedly humming a few bars of a commercial jingle he must’ve overheard on TV the other day, Greg finishes stirring up some instant oatmeal he just took out of the microwave. It’s a bit of a late breakfast for his tastes given the clock is nearing 10:45, but hey- anything’s better than nothing. Better to eat now than to find oneself running on low energy by lunchtime.

He licks his lips in anticipation, and carries the bowl over to the beach house’s living room couch.

Stars, what’s on his docket today beyond breakfast, anyways?

Groceries, for one. He’s running low on milk, butter, parmesan cheese, spaghetti sauce, and a number of vegetables. If he really wants to think ahead, now would also be a great time to stock up on bagels to toss in the freezer for later. No matter how many of those he buys, he always seems to be running out of ‘em. It’s also one of Steven’s days off from work, thus a good opportunity to try a video call. His son doesn’t always answer immediately, but that’s okay. He’s a grown adult now, a soul yearning to forge his own identity separate from the people and place he called home back in childhood. He needs his own space, and sometimes that just means ignoring your clingy ol’ man until you feel ready to chat.

And then, of course there’s his ongoing music project he can work on— a concept album of sorts, chronicling the tale of an optimistic, yet lonely young musician and his lover from beyond the stars. For nearly two decades her death silenced his work, but… seeing her framed face on the nightstand next to him every morning when he wakes up… living so close to the crystalline stage he knelt on when he sung his first romantic ballad to her… it must’ve stirred some aching desire that he hasn’t entertained in a very long while. He’s written about half of this album in the span of the last two months, and hopes to complete it by the end of the year. Beyond that he’s not sure where this project will take him… whether he’ll keep these songs close to his chest or email his old industry contact Sunshine Justice and see if she can hook him up with a decent recording studio for ‘em. Only time will tell, in the end. He’s got options.

But before he can get more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal under his belt and reliably plan out his day, his musings are interrupted by a timid knock rapping against the front door.

Greg sighs, setting the bowl aside on the coffee table as he gets up to check who’s here.

If he had to guess, it’s most likely a recently arrived Gem— spellbound and confused— desperately trying to locate Little Homeschool after seeing one his son’s many adverts about it. That’s the most common visitor they see at the house entrance these days, beyond the rare training visit from Connie to refresh her sword fighting skills with Pearl. He’s not sure who else would go to all the trouble of hiking across the beach to reach this place. And anyways, if he’s visiting human friends in town, he always walks to their houses.

Which is why he’s surprised to open the door and see just… what seems to be a human stranger standing there, hands stuffed in pockets and expression filled with palpable apprehension.

The stranger is young— easily Steven’s age or younger— with a shock of short, wavy brown hair and teal tinted glasses, clad in overalls and a pair of ratty old tennis shoes.

He waves a quick greeting, a potent dose of curiosity painting his tone.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

“Should I even be doing this?” Jean mutters to themself as they trudge down the far side of the beach, following the directions the cute pizza shop girl gave them last night.

But the closer they creep towards their destination, the sillier this whole stupid trip starts to feel. So they expect to… what? Simply drop in uninvited to the home of four of the most influential beings in the whole galaxy, and say “hey, guess what, you never knew I existed but I’m actually a half-Gem too?” Ughh. Oh, geeze. This was such a bad idea. Why did Dad even agree to bring them here? And what do they even want from this? To train? To harness whatever hypothetical powers they might have resting dormant within their gemstone? To… to just go on one of those zany, magical adventures they always dreamed about as a kid? To be freely invited into their little school for Gems? (Even though they’re not a Gem… not in all the ways that matter, at least.) Are they hoping to uproot their entire life and outright live here one day? Or are they literally only here because they’re craving closure to the questions they’ve been asking their entire life— who was Mother? Who am I? Is there any place in this vast universe for people like me?

What do I actually want to do with my life?

Heaving a long, exhausted sigh, they trek onwards anyways. After such a long road trip to reach this place, it’d be unthinkable to back down now.

A set of crumbled but monolithic stone arms come into view a few dozen paces further, a mere taster of the majestic vista awaiting them on the furthest point of the peninsula. Jean’s seen plenty of pictures of Beach City’s infamous temple statue online, sure— images of a regal, curly haired figure boasting enough limbs to rival a goddess— but nothing can prepare them for the sheer level of spellbinding awe that courses through their soul as they break around the edge of the cliff and finally gape upon it with their own two eyes. As melodramatic as the sentiment may sound, seeing this temple for themself is like tasting air for the first time, like waking up from a decade long fantasy to a world more vivid and colorful than they could’ve ever dreamed. Surely not a single photographer alive could capture the true scale of this ancient carving. A watery smile stretches across their cheeks while they drink in the sight. The cliffside is mossier than they expected. The earthy greens make for such lovely contrast against the colder browns and grays. Then, their gaze drops towards the statue’s navel… to the humble beach house nestled there within a set of stone arms.

Here it is. This is the place. There’s no turning back now, not unless they want to return to their motel room a coward.

Their hands fidget restlessly at their side as they climb up the sandy stairs leading to the porch. When they reach the top, they cross towards the front door and— heart pounding— rap their knuckles against the frame as politely as they can muster.

Beat.

Jean can hear the shuffling of feet from inside. They shove their hands in their pockets as the footfalls grow closer and closer, before—

The door swings open. Their expression narrows in bemusement. The person they’re greeted by isn’t one of the famed Crystal Gems, but rather… a human. A somewhat plain looking human, if they’re frank. (Which— in this situation— is a good thing, because it finally disarms the sheer spine tingling anxiety that was racing up and down through their veins prior.) The portly individual looks to be somewhere around their father’s age, with greying shoulder-length hair and a full beard. He’s sporting shorts and what looks to be a band t-shirt.

The man flashes a quick wave, and then speaks.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

Jean scrunches their nose— a nervous twitch they’re unfortunately hyper-conscious of in high pressure situations like these— before working to piece together a halfway coherent sentence.

“I, um— y-you don’t know me, but my name is Jean. Jean Maverick, and I’m… well, I’m kinda hoping to—”

Before they can even reveal the crux of their mission, they feel this person’s full attention fixate upon the upper facets of their pale gemstone, just visible over the neckline of their shirt. His eyes widen.

“O-oh, yes,” they interrupt their own introduction, cheeks reddening. “That. Y’see, I may not look it, but I’m actually part Gem, like all the Gems who live here in town, a-and—”

He shakes his head, giving a laugh tinged with a bit of what they can only describe as sheer disbelief. “No, no, trust me— I more than understand this kinda stuff. I’m Greg Universe,” he says, extending his hand in greeting. “My, uh… my son’s like you.”

It’s Jean’s turn for their eyes to blow wide open with shock.

“You- you’re Steven’s dad,” they breathe, reaching out for his offered shake.

“Yup, guilty as charged. Now, what can I do for ‘ya? You looking for Steven? The Gems?”

“Well, I was hoping to talk with the Crystal Gems, b-but…” They pause, their brow wrinkling inwards as the ticking cogs of their mind consider the possible implications of their fellow hybrid’s father being present. “Steven’s not here now, is he? I heard he left town a while back…”

“Nah, he did. He’s out living on the west coast right now. The Gems, however… now that I can help you with.”

Introductory small-talk concluded, Mr. Universe invites them inside to wait for the Gems, grabbing his phone from his pocket to— they can only assume— shoot a quick text to one of ‘em.

Jean glances around the interior of the house with ample curiosity, admiring the dense collection of old CDs and cassette tapes that fills much of the shelf space behind the couch. It looks like mostly classic rock and a bit of R&B, many of them artists they don’t recognize. (Though the name Kerry Moonbeam leaps out at them— they remember jamming to a few of his top hits while on the road with Dad, like “Midnight Spectacle” and “Life on Venus.”) On the top shelf there’s an intricately detailed pink sword on display, shattered just beyond the hilt. And on the far wall midway up the stairs they spot a colorful canvas portrait, featuring what looks like a grinning, teenaged Steven sitting at the front and Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl poised behind.

All in all, it’s a very cozy, lived-in space… enough so to almost distract them from the crystalline cavern connected directly to the living area. Their interest immediately piqued, they give a sharp exhale and advance a few steps closer. Is that…? Why, yes it is! It’s a warp pad, just like the ones they’ve seen pictures of online. (And one in person, thanks to a tip from a local.) From all their research it seems that there’s a whole network of these low, crystal platforms stretching across the surface of the Earth. And as rumors go, Gems can use them to travel from one point to another near instantaneously. Jean has no idea if this ability is one that translates to half-Gems, though. They had no luck with the one they visited years back.

Their mouth scrunches into a little frown upon that musing. There’s still so, so much about Gems they don’t know, isn’t there?

“So, Jean,” Mr. Universe says, finishing up with his phone. “Where’d you say you were from, again?”

“Prudence, Calizona?” And when his expression merely wrinkles in unawareness, they add: “It’s, um… a small university town out in the middle of the desert, so I’m not surprised you aven’t heard of it way out here.”

“And you traveled all the way to Beach City just to meet with the Gems? Wow, that’s… a pretty big journey for someone your age. This must be real important to you.”

“Well, there’s no Gems out there,” they explain with a shrug. “I’ve always known I was different, but— I never got to learn anything about that part of my heritage, y’know? So that’s why I’m here, I guess. For answers.”

“Well, I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Jean’s gaze drifts down towards the gem inlaid in their chest. “Yeah,” they say, resting their palm over the central facet. “So do I.”

A tiny frown blooms across the man’s face as he observes them further. They rock back and forth upon their heels as they attempt to dodge his frustratingly intuitive gaze, unsure of what else to say or ask. Such lingering attention makes them feel twitchy.

“Here, why don’t you have a seat,” he offers then, gesturing towards the flat cushioned sofa against the far wall of the living area. “They should be inbound any minute now. Can’t imagine them dawdling on news like this, heh. And hey, uh… while you wait, d’ya want anything to drink, or snack on, or—?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” they say, sitting themself down on the far edge of the couch and noting the soggy bowl of oatmeal left half uneaten on the coffee table right in front. It’s bad enough that they’re crashing this man’s morning routine, the last thing they want to do is completely put him out. Not to mention, he probably doesn't have much they could safely digest, anyways.

True to his word though, the famed Crystal Gems arrive on the warp pad with not a second to waste, ringed in by a beam of dazzling cyan light and the platform’s resonant chime. Heart pounding a coward’s thrall, Jean averts their gaze low to keep from downright staring at the trio.

Holy fucking shit.

“We came as soon as we could,” the pale, lithe one— Pearl— says to Mr. Universe, crossing straight into the living room like a soul on a mission with the other two hot on her heels.

It’s them. It’s actually them. The Gems they’ve dreamt of meeting ever since they were just a starry-eyed preteen researching a small town mystery in the vicious trenches of obscure conspiracy theory message boards. Their jaw falls entirely ajar in the shock of it all. Oh stars, be cool, be cool, be cool—!

“—is our mystery visitor?” Pearl continues with a quick gesture towards them, the first half of her sentence consigned to auditory oblivion with how damn rapid fire Jean’s thoughts are blasting around their head.

Mr. Universe nods.

“Yeah, I was grabbin’ some breakfast, and she—” (they don’t bother to suppress that instinctive cringe. Hoo boy, they really need to step in and complete their introduction ASAP, huh)— “just showed up at the door, askin’ after you.”

“They,” Jean blurts out, mouth entirely dry with anxiety at this point.

“Huh?”

“It’s… they, actually. They/them. Sorry, I- I kinda forgot to mention.”

His brows shoot up in understanding. “Ahh, gotcha. My apologies for not asking. Anyways, these are the Gems! Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl… though I get the sense you’ve already done your research, huh?”

They nod, still working to shake that hazy, star-stricken sensation out of their system.

“So then, mysterious stranger,” the shorter, purple Gem— Amethyst— says, sliding right across the living room towards them. “What’s your whole deal? Gimme all those good deets!”

“I, uh… well, I’m Jean,” they stammer, clasping their hands together behind their back. “Jean Maverick. I’m eighteen, I use they/them pronouns as I just mentioned, and… my mother… was a Gem.”

They tug down the scooped neckline of their shirt ever so slight, revealing the full cut of their pale lavender gemstone to the room. Pearl lets out an audible gasp. The other two simply gape in stunned silence, not uttering a single word at all.

“And now you probably understand why I called you over,” Mr. Universe comments, gesturing towards them.

“Another hybrid?” Amethyst says, her brow furrowing as she glances up at Garnet, the tallest of the bunch. “Like Steven? Is that even possible?”

“It is now,” Garnet replies with an almost mystified tone, crossing her arms as she leans back against the counter.

“But for a Gem to shapeshift human reproductive organs for that long,” Pearl muses, hand balled at her chin as she paces back and forth across the wooden slats. “Stars, for anyone but a diamond, that should be unachievable!”

The purple quartz simply waves the notion away. “Pshh, nah, that part’s easy, P- you just poof, and then reform with those organs! I do it with a stomach like, all the time. Mainly, I’m just surprised that another Gem would come up with the idea to have a baby in the first place.”

“Or that another Gem was living on Earth uncorrupted all this time, and we never knew,” Garnet comments, expression uncertain.

They swallow hard. Normally they consider themself pretty skilled at overanalyzing people’s emotions— an unexpected perk of living with generalized anxiety— but Garnet in particular is dauntingly hard for them to read right now. Pearl’s an easy one… she’s invested in the mystery of their arrival here today, too busy sorting the potential puzzle pieces in her mind to give anything else surrounding her much notice. Amethyst seems equally as puzzled by their presence, although out of the three of them it’s her who’s been the most accommodating of their awkwardness, so far. (Jean thinks back to how Amethyst leapt in amidst that weird conversational lull to give them a chance to officially introduce themself, and finds it rather perceptive of her.) Garnet, though—? Is her tense yet closed-off body language signaling confusion? (At how they could exist?) Vexation? (That they exist?) Distrust, even?? (That they’re here, now?) Or is she chewing over something else entirely, something they couldn’t ever hope to guess with their extremely limited outsider’s context?

And why do they care so much about how the three of them feel in the first place? Chill, Jean. Geeze.

“Well, if it helps,” they shrug, “my dad said he met my mother out in the wilderness of Calizona, while on a backpacking trip.”

“Calizona, eh…” Amethyst says, squinting as she thinks. “Hey, wait— the Beta Kindergarten’s out that way, yeah?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Pearl asks, her eyes lighting up with clear intrigue.

“I’m saying… isn’t it possible that Jean’s mom just emerged late… like me? It would explain how she avoided the corruption. And their gem does look pretty quartz-like.”

“Sounds like a more sound theory than I could ever come up with,” Mr. Universe pipes up all of a sudden with a broad shrug.

“In any case, all our broad theorizations can wait,” Garnet waves them all off. Inhaling deep, her gaze levels straight on them. “I know you came here with a purpose,” she says.

A blunt observation, not a question.

Jean shuffles upon their feet, feeling as exposed as a budding nerve under the sheer magnitude of their scrutiny. The half of them that’s merely a tangled ball of anxiety masquerading as a person craves nothing more than to spin on their heels and bolt away— too scared of potential rejection, too scared of all the unknowns bleeding through at the very edges of their future’s canvas— but then… this is what they drove hundreds of miles for, yes? Plus, they don’t want to disappoint Dad— he knows how much they’ve dreamed of this moment, and they’re sure it’d break his heart if they backed down right at the cusp of achieving said dream.

It’s now or never.

Deep breath. Hold your spine straight. Brave heart, Jean.

What do you really want?

“I… heard about your school,” they begin, weathering that treacherous unknown to make direct eye contact with each and every one of them in turn. “And I know the technical purpose of it is to teach Gems about humanity, but… I was wondering if maybe… you’d also be willing to teach a half-human how to be a Gem.”

“Hmm,” Pearl hums, leaning back against the counter at Garnet’s side. “Well, I suppose we already have a sort of human exchange program at Little Homeschool. Anyone who’s curious about the work we do there is allowed to spend a day on campus and attend whatever classes they wish, provided they give our students a quick informal lecture on a topic that interests them. Perhaps we could discuss developing a program like this that’s more long-term in nature, and customized to your needs as a half-Gem.”

Their mind reels in giddy circles at the very notion. Them? An official student of Little Homeschool?? It’s an alluring prospect, to be sure.

“Hey, y’all?” Amethyst cuts in before they can move to respond, upper lip curling into a half-grimace. “Not to like, totally derail, but I just checked the time and we’re gonna be late for the fusion seminar if we don’t start heading on back now.”

The tall, ivory Gem winces. “Oh stars, you’re right.” Then, glancing across the living space towards Mr. Universe with a somewhat apologetic expression: “Sorry, Greg— you caught us at a bit of a busy time. Do you mind entertaining our guest a little while longer as we finish up today’s classes?”

“Why don’t you just take them with you?” he suggests. “Seems they’re interested in what goes on there anyways.”

“Bismuth or Peridot may have time to give a tour,” Garnet voices, breaking her little understood silence. (Oh, a penny for her thoughts right now…)

Jean beams at the idea, a joyous little burst of energy soaring through their system upon realizing they’re one step closer to realizing that shining desire they set their eyes on the day the ocean’s disappearance kickstarted their research into their Gem heritage in the first place— to actually nurture and embrace this part of themself. “I’d love a chance to look around, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The three Crystal Gems ultimately approve, beckoning for them to join them on the warp pad. It takes every single scrap of self restraint within their soul to not do the cringiest little happy jig as they scuttle across the floorboards and step up onto the crystalline platform. Getting to experience a trip on one of these suckers is honestly a dream come true all on its own. They’ve seen one in person before— back during their forum-surfing research days, they managed to convince Dad to drive them all the way out to a lone warp pad a local enthusiast posted the coordinates of— but couldn’t manage to activate it on their own. Now, though? With the possibility of joining Little Homeschool officially on the table, there’s no telling what they may one day learn to achieve.

Jean waves farewell to Mr. Universe as the warp activates, whisking the four of them away. It was super kind of him to take time out of his morning routine to help them contact the Gems— they’ll have to think of some meaningful gesture to thank him with later.

Pushing themself out of their comfort zone just to reach this point proved to be a bit of a challenge, but beyond the thorny confines of all their social anxieties, their future suddenly feels very bright.

#su #su future #(as in... it's Post that)#greg universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #jean maverick #ocs #su fanfic #su oc #echoes of chalcedony #my writing stuff

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v3nusxsky · 2 years ago

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Hello! 👋

Is it possible to request a lady lesso x f!reader who has also a cane and struggles to walk with it and she gets frustrated in front of lesso who just reassures her and helps her out? It can be romantic or motherly, whatever you prefer! 😊

☄️Have a good day/night/afternoon!!☄️

-🌙✨

My lovely moon, so lovely to hear from you, I hope this is okay for you,and that you have had a good day

Just a stupid stick

*Authors note~ I wanted to give this my best shot and thought I'd draw on my first experience with crutches to back up some of r frustrations*

Trigger warning~ walking stick, frustration? Hospitals

Prompt ~ see ask

Ever since the instant with Rafal, in which he had severely damaged the cartilage in your right leg. The operation had been pretty painless, probably due to the strong pain medication you were given. But knowing they'd only been able to save half the cartridge, that was the worst part. You knew your life would change somehow. Little did you know that would mean using a cane for a little while. They couldn't tell you how long it would take for you to recover enough to longer need it, or if the cane was for life. You lay in the bed dosed up on morphine crying for the old you that Rafal had taken.

Lady Lesso, your girlfriend of 6 months, was worried sick about you. So much so she made sure to visit as soon as classes ended for the day. She would stay as long as the hospital allowed her to, always making sure to soothe you to sleep before she had to leave. During your little breakdown over the news you'd just been given by the doctors over an hour ago. When she arrived she hadn't expected you to be in tears sobbing silently to yourself. "Little one? What's wrong my love? Are you in pain?" She murmured alerting you to her presence.

"No" you choked out through sobs. Unable to tell her anything else, you curled up the best you could without moving your injured leg. She quickly came up to lay in the bed with you, holding you as gently as she could with cooing words of reassurance and comfort, not quite understanding what was causing such a reaction from you yet absolutely hating the idea that something was bothering you this deeply and she was powerless to stop it.

The nurse popped her head around the door and noticed the addition of the fiery red head in the bed, very early one the staff had learned to just accept it as the well known Dean was not one to be messed with especially when it comes to you. So they often just smile and carry on with their job. She entered the room with a cane calling your name to grab your attention. You immediately stiffed and peaked round your girlfriend to see the cane. You sobbed more at the sight of it, finally making it real and that's when it all clicked for Lesso.

Her cane was one of the many things you loved about her, you made sure to tell her that all the time. But loving her and her cane was completely different than loving yourself with one. Lesso remembers the frustration and anger she felt when she was given a cane for the first time, even the embarrassment not that she would admit it. She had endured that alone but would make damn sure you wouldn't.

The nurse left the cane with Lesso, clearly not getting through to you so hopefully she would, instructions to encourage you to take a few steps with it due to needing to use the injured leg to adjust now the stitches were healing well. Lesso nodded in understanding remembering when it was her in that bed, with her knee absolutely murdering her, she decided to take it slow with you. First thing first was to stop those tears caressing those beautiful cheeks of yours.

It took some time but you finally calmed in her arms. She held you a while just waiting for a sigh you were ready to try and you gave her that with a simple kiss to her cheek and a whispered "help me love?" Instantly she was up and rounding the bed helping you shuffle to sit both legs gently placed over the side of the bed. You sat for a few minutes just processing what you were going to do, after all you hadn't walked in such a long time. Lesso's words of encouragement and love never stopped flowing as she handed you your cane and helped you up to stand.

The pain shot through your leg like a match meeting gasoline. You let out a pained whimper and honestly you saw your girlfriends heart shatter at the sound. She continued to stay calm and collect and encourage you to move one foot at a time. Truly you tried to, you really did but it was excruciating and the pain in your hand from shifting all your weight onto one side was overwhelming. After all it felt so unnatural. Lesso was watching you intently for any signs you would be doing someone irrational, luckily for you she knew you like the back of her hand so when you threw your cane in frustration she was straight there holding you up before you could even meet the ground. "Hush love it's okay I know it's frustrating and I know it hurts but you will get the hang of it. I know you will" she comforted while holding you up right effectively acting as a human cane.

You stayed like that calming down your unexpected anger, lesso then reached for your cane and simply kissed the handle before handing it to you. "I kissed it so now i want you to remember that every time you hold it it's filled with love from me, can you do that little one?" You nodded and smiled at the cute little gesture of love that was reserved for you and you only. You got brave and you took one step, then another until you reached the other side of the room. "I did it! I did it love, did you see?" You squealed, so proud of yourself that the adrenaline was masking the pain. "I did little one well done my darling. How's the leg? Shall we sit? Give it a rest love?" She fired questions so quickly it was hard to know what to answer first. But she'd seen you do it and that made you so proud. Although now she'd mentioned it, your leg was hurting you, you let out a pained whimper and a plead "please love." She instantly came to gather you in her arms and carry you to the bed, her cane only needed when her knee was flaring up, most the time it was just for the aesthetic. She placed you down gently and dropped a sweet kiss to your lips. "Well done my love I'm so poured of you. You'll be all good to come back soon love"

Word count~ 1174

#fanfic #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #dean of evil #anon request #anons welcome #🌙 anon

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achitka · 2 months ago

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Doors: Chapter 49

Recién Llegados (Newcomers)

Alma does not appreciate surprises. Isa is working extra hard at imperfection, while honing the newer aspects of her Gift. Bubo's family is coming to grips with a non-existent money system. His Tío Jose is up to stuff. Mirabel is trying hard not to let things freak her out. Tuli is almost settling in and there be a ghost in the Encanto - go figure. This is the first half of a longer chapter I decided to break into two. I'll probably post the next sooner and not later. Not sure how it managed to get so big... For those still reading - thanks! It's been a busy time, that has hopefully settled back into its usual boringness. Oh and btw I don't like Miguel... he's a jerk.

Recién Llegados (Newcomers)

Rodrigo Iguarán came out of his tent to stretch his legs and clear his head. He could not wait to interview Alma Madrigal about this place, and had spent the last two hours formulating several questions he wanted to include. While it was obvious she was the matriarch of her family, the Madrigals were all looked to as leaders of this place. He was surprised how easy she and her family were to talk to. In his experience, people in charge tended to be a bit more arrogant, but not this family. Rodrigo wished there was telephone service here or even just postal service of some kind, but since there was not, he’d have to be patient. Of course, he would need to think about how he would tell his abuela about her sister. Finding out someone you thought was dead, was not, would be a bit of a shock.

He walked the short way toward the center of town. There were still a few people out in the plaza, which for some reason surprised him. Not sure why he was expecting it to be deserted. There were no children, just people having a night out. It was a welcome change to the life he’d been living up until now. He used to enjoy camping during the holidays, but after his trek through the mountains… not anymore. He saw there were a few food vendors still set up near the shops that had closed for the day and feeling a little peckish, he went over to one hoping he had enough to buy something small. He was surprised that the elderly man running it did not ask for money. He instead asked him for his name and his promise.

Rodrigo was confused by this but told him his name and explained that he had just arrived today and only had a small amount of money on him. This made the old man smile then after taking a few wrapped sandwiches out of the warmer he said, “Ah, since that’s the case, please take this as my welcome gift, Señor.”

“Welcome gift? Your little town has already given us so much, I couldn’t impose further,” Rodrigo said, holding up his hands.

“Of course you can,” he said and set them on the edge of his cart, then added, “There is a standing request from Doña Alma to use our Gifts to assist our newcomers as we can.”

Still taken aback, Rodrigo decided it would be impolite to refuse and said, “Thank you, Señor.” He took the sandwiches, which were a little warm, and said, “You must allow me to repay you in kind. You mentioned a promise?”

The man paused a moment and replied, “Will you be remaining in the Encanto?”

“Only for a few months. I have to get back to my university to complete my studies.”

“A scholar then. Well let me think on it. I am not in need of anything right now.”

His curiosity got the better of him, and Rodrigo asked, “Pardon me for asking, but have you always lived here?”

“Yes, I was fifteen when the Encanto was born.”

“Born?”

“Yes, it was a miracle born from Doña Alma’s grief and despair...or perhaps it was the spirit of Don Pedro protecting her and his newborn babies after he was murdered.”

Rodrigo blinked. He'd said it so easily. No hesitation at all. Given the number of people he’d interviewed about that time period, he should not be surprised. Still, Rodrigo’s shocked expression must have shown because the man quickly added, “My pardon, Señor. I did not mean-”

“Oh no no, Señor, please forgive my ignorance. I only know small bits of the story, and I’ll admit I am already quite intrigued to learn more. I am a student of history and personal stories.” Rodrigo looked down at his watch and realized it was getting pretty late and asked, “Would it be possible for me to speak with you again?”

The old man thought on that for a moment, then nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Gracias Señor...” Rodrigo paused, waiting.

“Tabarez,” the man responded once he realized what Rodrigo was waiting for.

“Señor Tabarez,” Rodrigo nodded and pulled the meaning up from somewhere in his head and thought, a strong family name. “How will I find you?”

“I’m here most nights,” he said and patted his cart.

“Then I will look forward to it. Good night, Señor Tabarez.”

“Good night, Señor Iguarán,” the old man said and sat back on the small bench.

Rodrigo turned and started back toward his tent. The warm sandwiches he was carrying smelled absolutely delicious, so he carefully unwrapped one and took a big bite. He delighted in the taste of guava paste and melty cheese. It was something he'd not tasted since his last visit with his Mamá. He also did not recall a time when he’d come to a place as a stranger and been met with so much kindness. Halfway back, he heard a ruckus behind him and turned.

As he did, he saw Miguel running a bit crookedly, then falling into a bush on the side of the road. Given the way Miguel was moving, Rodrigo assumed he was drunk again, so did not go over to see if he was all right. What in the world was he running from, you would have thought he had the devil on his tail. When they were on the road, his primo had asked him to make sure Miguel didn’t fall off the trail or some random cliff. There were a few occasions when he’d found this one almost too drunk to walk. It stopped happening once Gabi told him he could either turn over all the liquor he’d brought, or he’d be forced to leave their group.

Miguel had drunk a fair amount during supper and his behavior during the meal was pretty appalling, but was actually better than Rodrigo was expecting. Given that he’d found time to get drunk, it was a good bet he’d already told his mother about that event. He took another bite of his sandwich and was about to leave when the bush moaned then shuddered. Rodrigo sighed. Here he was just thinking of the kindness of the people here, so he walked over and looked down at Miguel as he rolled over and groaned.

Definitely drunk, Rodrigo thought. Where did he find enough drink to be this inebriated? Then he remembered the welcome gift he was just given. Leave it to this one to take advantage. He wondered how many promises Miguel had offered in exchange, knowing full well he’d not remember a one. Irritated now, Rodrigo said as he dragged Miguel to his feet, “Come on then, Miguel.”

“I don’t need your help,” Miguel sputtered as he shook Rodrigo’s hand off his arm.

“Of course you don’t,” Rodrigo said, “What was it you were running from anyway? Black cat cross your path?”

“Brujas,” he said, trying and failing to dust off his rumpled clothes.

“Brujas?” He had Rodrigo’s attention now.

“Yes, I barely escaped. Those... those witches, tried to kill me,” he added with a shudder.

“Kill you? That’s a pretty serious accusation, Miguel. Where were you when this happened?” Rodrigo asked.

Miguel shut down as he realized he’d said more than he wanted to, but Rodrigo was curious now, so repeated the question.

“It was near the edge of town,” Miguel said cautiously.

“Edge of town… does that mean you were down near the Madrigal home.”

“Why would I go there?”

Rodrigo shrugged, he knew Miguel was lying but resisted the urge to say so. He got Miguel moving again then said, “Here take this, you should probably eat something,” Rodrigo said and offered Miguel the other sandwich, “It’s pretty delicious.” Rodrigo didn’t think one sandwich would be near enough, but he thought it best to distract him before he could wander off.

Miguel was still swaying some but took the sandwich and asked, “Where did you get this? None of these devil people accept money.”

Rodrigo actually took offense to Miguel’s choice of words. He had never met such an ungrateful… He certainly was not about to waste time explaining anything to Miguel while he was drunk, and probably wouldn’t bother when he sobered up. Irritated, Rodrigo asked, “Does that matter?”

Miguel shook his head and seemed to calm down some. As they walked, they finished the sandwiches and Rodrigo took the wrappers as he walked Miguel back to his tent. He waited for him to go inside and heard Miguel trip. The tent was silent after that, so Rodrigo headed back to his own. He emptied his pockets onto his journal, then quickly undressed and laid on his cot. He was going to need to talk to Bubo about how things worked around here. No wonder, Bubo didn’t have a job. He didn’t need one.

“Was that Miguel’s voice?” José asked.

“Yes.”

“Drunk?”

“Unfortunately, and I thought you were asleep.”

“No.”

“Something bothering you?”

“Other than feeling like we’ve brought a darkness with us to this place? No.” He was silent for a time and added, “I’ll not fail my sister a second time. Tuli won’t be safe here if Miguel and his mother remain, and getting them to move on might be difficult.”

Rodrigo agreed, but didn't have any solutions either but said, “Perhaps there is a magical solution to that problem.” José didn’t answer, he only grunted, so Rodrigo let himself relax and went to sleep.

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

Alma woke to a gentle tapping on her door. Today was finally the day. Alma got out of bed and pulled on her robe when the gentle knock repeated. The door swung open, and Mirabel was there, looking concerned.

“Good morning, Abuela. Are you feeling rested?”

“I’m doing well, Mirabel,” Alma replied. Her nieta had a nervous look and set to swinging her arms. This reminded Alma of when Mira was small and had done something she shouldn’t, so she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Mirabel shrugged as she folded her hands up in front of herself, and Alma decided something was definitely up. Mira took a deep breath, and all the fidgets stopped, and she said, “Well, I have something to tell you and I wanted you to hear it from me first. Can I come in for a minute?”

“Of course,” Alma replied and glanced at Mira’s door. The smaller butterfly was resting on its hand, and nothing appeared out of place, but Alma noted that Casita closed the door as she guided Mirabel to the bed. “Now, what did you need to tell me.”

Mirabel sat down and fiddled with her skirt for a moment then said in a rush after a deep breath as she adjusted her glasses, “I did something really dumb last night… ”

“Surely, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

Mirabel let out some nervous laughter and said, “Oh no, it was… I kind of snuck out of the house last night.”

“Mirabel Valentina Rojas Madrigal, that was so dangerous. You could have been hurt.”

“I know, I know, but I just wanted to look at that tree Isabela grew yesterday…” Alma felt that all too familiar stab of fear that used to rule her thinking as Mirabel continued, “and I did… but while I was out there…” Mirabel hesitated and took another deep breath.

“While you were out there… ” Alma said bluntly. She could not hide the anger in her tone but decided she might as well hear all of it.

Mirabel flinched slightly but took an even deeper breath, closed her eyes then said even faster, “While I was out there, I ran into Señor Rodriguez, and I’m pretty sure he’d been drinking because he was swaying and smelled like alcohol.” As each word came out of Mirabel’s mouth, Alma’s alarm was rising. “And from the direction he came… I think he was by Casita,” Mirabel stopped at Alma’s look of horror.

“Such a reckless and foolish thing to do, Mirabel,” Alma said curtly as she put a hand on her chest. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she said a little breathlessly, “I thought I made it clear to you, that you were not to leave Casita by yourself.”

“You did, Abuela-”

“But you did it anyway?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry, I know I didn’t think that through, but I just wasn’t expecting there to be anyone out there. Nothing happened, Isabela-”

“Isa went with you?” Alma asked, her confusion increasing as Mira picked at some imaginary lint then said with a nervous laugh, “Ah, actually no. I went by myself. Through a window, and told Casita not to rat me out.” When she noticed Alma’s frown deepen, she quickly added, “Yeah, not the best idea, thankfully Isa saw me and followed me.”

Though Alma felt relieved, she was now a little uncomfortable. This was not how she wanted to start this day and there was something else she wanted to do today, but it wasn’t coming to her as she responded, “Well, thank goodness for that.” She tried to calm herself and breathe through her nose as she twisted slightly. “You must use better judgement, Mirabel. Please do not do that again.”

“Oh, I definitely won’t,” Mirabel said as she stood up. When she turned back, she tilted her head and asked, “Are you okay, Abuela?”

Alma nodded, but doing so made her feel a bit dizzy and she wavered slightly. Mirabel moved closer and said something else, but Alma didn’t catch it. She felt a little hot as she tried and failed to undo the tie of her robe. Mira knelt in front of her, saying something, but her voice was muffled. Mirabel gently touched her forehead with the back of her hand, then helped Alma lie back against her pillows. Alma did not resist as she yawned. Casita opened the door and Dolores was there. She said something to Mira that made Mirabel nod.

This was all so disconcerting. Alma’s heart had not slowed, and she wondered why it was beating so quickly. She didn’t feel concern, but she remembered the Doctor’s warnings as she yawned again. So tired, it felt as if she’d run all the way around the Encanto. She turned on her side as she yawned a third time but resisted the urge to sleep. She remembered now. Noon... that was it. She needed to get through that yellow door.

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

Julieta was working on breakfast and keeping an eye on Tuli as she and Antonio set the cutlery and glasses on the table. It was a beautiful day, so she’d asked Luisa to deposit the table on the patio. Her daughter’s overt yawn after doing so caused Julieta to ask how Tuli had slept. Luisa told her how often Tuli had awakened, even with the medication. Each time, it was obvious she was terrified, but seemed to easily settle back. Sometime after midnight, Tuli woke one more time, but on that occasion Luisa had her climb into her bed and Tuli stayed asleep after that. Helping Isa with her chores and the stress of seeing her Tío again had taken a lot out of her.

Bubo looked exhausted at breakfast the day before, and Julieta was thankful he'd asked to stay with her overnight. Though Tuli did not sleep well, she seemed less drained this morning and did not appear to be as fatigued as she seemed to be yesterday. She’d sent word to Bubo and his Tío to come this morning for breakfast. They would need to accompany Mira to register Tuli for school. That, and Gus needed to speak with them about the shoe shop. Julieta was not really concerned that they would reject living there, but she knew those townsfolk that were aware of the house's history would, of course, comment. Hopefully, no one in town would do more than whisper about the fact that Jorge died there, and that the place was haunted. Pepa being so in tune with the weather, always said there was a cold spot.

Julieta paused in her work when Casita shifted a few tiles. She listened as the house relayed that Mira was with her Abuela. Dolores had been alerted to Abuela’s heart beating very quickly and had already contacted the Doctor. Isa came into the kitchen with Agustín, and Julieta waved her over to her. Her hair was in mild disarray, and her outfit was as mismatched as she’d seen of late, and this amused Julieta. Gus didn’t stop after giving her a peck on the cheek, instead he continued out onto the patio to mediate a disagreement that had broken out between the children.

“What can I help you with, Mamá?” Isa asked.

“I need to meet the Doctor, he’s on his way here. Your Abuela is not feeling well this morning. Could you please finish up breakfast for me?” Julieta asked her oldest. Isa appeared a little taken aback but nodded as she took the wooden spatula from her. “Thank you, mija,” Julieta said and gave Isa a quick squeeze before she headed for the front door. She hadn’t told Isa about Bubo and his Tío coming for breakfast, and Julieta noted that her daughter had only barely brushed her hair. As part of her bid to be imperfect, her once perfect daughter had come down for breakfast in the most interesting outfits since the breaking. Less so since they’d moved back into Casita. Something about this house, she supposed.

Doris and Inez would be coming after breakfast to register Lucia and Sophia. Both girls had been out of school for almost two months because of the strife Colombia was currently experiencing. Inez, though softer spoken than Doris, was very keen to get them back into school, even if it was only for the time being. Julieta glanced over at the tree Mirabel had left the house to look at last night. It was a mighty oak, that was for sure. Her thoughts were interrupted when Dolores began to provide her with a little more information as she picked up her pace toward the town. She pulled up short when the Doctor appeared around a corner. He looked a little disheveled, and Julieta wondered if they’d inadvertently pulled the Doctor from his bed. She immediately tried to apologize, but the Doctor waved her off, and together the pair headed back toward Casita.

“So, tell me, has your mother had any other episodes?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Julieta replied.

He nodded and asked, “And the child?”

“Still having nightmares, but I believe she slept better.”

Again the Doctor nodded. They reached Casita and the Doctor paused, seeing a set of stairs in the middle of the courtyard. He took it in stride as Julieta nudged him forward, and Casita opened Mirabel’s door as they reached the top. They entered her mother’s room to find Alma laying on her side, yawning but not sleeping, and Mirabel pacing near the window. Julieta collected her daughter, and together they left the room as the Doctor began his examination. She pulled the door most of the way closed and guided Mira to the sofa. After they both sat in silence for a bit, Mirabel asked, “Is Abuela going to be okay?”

Julieta glanced over at Mira’s door and said, “I believe so.”

“I mean, is her health okay… really?”

Julieta paused, trying to decide how much she should tell her daughter. Mirabel’s apparent ‘destiny’ as someday matriarch still made Julieta a little nervous. Almost grown was not the same as all the way grown. Still, it was probably better for her to know than to not know, so she replied, “Since her illness, your Abuela has been having trouble with her heart.” Mirabel’s change of expression made Julieta think, Mira was blaming herself, so asked, “What were you two talking about?”

Mirabel sighed as she rubbed her hands on her skirt. “Well… ” she started, then went silent as she stared at her lap.

Julieta put an arm around Mirabel and asked, “Were you telling her about your little adventure last night?”

Mirabel let out a small groan in response, but Julieta noted that Mira only nodded. She didn’t hunch in on herself or attempt to make excuses. Julieta gave her a squeeze and said, “Your Tío told me about it. I’m glad you see how foolish that was.”

“I’m sorry, Mamá. I didn’t mean to frighten Abuela. I know I didn’t think that through. I just wanted to let her know about what happened before someone told her a more embellished version,” Mirabel said with a shrug.

“By someone, did you mean your sister?”

Mira snorted and said, “Maybe?”

Julieta let out a chuckle. Mirabel’s propensity for ratting her sister out when she was younger was something Isabela had held a grudge about for a long time, even after Mira grew out of that stage. “Did she say something or shout at you yesterday?”

“No, actually. She hugged me and asked if I was okay.”

“Maybe, Mira, you need to let go of who your sister was so you can help her be who she is.”

“Yeah, I see that now. Just so different. Thanks, Mamá. Guess I really do need to grow up a little more.”

Julieta nodded, even though it hurt her heart to admit her last baby really was no longer a child. “Now go help your sister with breakfast while I talk to your Abuela and the Doctor.”

“What’s Luisa making?”

“Isa is handling breakfast.”

Mirabel let out a giggle snort as they stood up. “This ought to be interesting,” Mirabel said and was out the door. Julieta turned back to her mother’s room as the Doctor came out and beckoned to her. Her mother was now sitting up in bed, fussing with her blanket. The Doctor indicated Julieta should sit on the bed as he pulled up the only chair. Her mother took her hand as the Doctor began, “To start, I am not a heart specialist, just a general practitioner, but what you experienced, Doña Alma, is called tachycardia. An excessively rapid heartbeat. I am glad that it’s resolved itself quickly, and you're back to a normal rhythm. Your blood pressure is a little elevated, so I’m going to ask you to take it easy for today.” Her mother just nodded, and the Doctor said quietly, “I know how frustrating this must be for you, but there is some consolation. The murmur that was present previously is much less prominent. To me, that suggests that you are improving, but as we discussed, it is important you let your children know if something like this happens again.”

Her mother nodded again and said, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re most welcome, Doña Alma. I’ll check on you later when I come by to speak with the child if that is acceptable.” Her mother, again, nodded, so he rose and put his equipment back in his bag. Julieta joined him as he headed toward the door. He exited, and Julieta sighed when she turned back. Her mother appeared to have only waited until the Doctor was through the door before she’d thrown off her blanket. She was quickly up and out of bed as she took off her robe and cast it toward the chair. Casita caught it in a basket and Julieta just sighed and said, “Oi, Mamá, at least let me help you.” Her mother only hurumphed as Julieta helped her out of her nightgown.

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

Isabela finished making the arepas her mother had started and moved on to carefully peeling eggs while the beans and rice were warming. She never liked this chore, so when Mirabel came into the kitchen asking if she could help, she took her sister up on the offer to take over. Isa thanked her as she dried her overly wrinkled hands and handed her an apron. Mirabel got to work, humming to herself as she peeled. Working quickly, she made Isa a tad bit jealous since the eggs looked ten times better than her efforts. Isa moved back to the stove and stirred the pot of last night’s beans and rice, as Luisa came into the kitchen. She seemed aghast to find Isa cooking and asked, “Where is Mamá?”

Her tone was almost horrified, and Isabela frowned at her sister as she felt the petunias sprout. Isa let the flowers fall apart. She knew they were petunias since her sister returned the frown. Luisa knew she never liked those flowers – always so finicky, and she dreaded any order that requested she make them. But before she could answer, Mirabel said, “She’s with Abuela and the Doctor upstairs.”

“Is something wrong with Abuela?” Luisa asked.

Mirabel looked startled as she realized then that the question hadn’t been for her and cleared her throat before she replied, “Casita told me Dolores called the Doctor because she said Abuela’s heart was beating really fast.”

“But she’s alright?” Luisa asked.

“Mamá seemed to think so,” Mirabel said as she focused on the egg in her hands. If Isa didn’t know better, her hermanita was blushing. Which meant she was either straight-up lying or wasn’t telling them everything, and why would Casita need to tell her that? Dolores would have had to call the Doctor on the map in her room. She didn’t get to ask, since Dolores walked into the kitchen then with her mother. Both stopped as the three sisters were now staring as a cloud formed over Tía Pepa’s head as Antonio ran into the kitchen and wrapped her legs up in a giggly hug. Their Tía’s cloud evaporated, and she knelt down and thoroughly kissed his face.

She stood and Dolores leaned in and said something that made Tía’s cloud return, and she caught Antonio’s collar as he tried to sidle away with an anxious look. Isa had no idea what was happening but just then her father came in off the patio carrying Tuli who had her head buried into his shoulder. Given that Tuli was not a fan of men in general, everyone’s attention went back to Antonio. He took a quick step behind his mother as her cloud became a small thunderhead. Tío Félix came in and took one look at his wife’s cloud, raised an eyebrow as he noted his wife’s grip on their son’s collar. With almost a sigh, he motioned to Antonio. Tía Pepa released him, and together the trio left for the courtyard.

Camilo came into the kitchen from the opposite side with a box of books that he set near the door. He was wearing his new clothes since he would be testing at the school to see if he got the apprenticeship. He looked up and noticed everyone standing around, not doing anything, and asked, “So what’s going on?”

Isa started and realized the beans and rice were burning. Mira resumed her egg peeling with vigor, and Luisa moved over to help her. Dolores did not answer her brother's question either. She instead picked up the stack of plates and headed for the patio without saying anything. Her father watched all this as he set Tuli down and said softly, “It’ll be alright, Tuli.” He then motioned to Camilo, who gave them all a look then followed their father out onto the patio.

Tuli remained where their father put her, hands scrunched up in the folds of her skirt. Mirabel dried her hands, then went over and coaxed Tuli onto the nearest chair and asked, “You okay, Tuli?” Tuli responded with the barest of nods. What did he do? Isa wondered. Her thoughts were again interrupted when the front doorbell rang. She handed off her spoon to Luisa and went to see who it was, ringing the bell at this hour of the day. She had no fond memories of the people who would turn up at all hours. Just because they wanted something that only one of the Madrigal Gifts would provide. This thought left her mildly irritated, so as the door swung open, she was ready to dress down whoever was there. Isa froze, seeing Bubo there with his Tío and felt the roses sprout in her hair. Bubo's initial look of surprise changed, as he smiled and said, “Buenos Días, Isabela.”

She immediately blushed and though the greeting was echoed by his Tío José, Isa was a bit stunned by the fact that they were standing there and jumped a little when her Tío Bruno put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Buenos Días, Señors. Please come in.”

Completely mortified, Isabela’s blush deepened, and her embarrassment was worsened when Bubo’s Tío nudged him and tilted his head in question. Isa let out some nervous laughter as she silently thanked the heavens her Tío had appeared and said, “Yes, Señors. Please come in.”

They did, and Isa noticed then that her Tío Bruno was not wearing his ruana, nor did he appear to have any rats with him. His hair was neatly combed, and he was smiling. What the hell was going on? It was odd enough that it made her a little more nervous. Before the breaking, something like this would never have broken her composure. A few unusually random thoughts popped into her head as the pair moved past her into the courtyard. She didn’t get much of a chance to contemplate those thoughts either, as her mother appeared. She had a small smile on her face and Isabela absently smoothed her clothes and thought, ‘Oh good God, I’m still wearing this stupid apron’ her mother glanced down at her feet, and Isa had a second realization... she was wearing her pink fuzzy slippers. She closed her eyes as her mother’s smile broadened. She patted her daughter's cheek, then she and her Tío guided their breakfast guests to the patio.

Isa’s shoulders drooped as she watched them go and thought, ‘Well, so much for appearances.’ There was no way her Mamá didn’t know Bubo and his Tío were coming for breakfast. She could have at least told her. She sighed. That was probably the furthest thing from her mother's mind with Abuela not feeling well. Isabela decided to head to her room to change, but stopped when she saw her Abuela coming out into the courtyard. Isa noticed that she looked a little tired, and her steps seemed just a little slower than usual... If what Mira said was true, then Abuela might need some help, so Isa went over and asked as she held out her hand, “Good Morning, Abuela. Mind a little company on that long walk to the patio?”

“Thank you, Isabela,” was all she said as she took Isa’s hand. Isabela noted her Abuela’s hand was cold. What was her mother thinking, letting Abuela wander around by herself when it was obvious she wasn’t feeling well? Isa paused in her thoughts. Less than a week ago, she would have simply gone another way to her room to avoid Abuela altogether. She actually felt a little guilty about that, but at the same time, still felt some of that anger, though it was very muted now. Being the first grandchild, she’d always had a bit more responsibility. A bit more of Abuela’s time and attention. She didn’t miss the attention to detail, but more the companionship. None of which she actually hated. Well, until the end, but Isa had to admit, even then, she'd enjoyed herself to a small extent. She didn’t want to get Mirabel into any trouble with Abuela, though she toyed with telling her Abuela about her and Mira’s run in with Señor Rodriguez. In the end, she decided she’d let her mother handle that. Chances were good that if Tío Bruno knew, then her mother and Tía Pepa did as well. No one asked her about it, but someone would have told her Abuela about it by now.

After the breaking, Isa found that certain people she’d thought of as friends treated her differently once she was bereft of her Gift. Worst of all were the ones that blamed Mirabel and would say the most hurtful things. It was, at that point, she realized that she’d once thought similar things about her sister. Eventually, most of those folks fell away whenever Isa would defend her sister and she decided, they were not the people she thought they were.

This was when Isabela found herself shifting blame to her Abuela. She’d also begun to avoid her, much to her mother’s dismay. More than once, her Mamá dropped a few 'suggestions' that Isa chose to ignore. Even her Abuela Valentina, who had no lost affection for Alma Madrigal noted, that even with everything that had happened, it was clear Isabela missed her Abuela Alma and should go visit. Instead, Isa let her anger fester. She also didn’t want to burden anyone with her dark thoughts while they worked to rebuild Casita. That and she felt like she’d already caused a lot of unnecessary pain for a certain other person in her family. It was why she’d started cutting herself. She wanted to mar that perfection her Abuela valued so much. Just little cuts to start. Never where it could be seen, never more than a few millimeters, and always perfectly straight lines. As she thought about that, she felt the vine sleeve begin its march down her arm.

That was something she never expected when the magic revived. The first time it happened, it startled her, but it had afforded her some relief by taking her mind off that anger she still stubbornly clung to. Even now, she was unsure if Abuela actually did approve of the new ways she’d been using her Gift, and there was no way she would have missed Isa’s interest in Bubo Márquez. She knew that Bubo had already met her Abuela, and she did genuinely seem to like him, so why was she so nervous about that then?

Her thoughts were interrupted when her Abuela asked as she pointed, “Isa, where did you get those shoes? Are they something new?”

Isa’s heart sank as her vine sleeve sprouted a thorn and gave her a poke. Stupid slippers, she thought, and she said a little nervously, “Yeah, ummm, they’re not actually shoes… I got them from my friend Juanita. She’s one of the newcomers from a year ago. She gave them to me after I helped her and her husband revive some of the cassava cuttings she brought with her...” Isabela realized she was talking too quickly so took a breath and said in a more normal tone, “I was just going to get something more appropriate… ”

“Can I get a pair?” Abuela asked.

“Wait, what?” Isabela replied.

“Do you think I could get a pair? Those look very comfortable.”

“Ummm, yeah, they are, but not very practical. Great for in the house though,” Isa said and smiled a little as she wiggled her toes. She needed to stop overthinking things. “You know, I may be able to get a hold of another pair. They may not be pink like these, but maybe I can trade for them. Would you like me to see if I can find some?”

Her Abuela smiled as she nodded. They reached the kitchen and Isa paused long enough to take off that apron before she followed her Abuela to the patio. Isa stopped in the doorway as everyone said good morning. Tía Pepa had already made a plate for Abuela, so Isa guided her to her seat. She got herself a plate and turned to find Luisa smiling as she looked knowingly at the empty seat next to her. Bubo was on the other side and Tuli was between him and their Tío. Luisa elbowed her as she sat down, then winked. Bubo hadn’t noticed she was sitting there yet; he was speaking quietly to Tuli who did not appear to be listening. Instead, she was staring somewhat blankly across the table at Antonio, holding her fork but not eating. Her primo usually sat with Mirabel and would talk non-stop, but not today. Today, he was sitting, looking angry between his parents, eating but not talking to anyone. Come to think of it, she didn't see any of Antonio's usual entourage. Except Parce, he was lying in the sun, near the gate. Now she was really curious. Was it Antonio, or did Tuli say or do something? What were those two arguing about that it required her father to go out and break it up? Isa was mulling this over, pushing her food around with her fork, when Bubo asked, “Isabela, do you have any plans for today?”

“I have some requests I'll be working on this morning.”

“Requests? Oh, right. Are they for some occasion?”

“At least one is. That’s for an upcoming wedding, the next is actually for a friend, then after lunch, I get to examine some sickly turnips and the last... I'm not exactly sure. Señor Sanchez is requesting a plant I'm not familiar with, but he says he has a book with a picture and a description so-”

“Wait, Isabela, you said that before. Do you remember all the plants you create?”

“Yes,” she replied and smiled because he’d said her name with that peculiar accent.

“Have you always been able to do that?”

Isabela's smile broadened as she nodded.

“How?”

“I’m not sure, really… It’s more the feeling I get when making them. It’s unique to each, but related plants do feel similar, like they’re family. That sounds weird, doesn’t it.”

“Not at all. Insects are much the same, they tend to look similar if they are from the same order. I believe plant groups are referred to as a genus.”

His acceptance of the small things she could do was still so surprising to her. It really wasn't that big a thing. The first time she did it, she spent days recreating flowers and plants from a book of herbs her mother had. Once she learned the names, she could make them anytime she wanted to. She only started doing it on the down low since she was thirteen. That was when she'd begun her training to be Señorita Perfecta. Her vine sleeve, that was thankfully hidden under her shirt, poked her a little deeper than usual and Isa had to take a moment to make it retract. This caused her to close her eyes as she clenched her teeth. She was no longer smiling and Bubo, eyebrows raised, was probably thinking he’d said something wrong. He cleared his throat and picked up his coffee then after a drink, he turned his attention to Tuli. He spoke to her softly. Isa noticed their Tío José was watching her and felt herself blush as she too, picked up her cup, hiding her face. His expression was unreadable, but she still felt like he was summing her up.

As far as she knew, Bubo probably didn't know much about any of the things that happened before the breaking, but was already aware it was a subject she avoided. Isa knew she would have to tell him about it. That all by itself seemed like an almost insurmountable task. While she didn’t want him to think less of her Abuela or her family, she also didn’t want those thorns stabbing her every time her thoughts wandered in that direction. She wondered then what he'd heard from the villagers, Mariano especially. Sometimes it felt like the ghost of Señorita Perfecta was something she’d probably never get rid of, but damned if she wasn’t going to try.

Tuli, she noticed, was now eating some of her breakfast. Bubo was again drinking his coffee, and Isa decided she needed to make him understand he was not the cause of her frown. She did not want him leaving thinking she was angry with him, so to change that, she touched his arm and asked, “So, Bubo, what will you be doing today?”

He set his cup down and said, “Since Tuli will be remaining here, my Tío and I will be registering her for school, and your father wants us to look at a small house that Tuli and I may be able to use.”

“Oh, I wonder which house it is.”

“I’m not sure, but he said it is near the school.”

Isa pondered that, but just then a dog could be heard barking near the gate. More people? Then she remembered Doris and her brood. Those girls of hers were going to be attending school while they were in the Encanto. Tuli heard the dog and leaned forward a little to look past her Tío toward the gate. Isa remembered Doris’s reaction to her Tía telling Doris that Tuli was actually a girl and Dolores mentioned She’d called her mother a witch, just because she healed her. Tuli was back to staring at Antonio and Isa asked, “Tuli, I bet you're excited about your first day at school, yes?”

Tuli nodded, but had a hold of her locket again. Her Tío leaned in and said something that made Tuli nod then as she let her hand drop to her lap. Since breakfast was over for the most part, the family began getting up from the table. Today was Luisa's dish day, so Isa got up and said, “Well, good luck, Bubo. Maybe we can have lunch in town later and Tuli,” Isa paused until Tuli looked up at her. “I'll see you after school?” Tuli smiled a little, nodded, then got up from her seat and promptly disappeared. Bubo watched her go, then asked, “Did something happen? She seemed so withdrawn.”

“I’m not sure exactly what took place, but she did have some sort of disagreement with Antonio this morning.”

Bubo nodded and looked over at her primo who still sat frowning between his parents, “Okay, well, thanks for telling me. Where should I find you for lunch?”

Isa grinned and said, “Near the oak in the plaza?”

He nodded then said, “I’ll see you then, Isabela,” and moved away with his Tío over near Isa’s mother, who was talking to Doris and Inez.

Isa crinkled her nose when the dog came around the corner, spotted Parce and started furiously barking. Antonio, who had been released by his parents, went over to the dog and said quietly, “Bruno,” the dog went silent and sat back on his haunches waiting, “You’re safe here. Parce’s not going to eat you or your people. He says you’re all far too stringy.” The dog let out what sounded like a whine of relief, then laid down at Doris’s feet. Doris looked at the dog, then smiled at Antonio and thanked him. Antonio smiled and nodded as he called to Parce. The jaguar came over, Toni climbed up, and the pair left the patio, Isa assumed, so he could get his school bag.

She went inside and up to her room to get ready for her appointment with Señora Martinez. Her youngest daughter's wedding was to happen in a few weeks, so she was itching to get the flower arrangements decided. Isa was happy to visit with Juanita. Her baby would be coming any day, and Isa really liked the farmer’s wife. She was easy to talk to and knew so much about farming and the outside world. After lunch, she would be meeting up with Luisa to see Señor Ortiz. One so Luisa could visit with the donkeys, and two to check on the turnips Señor Ortiz was growing to feed them. He was worried it was a bug infestation. Hopefully, none of that would take too long. She was actually more interested in getting to Señor Sanchez’s home. He’d never asked her to create anything in the past, and the plant he’d asked for sounded intriguing. The name itself was exotic enough to get her interested. Bonsai. She had no idea what sort of plant that could be. After she changed into something more appropriate for her first meeting, she headed out the door toward town.

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

Mirabel watched Tuli pick at her breakfast. Tío Bruno, who was sitting beside Mira, was becoming increasingly fidgety but was trying to act ‘normal’. Well, as normal as he could be. Tuli had said nothing about what happened on the patio prior. Mira also did not get a chance to speak to Bubo. Tuli did appear happy to see her cousin and didn’t shy away from her Tío when they came. She even got up and went over to greet them. Once breakfast was underway though, Tuli caught sight of Antonio, then she barely touched her food. Tuli’s Tío noticed where she was looking and seemed concerned that she was not actually eating. He motioned over her head to Bubo. After a moment, Bubo said something to Tuli very softly. Tuli glanced up at him, then in her Tío's direction. When she started to eat again, she didn’t look like she was enjoying it. Whatever had happened between her and Antonio, had left her very sad.

While it was unlike her primo to be unkind on purpose, his blunt honesty could be painful if you weren’t used to such things. She decided not to ask Dolores, since it was clear Tía Pepa and Tío Félix had already talked to Antonio about it. She was not the boss of anyone, and it was probably why her Mamá asked her not to listen in on private conversations. Mira still felt a little guilty about that, and it was what prompted her to ask Casita to promise not to tell her all the random things her family did. If she really needed to know, she could always ask the actual people involved. When she thought about it, they might not tell her anything. She was determined to try because she was sure she could help if she knew what the problem was… maybe.

She noticed, when Isa was talking to Bubo, she quite suddenly gritted her teeth and closed her eyes for a long moment. Mirabel wondered why she was doing that but remembered that Isa had taken to longer sleeve shirts after the breaking. Probably to hide the thin line of cuts on her upper arm. Now, with those vine sleeves sprouting when Isa was upset, it made Mirabel wondered if that was what caused her sister to grit her teeth just now. Bubo noticed Isa’s change of expression as well and was now sipping his coffee. To her credit, Isa restarted her conversation with Bubo. Just like her, her sister was still dealing with the remnants of their past.

Mirabel refocused on her breakfast and was lost in thought. She started slightly when her Abuela touched her hand. She hadn’t noticed her sitting down and realized Tío Bruno had left. Her Abuela leaned in and said softly, “Mira, thank you for telling me about your encounter with Señor Rodriguez. It is important everyone knows to be wary of that one.”

Mirabel nodded, but was again, feeling really embarrassed and said, “I’m so sorry Abuela, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I will say the same. I believe your mother explained?” Abuela asked. Mirabel nodded and Abuela continued, “Good. I actually planned to make a sort of general announcement this morning, but I had forgotten we were having guests. So that can wait until supper. I am not needed in town today, so I think I will rest until noon.”

“Oh? Is there something happening at noon?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

It was a mild rebuff, and very reminiscent of past treatment, but Mirabel accepted it because she really did have a lot going on today. When she was younger, her Abuela would dismiss her, turn away and expect her to leave. These days, her Abuela kept her hand over Mira’s and gave it a little squeeze. Mirabel relaxed a little, though she realized that even though her Abuela had changed so much, she still needed to remind herself that things were different now and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you this morning, Abuela?”

“No, you already have your hands full helping with Tuli and aren’t you working on some costumes for Camilo?”

“Yeah, I really do need to check in with the twins. I’m also stopping by Abuelo Joseph’s shop to work on some things while Tuli is in school.”

Her Abuela smiled and said as she gave her hand another squeeze, “You see, you already have much to accomplish this morning. Don’t forget to take a break, Mira. I know how focused you can be.”

Mirabel nodded again and couldn’t help but smile. So different… “I won’t, Abuela.” Mirabel said as she got up and collected both her and her Tío’s dishes. She went into the kitchen and set the plates on the counter for Luisa, then walked out into the courtyard. She noticed Tuli was standing near the front door that was slightly ajar. Her expression was tense as she watched the folks gathered on the other side. Mirabel went over and put a hand on her shoulder and said, “You look worried.”

Tuli only nodded. Mirabel could see she was watching Doris and Inez, who were off to one side with their two older girls. Both were dressed in some of the clothing they’d received when they arrived that was not too dissimilar to what Tuli was wearing. Luisa had braided Tuli’s hair into two pigtails, tied off with yellow ribbons. Antonio had selected a light yellow shirt that he paired with a pale green skirt decorated with similarly colored yellow ribbon. Tuli was still watching the others when Doris looked around. Tuli ducked back so as not to be seen and since Doris did not seem to find what she was looking for; she returned her attention to Tuli’s Tío who was speaking to her.

Tuli looked up at Mirabel and said, “Do you think Tía Doris is mad at me? I feel like she’s mad at me.”

“For what?”

“Being a girl.”

“That seems an odd thing to be mad about, and she did take you in when you were on the mountain.”

“I know, but I was Fernando then... ”, Tuli faltered, then grabbed her locket.

Mirabel knelt in front of Tuli as she turned her to face her. She took her hands and said, “That’s true, but your circumstances were different. Plus, you haven’t talked to her since you left them, and you don’t know how she feels about it,” Mirabel said with a shrug, “It was probably a surprise to her as well. Sometimes folks just need a little time to think about stuff, and besides, you shouldn’t let that stop you from being who you are.”

Tuli’s worried expression faded, and a more determined one took its place as she nodded. Mirabel got up and Tuli said in a rush, “Do you know where Toni is? I need to talk to him. I thought I would see him before he left… I need to apologize... I said something awful this morning and... ”

“Hey, hey, Tuli, he’s probably already on his way to school, so you’ll have to do that later.”

“Okay, but if you see him before, could you please tell him for me?”

“Apologies are best done in person by the person, Tuli,” Mirabel said as she tapped the door, which Casita opened. “School starts in less than an hour, and I’m sure Bubo and your Tío are starting to wonder where you are. You don’t want to be late on your first day, and we have to get you registered this morning.”

“Yes,” Tuli said as she smoothed her skirt, “I’m staying, so I need to do this right.”

Mirabel stood up and held out her hand. Tuli took it, and together they went through the front door. They were met on the other side by Bubo, his Tío, her Mamá and Papá. Only Inez was there with Lucia and Sofia. Doris was gone, and so were the boys and the dog. The group started toward town and after a short while Tuli had taken a hold of Mirabel’s arm but released it when Bubo gently touched her shoulder and offered her his hand. She took it, and Mirabel could see she was trying to walk without looking like she wanted to grab hold of his arm.

Her mother was speaking with Inez, while her father was answering questions about the Encanto as he walked with Tuli’s Tío. Well ahead of them were Camilo and Toni. Antonio was speaking animatedly to his friends. Camilo was carrying the box of books he’d been studying, probably listening to his brother's conversation. Her group wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said and weirdly, Parce was not with them, so Mira wondered where the jaguar was.

Camilo happened to look back and saw her. He did not pause but raised one finger on his left hand then tapped the box. Mirabel automatically responded to this by pushing her hair behind her left ear. Camilo smiled a little and returned his attention to his brother. Camilo wanted to tell her something important, but didn’t want anyone else to know about it, meaning his sister Dolores. This was just one of the weird little hand signs they’d come up with over the years when they were planning some shenanigan.

Mirabel looked over and saw Tuli talking to Bubo. She had visibly relaxed and though she still had a death grip on his hand, she was not as tense as when they’d left Casita. They really were more like brother and sister than cousins. Tuli even asked him if he was going to go on another date with Isabela. To which Bubo did not respond. Tuli’s Tío was paying attention, but trying not to be obvious that he was. Mirabel watched him a little longer. Tuli's description of him made her think he was an oft angry sort, but he'd been nothing but polite since she met him. The way he was watching Tuli made her think he was trying to get to know this 'new' Tuli.

Her thoughts were interrupted when one of the girls with Inez came over and Tuli’s expression turned to one of concern as the other said, “Hola Tuli!”

“Hola, Lucia,” Tuli responded. The other girl with Inez drifted over and said hello as well. Tuli’s look of concern increased as she replied, “Hola, Sofia.”

“Is it alright if we walk with you?” Lucia asked. Tuli blinked but nodded, and Lucia smiled and said, “I really like the color of that skirt better than the one you were wearing yesterday.”

Tuli blushed and smiled a little and said, “Thanks.”

Lucia’s reddish blonde wiry hair was tied in a multitude of long thin braids with colorful wooden beads at the ends. The lot of them were pulled into a ponytail with some orange ribbon that matched her skirt. Sofia's skirt was a bright red and her black hair was separated into two braids, tied off with red ribbon. Lucia looked a little nervous as they got closer to the center of the town and asked Tuli, “There are so many people here. I know you’ve only been here a couple of days, but do you know any of them?”

Tuli’s expression relaxed a little more, and she said, “Some of Toni’s friends but mostly just the Madrigals.”

“Are they Madrigals?” Sofia asked, pointing at Bubo and her Tío. Her Tío was now talking to Mira’s parents as the group came to a short halt when they reached the plaza. In the distance, a bell rang.

First bell, half an hour to go.

“This is, Bubo,” Tuli said as she pointed up. He nodded to them as Tuli started to add, “the other is-”

“Is he part of your family?” Sofia interrupted as she grabbed Tuli’s arm. Tuli only got the chance to nod as Sofia said, “You’re so lucky, Tuli. I wish I could see my family, but they are so far away. We at least have Tía Inni and Doris. They said it’s gonna take a whole nother couple of months to get to Cartagena from here. It just seems so far away, and I’m so tired of walking. Someday though,” Sofia said wistfully. They walked along in silence for a bit until Lucia elbowed Sofia. Both girls moved a little closer, and Sofia leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Tía said why you were a boy before.”

Tuli stopped abruptly and Bubo, having heard that, paused but after looking at Tuli seemed to decide to give her a little space, so he released her hand and continued on. Mirabel only stopped because Tuli touched her arm as she passed her. “You okay?” Mirabel asked.

Tuli nodded, but she looked frightened and had hold of her locket. Tuli’s expression made Mirabel think she was going to bolt. Tuli glanced up at Mirabel, took a deep breath, then hesitantly released the locket and only started walking again because Lucia and Sofia pulled her along. They ignored Mirabel as they walked on either side of Tuli and with their heads close to hers, Sofia said, “Last night, before bed, Tía Doris said it was always obvious that you were a girl.”

Lucia nodded and Tuli asked, “What? Tía Doris told you that?”

The girls didn’t let her stop when she hesitated again. Lucia leaned in and said with a look back at Inez, “Actually, we were kind of in another room, but that doesn’t matter. What she said is true.”

And Sofia added, “We just want you to know. We talked about it last night, we’re not going to tell anyone you used to be a boy.”

Again, Tuli stopped, and Lucia said quite matter-of-factly as she pulled her along, “Why are you stopping, we’ll be late, besides you were terrible at it anyway.”

“The brothers agree,” Sofia added.

The brothers… Mira decided that must be the boys who were traveling with them. She also realized she didn’t know any of their names. She wondered if they were triplets. They were all about the same size and looked very similar. Mirabel looked over at Inez, who was walking a short way behind with her Mamá. She likely could clearly hear everything that was being said. She smiled and looked away when Sofia looked back at her. Mirabel was starting to think that overheard conversation was a planned thing. She’d only spoken with Doris very briefly, and at the time Mirabel had assumed she was not at all happy that Tuli was a girl. Mirabel was glad she was wrong in her assumptions, but that only emphasized to her to not judge other’s intentions. Mira thought then of that vision tablet of an angry Doris and the kids she had behind her. Was Tuli one of them? Mirabel determined she was going to need to look at it again, knowing what she knew now.

“But...” Tuli started to say.

“But nothing, Tuli. You’re the only reason we made it here, and we finally get to go back to school and,” Lucia said lowering her voice as she poked Tuli for emphasis, “you got away from that horrible smuggler all by yourself. I could never be that brave.”

“I didn’t do anything. The Madrigals did all that.”

Sofia and Lucia both rolled their eyes, “Not without you. If you hadn’t told Tía about that guardian tree, we never would have been able to find this place,” Sofia said with a grin.

Lucia nodded and said, “Yeah, we’d still be wandering around on the mountain, starving to death.”

Tuli had her hands knotted up in front of her, and Mira realized that’s what she looked like whenever she did that. Anxious and unsure of herself. No wonder, Isa and Luisa were constantly poking her.

“Thanks,” Tuli said, “But I still don’t think I did all that much. I just got really lucky.”

Sofia took one of her hands as Lucia waved her hands in front of herself to end that topic. “Even if you don’t see it, it’s true and enough about that,” she said then turned to Mirabel and asked, “You think since we’re all the same age, we’ll be in the same class together?”

Mirabel was not expecting to be included and said carefully, “Probably, it all depends on what the principal does. Though they’ve tried to keep the kids who arrive together and are the same age in the same class.”

Lucia nodded, and she skipped a little in front of them. Sofia pulled Tuli along, and it was clear Tuli was still trying to process everything the girls had said. Mirabel hoped these two would be staying for a while. Tuli needed friends her own age that she could trust. In the distance, another bell rang. Second bell, school would be starting in fifteen minutes. The adults that were keeping watch over the kids, who had been playing in the school yard, called out to them. Children scrambled to get their book bags and headed for the open front door.

Everyone, including Tuli started walking just a little quicker. Once inside, she noticed Camilo come out of Señor Gonzalez’s office. He was holding a small notebook as he headed down the opposite hall. Since he was walking into the school and not out, Mirabel hoped his testing went well.

Each of the girls was handed a small lunch basket, as they sat on a bench outside the principal's office while the others went in to complete some forms. The door was not closed, and Mirabel noted that Bubo was the one that completed the form for Tuli. His Tío would point at something, Bubo would listen then fill in whatever. Once done, his Tío simply looked it over, signed it and had Bubo do the same. Inez, they discovered, could neither read nor write, but did not hesitate to ask her mother for help with the form. As they went over it, Inez watched her mother a little nervously, but thanked her for this opportunity for her girls to go to school, free of charge. Did kids really have to pay to go to school on the outside?

Her mother also told Inez about the small class Esteffi Martinez ran for anyone who was beyond school age. She taught what she called readin, ritein and rithmatic and met in the evenings three times a week and there was also no charge for that. Tía Pepa often joined her mother-in-law in this and did not alter that schedule after the magic came back. She instead only worked with the weather during the morning hours. With the new irrigation system that had been put in place after the breaking, she only made sure the natural reservoir has sufficient water. Still, Mirabel wondered how many of the other newcomers had similar challenges.

Everyone who was in the Encanto before the breaking could at least read, write and do basic sums. Her Abuela had made it a priority that a school be established once the original refugees got past the surviving day to day thing. That was one of the things she genuinely admired about her Abuela. It was something Mirabel wanted to emulate. Her Abuela's ability to motivate others. Mirabel wanted to add to that her wish to bring about change when it was needed.

With everything turned in, Señor Gonzalez stepped into the hallway and gestured for the girls to follow him. After they disappeared around a corner, the rest of the group went back outside. Inez thanked her Mamá for her help and said she was looking forward to attending the evening class, then said goodbye to the group and headed back toward the house she and Doris shared. Her father, Bubo and his Tío also left.

Mirabel was trying to decide if she should go to the twin's house first, or Abuelo Joseph’s shop, when her mother touched her shoulder and said, “I’m glad that went well, Corazón. Thank you for helping with Tuli. I’ll see you after lunch, Mira. Will you be at the shop?”

“Yeah, but first I’m going to head over and talk to Bea and Bri. I need to thank them and see if there is anything they need me to do for those costumes for Camilo’s play.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later, mija.”

“Adios, Mamá,” Mira replied, and realized her mother had been talking to her like she was an adult all morning. While that felt a little weird, it was nice, but also made her a little anxious. She’d been expecting a right and proper scolding from her mother for leaving the house last night. That never happened. Mira also realized that she should have spoken with her mother before talking to her Abuela as she went over that conversation in her head. While she hadn’t known about her Abuela’s heart problems, she realized her motivation for doing it was selfish. Either way, she was feeling just a little more confident about her day, so when she turned and saw Mariano waiting nearby. Her Abuela and Tío’s admonition to not go out by herself settled in her head. Her mother had likely noticed him, and that was probably why she was okay leaving her here ‘alone’. Mirabel looked around, but no one seemed to be paying her any mind as Mariano came over and said, “Buenos Días, Mirabel. Dolores requested I be your personal escort for the morning.”

“Escort?”

Mariano leaned down and said in a low voice behind his hand, “She thought that would sound better than babysitter.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but giggle and said, “A little.”

“So, where are we headed, Señorita Madrigal,” Mariano asked as he straightened and held out his arm.

“To check on some costumes,” Mirabel replied, taking it, “and thanks for taking the time out of your day. I know this is a hassle.”

“Not at all, Mirabel. So it is to the Ramirez home then,” he said as they turned back toward the center of town.

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

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bloop-im-a-frog-now · 2 years ago

Text

If The Gods Were Kind — cave pt.1

Hello! Welcome to the first part of this massive fic I have been writing for the past 3 months. This was part of the @lifefanworkexch and I had a ton of fun writing this! The prompt (given by the lovely Jupiter, my secret soulmate) was Desert duo Hurt/Comfort in Third Life, following canon closely. This first batch focuses on me playing with Minecraft world-building and adding some headcanons about the life series, since I’m following canon. I just can’t help myself, following the content creators’ videos.

Enjoy!

Master Post

— —

Content warnings: graphic description of animal death and dissecting process, gore, graphic description of violence, description of tending injury done badly and blood.

If the stars were aligned, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess. If the universe had any pity for him (which he was certain it did for making him live this long), he would be sitting, looking at the sunset—looking at him. If the gods above wanted kindness, he shouldn’t remember what happened, shouldn’t remember a yearning that will never be fulfilled. A hole in his chest, forever empty, and an underlined anger, bubbling closer to the surface every day. Then, and only then, did the gods deserve his kindness.

He woke up in a clearing, full of colorful flowers. Some red, some yellow, but most were purple. He couldn’t name them all, even if he tried. He couldn’t remember how he got in this clearing. He couldn’t remember why he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and where all these scars in many shapes and forms came from. Actually, his mind was drawing on a blank when he tried to dig deep in his memories. The only certain thing he knew was his name.

Well, not really, but he did find a sort of communicator with a name engraved in the back.

GoodTimesWithScar.

He figured his name was Scar, if the engraved name indicated anything. The communicator itself was quite bland, a metallic shine to it. There was a keyboard, but he didn’t look at it for very long. The letters seemed to change shape every time he looked at it, and the back of his eyes ached. While the device wasn’t a box, it wasn’t thin either. He wondered how it fitted perfectly in his pockets.

The screen was black, making him search for a power button. How did he know he needed to find a power button was beyond him, but he needed to find one. He looked back at the keyboard and saw a button with a circle and a line cutting across half way. He pressed it. The screen became white, then gray.

There were two things written on the screen. “Punch a tree” and “You have no contacts”. First off, it took him an embarrassing amount of time to read those two things (not to mention the slight ache behind his eyes spreading to his temples), and second, he did not understand them. Punching a tree? Was that even possible? Scar looked around him, searching for trees, and saw some up on a hill. Might as well try.

As he climbed the hill, he was often losing his balance, almost falling every time. He kept looking at his hips, thinking maybe he was wearing something heavy, as his hips felt like they weren’t able to move to their complete capability, held back, but he was only wearing a belt with brown cargo pants. He had to take breaks, mostly to not fall over. When he arrived at the top, a wave of fatigue submerged him, and a sharp but short ache pierced his lower back. Scar stretched his back, hoping it would dim down, and was only left half satisfied. He slightly frowned, wondering what was up with his body.

He brought his focus back to the tree in front of him. He rolled his shoulders, glad he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary (though, how would he know what was normal and what was not), and started punching the brown tree’s bark. He felt incredibly stupid when punching the trunk, but after a couple of punches, a part of it disappeared.

Scar yelped when the wood vanished. Where did it go? He ignored how heavy his shoulders felt, and walked frantically around the tree to find the wood he’d been punching.

“C’mon, c’mon, where are you?” he singsonged, desperately looking, even tearing grass. Maybe it shrunk. Maybe it was still stuck on the tree.

Scar got up from his crouched position with great difficulty. He had to sit down on his butt, and try again to hoist himself up with the help of the trunk. He looked inside the hole he punched and couldn’t see any wood hanging around. He groaned.

He took his communicator out of his pocket. He really didn’t want to touch the thing often, but he had no choice. He opened it and saw that the first message on his communicator changed. Scar took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bracing himself to read. This first message read: “Punch a tree: Achieved”. Scar’s eyebrows shot up. Did he get the wood? Where would he find the wood he supposedly got?

His communicator buzzed, drawing his attention back to the text. While the letters were still jumbled, he recognized certain shapes of certain letters and was able to get “Taking Inventory”. Inventory? As in, having a secret pocket dimension on his person? How would he find that? He patted himself, hoping it would activate something, but he got nothing except a dull ache in his calves, heavy and trembling.

He looked around. He couldn’t rest, he needed to understand what was going on. Or, at least, have a basic understanding of how this world worked, not that he had any previous knowledge of its rules.

Then, something clicked. He instinctively searched in his inventory for the piece of wood he just punched. Scar sighed, relieved he wasn’t as hopeless as he thought he’d be. He put the wood in his hand, feeling the rough structure of the bark. He wondered if he could do anything with this. Why did his communicator feel it was necessary to indicate to him he needed to do that? He looked at the tree with a hole. What other treasures did this tree hide?

He continued his punching, even punching the leafs to find some sticks, saplings and rarely, some apples. Scar looked back to the clearing. He went deeper into the forest than he originally thought. He should probably head back, who knows what this world would be beyond it. His eyes squinted when he saw a flash of blue, deeper than the color of the sky.

He went back to the clearing, wanting to know what this flash of blue was. He tried to step down, but immediately lost his balance. He grunted, a dull ache on his butt blossomed. He had to figure out how to go down the valley, into the clearing without losing some of his gait and feeling like his legs were gonna give out. Scar sat on the hill and started slowly sledding down. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was better than falling and rolling without any control.

When his butt reached a flat surface, he used the hill to hoist himself on his feet. He limped his way to the flash of blue, who has grown more prominent and frequent. His eyes fell on a little pond close to it, but he turned his attention back in front of him. It was a transparent wall, oscillations of blue and white moved in tandem. He could see the other side of the wall, a whole landscape before him. He was stuck inside a world. Whatever put him here didn’t want him to go very far.

He huffed and decided to check his inventory out of curiosity and boredom. In it, he saw crafting recipes. This might be useful, he could craft something to protect himself or even something to sleep on. His legs were wobbly underneath him, and he noticed a cliffside, filled with coal and different types of stone. He could maybe settle close to it before he went to explore the world. He circled the pond and sat close to the cliff, his back to the rock. He shimmed into a more comfortable sitting position and looked at the crafting recipes.

As Scar tried to craft something to protect himself, his communicator buzzed in his pocket. He stopped his crafting—which was growing less fruitful than he hoped it’d be—and looked at the screen. A key word he could decipher was “crafting table”, and the feeling of foolishness came crawling back, realizing what he needed to do. He went back to his crafting, this time making planks with the wood he collected. It was easier to manipulate planks than the trunk of a tree. With the planks, he used some of it to make the crafting table.

Scar placed it right beside him and swiveled to face the cliff. One of the recipes he looked at said he needed charcoal for torches. He figured torches were important, especially to see in the dark. He stood up, using the grip of the rock to help him, and feeling a soreness in his shoulders. After rolling them back, he made the necessary tools to survive, with the help of the crafting table and crafting recipes: a sword, an ax, and a pickaxe. He mined the coal and some stone. Could he use the stone to make better tools?

He heard an oink behind him. He turned around swiftly, and inhaled sharply. It was only a family of pigs. He sighed of relief and glanced at his stone ax, then back at the pigs. He slowly approached them, ready to swing. His calves spasmed and made him wince, forcing him to stop and wait for it to pass before swinging his ax to the animals.

“Aaaaand, gotcha,” he said as his ax cut one of the pigs’ heads off. The other two squealed and ran away from him. “Oh no, you won’t you little—” he chased them and raised his ax to chop one of their heads, “—rapscallion.”

One of them managed to escape while the other’s head was rolling on the grass, almost landing in the little pond. As he bent down to grab the head, Scar saw a mop of brown hair reflected in the water. He fell to his knees when he couldn’t stay in his crouched position, and decided to look at his reflection as he waited for the ache and the soreness that took over his lower body to pass.

He carded his short brown hair with his hand, fluorescent green eyes darting around his face. His hand went down to brush the jagged scar that ran from his temple to his jaw and traced the one on his nose to his cheekbone, surprised he didn’t feel any pinching sensation while he was talking to himself. His skin was sun-kissed, his arms were quite muscular, he had broad shoulders and quite a large form. Not to mention the beginnings of well-toned abs. He wondered what he did in his other life to end up in a shape like this.

When he could get up, Scar took the bodies of the two beheaded pigs to the cliffside, and placed them on the ground close to the crafting table. He sat down and poked at the dead animals.

How could he make them edible? He snacked on the apples he found, feeling energized every time he ate one, even making his lower body feel weightless. He poked the skin of one of the dead pigs, wondering how he could make them edible while munching his apple. He wanted the meat of the pigs, so he had to find a way to have access to said meat.

He took his stone sword and cut the body of the pigs in half. His knees cracked when he crouched and almost fell, as if his hips could not hold him in this position. But nausea caught in his throat as coagulated blood ended up everywhere before he could focus on the instability of his hips.

His ankles were shaking, it was getting harder to keep his position, so he placed his knees on the ground, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing this awful process. He needed food, the apples weren’t going to last him long, and he’d need to find a shelter before the night came.

Scar took out the organs he could see. They were covered in blood, squishy in his hands. He swallowed the bile that threatened to come up. The pigs were quite big, he ate an apple in order to use the little energy he had to skin them and make them edible.

He turned the dead animals around while getting rid of the skin that protected them, placed the organs to the side, and got as much meat as he could from the bones.

He sat on his butt with a big sigh, taking a breather from the horrid smell and the vicious sight. It’s only when the sun had passed its zenith that he put the meat on the stone. His hands were bloody and his pants dirtied.

He groaned and tried to get up. Nothing moved except his arms, and even then, it was hard to get them to grasp the rocks on the cliff to help him stand up. The last apple he ate was probably a couple of hours ago, and no way he was gonna eat raw meat.

He tried a second time, his legs buckled underneath him, landing on his butt harshly. He needed to cook the chops he made. He looked at the recipes, chanting “c’mon” under his breath to find something that would help him cook the meat. His eyes landed on the word “Furnace”.

“A-ha! Furnace!” He grinned at his victory.

The description was exactly what he was looking for. He rolled his shoulders back to soothe the soreness and tenderness he felt, closed his eyes to dim the ache behind them, and brought his focus back on the recipe, mumbling the instructions to himself. He needed the stone he mined earlier and his crafting table.

Scar glanced at the crafting table beside him. It would be hard for him to use it while sitting down, but getting up wasn’t an option when he knew his legs would buckle underneath him and wouldn’t be able to hold his body weight. He tried getting on his knees to at least see what he was doing.

He used the cliff and the crafting bench to help him, and with great difficulty, managed to be on his knees. He crafted the furnace and placed it beside the crafting table, using its support to scooch around. He put the coal he mined earlier and the pork chops in the furnace, waiting for them to cook.

Scar observed his surroundings, finding something to occupy his hands. Maybe getting more stone wouldn’t hurt anyone. He took his stone pickaxe in one hand and tried to raise it above his head to break the stone. Before he could even do that, the pickaxe became heavy in his grip, making it almost impossible to raise it above his head. Like his arm couldn’t go further than a certain angle. He rolled his shoulders, massaged them a bit and tried again.

Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him twice, shame on him again, apparently, because his arms still couldn’t reach above his head in order to swing at full force against the stone.

He groaned, giving up, and crafted more tools with the stone he managed to mine. He sat down close to the warmth of the furnace. He looked at the sky and couldn’t see the sun anymore. He saw hues of orange and a cool blue submerging most of the sky. Night was coming soon and he didn’t even have a shelter. But first, he needed something to stabilize himself, to help him move around with minimum energy.

Scar searched in his inventory for anything and found a couple of sticks from the branches of the tree he punched. He took them in his hand, inspecting them. He used them to stand up and measured every one of them to see which one would be best for his height. The one he chose was just below his waist, but it’d do for now.

He inspected the stick, unconsciously sitting on the crafting table. He couldn’t wrap his hand around the stick, it was too short for that, he would need something on top of it to hold it properly. How could he attach two different pieces together? He checked his inventory and found some residual leafs, some long enough to wrap around.

He winced. It wouldn’t stay for long, but it was all he had, so until he could find a better way to attach them together, this would have to do. He placed a small stick on top of the longest stick he had, wrapping leafs around it to temporarily secure it. He used the wall and the stick to stand up, legs trembling slightly at the weight on them. He grunted, stabbed the stick to the ground, and tested his balance. Scar had to bend in order to use his walking stick correctly, but not to the extreme that it would bother his movements.

He wondered how he managed to hurt himself so badly. He dug and dug in his memories, but just couldn’t grasp the reason. Did he get stung by an insect that affected muscles' articulation? He hadn’t seen any insects so far, it wasn’t a likely possibility. Clearly, he had a life before appearing in this clearing. A life that still affected him and left him clueless about what was going on with his body.

A burning smell reached his nostrils, and he sniffed the air to identify it. It smelled strong and sweet, like something tender and juicy was being cooked.

“Oh my gosh,” he realized out loud, “the pork!”

He landed on his knees in front of the furnace (much to the detriment of his calves), and searched inside for the pork chops. He let out a “a-ha!” when he found them and took them out with his bare hands.

Big mistake.

“Ow!” he yelled, dropping the burning meat on the ground. He put his fingers in his mouth, salivating around them to cool down the burn.

Scar cursed at himself for not thinking clearly and took one of the last sticks in his inventory to bring the pork chops closer to him. He took the coal out of the furnace, stepping on it to minimize a fire risk. It was a beautiful clearing, it would be sad for all of it to burn down. He waited for his food to cool before eating it with his non-burnt hand, landing on his butt after finding it difficult to sit on his knees for too long.

A wave of energy engulfed him, relaxing the tension around his lower neck and relieving some ache in his hips and shoulders. He could start working on his shelter if he felt better. He put the other three pork chops he managed to make edible in his inventory and took his walking stick.

Much to his dismay, with his frantic movements, the two pieces that were barely holding together separated. He groaned, and put them back where they were, wrapping the long and lean leaf around them, tying a knot. He stood up, still using the furnace and the stick to help him.

When he found his balance (even when the small stick was threatening to fall off at any moment), the sky became darker. Night was coming, and he forgot to craft torches and still didn’t have a shelter. He mentally slapped himself and quickly made some as the world submerged in twilight.

Scar placed one torch when he heard a groan. He looked behind him and couldn’t believe his eyes. Was that a zombie? It was slowly approaching him. He froze, not knowing what to do. Then, something sharp pierced his shoulder. He grunted, shoulder pushed back, and used the torch to see who shot an arrow at him.

His eyes widened.

A skeleton was on top of the hill, readying its bow once again. The zombie was getting closer, and he needed to get out of here. He hastily grabbed his crafting bench and his furnace, put them in his inventory, and began mining a hole in the cliff. It’d have to do as a shelter for now.

Something grabbed him and ate a piece of his flesh, right on his injured shoulder. He screamed and elbowed the thing behind him with as much force as he could muster. The zombie backed away with a sharp groan. Scar took out his stone sword and plunged it in the monster’s stomach. Another arrow hit his bitten shoulder. Again.

His legs were shaking, his hands trembled, and he forgot how to breathe. He took out his sword from the monster, not looking at it to see if it was dead, and quickly dug himself in a hole. He closed it when he had enough space for his body, dodging the arrows the skeleton shot mercilessly at him. He tried to bring his breathing back to normal, but it took him much more time than he would’ve liked.

After composing himself, Scar placed a torch, mined a larger hole (with great difficulty), and looked at his shoulder. Blood trailed down his chest, and he regretted not getting water from the pond. He didn’t have anything to clean the wound. He looked down, questioning why he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and saw his ripped pants. It was the best thing he had for the job.

Scar sat down, his body stiffen with tension, feeling every bit of pain the injury inflicted on him as he tried to cut the bottom of his pants. With laborious efforts (it was a feat and a half to bring his legs up towards him), he managed to get a piece and cleaned the blood off of himself. The piece of clothing was immediately soaked the closer it got to the wound. He also needed to get the arrows out of his wounded shoulder.

It was a painful process. Cutting the bottom of his pants, trying his best to clean the wound, pulling the arrow out, screaming, using the cloth to hold the blood in. Repeat.

In the end, his body slumped against the harsh stone wall, exhausted, adrenaline drained. He let out a big exhale and ate a pork chop. His mind wandered. If there were zombies, that meant there was civilization somewhere. That meant having supplies to heal his wound. That meant getting better materials for his walking stick.

His eyes landed on an iron ore. Could he collect the iron and forge armor? He really needed protection after that encounter, and tools weren’t gonna protect him from flying arrows and zombie bites. He gasped.

“Will I turn into a zombie?” he asked out loud. How did he know you could turn into a zombie if they bit you was beyond him, but he knew it. Scar figured if he was gonna turn into a zombie, he would’ve felt the effects by now. Fortunately, he didn’t turn into a brain-eating monster after minutes of holding his breath.

He ate another pork chop and felt his energy regenerated. He could mine, find out what sort of ore there was deep down, below him. He stood up, using his stick and the stone to help him up. His legs trembled, and he felt exhausted, but he needed to get out of this place, needed to find a village.

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#tw: animal death #tw: badly mended injury #tw: internalized ableism #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: violence #third life #3rd life smp #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #scar #here we go #every batch will come every 4 days or every week #depending on how close i am to finish #:D #trafficblr #bloop's attention seeking strategy

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talldarkandroguesome · 2 years ago

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18th of Rain’s Hand, Turdas

The Council has finally yielded to my request! It took them bloody well long enough. As of now I have less than a month to go and return in time for Sildras’ nameday. The nerve of those mer. They really did decide to cut it fine indeed.

Sildras is happy that I am going to try and bring little Khes back for his nameday. I know it means so much. She was his first ever sibling and they had such a close bond I cannot imagine how much of a toll it has had on him, even with his sending letters to her. Such things cannot compare to time spent physically together, though.

He is sad about my leaving and I have had to reassure him time and again that as soon as I find the clan and am given an answer, I shall return, even if the Clanmother does not allow for the visitation. I suspect, however, given how she has treated the children of the clan, that she will allow this brief visit.

The Council is going to be sending me with a personal guard. They are selecting the individual to accompany me. They had wanted to send many along with me, but I reminded them of the tensions between the alliances and how poorly of an idea that truly sounded. It took a while, but they saw reason. It seems as though they may send two guards with me, though it is unclear yet if I will have a guard and a servant, or some other mix of retinue.

Most importantly, I am cleared to leave Fredas, first thing in the morning. It means that I shall have to meet with the Nest such a night earlier than I would usually plan to do, but I cannot risk being discovered. Not when there is so much to lose after the House was just able to approve of my travels.

Cheerz has seen to it that all my affairs have been put on hold, as they are able. Black-Silk-Earth has cleared my appointments until after Sildras’ nameday to ensure that, should the journey take the whole time, I will be able to devote myself fully to the task. Further, if I arrive with some time to spare, it is every parent’s joy to participate in the preparations of an important nameday. And, of course, uncle Urnel is going to be presenting Sildras with the contract for the deed to his future home, to be finalized upon his reaching adulthood. And he will be able to begin planning for the decor and spaces as that time draws near.

As for myself, I have already packed for the journey westward. I put as many of the clothes I bought in Elsweyr on my last visits into my luggage. As soon as we leave Pact lands I shall switch over. I want to remain cool in the arid heat. Not to mention, to try not to stand out quite so greatly while we make our way. I have some of the hair ornaments I was gifted, which I will begin to braid into my hair once I complete my duties with the Nest.

Speaking of, I must hurry, I need to ensure that the glass armonica is delivered to Zethith, something which will take half a day’s journey or more to transport from Lilandril. The trip will be slow, given the fragility of the glass components. I will be able to have the horses go slowly on the return, so I can ride them hard to pick everything up.

I only hope that it will be finished.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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tbyfandoms · 3 years ago

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Here For You | Luke Hemmings x Reader

Pairing: luke hemmings x f!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: when y/n notices luke drifting away from her, she decides to confront him on it. luke’s response leads to shock and a whole lot of heartache

Warnings: angst, mild swearing (like one word)

Masterlist | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: hi everyone! here's my first ever luke hemmings fic! I wrote this in honor of @goldensonlyangel 's 1k celebration! (congrats again on hitting 1k!) I've loved luke for so long and when i saw him as an option for the fic challenge, i just had to write about him! it’s not the greatest fic i’ve written, but it is kind of a heavy one so sorry if it gets you emotional lol. nonetheless, it was so fun to write and i'm glad i was able to finish it before the challenge ended. i hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

It’s probably been a few days since you started to notice the differences. The way Luke would now be up out of bed and gone from the house before you woke up. The way you could barely hold a conversation with him at dinner given his short responses and only excuse being that he was tired. The way every night when you two went to bed, he seemed to create as much distance from you as possible, leaving you feeling hurt and confused.

This sudden display of distance took you by complete surprise. Before a couple days ago things were going wonderful between you both. The two of you have only been dating for half a year, but you felt such a deep connection with Luke and you assumed he felt the same considering how he treated you and handled your relationship.

When Luke asked you to move in with him and Petunia a month ago you never felt so happy and excited. Considering his busy schedule and constant traveling, Luke thought it would be best if you moved in with him so he could spend as much time with you as possible, both of you hating how far from him you were in your old apartment. With moving in you’d both never have to worry about planning times for you to go to his house or for him to go to yours. Luke could go to sleep and wake up with his two favorite girls every day. It was the perfect situation and you both seemed so happy with how the relationship was going, never before having felt something like it.

But now you don’t know what to think. Everything feels weird and you can tell something has shifted in your relationship, you just can’t figure out what it is. Luke’s opened up to you before but you can tell there’s something he’s holding back. You’ve reached out to Ashton, knowing Luke’s got a strong bond with him and tells Ash almost everything, but it was no use. All Ashton told you was that Luke was going through some things he thought he moved on from and that you should just give him some time and he’ll come around. You didn’t understand how that was supposed to help. You know everyone needs their space to deal with personal things sometimes, but when it comes to your relationship you figured Luke would be open and honest with you, not shut you out. You don’t know whether to be worried about this or not.

So here you are now, racking your brain for any sign you might have looked over from the past week that could clue you in on what’s going on inside Luke’s head, as you sit and wait for him to come home.

There’s nothing you can think of, no arguments have happened between you both and nothing’s changed in anyone’s routine. It’s been business as usual in the best possible way, and that’s what’s got you so confused and anxious.

Whatever it is you just hope it’s nothing awful and that maybe Luke does just need some alone time. But what you don’t want to do is waste anymore time. Even if it’s the easiest route, shutting people out is never the option, especially when it’s your partner. You’ll get to the bottom of this, and hopefully it’ll do more good than harm.

Petunia wiggles her way off the couch beside you and you watch as she scurries over to the front door. She can always tell when Luke’s arrived home.

You take a deep breath and brace yourself for the confrontation you know is about to go down. You just want to make sure Luke’s okay, but you don’t know if he’ll take your questioning that way.

Luke opens the door and you can’t help but smile as you watch him laugh and bend down to pet Petunia, always happy to see how excited she gets when he comes home.

“Hey, love,” you say timidly, not knowing if he’s still going to be cold towards you.

Luke glances up at you and then looks back down at Petunia before slowly standing back up. “Hey.”

Short, no use of a pet name or even just your name, not exactly cold but definitely not warm.

You feel yourself deflate instantly.

Luke starts to move towards the kitchen but before he can go very far you call out to him. “Luke, can we talk? Please?”

You swear you see him tense for a second before he turns back around to face you.

“Yeah, sure.” He won’t meet your gaze and you can feel your anxiety raising by the second. What’s going on with him?

The two of you make your way over to the couch and sit down. There’s probably three feet between you and Luke but you try not to think about it.

“Is everything okay? These past few days I’ve noticed you’ve been really distant. You’re gone every morning before I wake up, you barely say more than a full sentence to me when you’re home, and when we go to sleep it’s like you can’t stand to touch me. I’m worried, Luke. What’s going on, are you alright?”

Luke takes a breath and looks over at you. It’s the first time he’s looked you in the eyes in days and the guilt and remorse is evident in them.

“I think we should break up,” he replies, and instantly your breath is caught in your throat. Tears begin to prick in your eyes and suddenly your mission to figure out what’s wrong has turned into your heart being shattered.

A beat of silence and then, “What?” It comes out like a whisper, your voice not strong enough for anything more as you try to refill your lungs with air.

“I-It would be best for both of us if we just ended things now before..." Luke trails off and doesn't finish his sentence. His internal struggle is obvious and it kills you that even during a moment like this, he's still holding back and shutting you out.

"Before what, Luke? Why won't you tell me what's going on inside your head?" Your voice begins to waver and you wish you could control your emotions right now but it's so hard when the man you've fallen in love with is breaking your heart right before your eyes.

"Before we inevitably break up anyways!" He rushes out his response and your left even more sad and confused.

"Why would we inevitably break up? I know I can't predict the future but I don't plan on us breaking up any time soon. I don't know about you but I'm pretty in love with you, Luke!"

Luke stands up from the couch and runs a hand through his hair, becoming frustrated. "And what you think I'm not in love with you?"

You feel your chest tighten for a moment, regretting making him feel that's what you thought, but then feel defensive because who wouldn't think that after how he's been this past week? "I don't know! I thought you were but actions speak louder than words and this week all you've done is make me believe you're anything but in love with me!"

"Y/N I'm doing this because I'm in love with you!"

"How the hell does that even make sense!?" You get up from the couch and move to stand in front of Luke as your mind reels with everything happening. You can't at all grasp the concept on how Luke breaking up with you correlates to him still being in love with you.

"It just does, okay? I'm sorry I know I'm hurting you right now but I'm only doing it to save you from being hurt worse in the future. I just- I can't-" You look up into Luke's eyes and you can see how glossy they are, tears threatening to spill at any moment. He looks broken and even amidst the current chaos, all you want to do is hold him close.

"Why would I be hurt worse in the future? What's going to happen?" Your voice lowers, becomes more gentle. You reach out and place your hands on Luke's chest and you watch as he melts into them. "Why can't you just let me all the way in?"

Luke closes his eyes as tears begin to fall down his face. This is one of the only times you've ever seen Luke cry and the sight of it breaks your heart even more.

"It's just-that's how it always is with me. Every relationship I've ever been in has ended so horribly and has been so toxic. I don't want that to happen to us, I don't want that to happen to you. You don't deserve it and in all honesty I don't deserve you."

"Luke..." You whisper, reaching up and cupping his face within your hands.

"Every time I think I've found someone good it gets twisted so fast. All my relationships turn into disasters filled with arguments and heartache, and whenever I tried to fix them it always felt like I was taking all the blame and holding on to something not worth it. Everyone I've been with has drained me and made me feel like that's how love always ends up, and I'm not trying to play victim because I know I've made horrible choices that have hurt other people but it's like nothing good ever happens. And I'm not saying that I feel this way with you, God I feel the exact opposite. Everything feels right and good with you and I know we've moved fast but I promise you I don't regret any of it. I'm just terrified of it ending like the rest of my relationships and I won't be able to handle that, not again."

More tears fall down Luke's face and you do your best to try and wipe them away, hating the fact he's felt like this and has dealt with so much to the point he's willing to give up love before it can hurt him again.

"It's all I've been able to think about this past week. After my last relationship I thought I had processed everything and grown and was able to realize love is complicated at times but at the end of the day is so good and pure, but I just can't get the idea of it crumbling again out of my head. Maybe I'm overreacting but I just don't want to ruin everything more than I already am right now."

Luke leans his head down and presses his forehead against yours as he tries to even out his breathing. Your heart hurts but now for completely different reasons than when this conversation started.

"I want to be the type of man you deserve so badly. I don't want to hurt you or breakup because I truly believe you are the love of my life, I have never felt anything like this before, but I just don't know what to do."

You're so extremely shocked at everything Luke has just told you. You knew he had some trouble with his past relationships, but not to this extent. You figured they ended just due to differences and typical relationship struggles, but this is so much more than that. A lot of the heartbreaking songs Luke wrote and told you were about his friend's relationships, start to seem to be more about his relationships and feelings.

"Luke, look at me," You say softly, guiding his head up so you can look him in the eyes. "You are the most wonderful man I've ever had the pleasure of being with. I have fallen so deeply in love with you, I don't even think you realize it. I am so incredibly sorry that you've had to deal with all of that in your past relationships. It's so insanely heartbreaking and I completely understand where you're coming from."

Luke looks at you with so much adoration and he can't believe how kind and caring you're being right now, but also he can because that's how you've always been. He can't understand how such a wonderful person has come into his life.

"I wish you wouldn't put that all on your shoulders because not everything is your fault. The way you were treated is disgusting and I know you've made mistakes too, but no one is perfect. The blame should never be put on one person if both people involved have done wrong. I want you to know that you deserve so much more in love than you've gotten and that I am willing to be that person to show you that. I get that you need to deal with these things though, so If you think breaking up so you can have time to really heal is what you need then I understand and respect that. But no matter what happens I want you to know that I'm here for you, Luke Hemmings, always."

By this time tears are streaming down both yours and Luke's faces. There is so much emotion between the two of you right now that it's indescribable. You've both been vulnerable with each other before but this is something so unique and raw.

Reaching up and placing his hands over yours on his face, Luke gives you a small smile and leans into your hand. "You know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

A similar smile spreads across your face and hearing Luke say those words somehow has your heart piecing back together.

"And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Luke's smile widens but then falters instantly. He removes your hands from his face and holds them between you both.

"I'm sorry I worried you and was so cold to you this week. I wanted to save you from being hurt and in the end I hurt you anyways. And I shouldn't have started this whole conversation off with saying we should break up. I'm an idiot and should've just been honest with you from the beginning. Breaking up with you is the last thing I want. All I need is to continue to talk through all of this and move forwards and I was wrong to think I should do that without you."

"Hey, it's okay. You opened up and let me know what was going on. It's really hard to do that and sometimes we don't go about it the right way, but what matters is that you did it and now I can help you."

"Okay, but I'm still sorry and I'm extremely grateful for you." Luke ponders for a moment before he smirks and says, "If you'll still have me, I'd love to continue to be your boyfriend."

"Hmm, I don't know, it depends. Do you have a really cute dog that likes to cuddle?" Luke let's out a loud, genuine laugh and the sound makes your heart flutter. You've always adored his laugh.

"I do have a really cute dog that likes to cuddle," he replies.

"Alright, I guess you can be my boyfriend then," you shrug and let out a giggle as you see Luke playfully roll his eyes.

"Gee, thanks I guess." He lets out a small laugh before letting go of your hands and reaching up to bring your face closer to his. Luke lightly brushes his nose up against yours before closing the gap between you and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You stay like that for a moment, just enjoying each other's touch and closeness. There's something about your relationship that makes each of you feel like home to the other, and neither of you would change that for the world.

Suddenly you feel a nudge against your leg and you break apart from Luke to look down and see Petunia sat between the two of you, looking up at both of you wondering what just happened.

The two of you laugh before bending down and embracing Petunia. Just as you did earlier, you sit and watch as Luke greets Petunia with a fond smile, but this time feeling much lighter and at ease.

Although there's lots of things to be worked through, you know you'll both be just fine. After all, you'll be there for Luke just like you know he'll be there for you.

#goldens1kfics #luke hemmings #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings angst #5 seconds of summer

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vicious-vixxxen · 4 years ago

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SugarDaddy!Enji X SugarBaby!Male Reader <3

Not entirely sure where this came from, but couldn’t help myself once it started :3 nothing crazy, and kinda short, so apologies for that, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Prompt fills should be out later this month: In the midst of a move, so slow going getting fills, out, but hopefully soon <3 thanks for the patience, and the continued support. Much love to you guys! Enjoy :3 Sugar Daddy!Enji x Sugar Baby!Male Reader

(Sort of, kind of, it is but also not entirely the focus)

“What would you do without me, dad,” Fuyumi sighed, though her smile was palpable, even if Enji couldn’t see it- as she’d stepped behind him to lint roll his dinner jacket. Enji adjusting his watch, and catching the time, puffing his chest up a bit as he shooed his daughter back, and glanced at himself in the full length mirror once more, briefly. Enji would lie down and accept the sweet, bitter kiss from the grim reaper, before he ever told his daughter just where he’d found his date from. But, and as hard as it was to so much as admit it, Enji did know when to wave the white flag of defeat, and after three hours of trying to pick his own outfit, he’d shuffled off to her room and mumbled the bare minimum about having a date from an app tonight. Fuyumi had freaked out for all of ten minutes, before growing startlingly serious, and rifling through his closet for articles of clothing Enji had no idea were even there. And now...well, he looked more presentable than he had in ages. Granted, his wardrobe consisted of his hero suit ninety nine percent of the time, but still. Bidding Fuyumi goodbye was a whole other ordeal, but soon enough, Enji found himself- or rather, his driver, pulling up along the curb of the restaurant he’d asked you to. Not even a moment to gather himself, or suck in a few lungful's of crisp evening air, before his eyes landed on you. Your dazzling smile so bright, Enji had to keep himself from squinting, as you hurried over, and without so much as a hello first, threw your arms over the hero’s broad shoulders, and brought him down into a tight, warm hug. Enji squeezed back awkwardly, though your cologne was mouthwatering, and the feel of someone wanting to be in his arms almost made the older man dizzy, as he pulled back, and smoothed out the front of his jacket. Just to busy his hands, as you eyed him up, and your smile grew softer. More intimate. “It’s so nice to meet, finally. In person.” You laughed, gesturing for Enji to follow you to the front door, as there was already a man waiting to escort you back to your table. Well, Enji thought. Here goes nothing.

“You’re nervous,” you pointed out quietly- gently, reaching across the table to lay one of your hands over Enji’s much larger one: meeting the older man's gaze as he stopped jiggling his leg, and focused his full attention on you. “Observant,” Enji huffed, though not unkindly, as he took a deep breath, and reached up with his free hand to tug at the neck of his sweater. Cheeks flush, both from the heat within himself, and his nerves. You were much more...handsome? Pretty? Drop dead gorgeous?- than your profile pictures had given you credit for, and even then you were one of the most beautiful specimens he’d ever laid his eyes on, so that was really saying something. “I try to be,” you laughed, bringing your other hand around to sip at your champagne, before laying your glass-chilled hand over the other covering Enji’s, to clasp them on either side- just holding his hand, and smiling. Awkwardness creeping back up Enji’s neck as his throat worked around the words he couldn’t quite find. “I could talk, if you’d like? And you can interject whenever you’d like. No pressure to, if you’re not ready. I could probably talk enough for the both of us.” You we’re trying to cut the man some slack, bless his big confused heart. Your online chats hadn’t divulged much, though you did get the gist from Enji. Bad relationship with his children. Not too close to anyone of his own age. He was lonely. And so were you. You were also broke as fuck, but all thoughts of monetary value flew out the window the second you hugged the man when you’d arrived. Seen the restaurant he’d asked you to; and the private balcony dinner he’d arranged. Enji was trying so hard, and it made your heart beat a little too fast. Your smile almost too bright. “That...would be preferable, thank you,” Enji replied gruffly- though he cleared his throat after like he’d done it by accident. It only made you smile wider “Of course. A very considerate daddy you are,” you teased, referencing the website you met on jokingly- or at least, half jokingly- though the way Enji’s blush deepened had you stuttering around your first few sentences- glancing down suddenly as Enji turned his hand palm upward- holding your hands in return, as you laughed, suddenly, and began speaking smoothly. Squeezing the man’s hands in silent thanks, as he listened intently to you rambling on about your life. Where you went to school, what instrument you played, your favorite movies, and books. He really /listened/, grunting every so often to show you he was- and even interjecting with questions every so often; Enji really wanted to know about you. He wanted to listen. You’d never quite had anyone like that before. Not even close friends who cared enough to really listen to you. Your chest felt tight suddenly as you began touching on your most recent life happenings. Pausing slowly, voice getting quiet as you held Enji’s gaze, you lifted the older man’s hand to press a kiss to his palm. Snickering into it as Enji’s flames burst across his face at the contact. “Ah-Ahem. What uh...what’s that for?” He questioned, voice husky as he turned away slightly. Embarrassed at his flames for the first time since he was a pre-teen. “Just thanks, for listening,” you admitted with a shrug, kissing his palm again, even softer this time. Enji turned then, pure honesty in his gaze as he gathered his courage to speak clearly, “I could listen to you speak...for hours, if I’m being honest. You have..a lovely voice.” “Ah,” You nodded, your cheeks just as flushed as the hero’s as you swirled your champagne in its glass gently. Missing completely the way Enji’s face fell, and he withdrew his hands from atop the table, and back into his lap. The rest of the night went pretty much the same, though you noticed Enji seemed slightly more reserved, and gruff than before. Still just as attentive, still nearly mute, just more...withdrawn. Less open then he’d become as you spoke. It wasn’t until the date had come to an end, and he was escorting you out of the restaurant, and to the car he’d called to take you home, did you realize why. “Here you go.” Enji spoke quietly, yet clearly, crowding you in slightly so the valet couldn’t see the wad of cash he was holding out to you. Crisp bills neatly folded into a money clip, engraved with Enji’s initials. “Oh.” You’d almost forgotten by this point that this was sort of part of it. Or...well, it was the whole point, really. Or had been. “That’s….quite a lot of money,” You thought aloud, frowning at the way Enji’s brows drew down tightly, and he thumped the money into your chest gently. “I apologize for the evening. Please, just take it. It’s triple the amount we originally spoke of. Compensation for the poor company I’ve been.” You froze, staring between Enji’s eyes, that wouldn’t meet your own, and the cash being held out to you, Enji’s grip so tight on it his knuckles were white. /Oh/. So that’s what he thought. Earlier in the evening, your reaction to his sincerity, he’d read into it wrong. ….Sweet old man. “Silly daddy,” You sighed, smiling despite the situation- reaching up to tug out one solitary bill from the stack, before pressing Enji’s fist back into his own chest with one hand- the other snaking up and around the man’s neck, to ease him down to your level gently. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a more wonderful time with anyone before in my whole life. You listened, and saw me. And only me. For hours. I don’t think I can properly describe how absolutely wonderful that was. Truly. Silly,” You laughed again, watching the way Enji’s shoulders hunched, and tensed, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face, before he settled on bewilderment it seemed. The tiniest flames danced across his cheeks as you leaned up on your toes, brushing noses briefly, before capturing Enji’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss. Hand carding up and into the soft hair at the nape of Enji’s neck, scraping your nails through his scalp gently as your lips began to move against one another. Unsure, and hesitant, before that quickly melted away, leaving only the deepest desire, and want. A soft, needy noise leaving your mouth, that Enji swallowed up happily. Panting into your face as he pulled away, breath a wash of champagne, and the chocolate cake you’d both had for dessert. “Tip...for your driver,” You breathed, slightly dazed as you fell back into the car, feet firmly on the ground now- tapping your pocket where you’d slid the bill from the stack he’d held out to you at first. “I...should get going. But if I don’t have a text from you with the details of our next date when I get home, i’ll be one very disappointed boy,” You admitted quietly, cupping Enji’s cheek briefly- thumb sliding across his plump bottom lip, before you opened the back door of the car, and slid in. Wishing Enji a goodnight, before the door was shut, and you were being driven off towards home. Enji checked the time briefly as you pulled away, and once more when he finally was able to get his legs working again- nearly an hour had passed, in which he’d tried and failed multiple times to collect himself. Had that really just happened? The feel of his lips twisting up into a smile felt strange, and foreign for the pro hero. And as he walked home, to allow himself a chance to breathe finally, he began to laugh. Cupping his own face, and touching his lips, an incredulous laugh bubbled from deep within him as he threw his head back and allowed it to overtake him. Smiling in a way he hadn’t in...so, so long. Pulling his phone out, he immediately began texting you, checking your schedule for the next night, before suggesting going to a play. A quiet, private balcony just for the two of you. Close seats. Beautiful music. He could watch your reactions under the bright stage lights. It sounded fantastic. A text from Fuyumi chimed into his phone as he was nearly home, and still smiling like a love struck teenager. So? How was it!?-FT Enji sighed heavily, catching himself in a nearby shop window- looking too happy to be real, and recalling your words from earlier. Wonderful.-ET It was wonderful, Fuyumi.-ET

#bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x y/n #enji todoroki x male reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki x y/n #endeavor x reader #endeavor x male reader #endeavor x y/n #endeavor #enji todoroki #viciousvixxxen

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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

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house hunting

A/n: hello!! I’ve been having a mad case of writers block, so @goldenbluesuit‘s list of prompts was posted just in time! Thank you and i hope you all enjoy!! thank u @harryysstyless and @nationalharryleague for looking this over also :) Love u guyssss!

summary: newly engaged y/n and harry realize they have very different tastes in homes when they begin house hunting!!!

warnings: smut

word count: ~3.3k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

With all the joys that came with being engaged, there was a good deal of logistics that you hadn’t even thought of when you excitedly told Harry, “Duh, of course, I’ll marry you!” just four short months ago. Should you wed in the fall or wait until the spring? Outdoors or indoors? These were things that you and Harry went back and forth about most nights, cuddled in bed next to each other before drifting off to sleep.

Something you were most excited about, though, was finally owning a home with Harry. You practically lived together as it was, seeing that you were at his place most nights. Still, his home wasn’t yours—you were reminded every time you had to grab something forgotten from your apartment. Or when he was away for work and you couldn’t bear to be in his large, empty house by yourself.

So while you already knew each other’s grossest habits, (Harry loved asking you to pop his back pimples) you didn’t yet own a home together. Sadly, house hunting was turning out to be a less-than-joyous task when you and Harry were looking for completely different things.

“I jus’ think we’re cottage-style people… that’s all,'' your fiancé’s hand rests on your thigh while you wait in his car for the real estate agent to arrive. “This one’s nice, yeah, but is it who we are?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “You’re only saying that because they remind you of home.”

“So? They’re lovely,” he sounds a little defensive, but not mad. Your response to Harry is interrupted as the real estate agent pulls into the driveway.

“Be nice,” you remind him as you open your door to let yourself out. “I understand the Craftsman isn’t your first choice, but she worked hard to find this place for us. At least go into it with an open mind.”

Your fiancé mutters something under his breath, but you know he’ll behave himself––he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Harry’s demeanor immediately changes once the real estate agent is within earshot, turning on his signature English charm. “Thank you for meeting my fiancée and me today. We’re both very excited to check out this lovely home.”

Since you’re privy to the reality of the situation, you can tell he’s laying it on a bit thick, but your agent is loving it. “You’ll both fall in love, I know it,” she begins her ascent up the long driveway and you and Harry follow behind hand-in-hand. “Six bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, and nearly twenty thousand square feet. You can’t beat it.”

Harry seems unphased by the enormous size of the house, but your breath hitches in your throat. Did the two of you actually need this much room? The house appeared to be even bigger than the one Harry owned now––you knew you would hate staying here when he was away for work except this time, you wouldn’t have a quaint apartment and a roommate to go back to when you were feeling lonely.

“H, ‘s kinda big…” you’re trying to speak quietly enough so the real estate agent doesn’t hear you. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“What’s tha’? We haven’t even gotten inside, love,” Harry stops walking to give you his full attention. “You don’t like it?”

“Just the driveway by itself is enormous,” you feel your cheeks growing warm. “I would be too scared to stay here by myself.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Can we have just a moment, please?” He sweetly turns to face the real estate agent who insists you take your time, walking farther up the driveway to give the two of you privacy.

“We’ve not seen the inside, doll. Gotta at least do that,” Harry’s hands run along your bare arms. “‘Member what you jus’ told me? Let’s go into it with an open mind. Don’t have to place an offer on it or anything.”

“Okay…” you’re reluctant and Harry can tell, but neither one of you want to be rude to the real estate agent. “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t hurt to just check it out.”

Harry gives you a dimpled grin. “Y’never know. Might fall in love with it, puppy,” Harry leans in so close that you can feel his breath on your nose. “Besides, think of all the rooms we’d get to have a shag in if we moved in here.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I hate it.”

“What’s there to hate? Look at how cozy it is.”

“Don’t like the color.”

“It’s nothing to slap a fresh coat of paint on the outside.”

You open your mouth and then close it in defeat. He wasn’t wrong. You let Harry lead you around the perimeter of the house while you wait for your real estate agent to arrive to let you in—Harry’s animatedly talking about all the renovations that can be done to upgrade the house (even stating he could do some of them himself) and deep down you know this is the house you will end up living in.

“So sorry I’m late,” the agent’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “There was an accident on the 405–made traffic a nightmare.”

“No worries at all,” Harry says cheerily. “We’re just excited to get inside and take a look at this place. It’s gorgeous.”

The lady doesn’t even try to hide her surprise. “Really? I agree that it’s a beautiful home, but I thought it would be your last choice given it’s on the smaller side.”

“How many bedrooms?” You change the subject, gazing at the house in front of you. You thought it was rather large, but to each their own.

“Five bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms.”

You glance over at your fiancé, who appeared to be deep in thought—he was most likely calculating if five bedrooms would be enough to host friends and family who came to visit.

“That’s perfect,” he says after a moment, squeezing your hand in excitement. “We’d love to get inside.”

The real estate agent mutters a quiet, “please, follow me” to which you and Harry oblige. She leads you up a gorgeous cobblestone pathway that ends at weathered brick stairs. Harry lightly placed his hands on your waist as you ascended the three steps, knowing you tended to be on the clumsy side.

“Porch is nice, innit?” Harry says to you, lowering his gaze so he’s looking square in your eyes. “I can see us ‘avin a cup of coffee in the mornin’ while lookin’ out at the street.”

Your husband-to-be was trying to sell you on the home more than your real estate agent was––you weren’t mad at it. You simply hum in agreement, not wanting to fully give into Harry just yet.

The real estate agent unlocks the door and ushers the both of you ahead of her, wiping her feet on the mat before entering the home. It was beautiful. The floor plan was open, the living room flowing easily into the kitchen which led into the dining room. Large windows let in plenty of natural sunlight, which you know Harry appreciated.

You listen attentively as the real estate agent gives her typical spiel, informing you about the history of the house (and how all the wood fixtures were original). Harry is long gone, tucked away in some other part of the house, most likely examining the crown molding or something of the sort.

“...because the floor plan is so open, it’s the perfect space for entertaining.”

“So true,” you respond politely, looking around the space. “I was just thinking that. I’m sure Harry would agree... wherever he ran off to.”

“He’s a fan of this one, I take it?” She’s walking again, leading you to the back of the house.

“Oh, definitely. He’s been telling me we’re “cottage people” to warm me up to the idea of moving in here.”

“Is it working?”

You let out a quiet giggle. “Surprisingly, yes.”

“Babe, come look at this bedroom. S’gonna be ours!” Harry calls out to you from deeper in the house and you furrow your brows as you try to determine what room he ducked into.

“Where are you, love?”

“‘M in here!”

You roll your eyes at how Harry did nothing to clarify his exact location for you, but you quickly figure it out, anyway. While the house was large, it was nowhere as big as some places you’ve already looked at which you appreciated.

Once reunited with Harry, he immediately reaches for your hand and pulls you into him. The bedroom you’re now standing in has floor-to-ceiling windows, an adjoining bathroom, and even a fireplace. It was stunning.

“This room is nice,” you say quietly, leaning into his touch. Harry nods.

“S’our room. Can’t you just picture us sleepin’ in here? Relaxin’?” He leans in close to your ear. “Fuckin’?”

A shiver immediately runs through your body at your fiancé’s vulgarity, but you try your best to play off your reaction as you turn to face the real estate agent. “Let’s see the rest of the place, yeah?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

No one warned you about how much work went into actually closing on a home.

It was a long process. You were glad you had Harry, who had financial advisors, to help you close on the deal. You and Harry ended up going with the cottage home, of course, which ultimately was the best choice for what the two of you needed at the moment.

Waiting to move in seemed like it took a lifetime, even though it was only a couple weeks. Your apartment was a mess of boxes and packing tape, and you were glad you had your roommate to help you gather the things you still had left there (since you had basically already moved in with Harry as it was).

When the day finally came to move all your boxes into your new home, you were more than ready to get it over with. You weren’t sure how Harry could remain in such high spirits engaging in such an arduous task (you were honestly feeling quite crabby), so you let Harry deal with the movers lest you accidentally lose your cool and snap at someone. He kept offering to help them move things, feeling guilty for just standing around while they heaved your extensive amount of belongings around, but they kept insisting they were fine. Your fiancé opted to contribute by going to the kitchen and making them lemonade and little sandwiches, instead.

“We have a lot of stuff, don’t we?” Harry glances up at you as you walk into the kitchen, a mischievous look on his face.

“What’s this we? Pretty sure they’re struggling to carry your things around, not mine,” you snake your arms around Harry’s waist. “Maybe we can have a garage sale? Get to know some neighbors too, hmm?”

“Weird to sell Gucci at a garage sale, innit?” Harry cuts a sandwich into four perfect triangles and sets them beside him on a platter he must’ve dug out of some box. You shrug.

“I’m sure you’re not the only person in this neighborhood who can afford Gucci.”

Harry hums in response, continuing to slather spread onto the sandwiches he was making. “Can you go offer these to the movers? Ask ‘em if they want lemonade or water, too.” He tilts his head toward the tray on the other side of the counter and you reach around him to grab it.

“Look at you makin’ everyone snacks and whatnot. So domestic,” you tease, grabbing Harry’s cheek and pinching firmly. “It’s getting me all hot.”

“Yeah?” He questions, going along with your playful pestering. “Y’like it?”

“Fuckin’ love it,” you coo, giving him bedroom eyes. Harry throws his head back, letting out a loud guffaw. You exit the kitchen and go from person to person, kindly offering them sandwiches which they are more than happy to accept.

The movers finish a couple of hours later, your beautiful home still just as beautiful, but now a myriad of boxes and trash bags. The two of you had absolutely no furniture yet, seeing as Harry wanted to buy everything new instead of bringing the furniture from his old home for reasons you were still unsure of.

Harry settled on making the two of you sandwiches for supper, seeing as that was the only food you had in the entire house, and neither one of you felt like running to the store to buy anything else. He pours two tall glasses of lemonade before carefully walking to where you sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room.

“Our new home...,” Harry trails off, looking around the cluttered space. “The first thing that’s ours.”

“I could cry,” you reply, voice slightly shaky. “Like, it’s just so surreal. We can really decorate however we want and celebrate holidays–”

“Gonna fight wif’ each other ‘n love on each other,” he adds. “Grow old with each other... so happy you’re all mine and ‘m all yours.”

Your heart swells at Harry’s words. He can always tell when you’re growing emotional––he knows you better than anyone else, after all––and he quickly moves closer to you, pulling you into his side. Neither one of you says anything, there’s nothing that needs to be said. You opt to bask in each other’s company and the comfortable silence that fills the dim living room. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Harry scoot the food and drinks out of the way before he pulls you fully into his lap.

“I can’t wait for all of it,” you wrap your arms around his neck, sucking lightly on the area where the skin of his jaw trails into his neck. “Can’t wait to have it all with you.”

“Know what ‘m lookin’ forward to the most?” You hum. “Lookin’ forward to the baby makin’.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at Harry’s admission. Sure, you’ve discussed children before––you were getting married! Still, he catches you off-guard.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm,” his hand slowly makes its way underneath your shirt, loving how he already had you squirming under him.

“I’ve got it,” you mumble quietly, moving away from him. You expertly unclasp your bra and fling it out of the way, letting it join the rest of the mess that litters the floor of your home.

“This is really the first place we’re gonna shag in, then?” Harry asks breathlessly, sucking roughly against your collarbone.

You shrug your shoulders before moving to tangle your hands in Harry’s hair. “The entire house is a mess, this is as good a spot as any.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he mutters, trailing his hands down your body until he gets to your bottom. He easily shimmies your tight leggings down your legs, having done this many, many times before. “Gonna help me christen every room in this house, angel?”

“Yeah,” you’re quick to respond. You wish there was more kissing and less talking going on, but your arrogant fiancé loved two things: teasing you, and the sound of his own voice. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Where do ya want that kiss?”

“Get your mind outta the gutter,” you plead, tilting your head to the side so Harry can access your neck easier. “My lips.”

You know what Harry’s going to say before he says it. “Which ones?”

“H, come on,” you whine, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. “Gimmie one.”

Harry finally gives into your requests and presses his lips delicately against yours, humming in pleasure as he feels you sink deeper into the kiss. “I’m messin’ with ya, Y/N. I could never pass on givin’ ya a kiss.”

“I’m glad,” you answer triumphantly, shamelessly stealing another kiss from him.

“Gonna go all the way with me on our living room floor? Dirty girl, you are,” Harry says quietly, gently removing you from his lap. He helps you lay back on the floor, but not before bunching up your leggings for you to use as a pillow.

“All good?”

“Mmm,” you reach up for him, wanting to feel his lips against yours once again. He doesn’t give in so easily—not this time. Harry allows you to take his plump upper lip into your mouth before pulling away just out of your reach. You let out a pitiful whimper which causes Harry to puff out his chest, his ego getting the best of him.

“Gonna make ya feel so good,” he says quietly, rubbing his palm against your core. Your underwear was still on and you knew he was approximately four seconds away from ripping them off.

“I know,” you answer quickly. “I know, H.”

“You sound impatient.”

“I just wanna get on with it.”

Harry sits back on his heels. “What’s tha’ rush? Jus’ us, yeah? Jus’ me?”

“I need it,” you say under your breath. You were usually quite vocal in bed with Harry, but something about the way his gaze fixed on you had butterflies fluttering all-around your stomach.

“What do you need?” Harry taps your bum while he’s saying this, signaling for you to lift yourself slightly off the ground so he can get them around your ankles.

“I need you in me,” you whisper. You knew he knew exactly where you needed him, but you’d stroke his ego a bit if it meant he’d fuck you just how you wanted him to. “Hard. F-fast.”

“I can manage that,” he cheekily replies, giving his hard cock three tugs before pressing himself to your entrance. “Don’t want me to eat ya out or summat?”

“No,” you answer entirely too quickly. “Please just fuck me, H-”

He understands just how needy and desperate you are now and wastes no more time, swiftly entering your tight cunt like he was made just for you. Your body always molded together so perfectly––no one knew you better than he did. When you were really pressed for time, he could get you off in less than five minutes. Although his pace is relentless tonight though, there is no rush.

You felt full in such a way that only Harry could make happen. You let out a loud moan as he moves your leg ever so slightly to angle you in such a way that he knew would hit your spongy walls deep inside of you.

“Y’like it? Like me fuckin’ into ya like this?”

“Love it,” you moan breathlessly, reaching to cradle your tits. Harry raises his eyebrows, pace faltering slightly.

“What are you bein’ so quiet for? S’no one here except us,” he reaches in between your sweaty bodies to flick your clit. “Can feel you clenchin’ ‘round me–are you gonna come, puppy? Come around my cock?”

His teasing is all it takes for you to cum around him, clenching down so tightly that it takes a surprising deal of strength for him to keep moving. Harry follows shortly behind you, letting out an animalistic groan that sounds downright filthy. In that moment, you were glad that there was no one else in the house because if there was, they definitely would’ve heard you and Harry coming down from your respective highs together. He speaks after a moment, chest still heaving.

“One room down, the rest of the house to go.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

as always, please let me know what you thought here!

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.”

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life.

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive.

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall.

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes.

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling.

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses.

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room.

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls.

The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

“Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

“Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint.

One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version.

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over.

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed.

“But – “

“I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

“Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin.

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

“Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines @luluthegreatandterrible @bambamwolf87 @drakesfiance @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

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