#she still cries hysterically because it reminds of her brother

[weirdwildwonderland]

fix it for THAT relationship in s4

lets say that Five and Lila do get lost again. For seven years. But they never get together. If anything, they get even more disgusted with each other for the first three years. But then something switches in both of them. They both realize that each of them is the only connection to their family that they have left. One day Lila starts crying about how she misses her kids and Five asks “what about Diego?” And they talk about her marriage and everything else and lila cries onto his shoulder and Five is like “ew you got your snot on me” and lila is like “youre my brother in law, wipe it up, damn it”. And eventually they come to Five’s issues too. How he's been feeling depressed and bored all this time working a job that he doesn't care about, and it makes Lila soften up around him, at least a little bit. They still find the strawberry timeline, but by that point, Five is remembering the original apocalypse and waking up in cold sweats every night and Lila is talking every day about the sick feeling in her stomach she gets because she misses Diego and the twins and grace so much. She finds a bracelet in the strawberry timeline. It’s made out of beautiful metal and it has tiny flowers on it. She takes it because Grace loves picking flowers and it reminds her of her family. Five and Lila return after 7 years together and there’s a lot of crying on Lila’s part and it’s still weird for her to see Diego after all this time. Somehow it gets into her mind that she’s been a horrible partner and that he doesnt want her anymore. So she’s still sort of distant with him and it feels weird. He sees the bracelet on her wrist and a look passes between her and Five. He asks “did you screw my wife thing” and it all comes out. Lila starts hysterically crying and the tension breaks and Diego is like “FIVE WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON” and Five yells back “YOU MUST REALLY THINK I’M FUCKING STUPID HUH?” And Diego is like “what’s that supposed to mean”. And five is like “you think I have no morals at all, dumbass? We were lost for seven years in a subway station. Besides, Lila is weird. And I’m sick of her.” Lila explains the significance of the bracelet and how they never stopped looking, even when they were running from criminals or being shot at at, and Diego says something like “I’m sorry that I thought you guys were…doing that” and Five rolls his eyes but says something like “don’t worry about it, just glad to be back” and Lila nods and there are still tears running down her face and says “I missed you guys. So much.” And kisses Diego and hugs her kids. Boom. End scene.

[petalsofyouth]

ran haitani x reader

no tw i can think of :)

wc: 5223

~

Ⅰ. Rindou is four. It’s summer and he is hysterically crying sitting on his mother’s lap in the back of their silver Toyota Corolla. The year is 1991 and he doesn’t want to go to his grandparents yet again, because it’s boring there and there’s just too many mosquitoes in their old dusty house and then they have those weird moving lights in the forest every evening. What is Rindou supposed to do about all these? 

He is terrified. He wants to stay in Tokyo. 

Ran is five. He sits in the front seat near his dad looking at cars passing by on the highway. He thinks Rindou is acting like a little kid and so he tells his dad just this and is rewarded with a pat on the head and a sweet chuckle. Upon hearing it, Rindou cries even more and Ran is almost annoyed, but not really, because despite his brother being so childish now, there’s still this sweet feeling in his chest and a special place that is Rindou’s only. 

So Ran audibly sighs and crawls on his seat turning his body to the back of the car. He sees his brother’s puffy crying face and reaches out to wipe salty tears. They are cold, but he lets his fingers linger on the wet skin until Rindou’s attention is on him. Glossy dark purple eyes staring at him attentively. Swallowing every word before anything is said. 

“Do you remember that shrine we visited with grandma?” 

Rindou nods a firm ‘yes’, but Ran suspects he doesn’t really remember. He was too small. He goes on anyway. 

“Grandma told me it’s haunted so we are going to lurk all the ghosts out and kill them.” 

“You can’t kill ghosts.” Rindou protests.

There’s a short period of silence where the wait for Ran’s response transforms into something almost tangible. Even the adults are listening. Too curious to interfere and tell that you in fact don’t kill ghosts. You banish them. 

“Are you scared, Rin?” Says Ran so quietly, the sound of his voice is drowned out by the noise of the busy highway. “If you are scared then…” 

“I am not scared!” Too afraid to disappoint his older brother Rindou shouts and he is on the verge of tears again. Although, this time for an entirely different reason. “I just think you can’t kill ghosts. Aren’t they dead already?” 

“Of course they aren’t. Why would they be still here with us if they were?” 

The light of the setting sun intertwines with Ran’s shoulder length blonde hair and Rindou understands that there’s nothing his older brother cannot do. The pride that swells up inside of him is greater than he ever felt. 

For the rest of the road Rindou doesn’t cry anymore. Nor does he cry in the years that follow. 

Ⅱ. Rindou is five and Ran is six when you meet them for the first time. Their grandma brings them to your parents house and you are forced to play together in the garden while adults are preparing dinner in the kitchen and chatting away. 

You wish you were with them because those brothers are intimidating and they aren’t friendly and they are so so so different from the boys in the village. You don’t like them and you hope they will go home right after dinner. 

They don’t. 

And then you are forced to play together again and you ask your mom if you can sit with her instead, but she tells you not to be rude. There’s nothing you can do so you spend your evening watching them whispering to each other with their backs facing you. 

Next day they return again and the day after. On the fourth day the younger brother approaches you. He is wearing thin glasses which he adjusts with his pointer fingers before he speaks to you. 

“Can you keep secrets?” 

The question is bizarre. Yet, you are intrigued and nod lightly. Behind Rindou - and you know that this is his name because his grandma said it when she introduced you four days ago - is his older brother watching you intently. He is tall and has long blonde hair that reminds you of the insides of the white grape. You can’t believe he is six. Nor can you believe that you and Rindou are the same age. There must be something going on in Tokyo that makes them look older. 

Maybe one day you understand what it is, but before that you stay still and confusedly blink at them, trying to figure out what it is that they want you to keep secret. Why would they even want to share something so sacred with you? 

“Is it yes or no?” Rindou asks this time harsher. 

“Yes.” 

“Good. Then follow us. We want to show you something.” 

Without a second thought you slip out of the garden and follow them to the woods where the shrine is. The place is familiar and you really shouldn’t be scared, but the small light of fear in your chest is there. You don’t tell them that. You don’t want them to be satisfied because you believe that’s why they brought you here. To scare you. 

What else for? 

That summer evening of 1992, among the mossy rocks and under the last rays of orange sun, they confess to you that they are terrible terrifying boys who kill ghosts every summer so the Wakasugi Primeval Forest are free of them. 

For the rest of the summer, every single day, you kill lost souls together. 

Ⅲ. The bus sign reads “Nishiawakura-son, Aida District, Okayama Prefecture” and Rindou who is eleven now believes there’s nothing more boring than visiting his grandparents every summer. 

You don’t kill ghosts anymore. All of them are probably well dead and long forgotten by now so it’s quite boring there. The contrast between never sleeping, always bright Roppongi and ever so green village of his grandparents strikes him violently. He wants to stay back and spend his vacation here with his friends. Playing Nintendo and going to arcades. Occasionally of course beating those who question him and his brother’s authority. 

Rindou takes a high liking in fighting.

But then he is reminded of you and despite him wanting to be indifferent, his heart clenches. The air is suddenly not enough to comfortably breath and a sharp pain strikes him somewhere under his ribcage. He cares about you. He wants to see you. 

He hates it. 

Beside him Ran is carrying their huge black sport bag where all their clothes and shoes are stored. Rindou eyes his own brother, imagining what you might think of Ran now. Yes, he is only twelve, but he is already so tall and so handsome and he got his ear pierced a few days before so it’s red and swelling. And still Ran looks so cool, Rindou is almost jealous. 

Rindou believes he looks like a kid which he supposes he is, but it’s a bit unfair that he is short and on a chubby side. He and Ran might be brothers, but what is common between them? 

Ran is cool and Rindou not really so. At least, that is how everyone perceives them, Rindou is sure of that. 

Before the bus starts he wishes you might like him a bit more than his brother.

After all it was only fair because it was his idea to tell you about ghosts all those summers ago. 

Ⅳ. Rindou’s wish is granted or so he thinks at first. 

You do hang out with him more and seemingly enjoy his company. You three are still friends [best friends even], with the only difference that Ran is unusually silent around you and you evidently avoid him as much as you can. Rindou doesn’t dwell on it. Everything is perfect and he is happy. Nishiawakura-son is not as boring as he thought it would be. 

On the last day of their vacation you are over at their house. You sit on the wooden floor before the garden that their grandma is still tending to despite her age and eat watermelon. It’s hot even though it’s evening and Rindou’s shirt is sticking to his sweaty body. So much of the mountain's fresh air, he bitterly mutters remembering his mom’s words. Cicadas screeching is too loud, but when it would annoy him, now he melts into this perfect sound of summer. He closes his eyes and does his best to engrave this moment into himself; become one with it. 

No cicadas can he be heard in Roppongi and he already knows that if he ever hears them again he would be reminded of you, Ran and sweet smell of the most delicious watermelon he ever had the chance to eat. 

“In winter it’s really snowy and cold here.” You say, sitting on your folded right leg, the left swinging in the air, disturbing gravel every now and then. Rindou catches Ran staring at your leg as you speak. He thinks it's odd. He doesn’t say anything and instead watches your face as you speak looking to the lonely winter that soon will find you. “We don’t really do anything fun here. We go to cafes, ramen shops or stay over at each other’s houses and sometimes my dad or my best friend’s mom would drive us to Okayama or to Osaka if we are exceptionally lucky. We’d stay for a couple of days there. Visit shops, hypermarkets, bookshops and then we are back here. Sometimes I think like I am always going to be here. Just like those ghosts in the forest. All alone and wandering in eternity until someone frees me.” 

The three of you don’t say anything for a while. You and Rindou decide to take a bite of your pieces of watermelon. The juice spilling over and dripping down your fingers. It makes them sticky and Rindou being Rindou licks them off, shoving all fingers inside his mouth until they are clean. He only notices that Ran hasn’t eaten when their grandma comes over and scolds Ran for neglecting fruits again. 

The rest of the day is spent simply. You go for the last walk into the forest promising not to go too deep and be back before sun sets. Then you sit by a small river where you bathed every single day all summer and finally get back to Haitani’s house where you have a delicious dinner. Just before midnight Ran says he is going to bed. Tomorrow is a big day and Rindou shouldn’t stay up for long either. Rindou sulks, but as usual obeys. You wish them goodnight and then they are off to their room on the second floor and you stay in the spacious tatami room that is nowadays only used by guests. 

Soon enough, the house is silent. The night here too sounds very different compared to Roppongi. Otherworldly. Like there are no humans and no cities and no planet and you are somewhere far along in the space to feel anything, to feel like anything. 

This state however is disturbed just before three in the morning when Ran opens the slide door of their room and on tip toes goes downstairs. His movements aren’t really loud, but Rindou is Rindou and so he hears them anyway. 

As well as he knows that Ran isn’t thirsty, hungry or in need of a toilet. As well as he knows that Ran knows that you aren’t asleep either. 

So. Rindou rubs his sleepy eyes and reaches out for his glasses. He follows the footsteps of his brother, careful enough to stop before the corner of the tatami room. Rindou slides down the wall sitting on the wooden floor, his legs stretched in front of him and he listens to his brother telling you all about Tokyo and its lights. 

By the end of the summer of 1999, Rindou understands that you don’t like him less or more than Ran. You just like Ran very differently than you’d ever be able to like Rindou. 

Ⅴ. They don’t visit for three summers in a row. No one would tell you why.

The first summer is hard. The second one is better. By the beginning of the third when they aren’t here it doesn’t really feel like anything and you hate yourself for it. 

Memories fade. Ghosts die. You get older. And once more it seems to you that while everyone and everything moves forward you are stagnant in your village with a population of no more than two thousand people. 

Despite you claiming to be devoid of feelings, you cry a lot in the summer of 2002.

Ⅵ. When they are back to Nishiawakura-son you aren’t there. 

You spend holidays away from the village at your best friend’s grandparents house in Matsuyama. You were planning the trip the whole year and you're excited and grateful they are generous enough to let you stay. 

But when you learn that Ran and Rindou are finally home you wish you were there too. 

The whole summer of 2003 is filled with thoughts if this deep regret is eating them alive too.

Ⅶ. The knife in your hand slips when you hear Haitani’s grandmother announcing that they have arrived. Blood seeps through the small cut quickly and you inhale deeply calming yourself down. The pain arrives a tad later. You bite your lip and unnoticed by anyone lurk in the bathroom. Leaning down on this sink you tell yourself you aren’t hiding and you aren’t nervous and you are in the safe space of tile and wood only because you need to bandage your hand. You tell yourself you are perfectly okay with meeting them so many years later. You can be friends again. You can start anew. It’s not like you changed much, right? It’s not like they are totally different people. 

You stay in the bathroom for some time until your mother is calling your name so loudly and so fast you are embarrassed. With band-aid in your teeth you walk towards the dining room where everyone has already gathered. What you’ve been supposed to help with is done by your mom and your grandma. The scowl your elders send you is humiliating enough you don’t look nor at Ran nor at Rindou. 

Eyes to the ground you move to your seat. 

Over the food everyone is happily chatting. Your parents and Ran are the one who speak the most. They ask him about what they’ve been up to and how their studies are going. The conversation is easy and light-hearted. For everyone. Except you. You don’t utter the word. 

It’s later when you do the dishes that Rindou approaches you. For some unknown reason you know it’s him and not Ran. He stops a few steps away from you and you tense. Your shoulders stiff and fingers gripping the white plate too harsh. You think you can hear it’s cracking. 

He sighs and then chuckles. “Hey. Can you keep secrets?” 

The plate did shatter that evening in the beginning of summer of 2004. 

Ⅷ. “So what you are trying to say is that you killed a person?” You ask. 

It’s pitch dark around and if not for the bleak light of the flashlight the only thing you would see would be tree crowns and star kissed sky above them. 

“Yes.” Says Ran. He leans on the tall cypress with his arms crossed around his chest and you can’t help, but think that his white loose t-shirt is going to be dirty from the dry bark. 

Rindou is fast to intervene and correct his older brother. He doesn’t want you to be afraid of them or think they are something they aren’t so he takes a deep breath and adjusts his glasses - they are still round shaped just as when he was a kid - explaining.. “We didn’t really kill anyone. It’s just that the bastard died cause we beat the shit out of him.” 

“Were you okay?” 

“Not a scratch. He kicked me a couple of times in the ribs.” Rindou is confused by your question. Still he answers it the best he can. “Oh and Ran’s knuckles were scraped you could almost see bones.” 

Slowly you nod, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. So that’s why they weren’t visiting their grandparents for all those years. They were in juvie. Not because they found you and your little village boring. 

You bit your lip fidgeting on the cold wooden floor of the old shrine. Rindou sits next to you and you can feel his intent gaze. 

“Your hair looks gorgeous, but what with this inverted look?” 

“It was Ran’s idea. I do like it though. Oh! And we have a matching tattoo. Wanna see?” 

You do and Rindou eagerly strips off his shirt. You can’t see much. It’s too dark to make out the patterns of black lines. However you can see that the tattoo is huge and it covers the right side of his body. It stops abruptly in the middle of his torso and while Rindou twirls to show you his tattooed back, you think you understand why his tattoo is only a half. 

It’s because Rindou is himself half of the Haitani brothers. 

“It goes down my leg too. I’ll show it to you tomorrow.” Says Rindou picking his t-shirt up and putting it on. “Hurt like a motherfucking bitch, but it looks cool and it gets me girls so I’d do it again. And it also kinda has meaning to it.” 

“Good to know you acknowledge our matching tattoo as meaningful.” You don’t know if Ran is joking or mad or if he is just mentioning it to show you that he too does have a tattoo, not aware that you already have figured it out. He catches your gaze on him and the corners of his lips tug upward. “I am not stripping.” 

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” 

“Good.” 

Somehow it’s you who gets embarrassed and not him. Which of course makes you mad at Ran and for the rest of the evening you only pay attention to Rindou who’s super happy for that. He too does think his brother can be an unbearable bastard, but he senses there’s something else to your anger towards Ran. Something that smells sweet and sugary; like a burnt caramel. 

They walk you to your house and you, remaining in your petty mood, wish goodnight only to Rindou. Barely acknowledging Ran’s presence. And it’s the way his eyes are so calm and thin lips part slightly as he feigns a huge effort not to smile that Rindou understands this summer is going to be a mess. 

Ⅸ. One morning you are at their house. Your mom sent you over with plum pickles she promised Haitani’s grandma the other day. You don’t really understand why they couldn’t come and pick them up themselves, but when you mention it your mother gives you a stern look. She mutters something along the lines of lost generation and ungrateful children and your only wish is to disappear so you pick up the carton package with jars and run off to the Haitanis. 

They don’t live that far. Their house is only some blocks away. Still when you are at the front step you are out of your breath, hands going numb. You whine and curse hoping no one is in the yard. You doubt their grandma or grandpa would tell on you, you just don’t want to make a bad impression. 

It’s Rindou who catches you though. He is in the garden working out and listening to music on his Sony Walkman. It’s loud and you can hear it through his headphones meters away from you. 

“Oi! Morning. What’s that?” He jogs over to you and with ease takes the carton box in one hand, opens the lid with his free hand. When he sees what’s inside he smiles a pretty toothy smile. “Should’ve told me to help you.” 

“Are you saying it because you genuinely wanted to help me or because it’s plum pickles?” He grins at you and you gasp, theatrically and too loud, wanting to sound offended. “Can’t believe you, Haitani.” 

Inside the house it smells like fresh steamed rice, miso soup and sour pickled vegetables. Once you greet Haitani’s grandma who’s busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen, you offer to help her, but she shoo you and Rindou away, promising that she’s almost done anyway. Instead she asks you to prepare the table and begs Rindou to go shower and wake his brother up. “That boy. He does sleep a lot and you start thinking something is wrong with him. He is like a bear our Ran.” 

“A bear that is built like a stick. Don’t know where all that food he eats goes to.” It’s Haitani’s grandpa and you turn around to bow at him. “He is quite handsome, our Ran, hm. Right, little bird?” 

There’s this awful embarrassment inside your chest that ignites a fire and you look at the ground, hiding your confused torn face from everyone’s peculiar eyes. You furrow your eyebrows and pinch the skin of your arm to focus and come up with some good comeback. Something smart that won’t give you away because oh god of course you think Ran is handsome. You aren’t blind to think he is not. 

Just when you raise your head there’s loud footsteps coming from the stairs. It’s Ran. He is shirtless and his long hair is messy and loose, eyes barely open. He is wearing an identical to Rindou’s black sports shorts that look twice bigger than his actual needed size. Maybe they are just wide fit. You don’t really know. It doesn't really matter, does it? 

“Why do you have to be so loud? It’s literally what… eight in the morning?” He rasps, yawning. 

“It’s well past eight, Ran. Go get yourself ready and look presentable. We have a guest over.” 

“Yes, grandma.” 

You think he didn’t hear anything and return to your task of placing a hot pot with miso soup on the table. But he did and he makes sure you know that as he brushes past you and whispers. “So?” 

“So what?” 

“Do I look good or not? You haven’t answered, because I saved your ass from embarrassment.” 

“And?” 

“And now it’s your payback. Do I or do I not?” 

He doesn’t get the answer that morning. Only a scowl and a roll of your pretty eyes. 

Hours later however when you are waiting for Rindou who forgot his backpack as you were going to meet up with your school friend at Ogaya Shibazakura Park to have a picnic and enjoy beautiful pink moss, Ran asks you again. He's impatient and if you knew him any less you’d think he is worried what you might answer. 

For the first time since you’ve met all those years ago Ran looks boyish and uncertain. It kills you, because it looks like he is in pain. Like he is hurting as he expects you to say something. 

In the end you give up. You say that yes, he is handsome, but then…

Whatever else you wanted to say was never heard. Ran finds your hand and intertwining your fingers with his brings you closer. He searches your face for any reason why he shouldn’t, why it’s wrong or why it might hurt you and why you might not want him or anything, anything that would halt him and play as if he never wanted to kiss you. But he doesn’t see any of these, only your nervous eyes and so he leans in and kisses you, slipping his tongue inside your parted mouth. 

There’s nothing gentle in your first ever kiss. It’s sloppy and messy and it bleeds the prettiest raw adoration you have for each other. 

You drown in Ran and he lets you for a very long time. 

When Rindou comes running you both sit on the pavement and he notices how unusually calm it is around here. As if the whole world was separated by the thin invisible glass while he wasn’t there. 

He isn’t sure where he stands. With you on the other side or with the rest of the world. 

Ⅹ. After that day Ran kisses you every chance he gets. 

He is shameless about it and he doesn’t care if someone walks in on you. He kisses you in his house when no one is in sight and he kisses you in your house when he slips inside your bedroom while everyone else is busy preparing dinner or talking.  

He kisses you on your walks when Rindou says he needs to use the toilet or when Rindou is swimming in the river chatting up your friends so he isn’t paying any attention to you two. He kisses you late at night when you hike the mountain and you two not so accidentally get separated from your other friends and Rindou. 

He kisses you when he sneaks out of his house to come see you because that particular day he hasn't kissed you yet and he desperately needs to feel your soft lips on his, unless he wants to deal with the dull pain in his bones. 

He kisses you and kisses you and one day he is unable to stop. You sit in the tatami room where many summers ago he comforted you as best as a twelve years old could. And now you sit on his lap and his large delicate hands caress your body. You can’t believe he killed someone with these tender lovely hands that arouse goosebumps all over your skin. The thoughts don't stay for long because soon enough Ran kisses under your jaw and then he bites your neck, sucking too harshly you yelp. He licks the bite as a lame sorry you don’t really believe in. 

It’s when his hands slip under your t-shirt and he yanks it off you, you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping him. 

Everything feels too much. Everything feels too good. Too bright. Too intense. You are burning in his hands. “Ran, I don’t think we should. They can be back any time now.” 

He lifts his hand from your waist then and cradles your face in them, bringing you closer to him. His forehead falls on yours and it’s only now that you notice how fast his breathing is. He licks his lips pecking you twice or thrice or maybe more times, you don’t count. You can’t count. “I think… I believe… You know when you fight the adrenaline is kicking in and you go all crazy. Every move is mechanical.” 

You have no idea what he is talking about, but you hum, wanting him to continue. 

“With you it’s worse. Ten times worse than in a fight. I get so violent when I am with you. I can’t fucking help it. I think I am…” 

You swallow his words with a kiss. Year younger than him you know better than letting him admit that he is in love with you. For both of your sakes. Still your heart hurts and tears emerge in your eyes. Ran kisses them off your face. He doesn’t know why you are crying and he doesn’t want to. He’d hate himself if he knew he was the reason. 

So you kiss him and while you do you slip your hands to your back taking your bra off. 

After all, you too, are weak before him. 

Ⅺ. It’s late. The summer of 2004 is almost over. Three more days and they’ll be back in Tokyo. Until next summer. Or maybe until forever. 

It does feel like their last summer in Nishiawakura-son. 

Ran smokes the Seven Stars he brought with himself all the way from Tokyo. He isn’t a smoker really. The occasional cigarette is put between his teeth only at parties or in good company. It’s his first time smoking alone and he isn’t sure it does feel good, but it numbs him enough to smoke just one more and the last one until there’s nothing left in the package. 

That’s how Rindou finds him outside of their old family house in the small forgotten village. With a lit cigarette in his mouth, shirtless, looking at the small yellow dancing dots. 

“Do you remember when you were afraid of fireflies?” Ran asks, taking a puff. The cigarette smells awful. Bitter. “You used to pee yourself, you were so afraid of them.” 

“That's cause your mean ass told me it was spirits.” 

“Maybe they actually are.” 

“Oh come on, Ran. Don’t!” 

“Are you still afraid?” 

“Absolutely not. You just sound stupid.” 

Ran side eyes his younger brother and Rindou elbows him between his ribs. They both laugh and for a good minute it’s the only sound around there. Everything in this village does seem dead until you are the reason to bring life to it. It’s like a domino effect. You do something and your doing provokes a chain reaction. 

“So you two are…” Starts Rindou, kicking the dirt under his flip flop. 

“Yes.” 

“You don’t know what I wanted to say.” 

“I do.” 

“No you fucking don’t.” 

Ran smiles sweetly at his brother. His first favourite person on this Earth. “Okay then. Ask.” 

“So you two are together?” 

“That’s exactly what I thought you wanted to ask, Rin. And yes we are, but I haven’t asked her out, cause it’s obvious that we are together.” 

“How is it obvious? I only knew something was going on because I know you and I know her.” 

“It’s obvious because we kiss, we make l… we fuck and we do all shit people who are together are doing.” 

Despite his best judgement Rindou grins. “Make love, Ran? Really? Where?” 

“In our room, her room, tatami room. Shrine.” 

“Disgusting. I am sorry I asked.” 

“You are excused.” 

Silence falls over them again. This time longer. Ran finishes his cigarette and takes the pack to the steel garbage can a few metres away. He comes back and stands near Rindou. The street lamp provides them with enough illumination to see their surroundings and still be able to see stars. It’s beautiful here, they both think. It’s like you are at the end of the world, they know. 

“Wanna know what I am thinking, Ran?” Rindou speaks first again. The curse of little brother to start all conversations. “Next summer she should come to Tokyo. She should come and stay there with us. You should ask her to. Have you ever asked her what she’s gonna do when she finishes school?” 

“No.” 

“Really? Do you just bang all the time?” 

“Pretty much. She’s got nice…” 

“Absolutely not.” 

They both laugh. The night gets chilly the way it does only in mountains before dawn and so they return home.

Before Ran falls asleep he promises himself to speak with you first thing next - or rather this - day. He believes you have something special and he knows he isn’t the best person to transform his feelings into words he still wants to try. For you. For him. He closes his eyes. Bitter taste of Seven Stars dissolving on his tongue. 

Summer 2004 in Nishiawakura-son was good. Everyone was happy. 

Everyone was hopeful.

[thebenriksai]

Big lore post. Vs Alex. Part 1: Morality.

As already mentioned in this post, Alex is the main villain in AU. But at the same time, she pursued good goals - to save Xen creatures, scientists from the military, and take Lee, Nicole, and Toby to a safe place. What went wrong? Well, actually....everything went wrong.

Alex, that got used to her authority, influence and the fact that everything always worked out, suddenly encountered something that knocked her out of her rut. She lost control over the situation. Her own brother suddenly became her enemy. The former victum for bullying, Nicole, became her best friend. And her beloved person disappeared.

But all of this, in fact, was the fault of Alex's irresponsible brother and his new "boyfriend". Because of them, Alex's whole life turned upside down. And she seemed to have landed on her back. While everyone had a happy ending (not knowing what had happened to Benrey yet), Alex could not calm down. She didn't take revenge. She didn't save the lives of her loved ones, except TSST. Nothing.

After restarting the whole process, Alex tried to get her happy ending back. She started it over with her team. Hearing discontent and confusion, despair suddenly grew in the woman. Why was it so difficult to understand everything? Why were these people so selfish? It seemed that the fight started with these thoughts. Alex lost herself in trying to make them go through everything again, and her mind clouded with envy, sadness, desperation, and aggression towards everyone. And so, a harmless fight turned into a battle to the death, while Alex, with hysterical cries, tried to destroy everything she envied.

Nicole stopped seeing Alex as a threat or enemy. During their adventure, they grew close, so close that they could call themselves friends (You can read about their previous relationship in this short fic). Of course, Nicole knew more than anyone how it felt to lose everything. She felt sorry for her friend who was getting worse and worse. No one believed that John was gone or dead. Everyone supported each other. But Alex could not handle the pressure. She had other problems too and had already strained relationships with Benrey, as well as rejection from society. And then, such a tragedy happened.

When Alex delivered an ultimatum in the form of a fight, Nicole took it as a joke at first. It was difficult to take it seriously, even considering the woman's unstable psyche. But nevertheless, this was not a joke. But still Nicole refused to hurt her friend. She avoided her attacks and maneuvered as well as she could. All she wanted to do was stop Alex. Not kill her. Help her.

Lee, who had always been hiding Toby, came to help. The girl was terrified by these news. An extremely responsible and confident woman began to cry from inner pain and try to kill everyone. Lee didn't know what to do. Maybe it was her fault? Since her arrival in the family, things had been bad between Alex and Benrey. But the guard pulled herself together quickly, pushing selfish thoughts aside. She knew that Alex needed help.

Teaming up with Nicole, Lee tries to find a way to approach the woman and remind her about the good times together. When necessary, she used her immortal shell and drew all attention to herself. Nicole had only one goal: to help Alex and save her from suffering (and others too).

(Our sketches of this battle)

Thank you for reading it!! It's a really important piece of our lore, hehe. Until next time!! Byeeeee!

-Blue Opal / Alex

-PigelOn

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 45

Cw: sex,mentions of child brides, bigamy, ghosts🔞

Gif by @barbieaelin

Taglist:@mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @alexandria-millie @watercolorskyy @ewanmitchellcrumbs @sweethoneyblossom1

Orphan-Maker suits him.

The Roxtons had been tall, and the sword proportionate to their lords. The longsword is fine, finer than any sword Aemond has had and would make a good weapon.

The sword that once protected Jaehaerys and his heirs confiscated from Aemond’s would be murderer.

“Apparently he may be part of a conspiracy, he had been heard boasting that he would kill you and he’d split me open like he did to a vassal knight and take his wife as a prize.” Aegon comments after presenting him with a sheath worthy of the sword and a new horse. “Ironrod thinks we should arrest his sister and see if her lovely goodfamily is involved, but the girl was only wed for a fortnight before Titus the Turd died in Honeywine.”

The war was lost, any fool could see it.

Only problem is Aegon’s own supporters wanted death in glory and now refused to listen to them.

“It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her and any of Peake’s family, as numerous as they are, I won’t be here to protect you, you know.” Aemond pointed out.

He is to march tomorrow, to leave even if his wrist and leg are still hurting because Aemma’s behavior brought unwanted speculation.

As if she had been the first hysterical pregnant woman to react over the top about a calamity.

But people had seen it, talked about it and made it all worse.

Someone made a song about it even, an irritating ear worm that invaded your head.

“The elder she beds out of duty and the younger out of love.

The seven can’t save them from her siren song while their mother cries as she looks from above.”

“She’s fucking three and ten, besides she is mother’s cupbearer. I can’t just arrest the girl without making mother look like she wanted to murder you for fucking my wife.” Aegon dismissed his advice with good reason.

Mother would be under scrutiny, and as much as she has changed for the worse, she wouldn’t have him killed.

Or would she?

Fuck.

To think once that thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind and now he can’t trust his mother not to do something so wretched.

“I suppose, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious and have someone investigate Peake. They came after me in broad daylight, who’s to say they won’t go after you now that you’re back on the throne?” The former prince regent reminded him.

He could be foolish.

Aegon had never applied himself thinking the crown would never fall on him and now Aemond fears he will find the city on fire the moment he turns his back.

Mother never helped, too busy caring for father and stealing the crown for Aegon to actually see if he was any good at ruling.

Aemond in the meantime took every lesson taught to Aemma with great pleasure. Everything Aegon never valued, he would take with unabashed gusto.

By the age of ten he devoured histories and philosophies to see how great kings became great kings because father intended him to wed Aemma since the moment both children had been born.

Then mother had to say it wouldn’t be right for a second son to come before his brother in the succession and suggested Aegon in his place.

“Of course, I will. I am not an idiot, Aemond. Which is why I am sending you away instead of marrying you off to the Stokeworth girl as mother suggested.” Aegon did have his moments, moments when he was not blind with drink nor too out of his depth to care.

Marriage would have been worse, especially because mother’s intended bride twelve-year-old Elinor Stokeworth.

Little Elinor who served as Aemma’s cupbearer and blushed red as a beet when Aemma praised her.

She was a fucking child, really the whole idea was demented.

The match was mother’s way of getting back at her for having been made the leading lady of the court and House Targaryen.

Aemma gets to decide how the ladies live, who they marry, and children reared, something Rhaenyra and his mother butted heads over for that decade they lived together.

But mother still had cards up her sleeve and had convinced Aegon he needed to be rid of him once and for all.

And because he refused that generous offer, he would be forbidden from seeing, or speaking or even writing to Aemma while he was away.

Her correspondence would be watched to ensure she doesn’t try to get anything to him nor he to her. any news for them would be sent through his brother or her, and until the anointing for Aenys comes around, Aemond must keep their end of the deal or wed little Ellie.

A difficult choice, but one they cannot say no to.

“Don’t give me that look. It is for your good as well as hers. As they say, if you love her you will let her go.” His brother said as if he hadn’t refused to do the same.

The return of her dragon does lift her spirits.

Silverwing managed to make Alicent scream when she saw her land on the roof of Maegor’s Holdfast and Aemma had a laugh at her expense as she rewarded her silver queen with a lamb or two.

Made her forced separation from Aemond bearable.

Her sole consolation is that she only has three and a half moons to go and he has to be here for the anointing.

After the tourney, Aegon had gone as far as coming to her bed to keep the pretense that they cared for each other.

They hadn’t shared a bed since they married, it was fucking annoying to wake up to him instead of Aemond.

Especially because Aegon took up the whole bed and liked to sleep in the nude.

The first night, she’d turned and held him tightly as if he were Aemond, called him by his name and he just went along with it.

Only thing that gave it away was that Aemond has what he has dubbed the Hightower Hairiness while Aegon is as hairless as her.

“I ache for you and I haven’t even left yet.” Aemond ground his hips against her rump and she bit down on her lip lest they be discovered.

The library was deserted, Aegon never came here and no one save for them and Aemma’s ladies came here often.

His wrist and foot had healed nicely, or so she made out by the lack of bandages as his hand crept up her stomach, pawed at her growing breasts before settling on her neck to tilt her face to his.

The other bunched up her skirts until he found her mound.

“I don’t care what anyone says, this belongs to me.” Her lover palmed her cunt and yet stopped her when he refused to let her release him from his breeches.

He wants to do this his way, and she won’t deny him.

“Aemond, we’ll be discovered.” She warns and yet guides his long and calloused fingers where she needs them.

This was just the beginning, preparing her for his cock and a fuck she’ll feel when he leaves the city later tomorrow morning.

“I’ll tell them I’m afflicted by your siren’s song, Aemee.” He whispered in her ear before biting her earlobe, the hand on her throat leaving her so he could unlace his breeches and free his prick. “That I wed you like the conqueror wed his sisters and you’re my wife just as you are his. Could you imagine if we did that? I already plow your cunny for him, might as well bind you to me with a blood oath.”

He has been drinking, she can smell it and taste it in her mouth as she kissed him again and yet Aemond has never made this much sense.

“I’d wed you with fire and blood now of you wished it, dearest. We have all we need for it.” She doesn’t know what possessed her to say that. “Marry me, Aemond.”

No, that’s a lie, the queen thinks as she bit her lip bloody from the pleasure when he finally entered her.

Right on the rug he first took her on, they wed in the way of their ancestors, alone in grandfather’s library with only the old model of Valyria and a rat scurrying away as witnesses.

He paints the glyph on her forehead with his own blood just as she does with hers and drink wine no one’s else but them have had.

“Hen lantoti ānogar va sȳndroti vāedroma. Mēro perzot gīhoti elēdroma iārza sīr. Izulī ampā perzī prūmī lanti sēteksi. Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, qēlossa ozūndesi. Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.”They speak the words in unison as if they had said it all before.

Perhaps they had, perhaps they were soulmates meeting each other again and again.

Yes, soulmates.

“Blood of two joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time of darkness and light.”

Alys’ eyes glitter like glass as she stares into the flames.

A valyrian wedding vow, one she and Rhaenyra had whispered to each other underneath their blankets once upon a time as they shared their first kiss.

You cannot kiss someone until you wed them, Alicent had said even if she has been dying to feel Rhaenyra’s lips against hers more than Criston whom she lied and said she had a crush on to make her jealous.

Then I’ll wed you and wed Criston and we will be sister wives like Rhaenys and Visenya, Rhaenyra had boldly said and taught her the wedding vows.

They had wed each other, kissed and touched each other while Criston stood watch outside Rhaenyra’s door unaware of what happened within.

And then I wed your father and killed you.

“They wed each other. As if adultery wasn’t enough of a crime, she had to make him a bigamist too.” The queen scoffed.

“A shame they had to resort to that, love like that is so hard to come by.” The witch blinked and returned to her mistress.

She is not Rhaenyra, but she made a good enough replacement.

Alicent had let Criston have his way with her while she shut her eyes and remembered Rhaenyra’s delicate features twist in pleasure as Harwin rammed her from behind.

It had been a secret pastime, to live vicariously through Rhaenyra and her lover wishing she had been the one to make the princess come undone and be the one to receive her love and worship instead of Harwin who never deserved her.

To be her or to have her, she could never decipher.

Perhaps it was both.

But you killed me, Rhaenyra’s voice whispers as the woman kissing and making love to her turns into her.

You killed me, you killed my daughter, my sons and yours, sweet little Ellyn too and now you will burn in hell for your sins right there with me, my love, Rhaenyra’s ghost continues pleasuring her, and Alicent lets herself fall further into the fantasy even when her fingers card through dark tresses and not ones as fair as moonlight.

When she sees Aemond with a split lip and Aemma hide hers under a painted lip, Alicent bites her tongue still tasting Rhaenyra in her mouth.

We will burn together, Alicent, the ghost says as Aemond leads the troops out of the city.

[direwolfrules]

3 Mandos and a Baby AU: The One Where Bo-Katan Accidentally Adopts a Child

So, while the Scooby Gang was handling Mandalorian affairs the Clone Wars kick off.

Listen, killing Pre Vizsla and installing a 16 year old as the head of a whole sector takes a lot of focus and they all just kinda forgot about their local Sith Lord for a minute. Satine’s kept in power as Jorad’alor, because Korkie loves and respects his mom aunt, and also cause the New Mando acceptance for his rule is kinda predicated on that.

So Korkie involves them in the Clone Wars on the side of the Republic because “Jaster and 99 want me to save their grandsons/brothers”. If he starts secretly sending out baruurs to cut out the clones chips well, the Republic doesn’t need to know. And if he’s giving all clones Mandalorian citizenship well, the Republic can go jump in a Rancor pit.

This boy has no tolerance for slavery of any kind, and in his speech to his councilors Bo-Katan is reminded of another, older Korkie, passionately defending his choice to blow another Hutt slave processing camp sky high. She can’t help but be proud, and a little bit sad. What good would that Korkie had done had he not kept running into the fires that night, determined to save every Mando’ad he could?

I’m going to say Aq Vetina is a colony world just outside of Mandalorian Space and nominally under the authority of a Core world. Unfortunately for Aq Vetina, that Core world is corrupt as fuck/friendly with the galaxy’s creepiest old man. It gets attacked and out ride the mighty Mandalorians, off to save the day!

It ends up being a joint project between the Protectors and the Nite Owls, because Korkie declared it so (Myles may or may not have gotten Korkie in on the bofenn shipping. Adonai just stares menacingly from the corner). The Children of the Watch seemed to be the ones coolest with having an actual child as their king and did not protest when he sent them to guard Kamino.

Anyway, Bo and Fenn spend the whole fight making sarcastic comments and trying their best to one up each other, as one does now that they’ve completed the most therapeutic action of all, killing an abusive domestic terrorist. Anyway, it gets down to the last few Super Battle Droids and Bo hears crying from a storm cellar.

Anyway, ten minutes later Bo has a young Din Djarin strapped to her back and a deep sense of disgruntlement. Her final rival for the Darksaber, bane of her existence, and lord of all that’s annoying is currently an adorable five year old sucking on a piece of candied muja fruit Fenn gave him and sobbing into her hair.

Once the mourning little boy cries himself to sleep Bo fills Fenn in on her history with Mand’alor Djarin and his frog son. Fenn thinks this is hysterical, and laughs so hard he almost wakes up the ad’ika.

This is a theme that’s repeated amongst the time travelers, with the exception of Ursa. She actually does laugh so loud it wakes up baby Din.

Anyway, Bo-Katan is adamant that she is not adopting this kid. She’s not! The fact that she’s acting parental is just coincidence! Sure, she’s feeding the kid and clothing the kid and letting him seek affection and assurance from her, but that’s normal when dealing with a traumatized ad’ika. Try finding a Mando’ad who wouldn’t treat a traumatized orphan that way. (Fenn’s rebuttal to this is “Find one who wouldn’t adopt a traumatized orphan” and Bo elbows him in the ribs)

The whole time they’re in Sundari after that (Keldabe’s still being rebuilt) baby Din just follows after her like trouble follows R2-D2. Satine puts baby Din up in the family apartments, because Satine’s still pissed about the whole coup thing and also because she has a great many years of older sister teasing to make up for. (And maybe, in some part of her soul, Satine is glad that clan Kryze is growing again. It used to be a great clan, with dozens of members before the Wars and the bombing of Kalevala’s dome).

Korkie just flat out calls Din his cousin. Whenever people visit the palace and question who the new kid is Korkie tells them it’s his Auntie Bo’s kid. Bo kinda regrets giving a literal teenager near-absolute power over their people. Her nephew just gives her unimpressed looks and mentions that she got the armorer to start making Din beskar out of her Great Aunt’s old kit, and by giving this kid the family beskar she’s just adopting him without the formal declaration. Then he does that weird thing where he laughs at nothing (he’s laughing at Adonai’s excitement over new grandchildren).

Anyway, after a few weeks of this Fenn goes to adopt baby Din and Bo-Katan and he get super into it about who this kid’s buir is. Things suddenly get quiet and when they do finally come down an hour later they’ve agreed on shared custody. No one mentions what they were doing up there, and no one wants to.

Well, except for Myles and Tarre, but no one listens to them much. Except Adonai and Jaster, but that’s only so they know when the face-punching should commence.

[leggerefiore]

▽Emmet Growing Into A Yandere After Ingo Disappears△

cw: yandere, emotional manipulation, a smidgen of violence

○ Your relationship with the Subway Boss was normal. Not painfully average or anything of the sort, but a pleasant, enjoyable relationship that you felt confident in. Emmet was a kind, attentive lover who showered you in affection and praises. Dates were fun and things you both wanted to do, happy to just spend some time together after being apart. He was adorable and sweet in demeanor, with a mischievous streak and perhaps a little sadism. Still, you would have married Emmet with a second thought should he have gotten on one knee before you.

○ It was heartbreaking when you received the call from Emmet alerting you to his brother's sudden vanishing. The two were close, naturally, and often kept tabs on the other, so when Ingo didn't text Emmet yesterday evening, there was a suspicion toward his safety within his mind. You, dumbly, talked him down. Ingo was a grown adult man, let him have an off evening and don't blow up his phone. Emmet looked at you with desperate, wide eyes before relenting. “You're right. Ingo probably is just tired from work. I am, too,” he had said, fully trusting your judgment. It made you ill to your stomach now. Somehow, this was your fault because you didn't let Emmet call his precious brother.

○ The heart-wrenching part came after a depot agent called you to come pick up your boyfriend after he nearly attacked a commuter who mocked him for crying. You found your happy, bubbly boyfriend weeping his heart out, curled up in a small corner of his office. Eyes were bloodshot and irritated, his face was completely flushed and mucous escaped his nose freely. At the sight of you, he bolted and held you tightly to his body. Whimpers and cries for you to never leave him came out with such intense misery. Your arms escaped his shaking form, murmuring reassurances and comforting phrases. It was impossible to get him to move, so you sat down on the couch while he allowed every emotion to run its first or many courses.

○ You called Elesa to request her assistance, which she was more than willing to give. People were scouring everywhere for the older twin. He would surely be found soon. These were the words you to told Emmet who sniffled and stared at you with eyes like that of a lost child. Gently, you took off his hat and massaged at his tense scalp. When Ingo popped up later that day, hungover and horribly confused, it was going to be hilarious. You'd all laugh about it and this awful afternoon would be forgotten.

○ It never came. Ingo was officially reported missing and nothing seemed to point to where he possibly went, even whether it was voluntary or not. It sent Emmet further into his hysterics and he refused to step away from your side, paranoid the moment his eyes left your form you, too, would vanish. You let him, knowing the smallest comforts are what he needed most. He hadn't been able to work in the week following Ingo's disappearance. On his first day back, he counted 51 times in an hour he called you, alongside 13 texts when you had stepped away from your phone for a moment. You reminded him gently that it wasn't good to do that, and he apologised. It wasn't a secret that he was still torn up over Ingo's vanishing.

○ Though, he still called or texted you at least once every hour you were apart. You always responded to whatever he wanted. This slowly built into him wanting to know where you were going, then who you were with, and lastly for just how long would you be gone. Once again, you conceded each of these things to him. It was unhealthy, you knew; he knew, yet both of you kept it up. Desperately trying to cheer up the depressed twin while he tried to ground himself with knowledge, you weren't going anywhere. Emmet still had his moments where his old self came out. His tender affections and fun dates came back for a night. The next day, it was gone, replaced with refusing to let you leave his side without bawling his eyes out should you dare try.

○ You kept giving him more and more of yourself as he kept taking it all. It became easier to just not leave the sanctity of your shared apartment and cut contact with your concerned friends. Elesa spoke out a few times, but seemingly became complicit as she watched her dear friend shift into a wreck anytime you do something without his knowledge. Your heart was tired alongside your head; you were unhappy, too! You missed Ingo, too! He was your friend and something akin to a brother figure in your life, but you didn't demand Emmet stick to your side and never leave your home.

○ You sat Emmet down one evening, finally ready to address the unhealthy behaviours you both had taken up and whether it was possible to work on them. It hurt, but ultimately, it might be best for your relationship to either take a break or be ended permanently. You carefully held his gloved hand while Ingo's spare work cap sat atop his head. A small comfort it was, he claimed. “Em, we need to talk about… Well, everything, I think,” your tone was soft, one used to speak with small children. His eyes widened as he grasped your hand with an ironclad grip, shaking his head as tears welled in his eyes. “Emmet, please. I want to discuss this; if we can't discuss this, then I'll have no other choice than to end our relationship!” You snapped at him, growing tired of constant crying. He never stopped crying.

○ Your words had his head shoot up and with pupils shrunken into tiny coal beads within a sea of mercury. “N-no! You can't leave. Darling, please don't go! I'll die if you disappear too!” Arms encompassed your form as he started sobbing hysterically, near the level after discovering his brother's disappearance. You struggled against him, tired of this vicious cycle. A string pulled much too taut inside his mind split from your actions. Something that had barely been resisted, but now was impossible to ignore. You weren't leaving him. He wouldn't let you. Emmet hated to be rough with you, the most precious and important being in his life, but he must. His hands grasped your arms as he knocked you roughly into a wall. The back of your head hitting the surface with a loud thud. Your last conscious sight of the younger twin's deranged expression, lips pulled into a manic smile, far too wide.

○ You woke with familiar handcuffs bonding your wrists to the headboard. Galvantula lied on top of you, chirping when they noticed you awake. They scuttled from you to go alert Emmet and you panicked. Your head ached with horrible sensation as you processed what happened. Screaming was useless as he gagged you with another toy you had once felt comfortable with. The door creaked open to reveal Emmet, smiling innocent but with eyes that held a certain darker madness in them. Cooing at you, he crawled on top of you. Your body was trapped beneath his in a mocking way to how you had felt previously. “I like you best tied up. I always have. You can't run away like this,” his tone was empty as his hands cupped your face. You regretted your foolish actions that had allowed this to happen, along with his terrible ones. His lips pressed softly against your cheeks as his nose rubbed affectionately at your own. “I'll take wonderful care of you, darling. No one else can take you from me.” There was no doubt in his promise. You blamed Ingo for this too.

○ Your relationship with the Subway Boss was normal. No longer, not when his hands held your skin like he was trying to merge himself with you. Your own always restrained. Your meals fed to you as if you were incapable. Emmet loved you, there was no doubt. The bright pink of his love blended with the navy of fear and the jade of envy, alongside the tainted grey of what used to be a bright white of his soul. A mucky colour remained, which expressed itself in your hostage state. All Emmet needed was you, safely secured in his mind and waiting for his affection. His words no longer filled solely with tenderness, consumed by obsession and possession toward you. His delusions about a simple argument that led to this state, and how you still completely loved him while wanting this.

[moons-cozy-corner]

Goodbye, Amphibia

GOD I’m gonna miss Amphibia so much. I only just got into it, and now it has ended. 

I am SOBBING. I woke up at 3:30 in the morning and watched it. Now it's 6:00 and I just finished writing this.

Even though I did not participate in the Supernova, I would like to add one thing to show my appreciation for this gay little frog show. So here is a little writing about Anne and Sprig to help me welcome the change.

Honestly, they remind me of me and my brother. It hurts to see them separate, seeing them hug like that before leaving each other forever. I’ve had moments like that with my own brother, where we cried while saying goodbye and then wouldn’t see each other again for months. Seeing them say goodbye hurt, but at the same time, the idea of them moving on while still holding each other so close feels so good. It couldn’t have ended better.

But to get to the writing. Here is some trauma :)

So. It had been a whole year.

Not exactly a whole year, of course, because it would be his birthday. But close. He would be twelve today, and the Plantars would do their little mud-crown thing when they woke up. Anne sat on her bed near the window, looking up at the moon. She hadn’t been able to sleep.

She’d put this date on the calendar since his last birthday. When she’d still had a sliver of hope that they would still be with each other a year from then. Today was proof that she had been wrong.

Tears filled her eyes, making the vision of the moon melt in front of her. 

The truth was, she hadn’t been able to sleep for a while. There had been nightmares some nights, but others were spent thinking, worrying, that he was in danger. There was a persistent dream that consisted of a portal, hop-pop sprinting up to her holding a shriveled up version of Sprig in his arms, breath shallow. Too injured or too sick to be brought back. And when she would reach out to hold him, to console or desperately try to save him, he would vanish. They would all vanish, and she would be left alone.

The day they had left she had told herself to stay strong for Sprig. She let herself cry, let herself say goodbye, but had been able to shield most of the pain. The moment she walked through the portal, she almost bolted back, just one more hug, she’d thought. It would have been no big deal. But then it closed, and she had become hysterical. That was the last time she’d ever see him outside of her dreams. 

Anne’s parents had worried too, but they knew not to push. To Anne, she had just lost her brother. Not only that, but an entire family. The Plantars, yes, but everybody. Her family, her friends, her whole world. Then Marcy moved, and she went back to school. 

Crashing back down on her pillows, she sighed. It would hurt less, eventually, surely. Right? It had to. Besides, she didn’t have to worry about protecting him anymore. He was strong, he was smart too. They’d learned a lot from each other in such a short time. But this only brought another worry to mind.

What if they forgot?

They’d promised to never forget each other, that their distance wouldn’t matter, because of course it didn’t. It was crazy really, that she could even imagine them forgetting her, and their adventures, and their friendship. The idea still hurt, though, and the feeling of it stung in her chest. 

She sat up and looked at the sky through her window again. She let herself smile. He wouldn’t forget her. They wouldn’t forget her, or Marcy, or Sasha, or any of their time together. She was sure of it, because to forget any of it was impossible. 

Standing up from bed, Anne sneaks downstairs. She pulled out some ingredients and got working. She imagined Sprig next to her, helping gather the bowl or measuring cup, then helping her mix the batter and getting it, somehow, all over the both of them. When it was done she imagined that they had lost track of time, that it had set the house on fire, or burnt the cake to a charred rock. A smile ran across her face, and she let it. She could practically hear his laughs behind her, and she almost expected him to be there when she turned to put the cake on the table. 

It was three-thirty in the morning when the cake was cool enough to put the icing on. She had to break the “never move the cat while they’re sleeping or expect death” rule, scooping a sleepy Domino off her leg. She couldn’t look at Domino anymore without thinking of Domino Two, or that strange being Anne had met that had offered to make her a god. She laughed remembering the dang cat, offering her to take its place while it pranced around the room.

Anne carefully picked up a sticky tube of pink frosting, drawing a vaguely Sprig-shaped blob on the cake. “I don’t look like that,” Sprig would argue. “You gave me an extra arm,” or “my face is lopsided,” which Anne would laugh at and then leave it that way anyways just because it would be funny. She drew on his little hat last before stepping back to admire her work. Imaginary Sprig was right, it was a little lopsided, but that was what made it perfect. She went to her parents' extra's drawer, where a couple lighters and candles were kept, along with some scissors, batteries, and extra slash-lights. She placed twelve pink and white-striped candles around the edges of the cake, avoiding placing any on Sprig, and lit them up one by one.

Then she blew out the candles for him, watching the smoke rise up and dance around in the air. Leaning back in her chair, Anne took one last look through the window. The moon was bright, almost full. 

“Happy birthday, Sprig.”

—------------------------------------

Sprig sat at the dinner table, fidgeting with his hat beside him. He should be so happy that he was a year older, and he mostly was. He just really. Missed. Anne. 

He went to look out the window, and the moon was nearly full. The sky was dark, splattered by thousands of stars. It was strange, and probably dumb, he thought, that he felt like Anne was seeing it, too. Even if it was a strange thought, he let it comfort him, before turning back to the table to grab his hat. He put it on, adjusting it right, before sneaking downstairs to the basement. There was no way he could sleep now, but maybe in the few hours before the sun came up, he could get some work done. 

Sprig grabbed his book, Anne's phone, and a pencil. 

Then, he got to writing.

—------------------------------------

Goodbye, Amphibia. We’ll miss you. 5/14/2022

[yinyangswings]

Hanging off the Ledge

Fandom: Assassin's Creed Unity

Characters: Arno Dorian, Reader, Elise de la Serre (mentioned)

Pairing: Arno x femReader

Notes/Warnings: Implied thoughts of suicide, drinking, mention of vomit, used Google translate for my French so forgive me on that

Word count: 3088

Summary: You knew that there would always be trials when you fell in love with Assassin Arno Dorian. Knew that he had demons within him. What you didn't know was that your own demons would rear their heads at a vulnerable moment after an argument with him. Nor did you know that it would be Arno who finds you standing on the ledge of the South Tower of Notre-Dame, staring down at the streets of Paris.

She wandered around the streets of Paris. The moon mingled with the lamp light, the sound of men singing from the bars, dogs barking, a cat hissing from an alleyway.

She didn’t really notice.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep being reckless like this, Arno!”

“For fuck’s sake Elise, I’m not a child!!”

She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. The argument itself wasn’t a new one. She thought he was being reckless and he, as usual, didn’t appreciate being coddled. And if she was being truthful with herself, this hadn’t been the first time he had called her Elise by mistake. Right after she had died, he would call her that on a nearly daily basis. She had red hair. Elise had red hair. For a man who had been drinking away his sorrows, it hadn’t been a surprise to get the both of them confused. But as a few years had gone by and he had grieved correctly he had stopped. She had thought, naively apparently, that maybe he was beginning to move on. When they had gotten together she had thought that maybe he actually loved her. That, while Elise would always have some part of his heart, which she had expected, she could share with the ghost of his former lover.

But that seemed like it was a lost cause.

He doesn’t love you. He loves Elise. He’ll always love Elise over you. If he could save her by sacrificing you, he’d do it without hesitation.

She felt her eyes begin to burn and she roughly rubbed under them, pointedly ignoring the voice whispering in the back of her mind, but was pushing into her mind like a nail. She slowed when she found herself in front of Notre-Dame, the large building looming in the square. It wasn’t a church anymore. Some cult now ran it. The Cult of Supreme Being, if she remembered correctly. It was dark, signifying no one was likely in there.

Perfect.

She worked the door open and slid into the shadowed building. She remembered being a child and coming here once with her father and brother. It had been a beautiful cathedral, the stained glass glistening down upon the pews, the statues, the soft hymns of the choir.

She had gotten in trouble for staring too long, but she couldn’t help it. It had been a comfort for her.

It was now a shadow of what it once was. A daily reminder of the mistakes of this country. Of the change that had happened.

Just like you. You’re a mistake.

She found herself walking up the stairs in the back, her footsteps echoing despite being as quiet as she could. Several staircases, unlocking some doors, and climbing more stairs later she found herself in one of the towers, staring at the bells.

It was so quiet, only the wind passing through the room seemed to sing its song. She slid her hand across the one bell near her, feeling the chill of bronze soak into her hand. She jumped when her foot kicked something and she looked down to see a small crate of...wine bottles?

“Oh for God’s sake. Really?” She muttered, bending down to look at it more closely. It looked like someone had had the idea that no one would look for wine in an abandoned church.

Well...at least no one who wasn’t an assassin and knew how to pick locks.

She hesitated for a moment before she flipped the bottle over and looked at the label. It wasn’t even a good year. But it would do. She worked the cork out and took a swig, grimacing at the taste. She took another swig.

You’re useless. It’s no wonder your father died hating your existence. Why your brother died hating you.

And another.

You’re a disgrace to the Creed and the Brotherhood.

And another. The wine tasted bitter and she knew that she should stop, but it was helping with the pain, numbing it.

Arno will never love you. He will never see you as anything more than a replacement.

She coughed violently as she choked on the wine, not able to tell if the burn in her eyes was because of that or something else. She sank back, sniffling slightly and coughing at the burn. The voice was relentless.

Usually she could ignore it, plaster on a smile and carry on her day. But now…

Now…

Wouldn’t it be better if you just ended it?

As though to bolster the suggestion a sharp breeze rushed past her, creating a mournful sound through the tower she was in and she looked towards the opening.

And she took a step forward.

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

Arno Dorian was not in the greatest of moods as he jumped from roof to roof. The argument was still fresh in his mind. He understood Y/N’s point of view on the whole thing, but he felt that he wasn’t a child that needed to be coddled. He was an assassin, just like her. He hadn’t appreciated her scolding him, but looking back it hadn’t been a critique but more of a worry of hers. And he yelled at her, making her leave their room and the Café. Which was why he was running around Paris like a lunatic in the middle of the night looking for her to apologize. He had considered waiting at the Café but after three hours, he began to grow worried. Even at her angriest, she hadn’t been gone that long.

His desperation was growing in stature when she wasn’t in any of her normal spots that she would go to. He was about to head back and see if she had made it back to the Café when the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated Notre-Dame. He spotted a flash of red on the top of the South Tower. He stumbled to a stop, looking up, squinting to get a good look, before hurrying over to the church, making short work of getting to the top.

Sure enough it was Y/N, sitting on the railing of the tower. She glanced over her shoulder, before looking back out towards the city.

“Bonjour Arno.”

“There you are.” He huffed, landing on the roof of the tower, a frown on his face. He took a step and blinked as he kicked a wine bottle, watching it roll away from him.

“...Fancy a drink tonight?”

“Casse-toi. Like you’re any better.” Y/N slurred, taking another swig from another wine bottle, swaying slightly in the wind.

“Y/N, get off the ledge.” Arno said evenly, despite his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest. “You’ll fall, Cherié.”

She cackled, though there didn’t seem to be any humor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t that be…” She hiccuped. “Wouldn’t that be une tragédie? I’m sure my funeral would have a grand total of...one attendee; moi! They might even bury me, or they’ll just dump my body into the Seine.”

She laughed again though he frowned.

“Y/N.”

She glared at him, before rolling her eyes, and pointedly ignoring him, taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. She was silent, staring at the few people of Paris wandering around, unaware of the two assassins sitting above them.

“Suppose I’d need to avoid some random passerby though, oui? Can’t...can’t hurt an innocent because of the Creed.”

It was as if cold water had been dumped on him.

She couldn’t mean...she wasn’t seriously considering...

“Y/N, get off the ledge.”

It wasn’t a gentle request anymore. She scoffed, standing like a child who was being called home during a riveting game of tag and didn’t want to. She swayed and stumbled on it, drawing closer to the edge.

“And if I do that by jumping off? No stacks of hay down there that I can see.” She asked good naturedly, her voice amazingly calm.

“Y/N, don’t joke like that.”

“Who’s saying I’m joking?” She hummed, twirling in an unsteady circle, swaying backwards. Arno dashed forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back onto the roof, the bottle falling out of her hand and disappearing over the edge. He could only hope it didn’t hit anyone below as his arms folded around her, holding her close as she began to fight against him.

“Avez-vous perdu la raison?” He snapped. “Why would you even consider killing yourself?!”

“Because the place would be better without me!”

Arno staggered backwards as she kicked at his legs, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with the situation, but unable to comprehend it.

“What are you talking about?! Do you know how devastated we’d be if you died?!”

“Who, Arno? Who would fucking miss me!?” She cried, fighting against him. “My family is gone, Arno! My brother died hating me because of the reason I was even brought into this world! Father hated me because I killed Mother! Name on fucking person who would care if my brains splattered on the steps of Notre-Dame below!”

“Me!”

To that she let out a laugh that could have been a sob.

“You? YOU!?” Her voice went into hysterics. “You don’t give a damn about me! You never did!”

“Y/N, what’s gotten into you!? Of course I-”

“I’M NOT ELISE!”

He went still and he released her in shock. She stumbled away, but didn’t attempt to jump off the ledge again. She seemed to curl into herself, tears sliding down her face as she looked at him.

“You think...you think I’m stupid? Or blind? You don’t think I don’t know that you see Elise every fucking time I fucking turn and you see my hair, or when we spar, or...or argue? You think I’m that blind to not see that ache in your eyes every damn time you even look at me?? For fuck’s sake Arno, you’ve called me her damn name tonight!” She inhaled sharply, trying to stop crying, but failing. His eyes darted from side to side, replaying the argument earlier in his mind, before his eyes widened.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Do you know how much it hurts trying to pretend I’m happy, when I’m reminded daily just how unnecessary and unwanted I am in this world? How much better you and this world would be without me? You want Elise back so much but I’m not Elise. I can’t be her. I can’t even begin to compare to her.” She whimpered. “I’m an assassin, but I was literally only born to be that because my brother was too sickly to be one. And despite that, despite working day in and day out to prove to him I could be a good assassin, I know that my father didn’t even want me! So...so why even bother being here? No one wants me, Arno. I’m just...just this big mistake...I...I…”

“Ma Cherié…” He said, his voice suddenly rough and he hurried over to her, pulling her to him again. She struggled for a moment, beating at his chest to get him to let go. He did not, digging his hand into her hair to keep her still. “Ma Cherié, no.”

“Let go, Arno!”

“No. Not until you listen to me.” He said. “I know I make mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt you so much without even realizing it. And you are the most patient woman to not murder me in my sleep for that.” He trailed off, swallowing noisily, “Oui, there are times I think about Elise, and wonder what life would be if she was still alive, and oui sometimes there are moments where I see her in you.”

She struggled against him again and he thanked the wine running through her right now. At least he could get her to listen to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’d be better off without you. That I don’t want you here.”

She went still.

“I love you Cherié. I love you so much. You don’t deserve all this pain and weight I’ve put on your shoulders. Especially with Elise. There are similarities between the two of you, but the differences outweigh them. Christ...I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything you give me.”

He moved her head away, cupping her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that were sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t deserve waking up with you curled up to me and if I try to leave the bed, you hold onto me because it’s not yet time to wake up in your mind. I don’t deserve listening to you hum as you’re fixing a stitch in our robes while leaning against me, or your laughter when you’re sparring and you’ve pinned me. I don’t deserve having you scold me for being an idiot on a mission, yet having my back on said mission. I don’t deserve any of that.”

She stared at him and he gave a desperate laugh, his eyes glittering in tears.

“But even though I don’t deserve it, every day you bless me with those tiny memories. How could I be better off without you?”

She inhaled sharply, tears sliding down her cheeks. She let out a soft keening sound, closing her eyes tightly as a sob tore out of her throat, silencing the voice that was begging her to just pivot and jump.

“I can’t Arno...I just...I…I...I don’t know what to do.”

She heard him inhale shakily and felt him kiss her brow. He seemed to be shaking as well. He pulled her back into a hug, and she didn’t resist this time, just sobbing, face pressed into his shoulder.

“...Let’s go home.” His voice whispered into her ear after several minutes, rough as though he was holding back emotions. She nodded weakly, and he lifted her and carried her away. Before she could even object, he was walking down the stairs and past the bells of Notre-Dame.

She didn’t remember how exactly they got back to the Café Theatrë. She did remember having to stop several times in alleyways to puke her guts out from all that damn wine she drank. She remembered that Arno’s touch never seemed to vanish. Whether it was holding her hair away from the vomit, rubbing her back as she heaved, or holding her close to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face when she stumbled away, he was always touching her.

The last thing she really remembered was going up the stairs to their room, being laid down on the bed and feeling a kiss against her temple. The next thing she knew, the sun was beaming into the room and her head felt like it had been used as a drum.

She let out a groan and curled up under the blanket, trying to rid herself of the headache. Distantly she heard a soft chuckle and then the clink of a cup on the nightstand.

“Can’t say I envy you. I know from experience it isn’t fun. Though this is a change in roles from what I usually remember.” Arno’s voice said softly. She muttered an expletive and peeked her head out from the covers. Arno sat down on the edge of the bed, offering a smile.

“Whatimeizzit?”

“It’s close to noon. I figured with the amount of drinking you did last night, you earned your sleep.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with the blanket again.

“Come on. Let’s get some food into you. I promise you’ll feel much better.”

“If I ever go towards a wine bottle again, you are free to spank me.” She muttered, finally leaving the cocoon of blankets and Arno smiled.

“Oui m'dame. Granted, while it is a tempting offer, I have a feeling that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” He said and she snorted, instantly regretting it and cursed under her breath. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before handing her a pastry.

“Eat.”

She wasn’t really hungry, but nibbled on it anyways, glancing over at him as he watched her. He was just staring at her as though making sure this wasn’t a dream and she was actually sitting in their bed alive and well, despite the hangover. He had dark bags under his eyes, which were curiously bloodshot. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night before. Almost as if he hadn’t...

“Did you stay up the entire night?” She muttered in surprise, realization dawning slowly in her hungover brain.

“...I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and leave to go back to Notre-Dame.” He finally said and she grimaced, looking away.

"Je suis désolé, Arno. I didn’t-”

“No! No, don’t apologize...just...is that the first time you’ve...that you’ve considered that?”

She shrugged.

“I’ve never gone as far as I did last night...but there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around...I don’t usually listen to it. But it was just...so loud last night. It drowned everything else out.”

“Y/N…”

She shifted away, embarrassed. He swallowed roughly before cupping her face, brushing a thumb against her cheek bone. She leaned into his touch, finally looking up at him.

“If it does happen again, if that voice becomes too loud?” He asked softly. “Find me. I meant what I said last night. I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you. And I’ll spend every day I have remaining telling you that. So find me, and I’ll put to rest any worry you have.”

She nodded, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then very delicately her lips, before resting his forehead against hers.

It wasn’t a clean fix. There were still problems that needed to be discussed. Issues that needed to be talked about. In the future he would have nightmares of wondering what if he hadn’t gone looking for her, if the next day they had found her body at the steps of Notre-Dame, and waking up in a cold sweat to check and see if she was still there next to him, still breathing. For a while after, she couldn’t go near Notre-Dame, couldn’t even take a sip of wine before her stomach revolted at the contents because it reminded her of that night.

But right then and there, it didn’t matter.

She was sitting there breathing, and in his arms.

And that was all Arno Dorian cared about.

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

Translations:

Bonjour : Hello

Casse-toi: Fuck off

Cherié: Sweetheart

Une tragédie: A tragedy

Moi: Me

Oui: Yes

Avez-vous perdu la raison: Have you lost your mind?

Ma Cherié: My Sweetheart

Oui m'dame: Yes Ma'am

Je suis désolé: I am sorry

[ickle-ronniekins]

black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @acciotwinz @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @hufflepuff5972 @pigwidgexn @sarcasticallywitty15 @breadqueen95 @mycupoffanfictionreads | message me to be added or removed!

[kanene-yaaay]

5+1 - [Part 2]

5 times Iida was tickled and the one he wasn’t

[PART ONE]

Kanene’s note: What a helloooo! I am baack! Gosh, look at me! Having a posting schedule! Who would say, huh? xDD Well, I hope you like this >u<

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Iida with Ler!Aizawa and Nemuri sprinkling some tease here and there. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Look at the window and find something that is worth smiling for. Don’t forget to drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

“Iida Tenya.”

 “Ooooh noo,” Nemuri added from the spot on the floor where she sat, pampering and spoiling Shouta’s cats with plenty of snacks, a sharp grin gleaming at the boy who came running from the kitchen and now looked from a side to another with a panicked expression on his face, fast to move his arms in an ‘abort mission’ sign to the woman. “Looks like someone is in trouble! ~”

 “Nemuri-san, please I ask for you to control your voice!!” Tenya whispered in a volume that most people would categorize as a shout, especially with Shouta’s hero trained hearing. Nemuri, though, just expanded her wicked grin as the nine old boy didn’t realize the dark figure arriving right behind him. “He can’t know I am here!”

 “Aw, my dear,” she pouted in fake empathy at Iida’s inevitable fate, scratching Pudding under her chin, her loud motor like purring echoing in the silence. “But Shouta already knows.” Iida stilled as a statue when a shadow loomed over him, starting to turn around, slowly. “He always knows.”

 “Gotcha.”

His quirk activated a second before Aizawa erased it with his own, making the blue haired one stumble on his own legs, almost falling on the ground if it wasn’t for the arms that grabbed him in a firm hug, fingers worming their way to his armpits, prodding and digging on the awfully ticklish flesh there.

 “What,” Shouta started, with a tune that tipped on bored, his plain face contrasting to the smaller’s puffed cheeks as he wiggled and shook with the contained giggles. “Did I say about my orange flavored jelly packs, huh?”

 “Aww, is the itsy bitsy Tenya ticklish? Can’t he take all the tickly-tickly-tickly tickles his favorite grumpy uncle gives to him? Huh? Aww, my poor ticklish boy.” Nemuri teased, ignoring the glare her friend sent on her direction in favor to stare at Tenya, who went redder at her words, a couple of squeaky snorts escaping from his lips.

 “I will remind you what I said about eating my jellies without permission: don’t. Never. Do not look. Do not touch and especially, do not even think about eating it.” Aizawa highlighted the last phrase by blowing a raspberry right behind Iida’s neck, leading the boy to squeal, uncontrolled laughter following it almost immediately. The taller man did his best to keep a serious face, principally as the arms of his ‘victim’ rocked up and down, from the left to the right and in random patterns without even being able to get themselves enough control to attempt to stop him. “And you did, so now you will face the consequences. It’s only logical.”

 “A-Aizahahazawa-san I, I cahahahAAH!” Shout cut the other’s protest by throwing him in the air, resting his hands on his sides when he caught him again, slightly clawing his stomach with his fingers, fishing uncontrollable, bubbly giggles from him. “Please, please! I can-'' Snort. “I can ehehexplain!” Yelp. Half words, Half pleas. Giggles. Giggles. Giggles. “I hahahave the right, Aizawa-sahahahan!”

 Shouta contented himself in making the younger squirm – left, right, left, left, right and repeat – from a side to another by tapping his fingers on his sides repeatedly, sometimes giving a quick scratch only to gain another yelp, pretending to think about the proposal for a little less than a minute.

 “No.” He decided, spidering his fingers merciless on the death spot. Iida threw his head back, crackles flying from him in a waterfall of shrieks and squeaks.

 “Come one, Shou! Let the boy speak! As much I love this lovely, absolutely adorable laughter that makes you want to tickle and tickle him forever and ever, and aww, wouldn’t you love it, my dear? To get all the tiggles-tickles you could ever want for all eternity?” Iida kicked and shook his head in protest, more pleas falling from him, face and neck in flames. “I think he has the right to defend himself.”

 “Which side are you?”

 “No side deserves my awesome presence.” Aizawa rolled his eyes. “What is the matter, Shou? Afraid that you will lose in a logical battle with baby Tenya?”

 “Ihihihi am NOT ahahaha baby!!” Iida protested through his hysterical laughter, nothing giving him more strength than correct factually incorrect statements. “I ahahahaham a very hehehealthy chihihihih- – No! Not there! – chihihihild! Mom said so!”

 Nemuri hid her snickers behind her hands, receiving a very unamused yowl from Pudding, the cat demanding her to come back to her ear scritches immediately. The woman resumed to her wishes.

Shouta recognized a bait when he heard one, but watching the way tears started to appear in the corner of the younger’s eyes, he decided to bite it.

 He adjusted him so the boy would be resting on his hips, his hand resting calmly on his ribs, a much less ticklish spot.

 “You have fifty seconds.”

 “WHAT!” Iida stared at him in disbelief, turning to look at Kayama in the search of reinforcements, and being gifted with nothing more than a joyful shrug, his brother’s best friend being very glad in just watch the chaos unraveling in front of her and, unnoticed by the other two who were caught up on the silliness, the camera carefully hidden behind Pudding’s fluffy form. “That ihihisn’t even a minute! It’s impossiblehe to mahahake a good defehense under this condici- conditionaries… undeheher that pressure!”  

 “Conditions.” Aizawa offered, “and heroes work under pressure. You want to be one when you grow up, right?”

 “Yes!” Iida’s smile got even bigger than it already was, his eyes also becoming even brighter, shining with the determination of his new challenge.

 “Good,” the tired adult smirked, starting to count with his fingers as the seconds went by. “Start to talk then.”

 Tenya tried to clear his mind, together with keeping his resolve strong enough to not visibly squirm or titter every time Aizawa made any infinitesimal move. He never thought he would really be able to convince his uncle to let him make a true attempt to escape from this, therefore he didn’t possess any good enough reason to explain besides the ‘it was orange flavored and oranges are delicious!’

 A sentence pulled him out of the frenzy of thoughts dashing on his brain at full speed. “You have twelve seconds now.”

 “WHAT!” Tenya cried, seriously thinking about just pushing Shouta’s arms away and trying to run to the safety of the guest room.

 “You seem to have a problem keeping track of the time.” The small kid nodded at his direction and Aizawa almost felt bad by his next move.

 Almost.

 “Let me help you, then.”

 The underground hero poked an index finger on the lowest rib, vibrating on the sensitive spot for a few pieces of second, tearing a sputtering guffaw as Iida realized the true meaning of his words. “One.” He pressed another rib, and another, and another. “Two. Three. Four…”

 “Noho! Wait! Wait!!”

 “Five… Six. Seven…”

 “Oops. It looks like you’re running out of time, sweetheart.” Nemuri added, unhelpfully. “Well, let’s just hope the mean Shouta won’t attack those awfully ticklish knees of yours when the time is over, right?”

 “NOHOT MY KNEHES!”

 “Good luck. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”

 “YOULIED!”

 Aizawa stopped.

 “What?” He blinked one, two, three times. As if the meaning of the rushed words would become clearer. “No. I hid it and I was very clear in saying you couldn’t touch it. There is no lie here.”

 “There is! A lie of omiz-” Iida closed his eyes, concentrating on the word and controlling the few giggles that still slipped from his mouth. He wanted to be a hero and heroes succeed through the pressure! “omission! Which means hiding! You hid the information so you were lying to me, so I… I… I taught you a lesson!”

 They stared at each other for what seemed a lifetime.

 Aizawa huffed a chuckle, lowering the boy to the ground, trying to not be blinded by the excitement and proudness exhaling from the younger when he realized that he succeeded in “logicing” his way out of the playful “punishment”, beaming on the ball of his feet at both adults.

 “Good. In a fight, using your opponents’ words against them can be an important tool. Also, as a physical opening, don’t forget that I was carrying you, which means that if you hit the back of my knees hard enough I would weaken my grip and that would give you the opportunity to run. I would try to not hurt you when I fell, so that is also a weakness you could exploit.” After a thought, he added. “Try to do that the next time Hizashi tickles you.”

 “You are a bastard.” Kayama replied, earning an exasperated gasp from Tenya. “Not you, dear. I am talking about Shouta.” That did nothing to alleviate the boy’s rebellion, his lecture of how ‘This isn’t the proper vocabulary of a hero’ was soon interrupted as the apartment door flew open, Ingenium walking through it. He immediately extended his arms, hugging his brother when the aforementioned jumped on him, part of the exhaustion of a day’s work being eased by the younger attics.

 “Tensei! Tensei! I already did all my homework and I brushed my teeth and I played with the cats so they would not be sad or bored and I ate all my greenies and also-”

 “-ate all my orange jelly packs.” Aizawa completed.

 “And Aizawa-san tickled me because of it! Using very villainous techniques even though he is a very good and skilled hero! But then I won! I showed him logic and, and, and then he let me go!”

 “Oof, that sounds like a very exciting day!” Tensei ruffled the boy’s hair, fondness dripping in waves from his acts and words. “But you don’t need to worry anymore about Shouta, the Grumpy Tickle Monster because now I am here!” Tensei posed in a poor representation of All Might's usual pose. “Ready to protect you!”

 “Oh.” A dangerous tune marked Shouta’s grin and voice, making the blue haired hero to shiver with all the teenagerhood memories that this brought over. “Don’t get over yourself, assuming you’re out of danger, too.”

 A wobbly smile took over Tensei's expression as Shouta cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for a chase. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly who told him where I hid my jelly packs.” The older Iida got his younger brother on his arms, flexing his legs, preparing to not give up so easily.

 Aizawa decided he was feeling merciful today.

“You have three seconds.” Iida gasped in protest, an argument on the tip of his tongue. “Run.”

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Idk whats with me and angst but male (or if you want gender neutral) sole dying in romanced compainions + skinny malone arms?

(There are quite a few characters I didn't do..so anyone can request those individual and I'll see about writing them at a later date..just..wow. Ummm..major trigger warnings btw)

It was inevitable..wasn't it? Deep down, this truth was just one of those that was inescapable. The fearsome Sole Survivor was many things; they were determined, they were skilled, they were adaptable..they were amazing in every way- a paragon of a person..however there is one thing they were not.

Indestructible.

No one was. Shit, the Wasteland loved to remind people of that- be it in the forms of ghouls, hellish monsters or whatever- so perhaps this day shouldn't have came as such a surprise. Nevertheless, there was no comfort found within this knowledge.

The day was too pretty of one for something like this to happen. The sunshine was bright, not a cloud in the sky- a gentle breeze passing the pair by as they scavenged the archaic ruins for copper of all things- fucking copper.

Raiders were common in these kinds of areas, but that was no issue. Sole had no issue handling raiders, or anything else for that matter. Well, or so they thought.

Soon the peacefulness of that lovely day was interrupted by the whizzing of bullets and the shouts of obscenities as a small band of raiders made their presence known- effectively ambushing the pair. It was sort of funny in a fucked up way. The fight itself lasted barely ten minutes, just a blue of adrenaline and silent prayers, and the warmth of that beautiful sunshine beating on their back.

They hadn't noticed the blue of that infamous jump suit staining red until it was far too late, not until the wearer collapsed down to their knees as though they were about to beg for the life slowly fading either such rivet of blood being spilled.

Now it was even quicker.

Of course, they rushed to their precious Sole Survivor, horrified, yet still hopeful. They'd try so hard to lift them up, dread filling their veins whenever their loved one cried out in pain from the movement. However they still thought that somehow their dear would make it. Maybe it was foolish naivety.

Then there it was, a certain look within the Sole Survivor's eyes that held a promise. This was it. This was it and all they could do was watch as they died, the lovely sunlight and peaceful breeze serving as the only witness to this atrocity.

This wasn't right. Why did the world not reflect the way this scene was playing out? This was no time for sunshine and happiness, not when the only person they've loved so profoundly could only give them a watery smile..not as they slowly lost the strength to hold their hand to their cheek...

Not as the light finally dimmed and the world as they knew it was consumed by the darkness their former light now took away.

~~~~~~

Cait:

"Son of a bitch..sweetheart, you can't just..you can't just leave me like this- it's..it's not right! You come back, fuck! Please! Come come back.."

•Cait wasn't one to cry, always being more predispositions for rage than tears...however despite how hard she tried all she could do was wail until all that came out was dry tears and hoarse yells.

•After this, Cait would isolate herself from others save for sparking up terrjbke brawls where she knew she was outmatched.

•She just hoped she would finally lose the fight.

Curie:

"Please hang on, I-I can fix you! Please, mon amour, don't leave Curie just yet!"

•She's completely in shock, frantically trying to administer Med-x, Stimpacks, Jet- anything! All it does is worsen your condition unfortunately, the chems overwhelming you and eating at what remained of your life that much faster.

•A piece of her knew this, deep down at least.

•Let's just say, Curie wouldn't quite be the same after this. Not just in the "I lost someone I loved kind of way", no, more in the "I've seen far too much and can't quite cope" kind of way. Her eyes would forever be scarred with the image of your own becoming red from the busted blood vessels and your horrified, sweet face.

Danse:

"I'm truly sorry..damn it..I'm sorry I couldn't protect you either."

•In Danse's mind, you were yet another person he cared for that got killed because of his negligence. Only your death was much more profound- yes. With the death of his other brothers and sisters, he could still soldier through..but with you? The person he could only regard with love? He might've as well died with you.

•The only thing Danse can think of to do to hopefully bring you peace is bury you right outside your little home himself, hysterically crying and drunk out of his mind.

•It wouldn't be very long after this that Danse could no longer handle the pain of loss- no amount of liquor taking the vision of your smiling face at your once shared bedside from his mind.

•At least your friends would have the decency to bury him at your side after they got over the shock of finding him.

Hancock:

"Hey sunshine..don't worry, we..we won't be apart for too long. Heh, it's gonna be okay..it's all gonna be alright."

•The small window of time it takes for your life to leave you, Hancock comes to the horrific realization that he was soon to be doomed to a tragically long life without the one person at his side that made him feel worthy of living..

•Without giving it much more thought than that, he'd just simply stroke your cheek- pressing a soft kiss to your head whenever he was certain you had bled out completely, your blood throughly coating his chest and thighs. After the kiss, he'd take a deep breath before drawing his own pistol and..bang.

Maxson:

"P..please..don't leave..no,no,..please don't leave me.."

•If Sarah's death hurt Arthur, your's was devastating.

•Even after he knew full well that you were dead and gone, he still tries his best to keep you "alive". He'd rush you into a vertibird and call for you aid, having to face the fact you were truly gone when Captain Cade clasped him over the shoulder and gave him a solemn look.

•Arthur cried then, and then later into the night until all that came out were pathetic sobs.

•The only thing that keeps him going is his obligation to duty..but..sometimes he considers leaning just a little too close to the gage of the forecastle..maybe fly like some sort of mythical being before finally being able to hold you once more.

Skinny Malone:

"Oh come on doll face, it's..it's gonna between alright. Shhh, I'm right here..just..god..just relax."

•How did this even happen? He knew better than to indulge your need to scavenge..there wasn't even any need with his connections..why..why did this happen?

•He'd try so hard to keep it together, clenching the fabric of your vault suit until eventually his men come to him..then he can't contain the terrible cries that result.

X6-88:

"(Y/n), don't. You..you can't..oh..I..I don't know what to do without you.."

•As someone who knew death so well, he knew from the second you fell, the way that you fell, you were dead.

•Just for you, he'd try to keep that cold exterior he was once so good at portraying..but it lasts a mere second before tears start rolling down his face and spilling onto your's.

•He'd sit there, cradling your cooling body well into the setting of the gloriously shining sun, wondering just what he was going to do from here.

•Nothing. He no longer knew what to do

[writerofthecourt]

magician’s vow

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

summary: the sequel to beautiful illusionist

warning: slight time skip spoilers, some swearing, slight alcohol consumption

a/n: inspired by the songs lemon and eine kleine by yonezu kenshi. i wanted this sequel to be a lot more introspective and suna-focused. i hope you guys enjoy

EDIT: the series’ masterlist can be found here

“I like you.”

“…Eh?”

Suna watched in amusement as you stared back at him with confusion swirling in your eyes. He could practically see the gears turning in your head as you slowly processed his words before your pretty face started to heat up in embarrassment.

The two of you were currently sitting on the bench, lost in the flow of your own conversation as the other Inarizaki volleyball club members all lounged around the gym, trying to catch their breaths before they had to return to their grueling practice.

“Since when?” you inquired, shyly peeking at Suna through your lashes.

“For a while now,” he admitted with a shrug. The tall middle blocker couldn’t help but grin in response to your now timid smile. He found it hard to look away, enamoured by the sparkle of your eyes and the cute expression on your face.

“I-I like you too,” you stuttered out, turning to fully face Suna.

“So it’s a date then?” Suna asked as he tried to mask the undertone of eagerness in his voice.

You only giggled before answering his question with an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah, it’s a date!”

Suna frowned as the memory came to an end. Sitting alone at the dining room table, he rested his head on the back of the chair and loosely held a can of beer in hand as he waited for the alcohol to take effect. It was times like these where Suna cursed his high alcohol tolerance.

He used to take pride in it back when he and Atsumu would visit home and go out drinking with Osamu at the local izakayas. He would laugh at Atsumu’s inability to handle his alcohol after only a few drinks, but now Suna found himself envying the blond idiot, as all he wanted was for the numbness to consume him.

He had broken up with Minami nearly two weeks ago, the day after you had left him. It was a messy break up, if Suna could even call it that. There was a lot of screaming and cursing involved, with Minami eventually handing in her resignation letter. Suna would have guessed that she got tired of being around his presence, and he would say that the feeling was mutual. He could no longer stand the sight of Minami, not when all she did was remind him of his regrets and failures.

Taking another gulp of his beer, Suna’s thoughts soon turned to you and the baby. Were you okay? Were you safe? Was the baby healthy? All these questions lingered in Suna’s head, repeating over and over again like a broken record player.

Despite his best efforts to contact you again, it seemed as if you had just disappeared off the face of the Earth. Your number was disconnected, and you were no longer working at your company. It was almost as if your very existence in Suna’s life was nothing more than a beautiful, fleeting dream, and now that you were gone, he was only left with his memories of you.

A series of loud knocks on the front door soon brought Suna out of his pitiful thoughts. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Suna set down his beer and lethargically went to answer the door, squashing the faint glimmer of hope in the back of his head telling him that it could be you.

“Oi, Suna, open up! I know yer fuckin’ in there!”

The hell? Atsumu? Suna thought as he reached for the door knob.

Opening the front door, Suna had no time to say anything before the door was violently pushed back by an angry Atsumu, his brother standing not too far behind him.

“Yer a real bastard, y’know that?” Atsumu snarled as he pushed past Suna and stomped his way into the living room. Osamu simply said nothing as he glared at Suna before following after his twin.

“Well, hello to you too,” Suna drawled out sarcastically. “It’s only one in the morning, but would you like some tea? Some snacks to go with it?”

Closing the door behind him, Suna made his way into the living room as well, only to see Atsumu pacing around in circles, while Osamu silently stood next to the couch. After some more pacing, Atsumu angrily grabbed at his dyed locks before pointing at Suna with a scalding glare.

“I trusted ya! I fuckin’ trusted ya!” Atsumu shouted furiously. “When ya came to me and ‘Samu asking for our blessings, I believed in ya! All she did was love and care for ya, and this is how ya repay her?!”

Unable to respond, Suna could only hesitantly look away in shame. He couldn’t retort and sass Atsumu back like he usually would. The blond said nothing but the truth.

“‘Tsumu, calm down,” Osamu sighed in exasperation. “Yer gonna wake up the whole damn neighbourhood.”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Atsumu asked hysterically, turning to his brother. “How can I stay calm after what he did! Aren’tcha angry, ‘Samu?!”

“Practically seething,” Osamu said sharply. “But do ya really want someone calling the cops on us for a noise complaint?”

As the brothers began to get into their own argument, Suna spoke up bitterly, trying to save face. “I don’t see how it’s any of your guys’ business. [Y/N] is a grown woman. She can handle herself.”

The twins promptly stopped their argument after Suna’s bold claim, silently redirecting their gazes to glare at him. Osamu was the first one to move, marching up to Suna with a dark look in his eyes.

“None of my business, huh?” Osamu asked mockingly before he delivered a harsh shove to Suna’s shoulder. “Were ya there to pick her up from the train station when she arrived in Hyogo in tears?”

Shoving Suna again, Osamu continued his barrage. “Were ya there to comfort her as she cried, thinking that her relationship failed because she wasn’t good enough?”

Another shove. “Were ya there to listen to her while she confided about how absolutely terrified she is to raise a child all on her own?”

With one final shove, Osamu had Suna stumbling back into the wall, his arms crossed rigidly as he pinned Suna in place with a seething glare.

“The moment ya fucked up, it became my business,” Osamu grounded out through clenched teeth.

Suna could do nothing but stare back at Osamu, unable to find the right words as he continued to suffer under the harsh scrutiny of his former classmate. He could handle Atsumu’s loud hysteria, but Osamu’s cold and calculated jabs only made Suna want to wither away in guilt.

“Out of respect for whatever friendship we have left, I’ll give ya one last warning,” Osamu stated coldly. “I won’t stop ya from seeking her out, but know that the moment ya do, I will be there to stop ya. Ya will never—ever—hurt [Y/N] again, and if ya do, I will absolutely destroy ya.”

With those last chilling words, Osamu silently marched out of the house, leaving a stunned Suna and Atsumu behind in his wake.

“W-what he said,” Atsumu stuttered, suddenly terrified of his brother’s newly established rage. Quickly making his exit as well, Atsumu soundly shut the door behind him as he left Suna to think about what had just happened.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Suna slid down to the floor and ran his hands through his hair. He reflected on how fucked up his life had become and how he had no one to blame for it but himself.

Suna sighed as he locked the front door behind him before going through his usual routine of hanging up his jacket and slipping off his shoes. It was late at night, and he had just returned home from a game against the MSBY Black Jackals. It was a tough match, a highly anticipated one, and now that it was finally over, Suna couldn’t be any more relieved.

For the past few days, this game had been the talk of social media in the world of volleyball, with the fans being beyond excited to see two highly skilled Division 1 teams face off against each other. However, for the tall middle blocker, the recently concluded game only served as an awkward and bitter reunion between him and a certain blond setter.

“A whole year later and he’s still acting this way,” Suna mumbled as he thought back to Atsumu’s clipped formalities and passive aggressive remarks. “But I guess I can’t really blame him.”

Making his way into the house, the gloomy ambiance and empty hallways that greeted Suna were an all too familiar and tragic sight. As he stepped across the genkan, Suna couldn’t help but hear the faint and nostalgic sound of your voice, reminiscent of swaying wind chimes as you welcomed him back after a long time at work.

“Welcome home, Rintarou!”

“I’m home,” Suna said numbly.

Walking into the kitchen, Suna poured himself a glass of water before taking a seat at the dining room table. As he dropped his heavy gym bag onto the floor next to him, a thud rang out before everything returned to silence once again. Suna sombrely smiled, finding an odd sense of comfort in the loud noise. It made the house seem less empty now that you were no longer here to occupy the halls with your joyous laughter.

With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, Suna began to wonder if this was how you felt as you spent those long, lonely nights waiting for him to come home. As his mind thought back to all of those missed dinners and late night practices he had lied about in order to spend time with Minami, his chest only filled with more dread. He truly was everything Atsumu and Osamu made him out to be.

Suna frowned before quickly finishing off his glass of water. Placing it into the sink, he picked up his gym bag and headed off towards the bedroom to retire for the night. After a quick shower and change of clothes, Suna lifelessly lay in bed, his hand outstretched as his fingers mindlessly traced up and down the cold bed sheets. His mind was restless as various thoughts and questions occupied his head, keeping him awake despite his physical fatigue.

What were you doing right now? Were you thinking of him?

As Suna rolled over to cross his arms over his eyes, the little self-deprecating voice in the back of his head added to the flame. It mockingly told him that he had everything he could have ever possibly wanted in life, so why did he throw it all away?

Sitting up to lean against the headboard, Suna knew that there was no use in trying to fall asleep at this point. His mind was too cluttered, and it raged on like a violent storm of regret and desperate longing. Turning to his bedside table, Suna switched on the lamp and reached into one of the drawers to pull out a torn and weathered envelope. Despite its sad state, it was an item that brought him immense hope and comfort.

Taking out a letter and photo, Suna found himself smiling as he gently traced the letter’s familiar handwriting before he began to read it.

Dear Suna-san,

I know this letter is a little bit unexpected, but I felt the need to write to you. How are you? I hope that you’re eating well and taking good care of yourself. It’s been a year since we parted ways, but it still feels so strange to be back home in Hyogo. At first, my parents were disappointed to learn we had broken off our engagement due to…personal reasons, especially considering the condition I was in. However, I am happy to report that they were still very much supportive of me in the end. I’ve recently started my new job at a local department store, and I’m also planning to move into a bigger apartment soon. So please, don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine.

I heard from ‘Samu that the two of you are still not on regular speaking terms. I’m sorry about what happened between you, him, and ‘Tsumu. I never wanted to get in the way of your friendship like that…I hope one day that the three of you can all be friends again. Despite how much you always complain about those two, I know that you also deeply care about them.

On a happier note, there’s someone that I want to introduce to you. His name is Akio. Isn’t he the cutest?

Switching to the attached photo, Suna couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the proud grin on your face as you cradled a sleeping baby close to your chest. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes seemed more tired than usual, but Suna still thought that you looked breathtakingly beautiful.

He was born only a few months ago, but he already takes so much after you. ‘Tsumu was absolutely devastated when he tried to hold Akio for the first time, and Akio just wouldn’t stop crying. I guess it runs in the family, huh?

If I’m being honest, I do miss you sometimes…but I’m also too scared to see you right now. Will you even read this letter? Have you moved on with your life and forgotten about us? About me and Akio? All these doubts and questions keep running through my head, and a part of my hopes that you have moved on.

I’ve met someone new. He’s very kind, charming, and funny, yet in spite of all these things, I still can’t help but feel guilty, almost as if I didn’t try hard enough to keep our little family together. Despite everything that has happened between us, I continue to hope and dream that we can still someday be a family. I don’t think that we can ever go back to the way we used to be, but I do want you to be a part of Akio’s life. I’m still not ready to see you right now, but please wait for me and Akio. When I find the strength to do so, I’ll come find you, Rintarou.

Sincerely,

Miya [Y/N].

Suna only smiled, unbothered by the tears that escaped his eyes as he finished reading your letter. He proceeded to fold the piece of paper back up before pausing to look at the photo of you and Akio one last time. As he continued to gaze at the photo, Suna’s eyes softened, and his heart began to fill with love and adoration. He truly was a fool to have ever let you go.

Returning everything to its proper place, Suna curled up into the blanket, feeling at ease for the first time since he had arrived home. As he closed his eyes, Suna patiently waited for the day to come when he could finally welcome you back into his life. Perhaps not as a lover, but as a friend. For both you and Akio, he was willing to wait a whole lifetime and more. Drifting off to sleep, Suna slept soundly for the rest of the night.

fun fact: akio’s name is written with the characters for ‘bright/luminous, male’, and [y/n]’s new boyfriend is bokuto. it started with atsumu, and it ended with atsumu

taglist: @itsjuliaaa​

[g0ttal0ve101]

Eddie in Wonderland (Part 1)

[This is based off of the 1951 film of Alice in Wonderland. I will be skipping some parts and characters, since the cast is pretty small. Please excuse any errors I make. This art is NOT mine, but it goes along with the story.]

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

A meadow of beautiful daises looked to be dancing as wind blew through the luscious green grass. It was a warm day, a day where animals would be roaming about, a day where children would be playing together, a day where everything was at ease. A woman's voice calmly read out words from a page of a history book, slowly and particularly gentle to make sure each and every word was pronounced correctly. Soothing, but awfully boring.

Above the woman sat a boy in a branch, who was supposedly listening to the words she read. He picked daisies from the meadow and began making a flower crown, holding his dear kitten, Sadie, in his lap. The young boy's foot slipped off of the branch, close to his mother's face as she read. Her blue eyes drifted off the page as she looked at his shiny black shoe, then up at him. "Edward, would you please listen to your history lesson? It's rather rude not to listen."

His ginger hair fell into his face a bit as he placed the daisy crown on his kitten's head. "Sorry, mother. It's very boring to read a book with no pictures."

"Edward, there are plenty of interesting books out there that have no pictures." His mother gazed off at the meadow for a moment, knowing her son wouldn't be listening anyway.

"That can't be true," he tells her, watching as the crown fell to the ground. "In my world, books would only have pictures!"

"In your world? Edward, please. That's absolute nonsense. Now, from the beginning." His mother began to read once more.

"Nonsense? That's it, Sadie!" He sang, scooping Sadie up in his arms. "If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because it would be what it isn't! And contrary wise, what it is, it won't be! And what it wouldn't be, it would! You see?" Eddie puts the grey kitten down, jumping off of the branch without his mother noticing. Sadie let out a mew, still on the tree. "In my world, you wouldn't say "meow." You would say, yes, Mr. Edward." The kitten lets out another meow as Eddie picks her up, holding her close to his chest as he began to walk towards the woods. "Oh, but you would! You'd be just like people, Sadie. And all the other animals too."

Eddie sets Sadie down in the meadow, patting her head softly with a smile. "Why, in my world..." Eddie began to sing,

"Cats and rabbits would reside in fancy little houses...

And be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers..."

Eddie lays in the the flowers, almost disappearing into them. He gazes up at the sky, seeing that the blue moon was already beginning to show.

"In a world of my own...

all the flowers, would have very extra-special powers.

They would sit and talk to me for hours

when I'm lonely, in a world of my own..."

A blue bird then passes him by, causing an even bigger smile to rest upon his cherry cheeks. It reminded him of their small bird at home, who looked very similar.

"There'd be new birds,

lots of nice and friendly "how'd you do" birds.

Everyone would have a dozen blue birds,

within that world of my own..."

Eddie grabs Sadie and began walking down towards the wooded creek. The water was rushing by quickly, so the boy made sure to hold onto his little friend tightly as he skipped over a few rocks.

"I could listen to a babbling brook,

And hear a song that I could understand...

I keep wishing it could be that way,

because my world would be a wonderland!"

Eddie crouched and touched the cool water with his hand, feeling the stream go through his pale fingers. Sadie sat next to him, staring at the liquid as if it was a monster. Eddie's ginger hair was very clear in the reflection of the water, which made him sigh. He never liked how it looked or framed his freckled face. Suddenly, it began to look different. The reflection twisted and turned, showing Eddie's shocked face and a man standing right behind him. He turns quickly, only to see a tall gentleman with black hair, two white rabbit ears, bandages all up and down his body, and wearing a fairly fancy outfit.

Eddie turns around slowly, only to realize that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. There was actually a man, a rabbit man, standing there behind him. Before Eddie could speak, the rabbit man looks down at a huge golden watch then points at it with a sickening smile.

"You made me three seconds behind. Now you have three seconds to run. That's only fair."

Eddie's green eyes grow huge and his kitten ran away as quickly as possible. He then saw the bloody knife in the man's hand, falling into the creek, but immediately getting up and running away. "MOTHER! MOTHER!"

The rabbit-man chased after poor Eddie, hysterically laughing as the boy had tears streaming down his face. His panic got the better of him, making him become lost in the forest. Eddie was nowhere near the meadow anymore, but he could just barely recognize where he was. His heart was beating out of his chest, feeling his foot fall through a hole and dropping him down who knows where. He let out a terrified scream for his mother, but nothing came from it.

However, his body felt light. He wasn't falling, rather, floating. His white dress shirt fluttered around a bit as his blue tie flew in his face from the unexplainable gravity. "Wha...? What's going on...?" Eddie mumurs, fixing his tie. The hole grew darker and darker, leaving a pit in his stomach grow. However, he could just barely see something that looked to be a lamp on a table. He reached out towards it and flipped the switch, illuminating the area. Random things were around him as he slowly fell, such as tables, chairs, and potted plants. They all seemed to be items that would be in a house regularly, but definitely not in a rabbit hole.

Eddie passes a mirror that catches his horrified expression, then a nightstand with books on it, then a rocking chair, all the way until he fell right on his bum. He was then in a hall with odd coloring floor tiles and weird doors. At the end of the hall stood the rabbit-man again, who held his golden watch. "I'm late cause of you, brat." He then showed Eddie's mask that was supposedly fell out of his back pocket as he was running. "I got this from you, lil-shit. Thanks."

Eddie gasps, knowing that was one of the only things that weren't a hand-me-down from his older brothers. He stood up and chased after the bandaged man in a fuss, forgetting how dangerous this cold be. "Hey! Give that back! It's mine!"

The man ran through a door at the end of the hall, Eddie racing after him in a spur of anger and fear. The door seemed to get smaller when he came closer, but blamed it on his imagination. He opened it, only to see two other small doors behind it, he had to crawl through it into a large room where there was another door the rabbit-man went through. He stood up and grabbed the handle, only for it to wail.

"Oh!" Eddie cried, lifting his hands up and touching his face. "Oh, I'm ever so sorry!"

The doorknob wiggled around like it had a life of it's own. "It is quite alright, young one. What is it you need?"

The voice sounded like a sweet elder gentleman, which comforted Eddie a little bit. "A man has something of mine. I must get through to get it back! It's very...important to me."

"Why, you're much too big to get through."

"I don't understand how he got through when he's taller than me."

"This is Zack we're talking about," the doorknob muttered. "Oh, but you could get through if you drink that substance in the bottle. There is a wooden table over there. It will have a bottle with liquid in it and a key underneath. Drink the liquid and use the key to enter."

Eddie followed the instructions, grabbing the bottle and key on a wooden table in the spacious room. He looked at the both of them, feeling a bit uneasy.

"Uhm...I'm sorry to be rude, but I'm not sure I should trust a liquid such as this...and this key has blood on it!"

"The blood must be from Zack...forgive it please. I have known Zack since he was a mere child. I cannot see, but I am sure the substance is safe as well."

Eddie felt naïve, but he truly believed that the voice was telling the truth. "Alright, I surely do hope I won't get sick from this."

The ginger then took a drink of the blue liquid, tasting the delicious flavor it had. Cookies, now bubblegum, now cake, now caramel. However, after it was all gone, the bottle became bigger and bigger, in which Eddie couldn't onto anymore. This is when he realized that it was not the bottle that got large, but he had shrunk!

"You should be short enough to go through now," the voice exclaimed. "Be careful, young one."

"Mhm! Thank you for the help!" Eddie gushed, opening the door and going through.

He was now in a forest-like area again, seeing the rabbit-man, supposedly named Zack, further in the woods than he was. Eddie hurried to catch up, but it was difficult to keep track of where he was. The trees were so thick and dark that it ended up confusing his eyes to thinking it was the man. "Stop! Please, wait!"

Eddie was then stopped by two pairs of hands grabbing him and pulling him back. He quickly spun around and fell over, in fear of whoever had touched him. There were two gentlemen with long black hair and strange tattoos on their faces. They looked identical, standing next to each other while gazing at Eddie.

"Oh! Why, hello there...!" Eddie nervously giggled, backing away from the two. "I'm sorry if I caused any trouble, I was just looking for a man named...Zack? He was running around just a moment ago. Again, sorry for the bother...it's been nice meeting you! Goodbye-!"

The two gentlemen then stand in front of Eddie, blocking his way from leaving. Eddie chuckled nervously before backing away a little.

"You're doing it backwards." One of them says.

"Yes, you go, 'how do you do?' and shake hands." The other completes the thought.

Eddie gasped, putting his fingertips against his lips. "Oh! Pardon me! My name is Eddie, how do you do?" he giggled, shaking their hands.

"We're splendid!" One says.

"Splendid!" The other adds.

"What are your names, if you don't mind me asking." Eddie puts his hands neatly behind his back, standing on his tip-toes.

"Our name is Shin." They both say with a smile.

"Ah! That is a lovely name! Uhm...I need to get going now, bye...!" Eddie goes around them, trying to speed off and catch Zack. However, the two jump in front of him again.

"Want to play hide-and-seek?"

"Or who has the button?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I really must get going." Eddie tries to walk around them again, but they both grab each of his arms to hold him back.

"Why?" They both ask together.

"I must catch up to a rabbit-man who has something very dear to me." Eddie says in a tender and loving tone, trying to convince the two to let him go. "Please, allow me to find him."

The two look at each other with a smirk, grabbing the boy and pushing him onto a small log to sit on. "We will tell you a story first." They both say together. Before Eddie could reject the offer, the two begin dancing around and singing.

"There once was a boy who made graves and got nothing of his own,"

"The only thing he got was the smooth and flat stone!"

"And over the trees,"

"And over the hills,"

"Laid a grave-robber at work."

"He took all the bodies,"

"It was his hobby,"

"And began to sing this song! Ohhh,"

"These bodies will make me rich, my boy! These bodies will make me rich! Take them and hurry, runaway, scurry, and watch him go berserk!"

"The young boy decided enough was enough,"

"Knowing what the man had done!"

"Grabbing his hand,"

"Pushing him in,"

"And began to sing! Ohhh,"

"This grave will be ugly, with no beauty at all! I'll put the robber in the casket with no one else involved!"

"The robber screamed,"

"And wailed,"

"And cried,"

"But no one came along!"

"This is why you never steal from a grave-keeper's son! Hurrah!"

Eddie stared at the two with complete confusion, looking genuinely concerned. "That story...has a moral to it, huh?"

"Don't steal from a grave-keeper!" The two shouted with a twisted grin, almost implying that Eddie would know this.

"...Well, I ought to be going."

"We have another song!"

"Yes, about a girl who stitches people up!"

The two began to sing about another odd topic, Eddie sneaking away when the two weren't looking. He saw a glimpse of bandaged rabbit ears behind a huge tree in the distance, regaining his composure and chasing after the man. "Wait! Please, wait! Wherever are you going?!" Eddie soon finds himself running down a dirt path, leading towards a garden of flowers. Since he was still so small from the drink, the flowers looked huge and out of the ordinary. He entered the flowerbed as he looked around for Zack. "Where are you?! Please, come bac-!"

Eddie was then met eye-to-eye with a flower, which had a face. It clears its throat, lifting up a small stick and beginning to orchestrate a song piece for the other flowers to sing. They all sounded wonderful. Eddie couldn't help but to watch them all flutter around gracefully with their petals in the air. His eyes then lock onto the most humanoid looking one; White petals, beautiful golden hair, and two big brown eyes. She laid by many spider webs underneath the sunset, the dew on her making her look so angelic. She was by far the prettiest, the most talented, and the most separated from the other flowers.

Eddie and the flower made eye contact, only for her to blush a rosy red and look away sheepishly as she continued to sing. The young boy was then stopped by the other flowers who surrounded him, seeing that he was the only one not singing. He nervously giggled and looked around to see all eyes on him.

"My, you are all so wonderful." Eddie praised their performance with a gentle smile. The girl flowers all swayed over him, whispering about his looks.

"Thank you very much, dear." The orchestrater rubbed her petals against Eddie's cheek before pushing him a little closer to the rest of the flowers. "Now, may I ask what flower you are?"

"Oh, why, I'm a steady-ready-Eddie flower!" He sang, causing the girls to swoon again.

"A steady-Eddie-what?"

"Look at that stem!" One flower exclaimed, grabbing his suspenders and yanking them a little.

"And those petals!" Another shouted, running their leaves through his ginger locks. "They smell like pumpkin spice, not very much like a flower though..."

"I think he's gorgeous," the white flower girl spoke, only to be hushed by the others.

"What flowerbed are you from?"

"None, ma'am."

"Are you a wildflower?"

"No, I'm not a flower at all!" Eddie finally told them. He didn't know that their response would be negative to that answer. Everyone began to whisper about him and the white-petaled girl looked a bit distressed. He was going to ask what was wrong, only to be grabbed and thrown away.

"He's a weed!"

"A weed!"

"We don't want weeds in our flowerbed!"

"I'm not a weed!" he cried, landing on his hands and knees. The flowers then began throwing water on him that was stored in their petals above. Eddie clenched his fists and stood up, now soaking wet. "Well, if I were my regular size, I could pick each and everyone of you!"

"Get out of here, weed!"

Eddie huffed, dusting himself off and looking back at them. The white flower girl gave him a small smile and waved, causing Eddie's anger to dissolve as he did the same. He then turned away to see that the dirt path led into a meadow that looked like a jungle, since he was so small. Each strand of grass was as big as a tree and all of the mushrooms were almost as tall as Eddie himself. He began his way through, knowing that the white rabbit must have gone this way. His black shoes that his mother had just polished grew muddy as the path grew wet. This was awfully annoying.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

I will post Part 2 later today~❤

[livingforcoopsandoknutzy]

I just read all of your fics and they are so so good! Can you write something with 41 and 45 for coops?

Thank you so much!! <33

“Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?” + “It’s bad again. It’s really, really bad again."

All credit goes to @lumosinlove bless that beautiful brain of hers

TW: depression/mentions of past abuse

   Remus could always tell when Sirius was trapped in his head. Sirius would get reclusive and silent, he would go from being clingy to touch averse and it broke Remus’s heart without fail every single time.

   Sirius would often get that way around the anniversary of leaving and a certain time in November, which was what was happening now. It was November 19th and Sirius had been in the process of shutting down for two days but today was the worst of it.

   Remus had gone to bed at two in the morning, not being able to stay up any longer. Sirius had promised to come to bed soon but when Remus woke up the next morning the sheets on his bed were still made.

   Making his way downstairs, he found Sirius sitting on the couch staring blankly at the wall, purple bags under his eyes that confirmed Remus’s suspicions that he hadn’t slept at all. Remus had made his way loudly over to the couch in hopes of not startling Sirius.

   It hadn’t helped and as soon as Remus sat down Sirius’s head snapped to him, his eyes wide and panicked. Remus knew better than to touch him when he got like this so he sat farther away and talked to him in a calming voice.

   “Baby, it’s just me. You weren’t there when I woke up, did you sleep in here?” He asked gently, relieved that Sirius had calmed down when he realized it was Remus instead of freaking out further. Sirius just shook his head, not vocalizing which Remus had expected.

   Remus just nodded and snuggled into the couch, offering a silent strength for Sirius if he needed it. They sat like that for about an hour before the tension finally left Sirius and he actually laid his head down in Remus’s lap.

   Sirius let out a quiet sigh when Remus’s hand found his hair. “You okay, love?” He asked quietly. Sirius shuddered at the name and shook his head slowly. “It’s bad again. It’s really, really bad again.” He said quietly, a slight waver in his voice. Remus dropped his head so he could kiss Sirius’s forehead. 

   “I’ve got you, baby. Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?” Sirius laid quietly for a second, his hand finding Remus��s free one and playing with his fingers. “Can I talk about it?” Remus was almost shocked into silence. Sirius seldom talked about things from his past, not more than two sentences and never into details but Remus would be damned if he didn’t listen when Sirius finally did.

   Remus just nodded, his arm tightening around Sirius’s waist so he could pull him to where he was more laying on him than sitting his head in Remus’s lap. Sirius snuggled into the embrace, his forehead pressed into Remus’s neck.

   “When I was growing up there were only two people in my family who didn’t hate me. Two people besides my brother who never laid a hand on me.” Remus clenched his jaw, fighting the anger that washed over him every time Sirius mentions or subtly mentions the abuse he suffered as a child.

   “My Great Uncle Alfred and my cousin Andromeda. My Great Uncle Alfred was cast out when I was about six years old, he’d send me secret cards when he could and would tell me to keep my head up. He’d been gay and when my family learned his secret they’d kicked him out. They burned him off the stupid family tree.” Remus buried his nose into Sirius’s curls when Sirius took a break to get his voice back under control. Sirius leaned his head back into the touch.

   “He was great and I loved him but Andromeda was always there for me. She’d show up randomly as if she could just tell when things were getting worse and she’d take me away for a weekend or something.” Sirius had a faint smile on his face, it was bittersweet and Remus was almost afraid to hear the rest of the story. “Eight years ago today she came and told everyone she was moving away with her boyfriend who was half Swedish.” 

   Sirius scoffed and Remus felt his heart sink when he saw the tears in his eyes. “My family, of course, lost their minds because he wasn’t French and she was kicked out of the family, her picture burned off the family tree just like that.” Sirius cleared his throat and pushed harder against Remus’s neck as if he needed the reminder that Remus was there.

   Remus held his head close and dropped kisses to his dark locks. “I was so mad at her for leaving me, I was just so angry but my family kept talking about her. They kept calling her a blood traitor and a whole bunch of other names I didn’t understand then. I went off, told them that if anything she was doing the right thing, she deserved to get away she was too good for us all anyway.” Sirius let out a weak laugh and shook his head.

   “I told my mother that they shouldn’t talk about her like that because at least she wasn’t still in the loop of inbreds.” His voice dropped off and when he started talking again it was much darker. “My mother hadn’t found that amusing. She had slapped me across the face before it even left my mouth. She had been too angry to properly punish me so she left it to my father.” Sirius started trembling and Remus tightened his hold around him protectively.

   “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Remus whispered as he pressed a kiss to Sirius’s temple. Sirius just huddled closer and fell silent for a minute. “He beat me so bad I nearly died. I broke three ribs and my wrist but they wouldn’t let me go to the doctor. My mother locked me in the cellar and left me there for a week. Regulus had to come and sneak me food because neither of my parents thought about the fact that I was going to starve.” Sirius let out a bitter laugh. “Or maybe they did, maybe that was the point.”

   Remus bit his lip hard as his vision swarmed with tears. How could someone so precious and so amazing be treated like that? It was times like these that Remus remembered how strong Sirius was, if it had been anyone else Remus knew for a fact they would have been broken by now.

  “I was so mad at Andromeda for such a long time. I never returned any of her letters but she never stopped sending them.” Sirius sniffled and closed his eyes tightly. “Until she did. I thought she had finally taken the hint, it had made me much sadder than I thought it would have since I was the one ignoring her anyway. Turns out she had a daughter and had died during childbirth. Regulus had to tell me since no one else ever spoke of her.”

  Sirius shifted so he could press his forehead against Remus’s seeking more comfort than Remus knew how to give. Remus tightened his grip and pulled Sirius closer until he was straddling Remus, chests flush together but in a way that was more intimate than any of their other ‘intimate’ moments.

   Sirius made a broken sound and Remus felt tears fall from his own eyes as he watched Sirius’s expression change into a deeply tortured expression. “It was my own fault for never reaching out to her. I- I should have answered.” Sirius let out a sob and buried his face in Remus’s chest. “If I had just returned her letters instead of being stupid and petty I would have gotten to see how she was, I would have gotten to knew her daughter. Re, I could’ve been an Uncle to her but I was so angry about being alone that I ignored all of it. She probably hates me.”

  Sirius made an utterly broken sound and Remus held him as tightly as he could, trying to keep his own cries silent.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, wishing at that moment harder than he ever had that he could have known Sirius growing up, that he could have helped him through all the stuff he went through. He never should have had to go through that, much less as a child. Nothing in Sirius’s life was fair and all Remus wanted was to fix it.

   “You’re so strong, kind, and good Sirius. She couldn’t hate you, it sounded like she loved you a lot. You never should have gone through any of that and I’m so sorry you had to go through it alone, just know you don’t have to anymore. You’ve got me, or James, or Dumo. You have the whole team, you’re not alone anymore.” 

   Remus dropped sloppy kisses all over Sirius’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, I know that’s hard.” Sirius let out shuddering breaths and pulled back to look at Remus. A slightly hysterical laugh rose from his throat and he rested his forehead back on Remus’s. 

   “You’re not supposed to be crying mon loup, that wasn’t my intention.” Remus shook his head quickly. “I know I’m sorry but just- none of that was fair. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that.” Sirius laughed softly and kissed Remus gently.

   “I love you.” Sirius whispered, his eyes fluttering closed again. Remus basked in the warm feeling of being so close to Sirius. “Je t'aime aussi.” Sirius opened his eyes and shook his head, a fond smile on his face as Remus wiped the tears on his cheeks away with the pad of his thumbs.

   “We should go to bed, I know you didn’t sleep last night.” Remus said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’s nose. Sirius just buried his face in Remus’s neck. “You know me too well, mon loup.” Remus laughed quietly. 

   Sirius pulled his face away with a tired smile. “Carry me?” Remus laughed as he gripped Sirius’s thighs and shifted to the edge of the couch. Sirius let out a contented sigh and wrapped his arms around Remus’s neck.

   Remus picked him up with minimal problems and carried him to the bed where he dumped him precariously on the bed making Sirius laugh. Remus smiled at the sound, it was something that he hadn’t heard in days and he had missed it more than he cared to admit.

   Remus climbed in next to him and put his arm out so Sirius could tuck himself into his side. When Sirius was in the need of comfort he would tuck himself into a ball and rest his knees on Remus’s stomach.

   Normally, Remus would push them off but Sirius was already drifting and Remus didn’t think he could move him even if he wanted to. So he ignored the ache it caused and turned his nose into Sirius’s hair seeking out the comforting smell he hadn’t gotten in a few days.

   Remus kissed Sirius’s forehead and sighed. “I hope you’re happy now. I hope you know you have a family and we are here no matter what. We love you no matter what.” It fell on deaf ears as Sirius had already fallen asleep, Remus drifted soon after.

[cellard0ors]

WHELP.

No one hated this. so, it's continuing. I have no title as of yet. Still dedicated to @lallyloo

Part 1 here

Rhett used to live closer.

Now he doesn’t.

Link knows there are a variety of factors that went into the move, and he respects them. Still, it was nice before - when he didn’t have to travel so far. Now here he is, driving out into the middle of nowhere to see someone who used to be a short distance away.

Everything used to be…closer.

Sometimes Link looks back, riffles through his memories and it’s almost painful. It’s not that the memories are bad per say, it’s more how they feel. So close and so far – recent, yet ages ago. It’s an uncomfortable dichotomy, so he does his best to just concentrate on the present.

And, presently, he’s pulling up to a tiny little cabin surrounded by towering California redwoods. His car crunches loudly over the gravel drive - loud enough to summon his friend, even if his hearing’s declining. Although - to be fair, Link’s hearing is not the greatest either.

Hearing, sight, the combined ache of your muscles and bones - yeah, getting older is a real bitch. Not a word Link likes to say, much less think, but facts are facts. Age isn’t pretty, albeit there are some advantages. One of which being that you can pretty much go and do whatever you please, whenever you please.

Especially if you made a rather lucrative creative endeavor at one point. Mythical Morning may be gone, but the capital earned is doing its job of keeping him cushy in his golden years. Rhett as well, who certainly couldn’t have afforded this place otherwise and as he emerges from his home he offers a wave.

Link returns it, but finds he has to fight off a scowl. Really, it’s not fair. Link went silver early and he always thought he looked pretty damned handsome with it- a total silver fox.

But Rhett?

Well, Rhett always did have a history of beating him.

He might have gone silver later, but damned if he doesn’t wear it better. His beard is neatly trimmed, long hair tied back and he looks like some kind of rugged highlander cowboy combo that could get away with being on the cover of one of those old romance novels Christy used to thumb through.

…terrible…

A man his age shouldn’t look so good.

Rhett shouldn’t look so good.

And considering what Link’s come here to talk about he really doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Focus on the present, Neal, he reminds himself, shaking his head while he parks. When he gets out Rhett charges up, one hand out for a shake, which Link takes and then the two share a brief, back slapping hug.

“How ya been, brother?”

“Told you last night - tired and tired of being tired. You?”

“Same,” Rhett chuckles, “but figured if you were makin’ the drive up here, there might be more to say.”

There is, but Link’s not ready for it, instead clearing his throat while moving towards the two rocking chairs near the porch, “Mind if I-?”

“Help yourself,” Rhett says with an expansive gesture and the two end up seated and looking out over the wilderness. Link’s been here before. They’ve done this before. Just sat in these chairs and shot the shit. But today, Link finds himself a little more riled than usual, a little stiffer, and Rhett must pick up on it, because he sighs, “You might as well spit it out.”

“Spit what out?”

“Whatever it is you’re trying to avoid, bo,” Rhett says and he’s got a cooler of sprite nearby. He grabs a can and cracks it open, taking a swig before continuing, “We can sit here and waste time until you work up the nerve or-”

“I have the nerve!” Link cries but Rhett just goes on as if he hasn’t been interrupted, “-you can just spill. Probably feel better after.”

“Doubt that,” Link grouses and reaches into the cooler to get his own drink. Because Rhett managed to call him out so smoothly, so quickly, he decides to take his time on purpose. What was it Lily said? Be ‘deliberately obtuse’? It’s not quite what he’s doing now, but close enough.

Rhett, unbothered by Link’s act of defiance, merely sips his can and rests in his chair - annoyingly regal and relaxed. Sometimes Link really hates him. But it’s the kind of hate that’s so tangled up with affection that it’s irritating beyond measure, so he just stews over his own soda and waits.

For the longest time, it feels like neither will break the silence, but - considering Link came here to see Rhett and not the other way around - he decides (very graciously, he might add) to bend first, “Is it ever hard on you?”

One of Rhett’s eyebrows wing upwards, “Is what ever hard on me?”

Link shifts about, suddenly wishing these wooden chairs had some cushion, “The whole,” he waves a hand around them, “lonely woodsman thing?”

“…you think I’m lonely?”

“Well, I mean…” Link feels very tongue tied and very stupid and he doesn’t want to somehow inadvertently insult or hurt his friend, “Do you-? Do you ever think about how-how things changed?”

Rhett shrugs easily, “Things change, Link. That’s just life. Nature.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Link grumbles, “But I mean-? I’m more like-?” he growls under his breath because he’s annoyed that he can’t articulate his thoughts easily, “You and Jessie…”

“What about me and Jessie?”

“I mean…you were married…”

“We were?” Rhett asks the last as if it’s a hugely shocking revelation and Link hopes his expression manages to convey how he feels about that kind of response, “Yes. You and Jessie were married and then, y'know, um, you-you weren’t and I-I guess I just wondered if-if-?”

Rhett takes a deep pull on his sprite before sighing, “Are you asking if I’m lonely without Jessie?”

“Uh…sort of? Or, I mean, more-more directly - did you ever think this…this is how it would end up.”

“Gosh, no,” Rhett laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way that always makes Link’s heart twirl a little, “No, I sure didn’t. But; mean, ’s like I said, things change. So do people. Jessie and I loved one another, but,” he shrugs again, “Kids grew up, moved out, and when it was just me and her we’d found things’d changed.”

“But…” Link sounds sort of lost, “How?”

Rhett’s narrows his eyes at him, “Man, you know how. We’ve talked about this! She and I were just…different people than we used to be. Different from who we were when we got married and all. It wasn’t bad - we still loved one another. But there just…”

He rolls his shoulders and sighs again, one big hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “Wasn’t that spark anymore. I love her. Still do. Heck, we still talk - just spoke to her last week! But being in love with her?”

The last is asked in a way that pretty much answers itself. Link gets it. He does understand it. And as Rhett said – they’ve talked about this before. Back when it first happened, even. Link knows the story. He knows it and he knows it and yet…

“I guess, I’m…well, I’m-I’m just asking because you-you live up here all by yourself and I…I live by myself and…”

Rhett’s heavy lidded eyes take on this sad, soulful look, one that makes Link’s throat close up around his words, “That what this really about, brother? You thinkin’ about Christy again? You really the lonely one?”

“Yes,” Link blurts and, sort of horrified that he did, rushes on, “And no. No, mean…this-this isn’t about Christy…this-this is about Lily.”

Rhett’s eyes widen and his head rears back, the confusion on his face paramount, “Okay, alright then - color me perplexed, 'cause I don’t see how my being lonely and then your being lonely has anything to do with your daughter.”

“Lily thinks we should go out!” Link squeaks loudly and hoo boy! Bad enough the words came out in that sharp of a tone, but he also Did. Not. Mean. To. Say. Them!

He was planning on working into it in a far more casual manner. Maybe even jokingly. Like, 'Hey, my daughter thinks we should go out! Isn’t that a laugh riot?’ Or 'So, my children are conspiring against us!’ Or really anything - any way - different than how it came out just now.

Rhett, for his part, doesn’t seem all that rocked by this announcement, “Oh. Um. Alright. Sounds good.”

“Sounds good?!” And wow. Just wow. Link thought he sounded squeaky and loud before. That came out even worse. Mickey-Mouse-sucked-on-helium-and-went-hysterical worse. Rhett must have misunderstood, right? Right?!

As if sensing the question, Rhett finishes off his sprite and tosses the can in a nearby trash can, “Sure. We can go out. Where you wanna go? Wouldn’t mind takin’ a trip. Been an age since we done it.”

His reply confirms Link’s thinking and he deflates, but only a smidge, because he now knows he still has to explain, “No, no, no. I-I mean she wants us to go out. As-as in out out.”

Watching the realization dawn on Rhett’s face should be funny. It really should. More so when he asks in a higher tenor, “Out out as in-?”

“As in a date, man. My little girl thinks we should date,” Link wants to make this into a joke. He feels like he should be able to do that. He knows he should. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? One big joke and he tries to laugh but the sound comes out so false and weird he stops it immediately, instead pressing on, “Rest of my kids too. She was just…just the one elected to bring it up or-or something…”

Rhett sits up straighter and crosses his arms. His eyes dart from side to side and he looks like he’s thinking so danged hard about this. Way harder than Link thinks he should.

“Let me get this straight: your kids,” Rhett points to Link, “think we,” he waves a finger between the two of them, “should go out with one another?”

“Yes.”

Rhett blinks several times as if he’s physically processing this. His mind a computer pushing through a big old file of data. Which is probably why he offers an indelicate, “Huh.”

“Right?!” Link cries, because he feels like Rhett understands. Rhett gets Link. Rhett knows exactly how Link thinks and feels and Rhett gets this situation, Link’s situation, perfectly.

“My kids pushed me back into datin’ long before yours did.”

…and this was not the response Link expected. He’d expected laughter. He’d expected an eyeroll. He’d expected anything but Rhett to say what he just said and thus his response is less than elegant, “Eh?”

“Locke and Shepard got on me 'bout dating only a year or two after the deal with Jessie was finalized. Think they were worried I’d become some ol’ hermit in the woods…” the last comes out in a bit of a chuckle as Rhett looks around them, “Can you believe that?”

Link can’t help but join him in chuckling on that front. Once the laughter dies down, Rhett sits up, threading his fingers together before letting his hands hang down between his knees, “Told ‘em I didn’t need it. You reach a certain age and you don’t date anymore.”

“That’s what I told, Lily!” Link crows; overjoyed that his pal is in agreement.

One slender shoulder rises and falls in an easy motion as he confesses, “Not that I haven’t been out though.”

This draws Link up short. It startles him. It makes him sit up as well, his own hands mirroring Rhett’s and one of his legs starts jiggling restlessly, “Y-Y-you’ve been-? Been seeing someone?”

“Nah,” Rhett offers a lazy grin, “Not seriously. Seen a coupla different folks, but no one I’d care to see again.”

So.

Rhett had…or is…dating. Sure, he doesn’t call it dating, but still…the omission trips Link up. For some reason, he’d just believed both he and Rhett were in the same boat. Sure, Rhett was divorced, not widowed, but Link had felt – in some way – that it held the same sort of principle.

You chose someone to spend the rest of your life with and when their life or your life ended, that was that. There was nothing else, no one, else. And he’s aware how immature that is, how backwards-thinking, but it just…it’s what he always thought. Until now. Until this very moment where Rhett revealed that it’s not that way at all.

At least not for him.

Rhett…seeing people…with-with potential romantic intent…

For some reason it just doesn’t compute and now Link knows he’s the one blinking madly as he tries to process this. One reason it’s hard to swallow comes to mind, so he asks, "You-you never mentioned…?”

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re telling me right now!” And there’s that hysteric tone again.

“Not givin’ you names, now am I?”

Link feels the sound of sheer disgruntled aggravation that leaves him right now really nails his feelings home. Rhett, however, is unmoved, “Gotta say though, Lily is way off base…”

Link’s hands unhook as he practically melts. A wave of relief washes over him, his whole body falling back to rest against the chair, “Finally!”

“…we already know one another.”

Link’s head snaps back up so quickly it defies his advanced age, “What?”

“Well, not only are we well past the age of dating, dating in and of itself is for people who don’t know one another,” Rhett returns candidly, “We’ve known one another damn near all our lives. So, telling us we should date isn’t quite right. If we went out, it’d probably be called something else.”

“What?!”

Rhett strokes at his beard thoughtfully, “Wonder if there’s a name for that? People who’ve known one another for a long time, but then decide to bump it up a notch. Mean, it’s probably still just called 'dating’, but I really think they should come up with another word for it, because they’re making up new words all the time for all kinds of things so, you think there’d be one for that.”

“WHAT?!”

Rhett looks at Link and he edges closer to him, voice colored with concern, “You alright there? Thought I was the one with the bad hearing. My hearing aids really help, so if you think your ears are starting to go you can ask your doc about-?”

“My hearing is fine,” Link stresses, “But I’m not sure about everything else, because, apparently, I’ve woken up in some alternate universe!”

“…well, we did used to say we traveled the multiverse.”

“Can it, McLachlin!” Link points at him, tone sharp, “You’re the one who said it wasn’t a question you needed to answer!”

“…a question-?”

“Back on the show!” Link cries, “One time you said you didn’t need to answer the question of what it’d be like if we kissed or made out or-!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rhett laughs and waves both of his hands, “Look…first off - for the most part - you’ve always had a better memory’n me. Even back before we were old coots. Second, pretty presumptions of you, ain’t it?”

Link frowns, waits for Rhett to continue the thought and when he does, it takes all the strength Link has within in his body not to strangle the other man, “Mean – you jumping right into kissing and making out…haven’t even taken me out proper yet. If you want to start courting me…”

“I don’t!” Link practically leaps to his feet at that. A rather impressive feat considering his body doesn’t move with near the alacrity it used to, “I-I-I mean, I’m-I’m not-!”

“No?” Rhett sniffs, “Rude.”

“What?” And Link hates repeating himself, hates sounding so stupefied but honestly: what the heck? “Do you want me to be courting you? To take you out out? To date?”

Rhett looks far too damned tranquil for this conversation, “Just because a long time ago I said I didn’t need to answer the question to that, don’t mean I’m not pondering it now.”

And with that, Link dies.

Or he feels like he dies.

Or something else.

Something transcendent. Something where he really has confirmed that, somehow, the planets have shifted, the stars have aligned, and he’s been transported to another universe, because he couldn’t have possibly heard that right.

Yet he knows he did.

Link feels lightheaded. He feels like he’s outside of his body, his voice coming back to him in an echo, lips moving unbidden, “But-? You’re-you’re not-? You’ve-you’ve never been interested in-?”

Another easy shrug, “Not sure if I’m interested in men. But I sure as shit am interested in you. Always have been.”

Link really thinks he should sit back down. Sit back down or fall down. Just…down…

His hands feels shaky and wild as they find the arms of the chair, as he lowers himself back into, as he breathes, “You’re interested in-in-in-?”

Link’s head moves around as if looking for someone else, because saying ‘in me’ (and the ‘me’ being Link himself) doesn’t seem at all possible.

Rhett, seeming to finally take pity on him, sighs, “When I say ‘I’m interested in you’, I’m not declaring some secret, unrequited, suppressed feelings for you, man. I’m saying you’re my friend, I find you interesting, and I ain’t entirely opposed to seeing if there could be more to it,” he unlaces his fingers to wave between them, “To us,” then he changes one of his hands into the two fingers to motion between their eyes, “To this.”

“…this…” is all Link can manage. It comes out faint and whispery. He’s still pretty convinced he died. Probably happened on the ride here. Damn twisty backroads.

“…’course if you’re not interested,” Rhett sucks his teeth, “Or chicken…”

Link snaps back to life right quick. He’s alive. He’s alive and in his body and his ears are burning, his heart pounding, his cheeks bright red as his blood pressure rises, “I’m not chicken!”

Rhett just eyes him balefully and-and the utter gall of it! Of those eyes looking at him in this fashion and Link puffs up, “I’m not! I’M a modern man, dang it! I-I’m not afraid to-to-!”

He runs a hand through his thick (now completely) silver hair and tugs it hard, “It’s just-? It’s crazy! It’s insane! It’s-it’s-it’s-!”

He’s stuttering all over himself, all the things he wants to say not coming out of his mouth quickly enough and he just points at Rhett accusingly, “It’ll ruin our friendship and be all kindas awkward and-!”

Rhett leans back in his chair, crosses his arms again and stretches out his ridiculously long, giraffe-like legs, “You know…we drank one another’s urine.”

Link stalls at that.

“Once upon a time.”

Link is still stopped. Enough that Rhett just breathes in and looks off to one side, “Messed around with one another’s feet. Did Mama Bird/Baby Bird. Cuddled with cockroaches.”

“Thought you said I had the better memory.”

“’Bout some things,” Rhett offers with a small grin, “My point is – we’ve done much crazier things. Only difference this time would be that it’s personal and it’s not for an audience.”

Link digests that, chews on it. He rolls it over and over again in his mind. Rhett seems to be waiting for him to answer – one way or another and when it becomes obvious that no real answer is forth coming, he lets out another sigh and rises up, wincing some.

Link would bet it’s due to his lower back twinging, because sitting long periods of time now just does that to him. Link knows, because it does it to him too.

Rhett puts his hands in his pockets and offers another blithe shrug, “Look, don’t worry about it. I don’t blame you if you’re-”

“Okay.”

Link’s eyes are downcast. They went in that direction when he knew his final answer. He wants to raise his head. He wants to know who said it, that quiet word. So quiet as to almost be inaudible.

And shy.

Quiet, shy…unreal.

And he knows he said it. Knows it came from his mouth. And he feels it when Rhett gets closer to him, feels the heat of his friend and he can just make him out of his peripheral vision as he repeats just as quietly, just as shy, “Okay?”

Link licks his lips and looks up. He looks up into his friend’s kind eyes and feels his head wobbling on his neck as he nods, “Okay. Yeah. I…I guess it’s…it’s worth trying…”

“So,” Rhett’s lips tug up in one corner, a teasing sort of smirk, “You are courting me?”

Link shoves out at him and the two laugh. But the fact still remains. Link has just agreed to go out with Rhett. Out out. As in a date, as in…

…and Link knows, eventually, the panic will return. But for now? For now, it’s nice to just be with his friend and laugh.