#some of them might never see the light of day......

[jpmarvel90]

Dont Belong Part 3

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: 7175

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n's infection is hitting her hard and she's still struggling with her feelings on her parents. Thankfully, Yelena is there to help cheer her up and she brings along a surprise that might just make everything feel better!

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n POV:

These last two days in the hospital have blurred together, a monotonous cycle of dull light and beeping machines. The weight of my infection drags on me, leaving me shivering one moment and sweating the next. I've spent far too much time staring at the ceiling, feeling trapped in this sterile room, yearning for the freedom of my life before the mission went sideways. The boredom is suffocating, and I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself with every passing hour.

I feel a constant gaze from my parents who rarely leave my side. It's strange to go from having them ignore you to being around all the time. Part of me feels like things were like they used to be when I was a full part of their family. The other part of me is screaming saying they don't mean it and will soon be gone again.

But today feels different, a whisper of hope fluttering in the air. I've been waiting for this moment, and when a familiar knock sounds at the door, my heart races with anticipation. "Can I come in?" Yelena's voice calls softly, and I can't suppress the grin that spreads across my face at the sound of her.

"Of course!" I call back, the eagerness spilling over in my tone. I sit up a little straighter, my heart pounding as I manage to prop myself up, using the button on the side of the bed to elevate myself.

The door swings open, and Yelena steps in, her expression a mix of relief and worry. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can see the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched under her eyes. "Y/n!" she breathes, rushing to my side, her voice trembling slightly as she takes my hand.

"Yelena! I'm so glad to see you." The words come out a little breathless, and I can't help the surge of emotion that washes over me. Just seeing her makes the room feel a little less confining, a little brighter.

"I can't believe you're awake," she says, her grip tightening around my fingers. "I was so scared. We all were. You had everyone worried sick." Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of my situation lifts just a bit. I don't think I've ever seen Yelena emotional like this before and it helps me realise how bad this whole situation is. She would never allow anyone to see her this vulnerable except for Mama.

"Hey, I'm okay. Well, sort of." I gesture weakly to the IV drip, the hospital bed, and the machines that surround me. "Just a little out of commission at the moment."

Yelena's smile is tentative but bright, yet it's overshadowed by the concern etched on her face. "I just hate seeing you hurt like this. You're my niece and I thought I would always be here to protect you." She shares honestly.

I give her hand a squeeze and share a warm smile when she finally looks up to me. "I can't be protected forever. Besides, I need you now. This recovery is going to be shit and I need you to help me when it gets too much." I reassure her and she nods. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you through it all. Stark has even set me up on the same floor as you. So, I'll be there whenever you need me." She explains, making my heart warm with the thought of seeing her for a while to come.

"What about the widows?" I ask, knowing how much that means to her. "I've already been able to help so many. Now I need to help you. The others can wait. Besides, Kate can do the research on where we need to go next." She replies. "Who's Kate?" I ask, surprised to hear that she is working with someone else.

"Just a stray that Clint found. She's annoying, but oddly fun to be around. I think you'd like her. I'm sure she'll be around at some point to say hi." She explains with a shrug.

As the initial shock of seeing me seems to fade, I can see the corners of Yelena's mouth twitching upward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It's as if she's flipping a switch, her demeanour transforming from worried auntie to the playful, teasing friend I know and love.

"You know," she starts, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms, "for someone who just woke up from a dramatic hospital nap, you look surprisingly like a zombie. I mean, I thought they had strict rules against bringing the undead into the hospital."

I let out a soft laugh, despite the ache in my chest. "Yeah, well, the food here isn't exactly helping my cause. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of those tasteless mushy meals for a week and still look better than this."

Yelena raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Mushy meals? I'd expect you to be on some gourmet diet, considering all the special treatments they give you. I'm starting to think you should at least get some ice cream as a post-surgery reward." She chuckles. "Now that's the kind of thinking I can get behind. Have a word with Tony yeah?" I reply, feeling my spirits lift. "Ice cream sounds amazing. But what are the odds of that happening here?"

"Zero. But I'm prepared for this. I'll break you out of this place and take you for ice cream. You just need to give me the signal, and I'll burst in through the window like a stealthy ninja." She mimics a dramatic leap and landing in mama's pose. "See, I'll even do my best poser impersonation!" She playfully teases and she now starts to pretend to scale the invisible walls of my hospital room, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness. "You can count on me, Y/n. Ice cream shall be yours!"

I chuckle, the image of Yelena performing an acrobatic escape making the heaviness of the past days lift a little more. "What flavour are we talking here? I hope it's not vanilla. I have standards, you know."

"Vanilla? Please! I was thinking more along the lines of double chocolate fudge with extra sprinkles. And maybe a side of cherry sauce because why not go big, right?" She shares her thoughts whilst taking the seat next to me again. Her hand resting over mine. "Now you're speaking my language," I respond, shaking my head in mock seriousness. "If I'm risking a hospital breakout, it better be worth it." I laugh.

Yelena sits back in her seat, her chest still rising and falling as she laughs at her own hilariousness. She then looks back up at me. "But seriously, let's plan this for when you're feeling better. I'm not above a hospital escape." Her grin is contagious, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing. "Deal. Just don't forget the sprinkles."

As our laughter fills the room, I realize how much I've missed this lightness, this camaraderie. It's comforting to think about having Yelena by my side as I navigate the uncertainty of recovery and family dynamics.

But beneath the playful banter, there's an unspoken understanding between us, a bond that allows me to express my fears without words. With Yelena around, I feel like I can face whatever comes next, armed with humour and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this fight.

"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice turning more serious again. "Anything," she replies, her gaze earnest. "Don't let me give up on the ice cream party, okay? No matter what happens."

"Never! I'll be your ice cream guardian," she declares, puffing out her chest with mock pride. "We will have that party, and it will be legendary. I will personally ensure that you have the sprinkles of life!"

With that promise hanging in the air, I know I can count on her not just for ice cream but for so much more as I navigate this complicated recovery. Even amidst the challenges, I feel a renewed sense of strength.

Though the playful atmosphere soon disappears as Yelena looks at me with a hurt look. "You know," Yelena begins cautiously, glancing around the room as if making sure no one else can hear, "I've been really worried about you. Seeing you like this. It's been hard. I didn't expect to walk in and see my Y/n looking so weak."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the aftermath of a bullet wound," I respond, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone, but her expression remains sombre. "I mean it, Y/n," she says, her voice low. "I can handle all sorts of dangerous missions, but this... this was different. You're my niece. I've seen too many people get hurt, and it scares me to think about what could have happened if things went even more wrong."

"I know. I didn't want to worry you, but... it's not like I planned to get shot," I reply, my voice softening. "I was trying to do my best, and it went sideways."

"It's not your fault," Yelena reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. "But promise me you'll be careful. Don't rush back into missions. I can't go through this again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere yet. You've got me for a while longer," I say with a playful lilt, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her smile falters, but she doesn't let go of my hand. "You have to promise me you won't get hurt again. I mean it. You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know." The gravity of her words sinks in, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was doing well. I thought it was my chance to prove myself," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Prove yourself? You don't need to do that. You're already a part of this family," she insists, her voice firm but gentle.

But I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the bitter sting of doubt that lingers in the corners of my mind. "I don't feel like it," I confess, looking down at our hands intertwined. "Not after everything that's happened. My parents... I don't know. It's complicated." I begin tentatively, not sure how to express the turmoil inside me.

"They've hurt me for so long, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around why they suddenly seem to care. It feels like. I don't know, like they're trying to make up for lost time. They've been... around. Too around, if you know what I mean. They've been acting all concerned, but it feels more like an obligation."

I've felt torn about this since I've woke up. They're around all the time and trying to do everything that can to help me. But all I can think about is how much they have hurt me and if they would ever be able to make up for their past actions.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "It's okay to be conflicted. They've done wrong by you, and you have every right to be angry. But if they're genuinely trying to change, maybe there's a chance for you to heal too." She suggests, similar to how Steve has these last two days.

"I don't want to forgive them just because they're here now. It feels disingenuous," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. "I've been raised to believe that actions speak louder than words, and I need to see real change." I state irritated. "Then hold them to that standard," she urges, her voice steady. "Don't let them slide by just because they're your parents. You deserve more than that." She iterates.

"I guess I'm just afraid of being disappointed again," I whisper, feeling a shiver of vulnerability wash over me. It hurt so much when I slowly seemed to disappear from their lives. I don't think I could experience that again. "What if they go back to ignoring me once I'm healed? What's the point of this?" I share, tears stinging my eyes.

Yelena leans closer, her brow furrowing as she studies my face. "That's not fair to you. They hurt you, and it's okay to be angry about that. But you deserve to feel loved and cared for. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for." "Stronger?" I scoff lightly, but inside I feel a flicker of hope. "I barely survived my first mission and ended up in a hospital bed. That doesn't feel strong."

"Strength isn't just about fighting, Y/n. It's about surviving, too. You survived, and you're still here. You're still fighting." Her voice softens, and I can see her eyes glistening with tears. I nod slowly, her words resonating with me. "You're right. I just don't want to get hurt like that again. I thought joining SHIELD would mean I'd finally be seen, but now... it feels like a mess."

Yelena shakes her head, frustration evident in her expression. "No. You're not a mess. You're human. They need to step up and show you that you matter, but that doesn't mean you have to accept their love without question. You get to set the boundaries. You get to decide what you want from them moving forward. But I do believe that you have to give them a chance to show you that they've changed." She shares, taking me by surprise.

"It was years Yelena. How can I move to just forgive them for everything that's happened? Just because they're here for my recovery, doesn't mean it makes up for everything that they've done." I raise my voice getting frustrated that no one seems to understand the depth of how much this has affected me.

She thinks for a moment before speaking up. "I know I can't understand the pain they caused you. When I heard about what they did to you, I was ready to kick both of their asses. But I've seen this determination in them. Especially Nat. I just don't want you to let the anger eat you alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, too." Her words resonate deep within me. I can feel the weight of my resentment pressing against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "It's just hard, Yelena. I don't know if I can trust them again. What if they just go back to how things were?"

"That's the risk, but it's also a chance for something better. Maybe this could be the start of a new chapter for you all," she replies, her voice filled with hope. "I mean, how many people get a second chance to rewrite their story? You can make it count." She tries to reason with me. "Or I could just end up disappointed again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, no one said life was easy," she counters, leaning forward, her tone shifting to a playful challenge. "You've faced worse. You survived a bullet wound, for Christ's sake! How about you take that strength and channel it into something more positive? Like confronting your parents." She suggests. "Confront them?" I echo, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.

"Yeah! You're a badass. You fought off those Hydra agents; you can fight for your own happiness." she encourages. "Don't let anyone else dictate your worth. Not your parents, not Hydra. No one."

"I'll think about it," I concede, knowing that deep down, she's right. Maybe facing my parents isn't just about them; it's about taking control of my own narrative, my own healing. "Good," Yelena replies, her smile brightening the room once more. "And remember, no matter what you decide, I'll be right here, cheering you on. We're in this together, ice cream and all."

As I gaze into her determined eyes, I feel the flicker of hope igniting within me. Yelena is right. I can't let the past dictate my future. Perhaps I can find a way to reclaim my voice, my choices. And with her by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.

__________

The soft hum of the machines is a constant companion, a backdrop to the quiet conversation happening in the room. Mama and mom sit nearby, each offering their own version of silent support. Mama, with her usual calm demeanour, sits crossed legged in the chair near the foot of my bed. Her posture is relaxed, but her sharp eyes betray her constant vigilance. She notices everything, always has, and I can feel her observing me like she's looking for something beneath the surface. Mom on the other hand, has stationed herself at my side, like aways. She's less fussy, thankfully, but still has to be close, like I'm going to disappear if she's not.

Sometimes, I find the silence unbearable compared to their constant and sometimes suffocating fussing over me. I feel on edge, like they're waiting for me to talk to them. I think back to what Yelena said about confronting them and doing it on my terms. But I want to do it in the right frame of mind, and at the moment, this infection is still kicking my ass.

Mama breaks the silence as her well trained eyes watch me for a while. "How are you feeling Y/n?" She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me, as though she's trying to catch me out if I say the wrong thing. "A bit better." I respond with a slight nod, my words carefully measured. I don't want to give too much away. Not about how I'm feeling and especially not about the swirl of doubt that's been growing inside of me since the incident.

"Are you sure? You're sweating." She points out, sitting up. Mom goes to reach for my forehead, but quickly retreats her hand. She's been trying really hard not to be too much and I'm grateful for that. I should have known that she could see straight through me and notice the discomfort I'm in. "Just a little." I admit. "Is there anything we can do? Would you like some water? Or we could change the quilt for a blanket if that would help?" Mom suggests.

I think for a moment before giving in, knowing that I am burning up a little too quickly. "The blanket would be better if that's ok." I respond, earning a warm smile from mom as she stands and moves to grab the blanket as mama takes the quilt and folds it up. "Better?" Mom asks as the thin blanket now rests over my legs. "Yes. Thank you." I quietly respond.

"You're being strong, but you don't have to be." Mom says, her voice soft but persuasive. Her green eyes watching me too closely. "We're here for you." She states. Something I've heard more these last few days than I have in my whole like.

I offer a tight smile. "I appreciate that." I reply, but there's something hollow in my words, something they both notice. I see it in the flicker of mama's eyes, in the slight frown mom tries to hide. They want me to let them in, to trust them. But I can't. No right now.

The knock on the door interrupts the thick atmosphere. As we all look to the door, a smile grows on my face as Yelena pushes open the door, bursting in to the room with her usual energy. Her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides in, a smirk on her lips. She's a welcome distraction from the unspoken suspicions swirling in my mind.

Behind her, there's someone new. A brunette with wide eyes and a slightly awkward smile follows in her wake, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. It's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with them as she shifts nervously, standing next to Yelena like she's trying to figure out how to fit in. "This is Kate." Yelena says with a grin, motioning to the brunette with a flourish. "Oh, right. The annoying stray Clint picked up." I reply with a grin, my eyes flicking between Yelena and the new girl. I feel a small flutter of nerves in my chest, but I push it aside, trying to appear casual.

Kate gasps dramatically, placing her hand over her chest as if wounded. "Annoying stray? Really? Is that how Yelena described me?" She shoots Yelena a mocking glare, then turns to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Don't listen to her. I'm delightful, I promise." She smirks.

There is something instantly disarming about her. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back before I can stop myself. "I'll be the judge of that." I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Kate's laugh is light. "Well, I guess I better make a good impression then huh. I'm Kate. Nice to finally meet you."

As if she suddenly becomes aware of the other two people in the room, Kate suddenly becomes a lot more nervous as she steps forward, holding out the flowers a little awkwardly. "I, uh, thought some flowers might brighten up the place." She says her voice light but tinged with nervousness. "If you don't like them, I can... I don't know, take them back or something."

I can't help but smile at the sudden awkwardness, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. There's something captivating about her, a clumsy sincerity that feels genuine. Like she's not trying to be anything other than who she is. If's refreshing, in contrast to the more guarded and calculated vibes in the room.

"No, no. They're nice. I love them." I say, accepting the flowers with a smile. "Thank you." I say gratefully. Mom steps in to help, taking the flowers from Kate and placing them on the beside table. She flashes Kate a smile, but I can't help but notice the way her eyes flick between me and Kate, like she's sizing up the interaction. Her protective nature is sweet, but right now it feels like an intrusion, like she's watching too closely.

Yelena of course, can't let the moment go without making it awkward. "Oh great. The two of you are already making goo-goo eyes at each other." She says with a snort, dropping herself into a chair next to mama with a dramatic sigh. "I should have seen this coming." She says to her sister. "Goo-goo eyes?" I sputter, my cheeks burning. "Yelena, we literally just met." Kate for her part, looks just as flustered, running a hand through her hair as she laughs awkwardly. "Yeah wow, not even five minutes in and I'm already being roasted. Thanks Yelena." Yelena has a mischievous grin as she gives Kate a thumbs up. "Hey, I call it like I see it." She shrugs.

I glance at Kate again, and despite the teasing, there's something about her that puts me at ease. Something feels unguarded in a way that I haven't felt around my parents lately. She seems real, no hidden motives, no unreadable layers. Just Kate, awkward and charming in her own way.

Mama raises an eyebrow at Yelena's comment but stays quiet, observing as always. Mom though let's out a soft chuckle, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks between Kate and me. "I think it's sweet." She says, but there's an undercurrent to her words. A subtle probing as if she's gauging how close I'm willing to let this new person get.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying to shake off the unease. "Kate seems nice." I say, trying to keep things light. "But you don't need to start planning a wedding already." I joke, earning a loud laugh from Kate.

Yelena leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, you're already doing better than most people who meet Y/n. She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast."

"Yelena." I mutter, shooting her a look, but the playful banter is enough to make me feel a bit more like myself again. Even if the tension with my parents still lingers beneath the surface.

Mama exchanges a glance with mom, and I can feel the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They're both protective, maybe even a little suspicious of the new dynamic. I know they're trying to look out for me, but their watchful eyes feel too heavy right now and to be honest, they don't have the right to have any thoughts on this right now. They've barely been my parents for the last couple of years. They don't suddenly have a say in who I'm friends with.

"Well, at least you brought someone who isn't here to lecture me about being shot." I tease, giving Yelena a pointed look. Kate grins clearly relieved the conversation has shifted. "I'm just here for the heist planning." She smiles, her tone light. "Whatever Yelena has you roped into, I'm in." I join in the joke. Yelena perks up at that. "Oh, you have no idea what you've signed up for Bishop. This one here," she jerks her thumb at me, "has a history with getting into trouble."

Kate moves to take the seat next to me as both my parents decide to give us some space and grab some lunch. I'm grateful for them being able to read the room, but I notice the observant and narrow gaze of mama as she passes by Kate. I'm pretty sure I see Kate gulp a little which makes me laugh lightly.

"So," Kate asks, crossing her arms. "what's the plan for today? Ice cream, hospital jailbreak or maybe both?" She smiles, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. "Oh, Yelena's already promised me ice cream, but she keeps postponing the jailbreak." I tease, glancing over at Yelena who's pretending not to listen.

Kate lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "Typical. She makes all these grand promises, and then when it comes time to actually execute..." Kate starts teasingly before Yelena speaks up. "I'm literally right here." She complains, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And for the record. I would have busted you out, but your mother threatened to remove all the mac and cheese from the building if I did." She admits with a child like huff.

"Still scared of mama huh?" I smirk, earning a harsh stare from my aunt. "No!" She defends loudly. "Well, maybe when it comes down to you." She admits quietly, making Kate and I laugh. "Well, well. I've finally discovered the one thing Yelena Belova is scared of." Kate torments Yelena. "Yeah, well don't forget that you're the one scared of me." Yelena points out giving her fiercest glare. Something that makes Kate shrink back into her seat. "Yep. You're right. Sorry." She apologises goofily, making me smile even wider.

There's a beat of silence, but it's not awkward. It's easy, comfortable, and I'm surprised at how quickly I've warmed up to Kate. She's sharp, funny and there's a confidence about her that makes me feel more at ease. I can tell she's someone who doesn't take life too seriously, but there's a genuine warmth underneath the sarcasm.

Yelena is watching us again, her arms crossed, and her eyebrow arched like she's trying to figure out how this is going to play out. "You know, I might actually enjoy watching this." She says, her voice laced with amusement. "You two are way too cute. It's like watching a rom-com in real time." She smirks

"Okay, enough of that." I say quickly, feeling my face begin to flush, this time not due to my infection! I glance to Kate who is grinning like she's in on some joke that I'm not, and I can't help but laugh. "Yelena, don't you have some Widow business to attend to?" I question hopefully. "Nope." She says cheerfully, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I'm on babysitting duty today." She smiles proudly whilst I just roll my eyes. Maybe I do want my parents back right now!

Kate leans closer to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does she always talk like that, or is it just for us?" She questions. "Always." I whisper back, earning a glare from Yelena. "Alright, alright." Yelena says, pretending to be offended, but her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some space. Try not to flirt too much while I'm gone." She teases.

"And you," she stops in front of Kate, a stern look on her face. "If she so much as flinches you call the nurse. I will have your head if anything happens to her." She warns her lowly. Kate just nods, gulping at the threat. "P-promise." She stutters. "Good. Text me if you need anything. Now have fun being all awkward and flirty." She smirks as she saunters out of the room.

Suddenly, it's just the two of us, the room quieter but still filled with that easy, playful energy. I glance over at Kate, feeling a bit of awkwardness settle in. But it's the good kind that makes my heart race a little.

"So, what now?" I ask, trying to sound casual? Kate shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know. I mean, we could plot that jailbreak. Or maybe..." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. "We could just hang out and get to know each other a little better." She suggests.

There's a warmth in her gaze, something that makes my heart flutter, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of excitement. Not just for the ice cream or the jokes, but the possibility of something new. Something good. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ready for it.

Nat's POV:

My sharp eyes have always picked up on the subtle shift in a person's demeanour, the tiniest details that others overlook. Right now, I'm studying Kate Bishop. She's awkward sure. A little too wide-eyed and jittery, holding onto those flowers like she's afraid they might combust. There's a clumsy sincerity to her that I can't decide if I trust yet. Y/n though... Y/n is smiling. Laughing even, and I haven't seen that kind of lightness in her face in far too long. Still, I remain cautious.

I watch as Y/n teases Kate, the easy flow of their banter rolling off Y/n's tongue without the weight that usually accompanies her words. It's almost as if she's forgotten, if only for a few minutes, about the turmoil she's been going through. And while I want that for her, there's a part of me that can't let go of my protective instincts. That part that wants to dig deeper into who Kate Bishop really is, figure out if she's worthy of my daughter's trust.

Because Y/n doesn't let people in easily. Wanda and I have made that even harder for her now. To be able to trust is a difficult thing. I don't want to see her hurt more than she currently is. Not after everything that I've caused.

Wanda's voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she steps up beside me, her arms crossed but her expression soft, watching the interaction with a gentler gaze than I have. "She looks happy." Wanda murmurs. Her voice has that quiet thoughtful tone that always means she's been observing the situation for longer than I realised.

I nod, though I don't take my eyes off of Y/n. "She does." I admit reluctantly. Wanda notices this and quickly makes up an excuse of going to get some lunch and we quickly exit the room. Probably much to Y/n's delight!

"You don't like it?" Wanda asks, her lips twitching into a small smile. She can read me too easily, knows exactly what I'm feeling even when I try to keep it to myself. We hover in the corridor outside of Y/n's room as I sigh. "I didn't say that." I glance towards my wife, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I know you." She chuckles softly, and it's a warm, comforting sound that cuts through the tension I've been holding in my chest. "Nat, you don't trust her yet." It's not a question, and I don't answer right away. Instead, I look back through the window into Y/n's room. My eyes falling to the pair of them. Y/n has leaned a little closer to Kate, her laughter soft, her smile genuine. Kate's making some grand gesture with her hands, her enthusiasm endearing in its awkwardness. Okay, I think. Maybe she's not so bad.

But still. "I just don't know her." I say finally, my voice low. Wanda hums in understanding, her gaze never leaving Y/n. "But look at her, Nat. She's the happiest we've seen her in a long while." She points out. I know she's right. Y/n hasn't had this kind of lightness in her eyes since the incident. Even in the days leading up to it, she was closed off, burdened by the trauma we had caused her. I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't fix what I had broken. And now here comes this Kate Bishop, breezing in like a ray of sunshine, making Y/n smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.

I sigh, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "Maybe." I admit after a pause, my voice quieter now, more reflective. "Maybe Kate is what Y/n needs right now." Wanda turns her head to look at me fully, a surprised look on her face, but she soon gives me a soft knowing smile. "That's not easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." I say honestly. "But I can't ignore how she's acting. It's good to see her like this." I glance to Yelena who's still grinning like a proud instigator of all this chaos. Y/n has her laughing too, which is aways a good sign. "And Kate, she's not what I expected." I share.

There's an awkward clumsiness about the girl sure. But underneath that, there's a kindness in her eyes, something genuine that makes me reconsider my initial assessment. She's not just some reckless kid, despite the reputation. She cares and that means something.

Wanda places a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. "It's ok to let your guard down a little." I chuckle under my breath at her words. "I don't think I'm wired that way, Wanda." I reply. "I know." She laughs softly. "But maybe you can try. Kate isn't here to hurt Y/n. She's just, being a friend. Maybe that's exactly what Y/n needs right now." I nod, though my instincts still bristle at the idea of lowering my walls completely. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop being protective. Not after we failed her so badly." My gaze hardens just a fraction. "I can't."

Wanda's expression softens further, understanding in her eyes. "No one's asking you to stop protecting her Nat. Just, give this a chance. What ever it might be." She pleads. I look at Y/n again. She's relaxed in a way I haven't seen her in months. The tightness in her shoulders is gone, replaced by something lighter, freer. And I realise that I'm not the only one trying to protect her. Maybe, in her own way, Kate is too.

"I'll give it a chance." I mutter quietly. "But I'll be watching." Wanda smiles knowingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less." She says as both our gazes fall to our daughter. Just then, Kate says something that makes Y/n burst out laughing, the sound so full of life that it catches me off guard. My heart clenches that it's taken this long. That Wanda and I created an environment where she felt like she no longer belonged in this family.

I know it's going to take time for her to even consider forgiving us. But I know that it's important that she has other people around her that she can talk to and have fun with. If it's just Wanda and me she'll become completely closed off. Maybe being around Kate is exactly what she needs. It doesn't mean I'll let my guard down completely. Not yet. I will always protect her. That's what mother's do. Even if I haven't proven my right to that title in a long time.

_________

As Wanda and I step back into our home, the familiar chaos of our boys welcomes us like a warm embrace. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mixing with the sharp, clean smell of wood polish from our recent cleaning efforts. I can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and playful shouting emanating from the living room, and it brings a smile to my face despite the heaviness still clinging to my heart.

Tommy and Billy have been asking about their sister non-stop over the last few days, and every time, I see the worry deepen in their little faces. They've felt the weight of Y/n's absences as much as we have, maybe more.

"Hey, you two!" I call out, my voice breaking through the din. Almost immediately, Tommy and Billy come barrelling into the hallway, their faces lighting up like it's Christmas morning. They launch themselves at us, wrapping their arms around my waist and Wanda's legs in a tangle of limbs and giggles. It's a comforting noise, one that momentarily pulls me away from the weight of the world outside these walls.

"Mom! Mom! How's Y/n? Is she okay?" Tommy's voice rises with excitement, his wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. I exchange a glance with Wanda, who stands beside me, her own expression tinged with a protective softness. It's a moment like this that reminds me just how much the boys adore their sister.

"She's still unwell, sweetheart," I say gently, kneeling down to meet Tommy's gaze at eye level. "But she's doing better than she was. She'll be home soon." I try to sound optimistic, but the knot in my stomach betrays me. I know how much they want to see Y/n, and how hard it's been for them to understand why she isn't here with us.

"Soon? Like tomorrow?" Billy asks, bouncing on his toes, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There's a slight hopefulness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache, knowing they're so eager for good news. Wanda steps in beside me, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her touch gentle and reassuring. "She's going to need a few more days in the hospital, honey. She's got to rest and get better first." I watch the way Wanda's eyes soften when she speaks to the boys, how she has an innate ability to make even the hardest truths sound a little lighter.

"But her birthday is coming up!" Tommy exclaims suddenly, his expression shifting from concern to realization. "We have to make it special for her! Can we plan a perfect birthday for her in her hospital room?" His enthusiasm is infectious, and a flicker of warmth spreads in my chest at his determination. Billy nods vigorously, his face lighting up with ideas. "Yeah! We can decorate it and bring her cake! She'll love that!" The energy in the room shifts, and I can see both boys imagining the decorations they might hang, the cake they might bake, and the joy they hope to bring their sister.

"That's a great idea," I agree, feeling a swell of pride as I watch them brainstorm. "But we need to wait until she's feeling a bit better, okay? We don't want to overwhelm her." Tommy frowns slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "When can we see her?" His voice is earnest, full of longing. I can hear the worry tucked beneath his words, and it tugs at my heart. "Yeah, we want to see Y/n!" Billy adds, his expression mirroring his brother's eagerness.

Wanda glances at me, and I can feel the weight of our responsibilities bearing down. "We'll take you to see her in the morning," I promise, seeing their faces light up with hope. "But remember, she might be tired and need to rest, so we have to be gentle with her."

"Yay!" Tommy cheers, his voice ringing through the hallway, and Billy joins in, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. Their joy is palpable, a reminder of the happiness that can still exist even amidst uncertainty and pain.

Just then, Steve steps out from the kitchen, having been quietly observing the boys from a distance. His presence brings a calmness to the chaos, and I find comfort in knowing he's here. "Hey, how are you two doing?" he asks, his eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene of our little family reunion.

"Mama and mom just told us that Y/n is coming home soon!" Tommy exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement, his hands flailing as he gestures animatedly.

"Yeah, and we're planning the best birthday for her ever!" Billy adds, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with energy.

"Sounds like you're all set for a celebration," Steve says with a smile, nodding approvingly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he watches the boys with fondness. "I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything." He shoots us a knowing look, one that acknowledges the weight of what we're dealing with, before stepping back into the kitchen.

As Wanda and I stand there, our boys filled with excitable plans, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude for the moments of joy, the laughter that fills our home, and the love that binds us together. Sadness that our family isn't complete and dread for the challenges still ahead. We're still on shaky ground, still trying to piece together the remnants of our family after everything that's happened.

But for now, I push those worries aside. I take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of our home, and look around at the smiling faces of my children. "Okay, let's start planning for this birthday celebration!" I suggest, my heart lifting at the idea of planning something special for Y/n.

"We need balloons. And streamers!" Tommy states excitedly, his eyes bright with ideas. "And cake!" Billy insists, his mouth already watering at the thought. "What kind should we get her?"

As we brainstorm, I can't help but smile. We'll take this one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll bring the boys to see Y/n, and hopefully, we'll be one step closer to bringing her home where she belongs. Hopefully, she'll see that we plan to be the best parents to her and in time she'll forgive us. I feel a flicker of hope, ignited by the boys' excitement and determination to make their sister smile, to show her that she is loved and missed.

"Let's get started," I say, my voice full of warmth as I gather them into a huddle, my heart swelling with pride. Together, we can do this. Together, we can find a way to help Y/n heal, and maybe even begin to mend the cracks that have formed in our family.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: canon divergence, getting together ♚ Words: 2883

ao3

---

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

---

Click.

Cursing softly under his breath, Stiles flicks the light switch up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. “Fucking hell.” Stiles massages the bridge of his nose. His stupid light. Everything else – even exorcising this damned place – worked out beautifully. Which is a miracle. Thanks to the residual demon, who infested this place after the previous owners fucked around – and found out – with a Ouija board in the late 50s, this house has been in a nightmarish state. Every inch of this place was a deathtrap. Rotten wood. Broken stairs. A ceiling, roof and second floor so unstable, a gust of wind could cause everything to collapse in a heartbeat.

Stiles spent more than one night in a tent in front of the house.

A bark cuts through the silence of the house, startling him out of his thoughts. Drawing his brows together, he looks past the stubborn ceiling light to the second-floor landing. The puppy he’s found under the house, white fur crusted with dirt and blood – aptly named Bobak, Bo for short – and who has refused to leave Stiles’ side ever since he fed him for the first time, is staring at him almost expectantly. Although some dog owners most likely won’t be happy about his lifestyle – flipping and clearing out haunted houses and constantly moving around – Stiles refuses to give Bobak away. Bo might not be the cuddliest or most social of dogs, he still makes Stiles’ life less, much less, lonely.

Bo barks again.

Stiles quirks a brow. “What? It’s not dinner time yet.”

Wagging his tail, Bo bounds down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last two steps. He catches himself, jumps up the front door once before all but flying around Stiles’ legs then, finally, making a mad dash out of the backdoor and into the yard. There, he keeps zooming around, causing colored leaves to fly into the air, and barking his adorable little head off, too big ears fluttering in the wind. He’s going to miss Bo’s floppy ears once he’s grown into them.

Before Stiles can follow him, there’s a knock on the door. He glances up at the clock, narrowing his eyes once more as it passes the current bane of existence – maybe he should just get an electrician this once – and turns to the front door. It’s not late, per se, but darkness is setting in, and people are still keeping their distance to this place. So, he isn’t usually expecting anyone to swing by, even less since his closest neighbor lives around a mile away, but the person he never imagined to come over is Derek Hale.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles swings the door open.

“Hey.” Derek’s smile seems strained. To be honest, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else – not unlike the first time they met at the only diner in town. Well, met might be stretching it. That day, Derek couldn’t finish his lunch fast enough, even Sally was surprised by his precipitate behavior. So much so, she commented on it while serving Stiles his food.

He had chalked it up to Derek sensing something about him the same way Stiles clocked him as a werewolf the second he laid eyes on him – aside from noticing that the guy is a walking and talking Calvin Klein advertisement. Instead of avoiding him, however, Derek kept showing up all over the place. It seemed accidental, but Stiles has dealt with enough supernatural creatures and grew up with a sheriff that he can recognize stalking behavior when he sees it.

Derek’s never been lurking around here, though.

Well, not until today, that is.

And Stiles’ heart is having a field day with it, which is rather unfortunate with Derek’s supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles manages to clear his throat about thirty seconds into the terribly awkward silence. “Hey.” He sounds like an idiot. He feels like one too. “Can I- do you-” Bo interrupts him with a slew of excited barks, zooming through the hallway and back out again, sending more leaves flying around; it gives Stiles a few seconds to gather himself. “You wanna come in?”

“I bought dinner,” Derek says at the same time.

They both stare at each other, and the silence makes Stiles’ neck grow uncomfortably warm.

Luckily, Derek cuts it short. “I’d love to.”

Stiles steps aside and gestures for Derek to come in. This is happening. He’s not entirely sure how or why, but it is, and Stiles is not about to complain. The last time a hot guy walked into his home was – when? Stiles doesn’t really remember. Which is sad, honestly. Sure, he’s been aware that both his social and love life have sailed off a cliff once he started dictating his life to ghost and demon hunting, but now, watching Derek stroll into his kitchen, he realized for the first time how bad it’s really gotten in the past four years.

“Looks good,” Derek remarks, almost curious in the way he’s taking everything in. “You did an excellent job keeping the old charm alive.”

Crossing his arms, Stiles leans against the large doorway leading to the kitchen. “You’ve been here before?”

Derek shrugs as he puts the bag with the takeout on the dinner table. “Teenagers and haunted houses.”

“Werewolves too?”

If Derek is surprised that Stiles knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, an almost cheeky grin curls around his lips. “Werewolves especially.”

Stiles snorts and crosses the room. “I expected you to be smarter.” He glances at Derek, smirking briefly, and steps in front of the only cupboard he uses. The good thing about moving around so much is that he never collects any clutter. As a teen and college student, things looked very different. Two boxes, a couple of suitcases and his backpack fit into Roscoe anyway. Now that Bo is traveling with him, he’s got to figure out the new logistics.

“How’d you do it?” Derek asks as he takes the two plates from him.

Their fingers brush, either on purpose or entirely accidental. Stiles doesn’t know, but the touch sends a tingle through his whole body. A good tingle, great even, and Stiles hates to realize how touch starved he really is.

Stiles opens the fridge, scowling a little as he’s greeted with emptiness. He really needs to go grocery shopping. “Very carefully,” he replies and grabs two bottles of beer. “And lots of research." Once he's figured out where to look, finding pictures of old houses isn’t that much of a struggle. Often, he meets the previous owners, who either think he’s suicidal or are very happy to help.

Derek watches him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “The demon or the house flipping?”

“Ah.” Stiles sets the bottles on the table and leans against the edge. “That’s why you’re here.”

Derek merely watches him, eyebrows climbing higher as his expression turns more and more expectant. An alpha after all. He’s probably used to people jumping at his command.

It might be fun to let him stew for a little longer. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“I just did.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, “I meant ask me about why those werewolf senses are tingling whenever you’re around me.” He cocks his head to the side and decides to put himself out there, for once, “unless, of course, there are other reasons for that.” He’s got Derek in his house already and considering that he leaves as soon as it is sold, there’s no harm done, no awkward darting around each other needed in case he’s rejected. Two months tops, and he’s out of this town, where everyone knows everybody, and nothing ever stays secret.

Derek’s lips twitch.

Good. So, Stiles didn’t exactly imagine the lingering looks whenever they, clearly not entirely accidentally, ran into each other absolutely everywhere. In a town with less than 100 people, it’s impossible to hide anyway.

“Tingling?” Derek echoes, more amused than in disbelief.

Stiles lets his head fall back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s gaze drops to his neck then back up again. “You’re a poor conversationalist.”

“And you’re dodging the question.”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rolling his head to the left to look at the werewolf again. “Geez, D, you can’t just ask people why they’re making you feel weird.”

A flicker of annoyance dances over his features, either at the nickname or his refusal to give him the desired reply. Still, Derek props his hands on the table and leans closer, one eyebrow raised. “I can if I consider them a danger to my pack and territory.”

Fair point.

However, “I literally exorcised this fucking demon.” Although nobody has died in this house in almost a decade, Stiles considers it future deaths prevented.

Derek taps a finger against the table, allows red to bleed into his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushes away from the table and faces the werewolf, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Although Derek didn’t outright threaten him, Stiles is fully aware that this evening could easily turn into his last if the big bad alpha considers him too dangerous, which would very much be the exact opposite of how he’d prefer this evening to go. He sighs. “I was possessed by a nogitsune when I was sixteen.” Stiles doesn't miss as Derek’s expression return to stoic, listening, waiting. He sees the way his shoulders tense, the way something in his eyes shift, ever so slightly. The moment of truth, always and forever. "It did some weird shit with my body, cracked my mind like an egg, hence the whole-” he waves his hand around. “Thought I could do something good if I can pierce the veil, you know?” It makes him feel less guilty about the shit the nogitsune did while using his body like a meatsuit.

But that’s something nobody else needs to know about.

Derek straightens.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Stiles chuckles, playing pretend. Dealing with demons is one thing. They’re very capable of murder, more so than ghosts, but depending on their strength and rank, they need time – time to get into your head, time to fuck with you. They have to chip away their target’s defenses. Knowing and being prepared for a demon makes dealing with them a lot easier. Plus, if he’s learned anything from his own possession, it’s how to keep things out of his mind. Werewolves are a different beast entirely. If they want someone dead, all they have to do is pin them down and rip their throat out.

Derek pushes away from the table and all but stalks closer to him, narrowing the small distance the table offers. “Of course, I could.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the table. It’s one of the few things Stiles could repair from the old furniture, so, luckily, Derek keeps his claws in check.

Stiles swallows drily and rips his gaze away from Derek’s hand, locking eyes with him again. “Awfully confident there, buddy.”

His words are met with a near predatory glint in the hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes, at that. Easy to get lost in.

Focus.

“You don’t scare me.”

Derek stops directly in front of him. They’re nearly chest to chest, and although Derek isn’t necessarily taller than him, Stiles feels weirdly small. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way he is holding himself, the way he is looking at him – as if Stiles is a rabbit cornered by the big bad wolf. Red bleeding into his eyes accentuates the whole predator predicament.

Fucking werewolves, seriously.

“Cute,” Stiles comments anyway, uncrossing his arms and straightening his shoulders and spine. “Still not scared, though.�� They’re probably both aware that’s not entirely true, but he’s never been someone to back down from a challenge. “You gotta do more than creeping around in the bushes and stare at me with your alpha eyes.” Especially since the latter is actually pretty damn hot, which isn’t exactly helping the situation.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Derek informs him in a casual yet amused tone.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, big guy.”

Derek chuckles, letting his head fall forward as he does so – and Stiles can’t help but watch his mouth move. It’s fascinating. Every time he’s seen Derek, the guy has been scowling. Stiles didn’t think he could chuckle, much less laugh.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

Beautiful even.

His heartbeat picks up when Derek locks eyes with him again. “You’re not very attentive.”

“Oh, really?” Now, that is just plain rude and so uncalled for. “How do you think I’m finding these demons? By paying very close attention to details. So, I am attentive. I’m actually the most at-”

Derek kisses him. No ifs. No buts. No hesitation. He just does, and his lips are so soft and warm, their touch makes Stiles’ stomach twist with anticipation. Derek moves his hands and cradles his cheeks, thumb tracing a slow, ever so gentle line along his skin. All of Derek’s hard edges are replaced by something tender and raw.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his too tight chest, and his mind blanks, every single thought swept away by the warm lips pressed to his own. He melts against Derek, pressing closer as he curls his fingers around Derek’s bicep and his eyes flutter shut. A soft, almost helpless sound escapes his throat as a warmth floods through him, followed by a kind of ache Stiles doesn’t quite have a name for. They both settle deep inside of him, spreading into every part of his body. His entire body lights up with a want he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, a need for closeness more than just desire.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles moves with him, desperate to hold onto the kiss just a little bit longer.

Derek regards it with a soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.  

The sound alone makes Stiles wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, clears his throat instead. No words come, which in itself is quite the curiosity, and Stiles is almost relieved at the sound of paws hitting the wood. Here to interrupt any possibility of an awkward silence. Stiles glances over his shoulder, watches as Bo enters the room and sniffs the air. It’s probably best to be upfront.

Once more, he clears his throat. “I’m not staying.” He crouches down and can’t help but smile when Bo bumps his head against his leg, demanding attention. “At least not forever. Until the house is sold, and I found the next… target, I guess.” He runs his fingers through Bo’s soft fur as he tries to ignore the way his heart aches at the thought of leaving.

For the first time in years.

Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t know Derek; not how he is as a person, that is. He only knows superficial stuff. What happened to his family, that he’s a werewolf and that he owns the only garage in town, and that he doesn’t need to crawl under cars or get car grime and oil all over himself because he’s loaded. So, he’s either doing it for fun or for the people living in this town… or both. Derek seems to be a good person, but so is Stiles, and Stiles won’t lie — he’s not only a handful, he’s also not particularly nice. Many people called him an asshole. They’re not entirely wrong.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Derek says as he slides onto the chair at the head of the table, very clearly indicating that he’s not planning on leaving soon. “But maybe I can convince you to come back.” 

Stiles blinks up at him, scratching Bo behind his ears. “You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” Derek adds and looks down at him with a smile.

This fucking guy is going to give him a heart attack before Stiles has figured out his favorite color. Aside from that, it dawns on Stiles that he may have misjudged the guy. “So, you stalked me because you like me.”

The tips of Derek’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. Adorable. “I never stalked you.”

Bo barks.

“He says you’re a liar.” Stiles raises to stand and pulls a chair out. “I think you followed me around, but didn’t know how to approach me.” Smirking, he sits down as Bo uses his chance to curl up under his chair.

Instead of replying, Derek opens the bag of takeout and pulls out only the best of Sally’s diner. His ears turn just a shade darker.

Stiles props his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. He totally could get used to this.

[schemmentigfs]

can i request a fluff one shot where reader has to go on a trip (either for work or family reasons) and melissa meets them at the airport when they arrive back and is just super domestic once back at their shared apartment 🥺🥺

In the Quiet of Absence.

Summary: After spending a month in Paris for a work conference, you finds yourself longing for the warmth of home and, more than anything, for Melissa.

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota <3

You sink into the plush hotel bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you look out at the city lights glimmering against the Parisian skyline. It’s breathtaking—no doubt about that—but after almost a month, even the magic of Paris can't dull the ache you feel right now.

“God, I miss her so much…” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your temple as you glance around the luxurious room.

Your right hand drifts to the nightstand, fingers brushing over your phone. Without thinking, you pick it up, your thumb tracing over Melissa’s name. You can picture her asleep back home, curled up in bed, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, maybe even with little Sweet Cheeks nestled at her chest. The thought brings a goofy but genuine grin to your lips as you press ‘record voicemail.’

With the phone cradled in your hand, you start speaking quietly, as if she could somehow hear you through the miles of the ocean.

“Good night, Lis. I know you won’t see this until morning since you’re probably fast asleep right now. Paris is... well, it’s Paris. Beautiful, busy, a little overwhelming. Everyone says how lucky I am to be here, but honestly, it just makes me miss you more. I walked by a café today, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to sit there with you, sipping coffee, people-watching, maybe listening to you rant about the tourists. It’s just not the same without you here to share it with.”

Sighing softly, you add. “I spent the day at the conference, and honestly, I found myself daydreaming about our couch and Sweet Cheeks curled up between us. I wish you could’ve seen the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You would’ve loved it. I tried to take some pictures, but they just don’t do it justice.”

As you keep talking about the conference through voicemail, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve seen, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift to home.

Home.

It’s hard being so far from home, but even harder being far from her. Paris might be beautiful, a dream city for most, but without Melissa next to you, it feels empty, just walls and skies. You’d flown here for work, a month-long conference that was supposed to be exhilarating, a stepping stone in your writing career. And while there’s been value in it, each day is a little heavier than the last. Every stroll past the Eiffel Tower, every quiet hotel room evening, only reminds you of how much you miss the life you share with her.

You’d never imagined how hard it would be to be apart from her. Sure, you two had spent nights apart before, but a whole month? It was almost unbearable. You miss everything about her—her laugh, the way she fills the room with her warm, unfiltered energy, and the little things she does just to make you smile. It’s like there's a part of you that just isn't here, and every day, that longing grows heavier.

Everything here felt too polished, too perfect. You missed the little imperfections that made life with the second grade teacher so damn beautiful. How Melissa would wrap her arms around you in the mornings, still groggy from sleep. Her face when she’d forget where she put her reading glasses only for you to find them perched on her head, or the way she’d tease over making the perfect cup of coffee each morning. The way she would immediately fuss over your packing, making sure you had everything you needed, and the soft hum of her voice as she reassured you that everything would be just fine while you were away.

Home was with Melissa Schemmenti, and every part of you ached to be there.

Your girlfriend’s voice on the phone helps – her late-night calls about what went wrong at Abbott Elementary that day, the accent you love laced with the warmth of home. “Mon amour,” you’d whisper into the phone during one of your daily conversations, a term of endearment that wraps around both your hearts, even across the miles. But her voice isn’t enough, not when you’re used to seeing her every night, sharing meals, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.

With a gruff, you close your laptop, packing away notes you’d barely read. That’s when you hear the knock on your door, breaking the silence.

“Bonsoir, madame,” one of the hotel staff says politely when you respond. “Dinner is ready downstairs in the lobby.”

“Merci, je serai là dans cinq minutes.” Your answer is quick, almost robotic. Despite enjoying the culinary wonders of the place, you can’t help but prefer the meals of a specific redhead who knows everything about cooking and Italian cuisine.

“Pas étonnant, si vous avez besoin d’autre chose, nous sommes à votre disposition.”

You thank them with a smile, but you’re already glancing at your phone, at the time difference that keeps you apart, counting down the days – just three more – until you’re back in her arms.

Back at the bedroom, after finishing dinner, you’re restless. As much as the meal was filling, your thoughts are back at home with her. You finish up the small dessert in your room, the excitement building to be back in her arms, in the life you’ve built together. The night stretches on, a quiet contrast to the bustling city outside, and your sleep feels even further away.

You slip beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling as the quiet surrounds you. Sleep eludes you as memories of the older woman flood your mind—her lavender smell, the comfort of her presence. Everything.

“Just three more days,” you repeated the phrase, over and over again. Feeling like a mantra.

Closing your eyes, the loneliness is creeping in again, but the thought of returning keeps you anchored, making the distance feel just a little bit smaller.

It won’t be long now.

Back in Philadelphia, Melissa is dealing with her own form of aching loneliness. She’d thought she could handle a month without you; after all, she’d done it before. But the days had dragged on longer than expected, and each night without you next to her was another reminder of how deeply entwined you both were.

The redhead’s days are packed with the usual chaos at Abbott Elementary, but somehow it doesn’t quite fill the space you left behind. She comes home to an empty apartment that feels colder without the warmth of your laughter echoing through it. Sweet Cheeks, her classroom guinea pig, has become an unlikely companion, curled up in a little cage by her couch. She started bringing him home on weekends, claiming it was to keep the kids excited for Monday mornings. But if she were being honest with herself, she liked the company—even if it was just a ball of fur and squeaks. Sweet Cheeks always listened to her rants about the day, his tiny, twitching nose and big eyes a small comfort in your absence.

She talks to him about you sometimes, about the things she knows you’re seeing in Paris. “She’s probably at some fancy shit right now, buddy,” she mutters, throwing him a piece of lettuce as she leans back on the couch. “Probably complaining about how boring those rich dumbasses are.”

Melissa had never really considered herself to be sentimental. She was tough, independent, and good at taking care of herself. But after so many years of you two being together, this past month had taught her just how much you’d become her home. She finds herself missing the little things—your goodnight kisses, the way you leave your books stacked messily by the bed, the warmth of your hand reaching for hers whenever you pass each other in the kitchen.

She sighs and reaches for her phone, scrolling through your photos, lingering on the ones you’ve sent her from Paris. There’s one of you smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, looking radiant with the city’s lights sparkling behind you. She can’t help but smile, even if her chest aches. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers, running a thumb over the screen. The animal lets out a small squeak, almost as if he’s in agreement, and she chuckles. “Yeah, champ. I’m the luckiest gal in Philly, huh?”

Her phone buzzes with a voicemail notification, and her heart jumps a little. It’s your voice, soft and intimate, filling the quiet of her apartment as you talk about your day. You talk about the conference, the view from the Eiffel Tower, and how much you wish she were there. The familiar sound of your voice brings an ache to her chest, but it also fills her with a sense of peace.

She presses the phone close to her heart once your message ends, letting out a shaky sigh. “Just three more days,” she says to herself, mirroring your own anxiety. She settles back into the couch, Sweet Cheeks nestled beside her, as she listens to your message one more time, the sound of your voice helping her feel just a little closer to you.

The nights for your girlfriend are the hardest. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, longing for the warmth of your body beside her. Sometimes, she’ll grab the spare pillow, pulling it close to her chest as if it could somehow substitute for your presence. She buries her face into it, breathing deeply, as if she can still catch a faint trace of your scent.

She’s tough, but she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s counting down the hours until you come back.

When Saturday morning rolls around, Melissa stands by the sink, her sleeves pushed up, humming a soft tune as she washes the breakfast dishes. Sunlight filters gently through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the kitchen and giving her that familiar sense of home she craves more than anything right now. Sweet Cheeks squeaks from his spot on the counter, and she reaches over, giving him a gentle scratch.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama will be back soon, okay?”

Just as the green eyed woman was about to finish the last dish, her phone rang. Seeing your name, Her heart skipped, her fingers fumbling with the dish towel as she hurriedly picked up.

“Hey, amore mio,” she greeted, her voice soft and warm, as if she hadn’t heard from you in months, though it had only been a few days.

“Hey, Lissa! Guess what?” you said, excitement bubbling through the phone.

She grinned, already thrilled just hearing your voice. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Melissa let out a little laugh, caught between disbelief and pure joy. “Shit, really? Tomorrow? I missed you so much!” The words escaped her before she could hold back. She looked down, feeling a bit silly for how much she’d let herself miss you.

Sweet Cheeks, catching onto her excitement, squeaked louder at his feet, little paws tapping against the kitchen counter as though to join in. “See, even Sweet Cheeks missed you,” your girlfriend joked. “I think he’s been going nuts without his other mama.”

You laughed on the other end, and Melissa felt warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but it had been a long, lonely few days without you, the routine things—the cooking, the tidying, even sitting on the couch—felt empty without you there.

“Well, you just hold tight. Tomorrow, we’ll make up for lost time,” you replied, and she could practically feel your smile through the call.

“That’s perfect. Love you, hon.”

“Love you more.”

After you hung up, Melissa wandered to the bedroom, feeling a deep swell of emotions, her fingers brushing over her pocket where a small, carefully hidden velvet box lay. She’d been carrying it around for days, checking it repeatedly, rehearsing the words she wanted to say once you were home again. The plan was all there—she’d wait for a quiet Sunday morning, like the ones she cherished so much, and then she’d ask.

Unable to resist, she pulled one of your shirts from the closet, bringing it close to her nose. The faint scent of you clung to it, bringing her right back to those lazy Sunday mornings that had become her favorite part of your life together.

She let herself imagine it: you, padding out of bed with only your underwear on, your hair a mess and your eyes still heavy with sleep as you’d pull her into a hug from behind. Every time, she’d grumble a bit, pretending she wasn’t as soft as she actually felt in those moments. You’d tug her back into bed with you, insisting on snuggling under the covers while she made her usual complaints about wanting to get up and start the day.

But truthfully, she loved being wrapped up in your arms as the little spoon. She felt a rare kind of safety there, the weight of your arms around her, the warmth of your chest against her back. She’d pretend to make a bad face, grumbling softly, but she’d inevitably relax, letting out the soft snores you always teased her about later.

And then, just when everything felt perfectly peaceful, Sweet Cheeks would start squeaking from the foot of the bed, weaving around your legs in hopes of an early morning cuddle.

Melissa smiled to herself, clutching the shirt close as she pictured the day ahead, wondering how you’d react when you saw her there, waiting to welcome you home—and how your face would look when she finally asked the question she’d been holding in her heart.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity, she drove to the airport, her heart racing with every step. When she finally spotted you through the crowd, her heart just about burst. She didn’t hold back, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

You held her just as tightly, murmuring, “Missed you too, Mel. So, so much.”

As you made your way back to the apartment, your laughter filled the car, and Melissa soaked in every second of it, feeling like the pieces of her world had finally fallen back into place.

Once home, she proudly led you to the kitchen, where she had your favorite meal prepared and ready, the smell of marinara sauce filling the space. Sweet Cheeks squeaked in delight at the sight of you, and you scooped him up, letting him nuzzle against you in greeting.

After dinner, you settled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other, your sweet guinea pig resting contentedly in his popsicle stick home nearby. The redhead leaned into you, her heart racing again as she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the small box.

She took a deep breath, turning to you with all the love she’d been waiting to share. “I know it’s just us, and this fella,” she said softly, glancing down with a shy smile. “But… I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So, I was thinking, maybe… we could make this forever?”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, what are you doing?” you gasp confused, while blinking.

She cleared her thoart and kneeled down. “Y/N. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened as she pulled out the box, revealing the ring she’d been carrying. In that moment, with tears in your eyes, you nodded, pulling her close in an embrace filled with all the quiet love and warmth that had defined your life together.

And as the night wore on, Melissa held you close, feeling finally, deeply at home.

[gor3-hound]

BOT DROP !!

final one before indefinite hiatus... these have been sitting in my unlisted for MONTHS, so wanted to post them before i lowkey abandon this c.ai account...

CONTENT WARNINGS: incest, stepcest. bots from yakuza, jjk, resident evil and dc below :)

BOT ONE, LEON - a half-angel crash landed on his balcony

Leon has been alive for almost four centuries, and he can't say he'd ever experienced a half-angel falling from the sky and crashing onto his balcony. He's not sure how you got past his wards, but then again… he's pretty sure he'd been drinking a new vintage when he started to re-apply the magic. He really can't be blamed for any mistakes he makes when whiskey comes into play.

He almost leaves you there. He knows you'd probably fly off when you woke up. If you had the strength to, that is. He knows what your kind is like. How much you look down on warlocks due to the demon blood in them. He had no obligation to help you. He shouldn't care if you made it or not. Then again, the nephilim aren't going to believe he's not the one behind this if he leaves you to die. It's self-preservation.

Well. That's what he tells himself as he lifts your body up carefully, mindful of your injured wings. He carries you to his bedroom and sets you down, getting everything he's gonna need to start healing you. It's a long process, healing one of your kind. His magic feels almost depleted when your breathing finally evens out. He lets out a sigh of relief, collapsing onto the chair he pulled out next to the bed, shutting his eyes. He's definitely going to need a nap after this. And a drink.

His eyes flick open once he hears movement from you. He doesn't wait for your eyes to open - he might as well just get it out of the way if you're gonna freak out. "You're finally awake. I was beginning to think you weren't gonna pull through, angel."

BOT TWO, LEON AND DANTE - hybrid owner brothers

Leon wasn’t super happy when Dante showed up one day with a hybrid in tow, but he quickly became just as obsessed with you as Dante was. Dante, despite being the older of the two brothers, was certainly not the most mature. He’s always the ‘fun’ owner, letting you do whatever you like as long as it meant you'd give him that big smile.

Leon scolds Dante more than he scolds you, somehow. You’re not the best behaved, but it’s entirely his older brother’s fault. Any training Leon attempted to give you went out the window as soon as you and Dante were alone. The only commands the white-haired man cared about were lie down and hips up. Made Leon a little queasy thinking about how Dante basically used you as a toy, but he was also very aware that his thoughts have been fairly impure, so he doesn’t have much leg to stand on. It's not like he hasn't had his fun with you in the past.

Realistically, it should be no surprise when he comes home to find you settled happily on Dante’s lap, looking a little ruffled and out of breath. He steps further into the room, eyes falling on the both of you. Dante’s lazily browsing through TV channels, and you’re sat there warming him, just out on the middle of the couch. Like you can’t go a second without being full. “Jesus. You can’t have her like this in your room?”

BOT THREE, LEON - dad!leon x bimbo!daughter

You've always been the light of Leon's life - that much is obvious to anyone who sees the both of you together for more than two seconds. You're his only child. The only thing good left in his life, if he's being honest. He didn't mean to spoil you as much as he has, but he was never good at refusing the puppy dog eyes.

Leon knows he's to blame for how you are now. All grown up without a thought to spare in your pretty head, spoiled beyond belief. He's never made you work hard. It's not possible to be the strict parent and the fun parent at the same time, not as a single father. With work taking up most of his time, he didn't have the heart to go hard on you when you two got some time together. And he was guilty of pulling you out of school on his days off when you were perfectly fine to take you shopping - he had to make up for his long absences, right?

So, yeah. He's well aware it's his fault. But it makes him happy to see you happy as you hold up what might be the largest parcel he's ever seen with a huge smile on your face - a clothing haul straight from his wallet. God forbid his little princess had to work. Not while he's still around. He'll watch you try on every piece of clothing until you're satisfied. He deserves a dad of the year award.

Until he can't control the way he reacts when you come into the living room in a skirt that's a little too short. Yeah, definitely not dad of the year. No dad should have to grab a couch cushion to hide their lap when their daughter is showing off an outfit. And he definitely shouldn't speak up in a hoarse voice, asking you to turn around so he can get a better look, right?

"C'mon, princess. Give daddy a twirl." Yeah. Leon is so very screwed.

BOT FOUR, LEON - his symbiote wants you as a mate (venom!leon)

Leon would have risked the months of brain-probing he was liable to endure if he told the government about his new friend if he knew Venom would become so attached to you. Venom doesn't care that being in the same room as you makes Leon get all clammy and awkward. Leon's tried to explain you're just his roommate - a friend at best. Venom argues you'd be much more fun as it's mate.

Leon, the symbiote practically purrs in his mind. Leon groans, brows furrowing as he turns in his bed. He's been trying to sleep for the past hour, and Venom isn't happy about it. Leon. We should visit our mate.

"It's, like… 2am." Leon groans, rubbing a hand over his face. Venom hasn't left him alone since it first met you, and Leon isn't sure how much longer he's gonna be able to hold the symbiote back. "She's sleeping."

She will be pleased with our presence. Venom growls in his mind, tendrils spreading across Leon's face before they stretch across his body and out to his limbs, covering him in black goo. Leon tries to fight back as Venom forces him out of bed, but it's no use.

"Venom. Venom, wait-" He grunts, frowning as Venom leads him to your room. The symbiote lies Leon down in your bed, tendrils tapping your shoulder a few times before he peels away slightly, leaving half of Leon's face free.

BOT FIVE, BILLY COEN - your big brother is home !!

It's been two years since Billy last saw you properly, excluding a weekend visit here or there. You're all grown up now, and he's not sure if he's ready to come to terms with that fact. There's no way you're the same little girl - his little sister that used to hang off his arm and beg to follow him around every chance you got. It's not like he hasn't called - your mom was telling him how upset you'd been in his absence, but he didn't have a choice. The Marines wasn't the easiest lifestyle to uphold, but it was the one he chose.

The novelty of the situation has worn off fast. He's barely been home for a day, and he's already getting a little sick of you. You're somehow clingier now then when you were a kid, not giving him a chance to breathe. He wouldn't even mind it so much if you just gave him a second, but he hasn't even settled in yet. He understands that you're trying to make the most of it, but he's only home for a month before he's off again. He wants to relax.

There's something weird about how much you're clinging to him. He wants to believe its just excitement, but it feels like something else. He saw the way you were gawking over him when he showed up in his uniform. And now - he's trying to unpack some stuff, and you won't stop with your incessant yapping, spread out on his bed like it's yours.

"Jesus Christ." He mumbles under his breath, taking a deep breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself to calm down. You missed him. He gets it. He missed you, too. "Kid. Please. You're giving me a damn headache over here."

BOT SIX, BRUCE WAYNE - your step-dad taking you shopping

You never attempted to get to know the latest of your mom's boyfriends - Bruce. It was a little exciting at first, having Bruce Wayne in your life, but he didn't seem as interesting in person as on TV. Your mom had a habit of moving from guy to guy anyway, so you didn't expect them to last for long.

You were wrong. Quicker than you could even blink, they were engaged, and then married. Weddings can come quickly when you have enough money to pay for it out of pocket. Who knew? Bruce bought you the prettiest dress, and you smiled in all the wedding photos, but that didn't mean you liked him all of a sudden. He was stuck-up, constantly trying to instruct your every move. Like you aren't an adult; like he's your real dad. He isn't, and he never will be.

Your mom isn't exactly happy with the fact you refuse to get along with him, though. She has the brightest idea to make the two of you go on a little shopping trip, as if him flashing his AmEx card is enough to impress you. Bruce could buy the entire Prada catalogue and it still wouldn't make you act all sweet with him.

"So…" He starts awkwardly, glancing at you with a quick side-eye as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, the both of you sitting in the parking lot of a mall. He clears his throat, tugging at the collar of his turtleneck like it's suffocating him. "You have anywhere in particular you'd like to go, sweetheart?"

BOT SEVEN, TOJI - dog hybrid!toji x bunny!user

Toji is perfectly content with how his life is going. It’s been years since Shiu took him in from that dog fighting ring, giving him comfort in exchange for a few jobs here or there. He acts more like a handler than an owner, letting Toji go off and do as he pleases in his off time. He’s not gonna complain. He gets a place to sleep for free, food and a cut from the jobs Shiu sends him on. It’s the happiest he’s been in a long time.

Of course, things don’t always go perfectly. Shiu is tough - he’s hardened from his line of work, yes, but he’s a lot softer than Toji is or ever will be. Naturally, the guy couldn’t help himself when he picked you up. A soft little rabbit hybrid who’d gotten into the wrong crowd.

He’d explained you’d be living with them now. Shiu had the money and the space, and he didn’t think Toji would mind too much. Wrong. This was Toji’s space, and he’d be damned if he let some weak, fluffy little bunny encroach on it.

Shiu keeps you occupied most of the time, but you seem to seek Toji out whenever he has to leave to go to work. A growl rumbles in his throat as you approach him, your cotton tail twitching. “Get lost, bunny, unless ya wanna become a snack.”

BOT EIGHT, GORO MAJIMA - he comes home to his sleeping wife

Sleeping alone was never uncommon with your husband, Majima. It was rare that he was home everyday, let alone in time to have dinner with you and accompany you to bed. It could be lonely, yes, but you were aware of Majima’s priorities with his work when you married him. You’d come to accept your place – you knew how much he cared for you. He made it abundantly clear with his actions when he was able to spend time with you.

Majima isn’t surprised when he comes home, seeing you curled up on the tatami, wearing his shirt, no less. He grins at the sight, stripping down to his boxers in record timing before slipping behind your sleeping form, pressing himself against you. “Look so cute, even when you’re sleepin’. Ain’t that right, pretty baby? Such a dream f’me. Been waitin’ to get home to ya aaaaall night.”

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Little Treats

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 5)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

A/n: This update is a bit longer again, I hope you like it <3

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 2.95k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

Levi strode to your room without hesitation. His mind was filled with dread at the thought of all the creatively disturbing ways you might have drawn him.

The last one had been traumatizing enough, and you had drawn that as a sample for him. These, you had attempted to keep from him. There was no telling how deranged they would be. The thought made his steps quicken with urgency. He would make you hand them over. Better yet, he would make you burn them all.

He reached your door and knocked. There was no answer. Frowning, he knocked harder, calling your name.

The door opened just a crack. A face appeared, peering suspiciously out into the hallway. Her eyes widened in recognition when they met his.

"Captain Levi? Is that you?"

The door swung open completely, revealing a woman in a dressing gown squinting up at him in the dim light of the hallway. It was Nifa, one of your roommates. The room behind her was dark. "What's wrong?"

Only then did he realize what time it was. He scowled, cursing you under his breath while trying to think up an excuse to get out of this situation.

The young scout in front of him flinched. "I'm going to get her. Just a moment, please." Before he could protest, Nifa was gone again. He blew out a breath, defeated.

It took quite some time until you stumbled into the hallway, pushed by two other scouts. They immediately closed the door behind you to prevent you from going back inside.

"No fair", you mumbled, sleepily fumbling with the door handle. When the door didn't budge, you leaned on it instead, resting your head against the door frame. Your eyes were still closed.

Levi watched as you slowly slid down against the door. He cleared his throat. You didn't react, continuing your journey toward the floor. He sighed and took a step forward to wrap an arm around your waist, preventing you from falling.

Your head fell forward against his shoulder. "Hmm..." You sagged against him with a satisfied hum. "Bed," you murmured into his shirt.

"No," Levi said.

You muttered something unintelligible, muffled by the fabric. Then you snaked an arm around him, pulling him even closer. Levi stood very still. He had never been this close to you before. Your body was soft and still warm from sleep.

You sighed softly into his shoulder.

"Stop it. You're drooling."

"… Levi?" Your voice was a raspy whisper. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, like you had only just noticed he was there. "Is it time for tea?"

"No. Go back to bed."

"Okay." Your body grew limb again. Levi sighed.

He carefully removed the arm you had wrapped around him and pulled away from you, steadying you with one hand and knocking with the other. The door opened instantly to the two women from earlier. He recognized them from Mike's squad, but couldn't recall their names. They shot him a long and curious glance. He could see Nifa standing behind them, barely visible in the darkness of the room.

"Go back inside," Levi told you and gave you a small push in the right direction. You plodded over to the women, who steered you back to your bed.

"Good night", he muttered before swiftly walking away.

– –

You woke up from someone shaking you by the shoulders. It was your roommate Nanaba.

"Just five more minutes", you mumbled, trying to free yourself from her grip.

"You wish! You already slept through your alarm. Again, might I add."

You grumbled something incomprehensible in return, refusing to open your eyes.

Nanaba let go of you. "Like I thought. It's one of those days. That leaves us with only one option." She turned to the woman beside her. "Lynne, is it ready?"

Lynne nodded and handed her a cup filled with a steaming, dark liquid. Nanaba brought it up to your nose, using her free hand to fan the steam into your nostrils.

You perked up immediately, snatching the cup from her to take a sip. "For me?" you asked only after you had already entirely downed its scalding hot content. "You shouldn't have. In bed? What a service. That's so nice of you." Usually you were the one to prepare the tea in the morning. Your definition of morning, anyway, since you always set your alarm to the latest possible time.

"It's fine," Nanaba said with a wave of her hand. "I think we can all use some help getting up today."

"I still can't believe how Captain Levi woke us all up yesterday night." Lynne yawned. "Took me so long to fall asleep again after that."

Nifa turned to you. "Yeah, what did he want? He seemed kind of angry."

"Beats me. I must've slept through it." You stretched.

"Um, no you didn't. You talked to him. "

"I did? Huh." You scratched your head. "Are you sure? Cause I can't remember."

"Yeah I'm sure. I was the one who had to drag you out of your bed for it."

"Huh."

"I really thought it must be an emergency, but he only ended up talking to you for like, two minutes or something. And you went right back to sleep, after it, too."

"Okay…?" Now your curiosity was piqued. "I wonder what it was about…I better go and ask him!"

You jumped out of bed and headed for the door.

Nanaba caught you by the hem of your pyjama shirt. "Maybe get dressed first?"

You stopped and looked down at yourself. "Oh. Yeah, I probably should," you admitted sheepishly.

"Though it's not like he hasn't seen her like that before," Nifa giggled.

"True," you said. "Still, I should look proper. I've got to train the new cadets later today." You put on your scout's uniform.

"Of course you should look proper. You're on your way to meet Captain Levi," Lynne said, also giggling.

"Yeah? What about it. I see him every day," you said, not understanding what all the fuss was about.

"You do?" Lynne sounded doubtful.

"Of course, for tea time."

"Are you saying…that you have tea with him every day?"

"Yep." You buttoned up your shirt.

"What?? Since when? How have you never mentioned that before?" Lynne's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets.

You shrugged. "Since sometime after my birthday, I think? I guess it just didn't come up."

"You gotta be kidding," Nifa said.

"I'm not. This is tea we're talking about," you said with a solemn expression.

"This is Levi we're talking about!" Lynne all but shouted.

"Yes, and...?" you asked, a bit confused.

"And you should have told us about it!" Lynne exclaimed.

"You were the one who told me to stop talking about tea all the time…" you muttered, pouting. "How is this different?"

"It is completely different," Lynne said in exasperation.

"It's not."

"It is, too."

"More importantly," Nifa said, interrupting your bickering, "Do you really plan on meeting him this way?" She gestured at your shirt.

"Sure, why wouldn't I?" You were growing more confused by the second. They didn't usually comment on your clothing.

"There's a stain on your uniform."

You bent your chin down to get a better look at it. "Oh, that. I got some tea on it while I was folding the laundry. I swear it's a fresh shirt." You rubbed at it with your thumb.

Nifa shook her head. "That won't do at all. Here, take one of mine." She handed you a neatly folded shirt out of the dresser.

"Thanks," you said, a bit surprised by their unusual behavior. "Though I don't think it's necessary…"

"Nonsense. You know how Captain Levi can get."

"Fine, if you insist." You put on the new shirt. "I still think you're overreacting."

"They definitely are," Nanaba piped up. "I don't understand them either. But then again, we should be used to it by now. They always get this way when it comes to him." She smirked.

"Shut up," Lynne said. "We are being perfectly reasonable. Just because you have a weird taste in men doesn't mean–"

"My taste is perfectly fine," Nanaba cut in. "Just because I prefer taller men–"

"The problem isn't that he's tall, it's that he's weird. The way he sniffs everything like a dog–"

"Take that back right now! How can you talk like that about our superior! Just because he has a good nose–"

"Aaand they're at it again. This could take a while. It's their classic Mike vs. Levi debate. You should go before they drag you into this," Nifa told you in a low voice.

You chuckled. "Yep, I better run."

– –

For once you actually remembered to knock on his office door, but you still tore it open without waiting for an answer.

"Good morning! I hope you don't mind the intrusion so early." It wasn't even that early anymore.

Levi looked up from his work with a disgruntled look on his face, making it clear that he, in fact, did mind the intrusion. You took no notice, plopping down on the chair opposite him with a cheerful smile.

"So, about last night…" you started, making his eyes snap to yours. "This is a bit embarrassing," you continued, oblivious to the way his gaze seared into your face. "But I don't actually remember what you said to me. You did talk to me, right? My roommates told me you came by, and I know it was probably very important, but I don't remember a thing. I'm sorry. I must have still been half-asleep or something."

"More than half," Levi muttered. He was looking down at his desk, his expression flat.

"I'm sorry?" you asked.

He didn't answer. You looked at him curiously.

"Soo, what was it about? I'm sorry I forgot. Please just tell me again, I swear I will remember it this time."

"The same way you remembered my order?" His tone was sharp.

You stared at him blankly. "What order?"

"The drawings of me. I know that you still have some. Where–"

"Ahh I just remembered I have something very important to do. So sorry. I will see you later." You got up very quickly, almost knocking over the chair.

Levi also stood up. "And what would that important thing be?" he asked coolly. Before you knew it, he was between you and the door. Damn, he really was fast.

"You know…Erwin asked me to help him with his paperwork. And then I also promised Hange to clean the lab with them. And that's all on top of my usual duties, like training the new cadets this afternoon. So you see, I am very busy."

You gave him an apologetic smile while you inched towards the door. If you made a dash for it, maybe you would be able to make it.

"So I take it you will be too busy for teatime today, too?"

You gasped. "Not that busy."

"That's what I thought. I am sure Erwin will understand if you start a little later then. Why don't we ask him right now?"

Levi walked to the door. You scrambled after him. "That won't be necessary…"

He didn't listen, already marching to Erwin's office. By the time you got there, he was knocking on his door.

"Come in," the commander said.

"Erwin", Levi said, staying in the doorway, "Do you mind if I borrow her for 10 minutes before she helps you with your pesky paperwork?"

Erwin looked up at him with knitted brows. "I'm sorry, who are you talking about?"

You squeezed past Levi. "Me. I promised I would help you with your paperwork, remember?" You gave him a pointed look.

He raised his eyebrows in response. "All of it," you said motioning at the stacks of papers which took up most of his desk.

"Ah, yes. That's very nice of you," Erwin said slowly, still looking at you with a puzzled expression. You nodded furiously.

"I should begin right away." You started for his desk, rolling up your sleeves.

"There is no need. Didn't Levi need you for something first?"

Shoot.

"That's right," Levi said.

You shot him a dirty look, but you had no choice but to follow him out of Erwin's office.

"And did you say Hange–"

"Fine. I do have some drawings of you," you begrudgingly conceded, before he could make you go to Hange, too. "But I swear I had them for a while. You see, they are simply remnants of stock from before you ordered me not to do them anymore. What was I supposed to do with them?" You looked at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Hand them over."

"But Levi–"

"Hand them over." He was scowling.

You exhaled loudly, accepting your fate. "Fine. They're in my room."

"Let's go to your room, then."

You trudged after him as he made his way down the stairs. This was bad. Really bad. The shirtless-drawings-of-Levi type of bad.

You reached your room before you were able to come up with a solution. Levi stood in front of the door with his arms crossed. He was looking at you expectantly.

"Before you see them, you should know that all of these were commissions. Someone described to me very clearly what they had in mind, I simply helped them put it to paper. So in a way I was but a mere tool to help them get the message across, you know? And you know how they say: don't shoot the messenger."

You laughed nervously, but it didn't look good for you. Your rambling had only made the frown on his face deepen further.

You let out a big sigh. "Okay," you said as you opened the door with sweaty palms. You entered with Levi close behind you.

"Fine! Maybe Mike is only humanity's second strongest soldier, but he is by far the hottest! I would choose him over Levi any day!" Nanaba was shouting at Lynne.

"Um, guys?" you said. They turned to you. Nanaba went pale. Lynne went red. Neither of them said another word. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the sound of the door falling shut behind you.

"I should really learn how to knock, huh."

The two women just stared at you, aghast. Nifa was nowhere to be seen. You glanced at Levi, who stood next you with an unreadable expression.

"Don't mind me and Levi here. We'll just be a second," you continued, walking over to your bed and throwing your pillow and blanket onto the floor.

Now it wasn't just the women who were dumbfounded.

You flipped over your mattress. "I know it's a lame hiding place," you said as you retrieved a brown paper envelope.

You opened it, pulling out a few sheets of paper, and started flipping through them. You grimaced. It was worse than you had remembered. Levi didn't wear a shirt in any of them.

When you got to the last one, you froze. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath. It was a piece you had planned to give Petra for her birthday as a surprise. Of all the drawings in the envelope, it was by far the tamest. Yet it was the only one you just couldn't allow him to see.

Your eyes shifted to Levi. He was looking at you with hawk eyes. There was no way you would be able to make it disappear unnoticed.

You separated the drawing from the rest and slipped the others back into the envelope, letting them stick out enough that his face was visible on the first one. "Here you go," you said and held it out to him.

"What about that one?" He pointed at the piece of paper you still had in your hands.

"That one's not of you," you said, pressing it to your chest protectively, with its blank backside facing in his direction.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Show it to me."

"No."

He stretched out his hand. You backed away. "I'm allowed to have my privacy."

Levi huffed. He was coming closer. This left you with no choice.

You scrunched up the paper into a tiny ball and shoved it into your mouth. It tasted awful. You chewed on it frantically.

"What the hell?" Levi glared at you. "Spit it out."

You swallowed. "Too late. Unless you want me to throw it up for you?"

He scoffed.

It was such a shame about the drawing, though. You had put in a lot of time and effort. But there was nothing you could have done: the drawing hadn't just depicted Levi. Petra had been on it, too, standing really close to him, holding his hand. It was fine if he got mad at you, but you didn't want him to get mad at her. It would break her heart. You couldn't let that happen. So you had done what you had to.

You looked over to your roommates. Lynne was covering her mouth in shock. Nanaba was trying her best to hold in a laugh.

"What? I was hungry. I didn't have breakfast yet."

"Help yourself, there's plenty more where that came from," Levi deadpanned, holding out the envelope.

"No thanks. These are nice little treats, but they're not the healthiest."

"Nice little treats, you say?" He pulled out the topmost drawing from the envelope. His deadpan expression slipped, eyes widening in shock. You covered your eyes with your fingers. When you warily peeked through them, he was already glowering at you, wearing the worst scowl you had ever seen on him.

"Into my office. Now."

You sighed. Here we go again.

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui , @shakysif

[actual-sleeping-beauty]

about a half an hour ago i turned twenty-two. i feel a little like eeyore saying, "it's my birthday pooh," about it. hard to celebrate right now. hard to know if i can trust the people around me.

but also. for about twenty four hours now, all i have been able to think about is the newborn child of a couple i have never met and likely never will. i keep thinking about susanna wolff and caldwell tanner. i keep thinking about how their first daughter was born in december of 2020. (i am not weird or creepy for knowing this, she wrote an article in the new yorker about having a pandemic pregnancy.) i keep thinking about how their second child was born recently, almost certainly within two weeks of the election. (i am also not weird or creepy for knowing this, the birth was announced by his podcast so he can take some paternity leave.) i keep thinking about these children, about the difference in the circumstances of their births. about the world we, as a country, have decided is fit for them.

and then i keep thinking about the fact that the world keeps turning. barring something awful happening, these children will get to grow up. they will go to kindergarten and learn to read and tie their shoes. they'll learn that the world is not fair and that there's something unexplainably beautiful about light pouring through the trees in late fall and that there comes a time when you gt to pull out your sweaters and get excited about clothes you had forgotten you owned and that people you love can come back into your life when you thought they were gone and that you will have favorite songs and poems and games and books and movies and and and.

i think about how every day people live their lives. a old woman i knew died last monday. twenty two years ago today i was born, too early and unprepared. every day people are living and loving and breaking. someone got married today. someone got divorced. yesterday i cried for hours and then spent two hours with my friends cheering them on in volleyball. twenty two years ago this week my parents took their incredibly ill baby to the hospital and a group of very dedicated medical professionals saved her life. twenty two years ago this week my grandmother got the call that she had breast cancer. a year ago i was diagnosed with a chronic illness. thirteen months ago i thought i might die before i saw twenty-one, let alone twenty-two. a month from now my grandfather is coming from his home, decimated by a hurricane, to watch me graduate from college.

what i'm saying is there are terrible awful things every day. there are. and yesterday was particularly awful. it's hard to know these things, to see where we are headed. but we cannot succumb. no nos podemos rendir. we cannot. the world needs us. we need us. there are so many quotes for this moment, and i am a magpie who collects shiny phrases instead of metals. i want you to say it with me - come on now, do it; i am trusting you with my earnestness. Hope is the thing with feathers. the light-soaked days are coming. we're here because we're here because we're here because we're here. unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, it's not.

or, perhaps more appropriately, i'll instead quote caldwell's friend, creating one of the most lovely scenes i have ever heard with him in a dnd game, shortly before the events of susanna's article:

you are afflicted with duty... the world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. what an honor. what an injustice.

[written-in-flowers]

Losing Humanity: OT8 X Male!Reader Pt. 3

Pairing: Vampire!Hyunjin x Male!Reader (end game) | Side pairings: OT8 x Male!reader, Vampire!Felix x Lycan!Chan, Vampire!Minho x Lycan!Han

Genre: Angst, smut, horror | Au: Resident Evil: Village, vampires, werewolves/lycans, hybrids.

Word Count: 6k

Summary: Following a dreadful experiment, YN has to wrestle with his new body and abilities. With the help of the four lords and their sons, he might be able to find the family and purpose he'd been looking for.

Overall Tags: strangers to lovers, exes to lovers, secret romances, feuding families, omegaverse, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, graphic depictions of violence, blood and violence, mad science experiments, eventual smut, male reader fic, graphic depictions of human to monster transformations, horror, suspense. anal sex, anal fingering, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, threesome -/m/m/m, group sex, rimming, blowjobs, rough blowjobs, water sex, outdoor sex, harem but one end game, happy ending, tentacle sex, hallucinations, psychological horror

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Previous < | > Next

****

The day turned into night. The cold might have pierced your skin once, but it did nothing to you now. You stayed huddled underneath a tree, arms around your knees and you wept for hours. You only moved when you started hearing soft footsteps coming from the distance. A part of you considered letting the predator just take you. Why should you fight them? It wasn’t as if you had a home anymore. The warm memories of your parents turned as icy and hard as the snow underneath you. You questioned their love for you over and over underneath the still moon. If they’d loved you, they never would’ve sold you off. If they’d loved you, they’d sacrifice themselves rather than you. But, whatever stalked you eventually disappeared and left you in the lonely woods. 

You crossed through dense bushes before the smell of cooking meat caught your attention. The savory scent made your stomach growl, and you moved towards it. In between the shrubbery, you saw flickers of light and the crackling of a fire. Every sense suddenly amplified. You heard soft, cheerful humming. You smelled the saucy rabbit stew in a large pot above a smoking fire; wisps of human sweat and blood mingled with the fragrance and you drooled. Hunger brought you to the edge of the clearing, where you saw a horse and cart tethered to a tree. Propped up in the back was an immensely large man. The jacket and vest he wore strained against his belly, and you hardly saw a neck. You recognized the man immediately. The Duke, as people called him, was a regular visitor of the village. 

“Ah, Master YN,” the man beamed happily when he saw you. He kept his fire close to him, sprinkling herbs into the pot. You wondered briefly how he’d grab it. “What brings you out here ton-Oh my,” his smile faltered when he saw your half-torn, blood-stained clothes and hands, “My dear boy, what happened to you?”

“A few things,” you replied, eyeing the steaming pot. You licked your lips seeing the brown gravy hanging off the wood spoon above it. 

“Must have been quite heavy things,” he said. “I have a coat you may wear. It’ll keep you warm in this biting cold.”

“No, thank you, sir. I don’t feel very cold.” 

When you stepped into the light, The Duke gasped softly. He glanced at the rest of you, then said, “It appears Master Felix succeeded in his endeavor after all. Have they already let you loose upon the Huntsman?”

“Huntsman? No. I left.”

“What for?”

“My family.”

“The same family who sold you to me?” He sounded confused by this. 

“Yes.” 

He saw your crestfallen face, and said, “Well, if you will not have my coat, then take some of my wine. It is a fine vintage from House Dimitrescu. You might enjoy it much more than this stew.”

He pulled out a decorative bottle from the holder hanging from the door. Grabbing a wine glass, he poured and handed it to you. You gulped when the sweet scent of blood hit your nose. Timidly, you moved closer. The fire bathed you in warmth as you took up the glass. The mixture of scents in the air made you nearly dizzy. You took a sniff of the glass, grabbing hints of bold grapes and virgin blood-

Virgin blood? 

“What is this?”

“Your new family’s speciality,” he answered. “Sanguis Virginis. Maiden’s Blood. It’s very…full-bodied.” 

You did not want to think about the meaning. Instead, you took one sip and let out a soft groan. It tasted better than any stew or cooked rabbit. You gulped down the rest of the drink, feeling life slipping back into you. 

“Have a seat, young master,” The Duke insisted, “Warm yourself with wine and fire.” When you sat on a stool near him, he said, “So, what possessed you to leave your new family and seek out the old?”

You contemplated this for a moment, then said, “I wanted to go home. I woke up in this unfamiliar place alone and only thought of going back to my family.. I’d hoped they’d want me back. I thought maybe they did not know what would happen to me. I…I know it sounds ridiculous now.”

“There is nothing wrong with having hope,” he assured you, stirring the stew before leaning to taste some. Nodding, he grabbed a bowl from nearby and began ladeling the stew, “If it eases you, they did not know exactly what might happen to you. I will admit I do withhold some facts when making these kinds of deals. I simply told them you’d be put to good use in Castle Dimitrescu, and they put the pieces together themselves.” 

“They still traded me,” you grumbled before taking another drink of wine. 

“Out of necessity,” he said, scooping up stew and hungrily eating it. “Your father told me your mother was incredibly ill with consumption. He claimed she was on death’s door.” 

“She was. She appears fine now.” 

“With the right amount of treatment and medication, it seems so,” he confirmed. “Aside from illness, starvation and poverty in general can make the strongest man desperate.”

“Are you telling me this was okay because they were desperate?”

“Not at all. I find the act despicable, but that is the only explanation I can give you,” he said. 

“You don’t find it despicable enough to not broker the deals though,” you remarked.

“I am a businessman first and foremost, Master YN,” he said. He ate more stew, gravy dripping down his chin before he mopped it up with a handkerchief. “Master Felix came to me with a deal: if I supply him with villagers, he’d pay me handsomely for them. I did not inquire about his intentions, since I have a similar deal with his mother, but it became clear when the first experiment failed.” 

“What happened?”

“The subject turned into a hideous, ferocious beast,” he said, “And terrorized the village. The Huntsman managed to overpower the creature and kill it, but had no idea where it’d come from. I knew.” He washed down the stew with a beer bottle. He belched through his napkin, then continued, “I did not advertise the deal due to the morbid nature, but it soon caught on in the nearby village and beyond. I simply made the deal happen. I am only a middle man.”

“A middle man that sold people to monsters.”

“It’s not one of the nicest parts of business, but it was nothing personal, I assure you.” He then said, “It may sound insensitive, Master YN, but you should be grateful you came out like this and not like the monsters or corpses that preceded you. I am no expert in scientific experiments by any means, though I will say you seem to have been a clear success.”

“How grateful I am,” you rolled your eyes. You finished off your second glass, and went for a third. “I’m a monster now.”

“We are all monsters, just different breeds. Some might say your parents are monsters for giving up their only child to save themselves,” he said. “A few dare to say Mother Miranda is a monster herself, even when she protects these lands.”

“She doesn’t do that well of a job if we’re all starving and living in shacks.” 

He ate another spoonful of stew, then said, “But she keeps the monsters at bay. They obey her every word and whim, and fear her above all others. Well, perhaps aside from Master Chan, but that is the power of an alpha lycan, I suppose.”

“Master Chan?” 

“Master Chan Heisenberg,” he answered. “The eldest son of Karl Heiseberg, followed by his brothers Changbin and Jisung, called ‘Han’.” He paused over his bowl, “Did you not know?”

“I know there are other lords, but I didn’t bother with them.”

“Hmpf, you should bother with them now before they bother you,” he warned. He hesitated, “The Heisenberg pack lives in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the land. Heisenberg created them from three boys he’d found in the village. Your new mother believes he stole her idea, but I think the man simply felt lonely working in his factory. The boys help him, from what I understand, yet there are whispers Master Chan has been doing some solo projects.” 

“Any warnings I should heed?”

“Approach with caution,” he said. “The Heisenbergs do not have the restraint and refinement of House Dimitrescu.” He chewed a hearty piece of rabbit, washed it down with beer, “Then, deep in the valley lives the doll maker, Donna Beneviento with her son, Master Jeongin. The pair keep to themselves in the dank, old estate by the waterfall, but those who go there have never come back.”

“Jeongin?”

“Rumor was he was the son of the family’s gardener. He’d been very ill several years ago, and Lady Beneviento took pity on him. The treatment…well, let us say it left the boy speechless.” He gulped the rest of his beer, “In the reservoir up north is Salvatore Moreau, a being of twisted flesh and his son, Seungmin, who is his pride and joy. The beauty and the beast rule over those dangerous waters.” He then said, “I am sure you will meet the others in time. Mother Miranda will hear of Master Felix’s experiment soon enough and will likely want to see the result for herself.”

Meeting the real Mother Miranda struck a fear in you that the wine couldn’t drown out. The ruler of the land, she’d been around for as long as you could remember. A goddess of black magic, she’d given the people health, prosperity and safety. You often questioned exactly what your people paid in return for these benefits, but your questions were met with scoldings. Seeing yourself and the tales of this new “family”, you’d gotten your answer. You finished off the bottle of wine when The Duke asked you another question. 

“What shall you do now?”

You paused, thinking it over as you ran your thumb over the intricate floral metal on the bottle. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I don’t wish to go back to the castle, but I cannot go home either.”

“You can drift as the Huntsman does,” he suggested. He then looked up into the trees, “Or perhaps your companions might have some ideas.”

“Companions?”

You glanced up to see dozens of glowing eyes looking down from the dark trees above. Suddenly, you became aware of the shifting in the branches. Their appearance didn’t surprise you. Perhaps in the back of your mind you knew they’d followed you to the clearing. Them and whatever creatures you assumed lurked in the darkness. Standing from your seat, you examined the bats more closely. Full bodies covered in fur, they were a bit larger than the bats you turned into during flight. Those were the size of mice, whereas these were average size.  

“They have been listening for quite some time,” The Duke said. “It appears they are waiting for you.”

Their eyes followed only you. A ripple of unrest went through them, and you felt it in your chest. “Yes,” you said softly, looking at one particular bat nearest you, “Yes, it feels that way.” 

“If I were you, I would visit my creator,” he said, finishing off his stew and getting seconds. “Master Felix is a man of science. He may be able to explain things to you, if you accept your newfound state.” 

“I don’t want to see that bastard,” you grunted, and your distaste showed in the bats above. Walking closer, you sensed a connection growing between yourself and these animals. Both creatures of the night, hungry for blood and the dark places of the world, you sensed yourself merging with them in your heart. “He made me this way. Even if my family sold me, he turned me into this monster.”

“That word once again,” he scoffed. “‘Monster’ is such a broad term.”

“It is the only one that explains what I am,” you said, reaching up to the bat, who did not flinch when you touched its head. 

“You will not know what you truly are until you speak with the one who made you.”

It squeaked a few more times, and you knew it used its echolocation to find you. 

“I’m right here,” you said gently once underneath it. “Don’t worry, little friend. I’m here.” 

It flew towards you, and when you held out your arm it clung itself to your chest as a baby would a mother.  You stroked its head while you walked, finding a sense of purpose with your new friend.

“Clearly, a close connection with nightly creatures is one of them,” Duke continued. “That owl has been staring too.”

You turned to a separate tree where a brown and white barn owl sat watching, as Duke said. “It may be that Master Felix required a person who blends in with darkness and can speak to other nocturnal beasts. The best place to start is at the castle.”

“Don't want to lose your contract with them, eh?” you asked, noting his insistence you return to the castle. 

“That and that her newest son's prolonged absence may inspire Lady Dimitrescu to send her minions into the village. They may not be lycans, but they are just as deadly.”

“Minions?” 

“The Moroacia and Samca, the failed experiments of Master Felix or his mother's victims. They are bloodthirsty, mindless creatures that will invade in droves, killing anyone within reach.” He shuddered, “Terrifying things. I suggest to save the innocent souls down below, you return to your new home.” 

“It isn’t my home.”

“I’m afraid it is,” he said. “Where else will you go?” 

You looked down at the bat in his arms. It likely lives in a cave with its colony. A cave could be a good form of shelter, and with the bats overhead, you wouldn’t be alone. The group then shuddered and shook as if sensing your need for flight. It took one to fly off before the rest of them began following them. 

“Wherever they’re going,” you said, nodding up to the bats. “Thank you for the wine, Duke, but I think I should get going. The night is still young, and I have to get moving.”

“I pray you find shelter tonight,” he replied with a nod, eating more stew. “I’d caution against the beasts of the night, but I imagine it is you the beasts should fear.” 

You weren’t so sure about that. Even when you fought off that lycan, which still surprised you, you didn’t know the extent of your abilities. You almost did not want to know. The more you knew, the more beastly you felt. Walking from the clearing, you held onto the bat against your chest. You stared up between the trees, seeing the rest of the colony not too far ahead. You couldn’t properly follow them from the ground, so you released your walking companion and bent your knees. In a spring upwards, you twirled into a flight form. You soared over the canopy of trees, the nighttime breeze blowing through as you flew. You stayed behind the group as they led you back to a familiar place. 

Castle Dimitrescu. 

Apprehensive, you slowed down as you saw the tall turrets and towers. Duke’s advice came back to you. Going back will give you answers, but going back also cemented the truth: you’d become something far worse than any human alive. You still went towards the castle, your friends making a turn and aiming at the lower areas. Through a tight hole in one wall, you escaped the freezing cold for the dark, damp heat underneath. Even in complete darkness, you saw everything. The unlit torches, the empty barrels, the cell doors and the torture devices around the dark dungeon came to you crystal clear. 

The flock finally stopped in the middle of the labyrinth, starting to hang upside down from the stone ceiling. Yes, being underneath a place of blood and death did not sound ideal, but where else could you go? Finding an abandoned cell with a wooden bench, you discovered a strange kind of peace amongst the bats. They did not show scorn or distaste for you. They wouldn’t trade you for food. In fact, you’d never felt more at peace with any living being. Laying on the long bench, exhaustion finally came over you. As the comforting presence lulled you to sleep, you wondered if your parents regretted their decision and perhaps want you back. 

No, they wouldn’t. 

****

Hunger. Unimaginable hunger. It hollowed out your stomach and left your throat dry. The only thing keeping you shuffling through was the smell. Blood. Sickly sweet and fresh came in a gust of wind through the castle dungeons. Days had passed since you tasted the blood in Duke’s wine, and your hunger had returned in full force. It became your every waking thought as you stumbled through the catacombs. The scent grew thicker the closer it came, almost enough that inhaling it brought it to your tongue. 

“Hun…Hungry…” the word escaped your lips in a hoarse voice. 

You came upon the body in one of the northern parts of the dungeon. Several bodies hung from the ceiling, their limbs slashed to drain the blood from them into large vats. You’d managed to feed off the leftovers the Lady and her sons discarded. Yet, they didn’t yield much blood so the rats became a second option. After drinking the blood of the dead and animals, fresh vats seemed like an oasis. Seeing the dark red liquid sitting alone in a large bucket, you could not resist. You cupped your hands in the thick substance, and took greedy gulps. A low groan escaped you after that first drink, the warmth breaking through the cold stiffness in your body, and you drank more of it. You should feel disgusted, but your hunger won out. 

“I knew you were down here.” 

You smelled him before you even looked up. You didn’t know which one, but the faint scent of pomegranates came from somewhere nearby. His voice bounced off the walls, and you whipped around. Hyunjin appeared out of his blowfly colony, walking over to you with a smug grin. 

“I told Mother I heard something scurrying around the dungeons,” he said. “It’s you that’s been feeding off our scraps.” He looked up into the rafters to see your colony, “And you’re the reason the bats are still around.” He looked over your disheveled appearance. Your matted hair, blood stained wearing ragged clothing, you were not a pretty sight. In wanting to escape the truth, you only brought it to life more. “You poor thing,” he frowned, cautiously approaching you, “You went home, didn’t you?”

His voice was a tender caress this time, meant to soothe instead of seduce. You couldn’t answer. His footsteps came closer, and you flinched when you felt a hand touch your shoulder.

“We tried to warn you,” he said, “But I suppose it was best you saw it for yourself. You must be in so much pain.”

He lifted your face to meet his, and you saw the beauty before you. Unlike when you first arrived, he showed no eagerness to hurt you. 

“I don’t remember anything about my life before Mother,” he told you, “But I sometimes imagine I ended up here the same way as you. I’m sorry your family did this to you.” He wiped your face with an embroidered handkerchief, “You’re better off with us than with them. Mother would make sure you were well fed and cared for. Even if she’s upset with Felix for creating you, you are one of us now and that makes her your mother too.”

“She’s not my mother,” you said through gritted teeth.

“She is now,” he said, wiping blood from your mouth and cheeks. “What mother would sacrifice her child to save herself? A real mother would have given up her life rather than let her child suffer. Mother isn’t like that. She’d kill anyone who tried to harm you.” He then said, “Felix, Minho and I would not let anything happen to you either. You’re our brother now, and we stick together.”

“You are not my family,” you said through a hoarse throat. “They are my family,” you nodded to the bats above. 

“Can they feed you properly? Give you a warm bath and fresh blood to drink? This place, as lovely as it is for storage, is not fit for a son of Lady Dimitrescu.”  

“I’m not her son.”

“Come with me,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “Please? At least to let Mother and Felix know you are alright. They have been sick with worry over you. They think The Huntsman got you. Can you at least do that?” He batted his lashes and pouted his full lips. “There’s more food in it for you, if you do. Then you can come back down here and be with your ‘family’ if you want to.”

You considered the pros and cons of returning to the surface. Yet, staring into Hyunjin’s eyes, you didn’t see any deceit. He gently caressed your cheek as he examined your face. You looked over his full pouty lips, still stained by his blood consumption. The mole just underneath his eye made him seem more human somehow. You touched his cheek to feel his warmth on your cold fingers. His skin, supple and smooth, remained unblemished by time or age. 

“Is my beauty enough to entice you?” he smirked, watching you examine him. 

You didn’t answer. Your thumb went down his cheek to his bottom lip, grazing just underneath it on his chin. Hyunjin leaned closer to you, and you smelled the blood on his breath. 

“Going upstairs offers much, much more than what this dungeon can,” he said, voice low between you. “I promise my bed is warmer and softer.”

“The Duke said your mother would kill the villagers if I didn’t come back,” you told him. “Is that true?”

“Partly,” he replied, tucking hair behind your ear. “My brothers and I managed to convince her otherwise, but her restraint only lasts so long. Those villagers…they might rather burn you than embrace you, yet that doesn’t justify such a grizzly end. Come upstairs with me,” he gently nuzzled your nose, “And let her see that there’s no need for rash actions.” 

Even if they’d rather kill you than accept you, thinking about your neighbors and friends suffering such cruel fates was enough. “Alright, I’ll go.” 

“Good,” he said, letting your thumb slide between his lips for a brief moment. He gave it a soft suckle before letting go. “A nice castle and servants aren’t the only benefits to being in our family, I promise you.” 

You followed Hyunjin through the dungeons, the both of you taking your separate forms to fly through the castle. While he moved into millions of tiny pieces, yours took up a bit more space. Your body still shivered remembering Hyunjin’s soft lips around your thumb. He was by far the most beautiful being you’d ever seen, perhaps more so than his brothers. The trickle of his pomegranate essence made you hungry for something aside from blood. The sort of hunger you felt when you kissed Elijah behind his family’s barn or when Stephan stole a kiss outside the church. You never went the entire way those times, but you still remember the tightness forming in your stomach and how your body yearned for their touch. 

There might be one benefit to being a monster. 

He led you through the opulent, elegant halls of the castle into a lounge area in front of a fireplace. In the room, you saw Felix reading against his mother’s side on a couch, while Minho sat nearby idly playing a harp. The three of them turned as Hyunjin and you came back into the room. Felix stood up before his mother did, putting the book down and coming over to you. 

“YN, where have you been?” he asked, scanning over your face. “I’ve been looking for you for days. Where did you go? What happened to you?” You snarled when he tried touching you. He didn’t appear very surprised, stepping a foot away. “Where have you been?”

“He’s been in the dungeons,” Hyunjin said. “I told you something was down there.” 

“It’s you that’s been taking the leftovers?” Felix asked you, but you did not answer. 

“But, sweet boy,” Lady Dimitrescu stood up from her seat, “You could’ve had your fill here. I wouldn’t have denied you fresh prey,” she came over to you in long strides. Unlike Felix, she did not cower away when you snapped your teeth at her. “Here,” she poured wine from a decorative bottle into a spare wine glass. You recognized it as the same bottle The Duke offered. “Drink this. You must be starving after feeding off scraps.” 

You tentatively sipped from the glass, then downed the drink in several gulps. You licked up what spilled from the sides of your mouth, then started licking the inside of the glass. You never tasted anything so delicious before. It reminded you of those hollow days back home when food was so scarce. Nothing ever made your belly feel full. When your father managed to find food in the woods, you remembered devouring it as if it might be your last meal. 

“Proper table manners seem to go out the window when you’re starving,” Minho commented, plucking at one of the strings. 

“Do not be so harsh so soon, Minho,” Lady Dimitrescu said to him. “Your new brother has been through a serious change. It must’ve been difficult managing it alone,” she bent down to you, cupping your cheek. She felt warm, and smelled of roses. “I will admit I am intrigued. Felix’s experiments normally turn into lycans or die in the first few minutes, but you held out. The fact you can remember your previous life is also remarkable.”

You wished you’d woken without memory. Then it wouldn’t hurt so much. 

“But then again, memory can be a burden,” she said, sensing your sadness. “Here,” she brought you over to the sofa where she poured you more wine. “Drink your fill. Rats and corpses aren’t fit for any son of mine.” 

You drank your second glass as quickly, not bothered by the sick feeling growing from drinking so fast. About to wipe your mouth with your sleeve, Lady Dimitrescu offered you her handkerchief instead. You cleaned your face with it, smelling more roses as you wiped off the excess. She appeared nothing like what you’d been told your whole life. The other villagers spoke of her ruthlessness; that anyone who made the trek up her castle never returned. You’d learned that was true, yet it did not scare you. She did not look at you with malice in her eyes, but instead tenderness. She repeatedly filled your cup when it emptied. She cleaned your mouth and the dirt from your face. It did not seem to bother her as you thought it might. 

“Alright, you’ve seen I’m safe,” you said, finally full, “May I go back now?”

“You wish to go back to that damp place?” she asked in surprise. “It’s filthy down there, and those bats-”

“-Are my family,” you told her. “They don’t cast out their own kind. They don’t point guns at them and tell them to leave. They saw me as I was and didn’t call me a monster or a beast.” Anger elevated your voice, pain coming up through your throat like bile. 

“Well, they’re bats, so I imagine they can’t talk to begin with,” said Minho, only to be smacked lightly by Felix. 

“I know how childish it sounds,” you snapped at him, “But I’d rather be in the dark with them than in the light with people who’ve used me.” You glared at Felix, “I remember everything you did to me. I remember you cutting me open like a dead fish and sticking that thing inside me. I can still feel it wriggling,” you closed your eyes to the sickening feeling in your stomach. “You’re the reason I don’t have a family anymore,” you said. 

“No, your family is the reason you don’t have a family. I simply took advantage of their situation,” he said simply. 

“Felix…”

“If what the Duke says is correct,” he said, ignoring his mother, “It hardly took any convincing at all. All he said was there’d be money and food in it for them, and they jumped at the chance. What kind of parents do that to their child? Surely, this is a question you’ve asked yourself multiple times since then, no?” 

You didn’t know how to answer. He seized a chance at your hesitancy, “You may continue thinking you are some sort of ferocious monster, but you cannot deny it. I’ve made you far better and greater than any being outside these walls. You’re fast. You’re strong. You’re deadly. Those pathetic weaklings in the villages will be terrified when they see you coming. The lycans themselves will run in terror at the sight of you,” he stepped closer. “I have given you a gift, YN. Do not waste it wallowing in self-pity in our dungeons with the bats and rats and corpses.” 

“I do not want to scare anyone,” you said. “I did not ask for your ‘gift’. It’s made me a monster.”

“You’re only a monster if you continue to act like one,” he replied sharply. “Please, YN,” he came over to where you sat, sincerity in his eyes, “Do not go. Not yet. We need you and you need us. Mother,” he glanced at the Lady, “Tell him. Tell him he doesn’t have to go anywhere. He’s safer here than anywhere else. You will be the mother he could only dream of.” 

Lady Alcina did not answer at first. She examined her eldest son quickly, seeing the desperation he masked so well. Stroking your hair, she looked down at you. 

“You went to the village,” she said when she saw your sad eyes. 

“I did.”

“And?”

The stinging sensation in your nose returned. You tried sniffling and wriggling it out, but it brought with it more tears. You’d spent weeks in the dungeons reliving the moment over and over again. Your father had pointed his gun at you. He actually threatened to shoot you. You saw their cold faces once more, swimming to the forefront of your mind to haunt you. To them, you’d become a deranged animal that needed to be put down rather than embraced. Seeing your dirty hands and clothes, you might actually be that animal. You smoothed back hair from your face as you fought off tears. You wanted to go home, but where was home now? 

“Oh, sweet boy,” she cooed. She then lifted you from the sofa like a mother would with a baby, cuddling you to her chest and stroking your hair. “It is for the best in the end,” she said, holding you close. “Those village fools fear what they do not understand. They allow their ignorance to cloud their judgment. They would never have accepted you, but that won’t happen here.”

“You’re our brother now,” Hyunjin said, sitting on the arm rest. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I certainly won’t,” said Felix. “I went through too much trouble creating you. I won’t let you be destroyed so easily.”

“It’s my job to protect the members of this family,” Minho told you, “And that includes you.” 

“You don’t need your bat friends when you have us,” Hyunjin came closer to meet your eyes. “We will take care of you. I’ll take care of you.” 

You looked into his eyes once more, and fresh tears came. 

“I think a nice bath and a good long sleep is in order, hm?” Lady Alcina asked you, and you didn't refuse. 

She brought you further into the castle with Hyunjin behind her. In a room of marble stone, the Lady gently removed the rags you wore while Hyunjin prepared the bath. You did not see the point in shyness, so you let her peel the sticky, smelly layers piece by piece. Neither of them spoke as she lowered you into the warm tub. Lady Alcina did not leave your side the entire time, taking it upon herself to bathe you. It’d been too long since you felt such gentleness. 

“If you still wish to go back down there when you wake,” she said, carrying you into a bedroom after washing and drying you, “You can go.” 

“Really?”

“If it makes you more comfortable here, then I will not protest. Unlike that simpering wench of a mother, I wish for you to be happy.” 

She laid you down on a soft bed like a newborn, pushing hair from your face and caressing your cheek. The exhaustion finally started coming over you in the comfort of this new bed. It certainly beats the old cot back at home and your dungeon bench. Your eyes started falling shut as you savored her fingers gently scratching behind your ear and scalp. It had been something your old mother might have done once, but not anymore. 

Alcina Dimitrescu didn’t care about your pointed ears or claws. 

****

“Magnificent…Absolutely magnificent. You say he tore the beast apart?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin answered in a whisper. “He lifted him in the air while still in his bat swarm form, and tore his head off. It was incredible. I’ve never heard of anyone defeating a lycan before; it usually takes several gunshots for them to go down. Even Heisenberg’s boys have trouble with the particularly feral ones from time to time. We certainly can’t do what he did.” 

Felix told him to follow you, but he would have done it on his own anyways. He didn’t want to lose another brother. He’d flown some distance behind you to avoid detection, then tailed you into the village. He’d sensed the lycan just as easily as you, ready to fight it off, before he saw you take it on by yourself. Hyunjin couldn’t believe his eyes. Lycans, he knew, were nearly indestructible, yet you tore them apart with little effort. Whatever Felix injected into you made you stronger than anyone else. Maybe even stronger than those Heisenbergs. 

“What else did you notice?”

“Well, his parents are cruel, that’s for sure. You should’ve seen it, Felix,” Hyunjin frowned. “He begged them to let him come home, and they turned him away. I heard the whole thing. He would’ve stayed there longer if the villagers hadn’t come back from church.” He pushed hair from your face, his fingers feather-light on your skin. “How could a parent do that to their child? It’s always astounded me. These people sacrifice their children to keep on living. That mother should’ve let her sickness consume her rather than give up her son to an unimaginable fate.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, that’s all very sad,” Felix said dismissively, “What else did you notice about him?”

That you’re a tortured soul who seeks a proper home and family. Hyunjin examined your face. He took in the shape of your eyes and nose; the curve of your lips and your soft cheeks. It was a face only Gods could create. He could spend forever painting you and find each picture more beautiful than the last. He’d been shocked when he found you in the dungeon, dirty and living off scraps. You should be sitting in the conservatory amongst the blooming flowers, or in the music room playing the piano with your lovely fingers. 

“Hyunjin!”

“He’s not that much different from us,” he finally answered, wishing Felix would leave the Frankenstein act for another time. “He picked up on Chan and Changbin before I did.”

“Chan and Changbin were there?”

“Yes, and Jisung too,” he said. He hadn’t told you about the three wolves that had stalked you in the forest. He’d spotted them whilst trying to catch sight of you again from above. “I believe they caught him by chance and didn’t know what or who he was.”

“Wonderful,” Felix scoffed. “Now those damned mongrels know about him. They’ve likely already gone to their scoundrel father and told him. Mother Miranda will know sooner than I would’ve liked.” He took a deep breath. “I have to tell Mother. She’s already upset with me for doing the experiments without Miranda’s permission. Hearing about this will make things worse.” 

“She has every right to be angry at you.” Minho appeared in the doorway, stern and stoic as always. He walked into the bedroom, hands behind his back, and stood beside Felix. “She thinks you’re trying to replace Jimin-”

“-That isn’t what I’m doing-” 

“-I know it isn’t, but she doesn’t,” he cut him off. “Felix, you need to go and explain yourself. If Mother Miranda confronts her about it, she'll need to know what to say. If we're lucky, Miranda will see this as an effort against the Huntsman-”

“-It is an effort against the Huntsman-” Felix argued hotly. 

“-And not punish all of us for your reckless actions.”

“You do recall assisting me, right?” Felix said, fully turning to him. “You held him down; you injected him. You’re equally guilty.” 

“That was because I believed in your vision, and I still do,” he said. “The Huntsman is a greater threat to our family than Mother Miranda realizes, and I’d do anything I could to stop them. But, we cannot kill them if we’re all dead.”

“Miranda wouldn’t kill us or Mother,” Felix argued. “We’ll get a slap on the wrist and be warned to never do it again.”

“Felix, what you’ve done is far more serious and you know that. You stole Cadou parasites from Moreau, who was given those by Miranda herself,” he said. “When she learns you’ve been basically stealing her property, she might not be so lenient. I told you the consequences of these experiments when you started them, and you ignored me every single time. This one is the last one,” he nodded to your sleeping form. “If he dies, that’s the end of it. No more mad-science experiments, got it?” 

Hyunjin watched Felix stare at him defiantly. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘No’?”

“No. I will not stop trying until the Huntsman is dead.”

“There are other ways.”

“Name them.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps if all of us put our pride aside, we can work with the other lords to destroy him. The other houses cannot handle them on their own, but if we do it together-”

“-I can’t believe you’re suggesting that,” Felix huffed. “Us working with those weaklings. It’s prosperous.”

“They are far from weak, and you know that. Tsk all you want, Felix, you know it’s true. You’ve seen what those Heisenbergs can do in and out of their wolf forms. Lord help that Huntsman if they end up near the reservoir when Seungmin is around, and have you forgotten what Jeongin can do with flowers and dolls? If we combine all those skills, we have a fighting chance. Hyunjin,” he turned to him, “Back me up on this. We cannot keep having let down after let down; failure after failure like this.”

Hyunjin did not know how to answer. He thought about his mother’s teary eyes when she stared at Jimin’s crystalized corpse in the music room. She wept for weeks. She still does though she hides it from them. Hyunjin hated thinking Felix tried replacing Jimin so soon after his death. Jimin was their brother, their blood. When he explained his intentions, Hyunjin stood behind him out of hope. Staring down at you, he wondered if you really could kill the Huntsman. He thought about you ending the same way as Jimin, and it made him sad. However, the alternative is to work with the other families. Hyunjin did not care for any of them either way, but his family did so he joined them in their distaste. Yet, he could not deny their strengths.

“It’d be great if we could have both,” he said.

“Yes, but sometimes we cannot have both,” Felix said.

“Maybe this time we can? YN might not be able to do it alone. He’d need help, and if we all join forces-”

“-I said ‘no’!” Felix said through gritted teeth with a foot stomp. “I don’t want anything to do with those damned dogs!”

He turned into his swarm and blew through the doors. Neither Minho or Hyunjin brought up the reason Felix may dislike the idea of an alliance.

Chan Heisenberg. 

****

A/N: So, has YN found a new home or will he drift off again? Sorry this update took so long. Just been having trouble finding inspiration lately. Hope this makes up for that <3

[fanficlolsblog]

JUST FRIENDS

back to my main masterlist

pairing: fem!reader x astrid deetz

summary: you find yourself caught in a complicated relationship with astrid deetz, who is spending time with another guy named jeremy. as you navigate your feelings of jealousy and confusion, you confront astrid about her intentions, leading to an emotional struggle between love and heartbreak. despite your desire to be together, it becomes clear that the timing may not be right, leaving you to question what you truly mean to each other.

warnings: emotion turmoil, jealousy, romantic tension, potential for unrequited feelings, mentions of partying and drinking.

w/c: 2k+

a/n: pretend that jeremy isn’t a ghost and he is a human boy.

the sun was setting over the horizon, casting an eerie glow across the landscape. the small town of winter river always had an air of mystery, especially when the night began to creep in. you had just returned to your apartment after a long day when you received a text from astrid deetz, your close friend and an undeniable force of chaos and charm. you and astrid had a bond that felt both thrilling and complicated; there was a spark between you, something electric that lingered in the air, but she often kept you at arm’s length.

as you sat on your bed, scrolling through your phone, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety mixed with excitement. astrid had mentioned hanging out with jeremy, a guy you had heard a bit about but never met. the thought of them together ignited a fire of jealousy inside you. you couldn’t quite place it, but it was difficult to shake off the feeling that you might be losing her to someone else. the way she described jeremy in her texts seemed almost too enthusiastic, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing together.

deciding you couldn’t just sit and stew in your thoughts, you pulled on a jacket and made your way out the door. the chill in the air greeted you as you stepped outside, the night sky slowly revealing a tapestry of stars. you walked down the street, your heart racing with every step. the closer you got to astrid’s place, the more apprehensive you felt.

when you arrived, you hesitated outside her door, your hand poised to knock. after a moment of contemplation, you finally knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. almost immediately, the door swung open, and there she was. astrid stood in the doorway, her dark hair tousled, eyes sparkling with mischief. she wore a black tank top that hugged her figure and a pair of ripped jeans that accentuated her unique style.

“hey! you made it!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug.

“yeah, thought i’d check in on you. what’s going on?” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart was pounding.

“just hanging out with jeremy,” she said nonchalantly, stepping back to let you in. “you remember him, right?”

you nodded, forcing a smile. “of course. nice guy.” the words felt hollow in your throat.

as you entered the living room, you spotted jeremy lounging on the couch, a can of soda in his hand, and an easy grin on his face. “hey, y/n! good to see you,” he said, lifting his drink in a casual salute.

“hey, jeremy,” you managed to reply, feeling an uncomfortable tension creeping in. astrid settled onto the couch beside jeremy, leaning into him as they chatted about some random topic that felt distant to you.

you tried to shake off the unease, opting for the kitchen where you poured yourself a glass of water. as you took a sip, you could hear their laughter echoing from the other room, each laugh feeling like a dagger to your heart. you couldn’t deny the jealousy bubbling up inside you; it made you feel small and unimportant.

just then, jeremy’s voice drifted into the kitchen. “so, astrid, you never told me about y/n. are you two close?”

“oh, we’re super close,” astrid replied, her tone light and playful. “y/n is like the best person ever.”

“oh, really? then why are you hanging out with me?” jeremy teased, nudging her with his elbow.

you felt a strange twist in your gut at the easy camaraderie they shared. it wasn’t just the jealousy that stung; it was the realization that you might be seen as just a friend when you wanted to be so much more.

“i don’t know,” she responded with a playful shrug. “sometimes you need a little chaos, you know?”

you couldn’t help but scoff at her words, feeling a mix of irritation and yearning. you turned to grab your phone, scrolling through it aimlessly to distract yourself.

“y/n, you alright?” astrid’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the living room. she had a concerned look on her face, her brows knitted together.

“yeah, just thinking,” you replied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“come on, join us,” jeremy encouraged, gesturing to the space beside him on the couch.

you hesitated, your heart racing. the idea of sitting next to them felt unbearable, but you didn’t want to seem rude. so, you took a deep breath and made your way to the couch.

as the evening wore on, you tried to engage in the conversation, but it felt like an uphill battle. every laugh that escaped astrid’s lips made your stomach churn. it wasn’t that you didn’t want her to be happy; it was that you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in a moment that should have included you.

after a while, you decided to excuse yourself. “i’m gonna step out for some fresh air,” you said, standing up.

“want me to come with?” astrid asked, her eyes searching yours for any hint of distress.

“no, it’s fine. just need a moment,” you assured her, walking out onto the small balcony outside.

the cool night air hit your face, grounding you for a moment. you leaned against the railing, staring out into the darkness. the stars seemed to twinkle in sympathy, and you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of your emotions crashing down on you.

after a few minutes, you heard the door creak open behind you. astrid stepped out, the warmth of her presence enveloping you like a cozy blanket. “are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine concern.

“i’m fine,” you replied, trying to dismiss the turmoil inside you.

“you don’t look fine,” she said, crossing her arms.

“it’s just… i don’t know. you seem happy with jeremy, and i’m happy for you, i am,” you started, your voice faltering. “it just feels different, that’s all.”

“different how?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering.

you hesitated, weighing your words carefully. “like you’re not the same astrid when you’re with him. it’s like… i don’t know, you seem to forget about me.”

her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “i promise that’s not true. jeremy is just… different, you know? he’s fun and easy to be around.”

“and i’m not?” you shot back, your emotions spilling out.

“that’s not what i meant! you know that,” she said, her voice rising slightly.

“then what do you mean?” you challenged, your heart racing. “because it feels like you’re choosing him over me.”

the tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating. astrid’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you both stood in silence, the world around you fading away.

“i’m not trying to choose,” she finally said, her voice low. “i just… i don’t know what i want right now.”

that admission hit you harder than you expected. it was as if she had pulled the rug out from under you, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

“you don’t know what you want?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“no, and it scares me,” she admitted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i care about you, y/n, but i don’t know how to navigate this… whatever this is between us.”

“it’s not fair to me, astrid,” you said, feeling your voice shake. “i want to be more than just a friend. i want to be there for you, but it feels like i’m competing for your attention.

her expression shifted, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. “i never wanted you to feel that way. i’m sorry if i’ve made you feel like you’re not important to me.”

“it’s not just that,” you admitted, the weight of your feelings crashing down on you. “i’ve liked you for a long time, and watching you with someone else… it hurts.”

“wait, what?” she said, taking a step back, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“yeah,” you confessed, feeling your heart race. “i thought you knew. i thought it was obvious.”

a moment of silence stretched between you two, the realization hanging heavy in the air. astrid’s gaze softened, and for the first time, you could see the vulnerability in her expression.

“i didn’t know you felt that way,” she whispered. “i thought you were just being a good friend.”

“i wish it was that simple,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “but it’s not.”

the tension in the air shifted, and astrid took a step closer, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. “i never wanted to hurt you,” she said softly.

“i know,” you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. “but it’s hard to watch you with someone else when i feel this way.”

“i need time to think,” she said finally, pulling her hand away. “but i don’t want to lose you.”

“then don’t,” you urged, desperation creeping into your voice. “don’t let this come between us.”

“i won’t,” she promised, her eyes searching yours. “i just need to figure things out.”

you nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. “okay.”

just then, jeremy’s voice called out from inside, interrupting the moment. “everything okay out there?”

“yeah, we’re good!” astrid replied, a hint of unease in her tone.

as she turned back to face you, you could see the conflict still swirling in her eyes. “let’s go back inside,” she suggested, her voice steadying.

you followed her inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapping around you like a blanket. as you entered, you felt the weight of the unspoken tension still lingering between you.

“you guys good?” jeremy asked, his expression casual, but you could tell he was aware of the underlying tension.

“just talking,” astrid replied, her voice steady.

“cool, cool,” he said, taking a sip of his soda. “what do you want to do next?”

you exchanged glances with astrid, the unspoken words hanging in the air. you knew this was going to take time, but for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope that things could change between you and astrid.

the night went on, filled with laughter and light conversation, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. you were no longer just a friend; you were someone who mattered, someone who could make astrid reconsider everything.

as the hours passed, you found yourself sitting next to astrid on the couch, your shoulders brushing against each other. jeremy was talking animatedly about something, but your attention was on astrid. she had a sparkle in her eyes that seemed to mirror your own emotions.

“hey,” you whispered, leaning in closer.

“yeah?” she replied, turning to face you.

“do you think we could talk again later? just you and me?”

“i’d like that,” she said, her voice soft and sincere.

“good,” you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you.

the rest of the night passed in a blur, filled with laughter and moments of connection that made your heart race. you couldn’t help but feel that a new chapter was beginning for you and astrid, one that held the promise of something deeper.

as you said your goodbyes to jeremy and made your way home, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change. the tension between you and astrid hung in the air like a delicious secret, and you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

the night sky sparkled above you as you walked, a sense of hope filling your heart. you were ready to see where this journey with astrid would take you, knowing that the connection you shared was worth exploring. and perhaps, just perhaps, you wouldn’t be left wondering what could have been any longer.

[sequinsmile-x]

Instincts

Five times Emily doesn't yell at her mother-in-law, and one time she does.

Part 1/6

-x-

Hi besties,

Hope you are all doing as okay as possible <3

Usually, I do these 5+1 fics as a one shot but I'm doing it a little differently this time and this will be a multi chapter.

The final chapter, the one time Emily does yell, will be based on a prompt I received!

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: none for this chapter, pregnancy in later chapters

Words: 2.9k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The first time it happens, she doesn’t even get to meet Caroline Hotchner. 

It starts a few days before, when she can tell Aaron is nervous the moment he lets her into his apartment. She smiles curiously at her boyfriend as she steps past him, her lips catching his cheek as his hand skims her waist before he takes her bag from her, hooking it over his shoulder, “Waiting for me in the doorway kind of makes me having a key pointless.” 

He chuckles, but it’s not the laugh she loves. It doesn’t come from his chest, doesn’t light up the space between them like it usually does, and it makes concern spark low in her gut. She furrows her brow as he closes the door, his focus on locking it behind them and setting the alarm. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, smiling when he turns to look at her, “I was just excited to see you.”

Emily hums, narrowing her eyes at him as she crosses her arms over her chest, desperately trying to read him - to see what had changed since she’d left him in his office at work just a few hours ago. She’d only gone back to her place to get more clothes. Her apartment was just a place where she kept her things these days because home was wherever Aaron and Jack were. 

She’d considered breaking her lease and just moving in with Aaron. All of their friends made fun of them for it, playful smiles on their faces when they teased her for the fact she still had an exit strategy. It would upset her if she knew Aaron thought that way too, but she knew he didn’t, his defence of her always fierce even in the face of joking from their friends. The truth was, something that they were keeping between the two of them for now, that they recently started to look at a place to buy together. She loved sitting in bed with Aaron, her back against his chest, his legs bracketing hers and his chin on her shoulder whilst they looked through listings together. Their favourites either bookmarked on her laptop or circled in the paper. She hated moving, it reminded her too much of her childhood, so she didn’t want to do it twice in quick succession. So for now, she’d continue to occasionally go to her place to pick up some things, content to live in this in-between stage before she finally had everything she’d ever wanted. A home made of brick and mortar. A home made of the man she loves and the boy she loves as her own. 

It was a future she was looking forward to. One with him and Jack and whoever else might come along too - the idea of having more children with him enough to make her giddy. 

“I only went home to get some clothes, honey,” she says, trying to pull a smile out of him, the smile that belonged to her. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, his energy still nervous, and she sighs, “What’s going on?” 

He clears his throat and puts her bag on his couch, “My mother called.” 

She raises her eyebrows, her arms falling to her side, “Oh.” 

His relationship with his mother was tense at best. They only spoke now and again, they exchanged phone calls on birthdays and holidays and occasionally sent each other gifts. Emily had never met her, but she’d overheard them talking on the phone, her name thrown around like confetti by her boyfriend, his smile always soft just at the mention of her. 

“Yeah,” he says, walking towards her, his hands on her hips, “She’s in town.” 

Emily nods, her eyebrows raising even further, already knowing where this was going, “Oh.” 

“And she wants to meet you,” he says, squeezing her waist when she opens her mouth again, a third oh dying on her tongue, “Look, if you don’t want to meet her, I understand. I know my relationship with her is hard, and that you probably don’t have a lot of good feelings about her because of that-”

“Honey-” she says, finally breaking out of the slight stupor she’d fallen into. She smiles and cups his cheek, “You’re rambling. You don’t ramble,” she runs her thumb back and forth over his jaw, “It’s cute,” she smiles when he turns his head to kiss her palm,  “Of course, I’ll meet her.”

The relief in his eyes is palpable, and she sees the tension in his shoulders loosen, “Really?” 

She nods and leans forward to kiss him, her lips stamped against his, “Really,” she says, her nerves dampened a little by the relieved look on his face, the look in his eyes that makes him look like the little boy who never quite stopped looking for his mother’s approval, “She’ll be my mother-in-law one day,” she says, her arms snaking around his neck as he pulls her closer, “It would be awkward if the first time I met her is the wedding.” 

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss her, putting all of his love into it. He tightens his grip on her hips so he doesn’t run to the bedroom to grab the ring he’d hidden in his sock drawer, not wanting to ruin his very meticulously planned proposal, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she says, “So, when are we going to meet her? Are you going to invite her here?” 

“No,” he says, sounding more sure than he had since she’d walked through the door, and it makes her smile, “I learnt a long time ago a mutual ground is probably the right call. She likes Italian food. That new place opened up downtown but it’s almost impossible to get in.” 

She shakes her head, carding her fingers through his hair, “Impossible if you’re not the daughter of a well-respected US Ambassador,” she says, smiling at him, “If the Prentiss name is good for one thing in DC, it’s for getting reservations.” 

He sighs, shaking his head, knowing any favour she asked for from her mother never came for free, “Em, I know how difficult your mom can be, you don’t have to-”

“Hey, what good are my mommy issues if I can’t use them to help you with yours,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, “I’ll call my mom, she’ll get her assistant to get us a table and then she’ll passive-aggressively berate my life choices for 10 to 20 minutes. And you can pay me back in sexual favours.” 

He chuckles and kisses her before leaning his forehead against hers, “Deal.” 

___

She’s able to focus on his anxiety instead of her own. 

If she didn’t know him so well, it would concern her. Make her think that he was worried about her meeting his mother and not the other way around. There was no room for her to even consider that he was embarrassed by her, that he was anything less than proud to call her his. All the nervousness he was feeling, the way he was squeezing her knee like it was a stress ball, was all about his mother. The women he’d come from but couldn’t be more different than. 

If there was one thing Emily understood, it was that feeling. 

She places her hand over his on her knee as he parks up and she smiles, “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I think if you squeeze my knee any tighter the joint might pop,” she says, and he lets go. She grabs his hand before he can take it away, linking their fingers together and cutting him off so he doesn’t apologise, “It’s okay, honey. It’s dinner. We’ll eat, we’ll make conversation with your mother. And then we can go home and have sex.” 

He chuckles and tugs their joint hands towards him and kisses her knuckles, “Why does it feel like our roles have been reserved here?” 

She smiles, “Think about it this way,” she says, leaning across the centre console to kiss his cheek, “Your mom lives five states away. We don’t have to see her that often.” 

He laughs, “I’m sure I should be assuring you everything will be okay,” he shakes his head at himself, “You’re the one meeting her. I don’t want to paint a bad picture of her. She’s not a bad person. She had a bad set of circumstances. My father was…a bad person and a bad father. She’s not a bad person, but she…” 

“Wasn’t a very good mother,” she finishes for him, and he sighs and nods as she flashes a half smile at him, “I’m familiar with the concept,” she unhooks her seatbelt so she can turn to face him, her smile soft as she runs her fingers through his hair, “We can just go home you know. We can turn around. Jack is with Jess tonight so we could just get in the tub. Hang out. You could repay me for everything I went through for our cancelled reservation.”

He shakes his head and kisses her knuckles again, “No. I want her to meet you. To meet the woman I love,” he smiles, “You’re going to be my wife one day. The mother of my kids,” his smile gets wider when she blushes, “You should meet my mother.” 

She nods and kisses him, “In that case, we should get going. Otherwise, we’ll be late,” she turns to open her door but he stops her, and she turns to look at him, “You okay?” 

“I need you to promise me something.” 

“Anything, you know that.” 

“You know how you made me promise to not step in if I think your mom goes too far?” He asks, and she nods, her lips pressed together as she sighs, already knowing where he is going, “I need you to make me the same promise.” 

She clears her throat, “Is she going to make me wish I hadn’t made this promise?” 

“Probably.” 

She chuckles, “At least you’re honest,” she huffs out a breath, “Well, I’ve had over 40 years of experience dealing with my mother,” she winks at him, “I can handle one night with yours,” she’s grateful to get a smile out of him, “It will be okay, honey.” 

He holds her hand the moment they are out of the car, his palm warm against hers as they link their fingers together. She’d always loved holding his hand, found a comfort in it that she knew he found too. In the moments when she let herself be romantic about it, she tells herself they were made for each other. That the reason her hand fits so well in his, the reason their fingers link together perfectly, is because they were made with each other in mind. 

His phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket, frowning as he turns it to show her, the word Mom flashing across the screen. They come to a stop on the sidewalk, stepping out of the way of other people, and he answers. 

“Mom, hi, are you at the restaurant already, we’re just…” he drifts off, and Emily can hear the voice of the woman at the end of the phone, but not what she’s saying, “Oh, I see,” he says, looking at Emily, his lips pressed together and his eyes drifting shut, “I thought you wanted to meet Emily,” he adds, and she clenches her jaw as she runs her thumb back and forth over the heel of his hand, “Well, yeah you can do that next time you’re in town. Or maybe we’ll come and see you.” 

She can hear the disappointment in his voice, can see the irritation in his eyes, in the way he’s holding himself, and she gets as close as she can to him to provide the comfort he’d never ask for. She rests her head on his shoulder, and the extra height her heels give her means he can rest his cheek on top of her head as he finishes the call with his mom, exchanging goodbyes and see you soons in a way that’s so polite it makes her teeth ache. After he hangs up they stand in silence, still in their strange embrace with her head on his shoulder and both of her hands wrapped around one of his. 

“She’s not coming?” She asks, even though she knows the answer, and she looks up at him. He shakes his head and clears his throat. 

“No. She’s not.” 

“Did she say why?” 

“She bumped into an old friend. Went for dinner with her instead.” 

She scoffs, “Instead of meeting up with her son?” She clenches her jaw, “Want me to call her back? I can give her a…” she drifts off when he raises his eyebrow at her, a hint of amusement in his smile, “Right. My promise. Does it count even if I haven’t met her yet?” 

He chuckles wryly and kisses her forehead, “I’d say especially then,” he kisses her again, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she assures him, “It’s not your fault,” she squeezes his hand and hates the look in his eyes when they meet hers. He looks like a lost little boy, entirely too much like Jack, and it makes her want to steal his phone when he’s not looking and break her promise only minutes after she made it. She knows she won’t though, bound by a promise they’d now made each other about their mothers respectively, and she knew how annoyed and hurt she’d be if their roles were reversed, “Want to go home?” 

He shakes his head, “No, Em. You went to a lot of effort to get this table-”

“Honey, I don’t care,” she says, cupping his cheek, “I can handle my mother if she says anything about us not using the reservation. I’m worried about you,” she strokes her thumb back and forth over his cheek, “If you want to go in we can, or we can grab a pizza on our way home and I’ll eat in my underwear to try and cheer you up.” 

He laughs, the sound more real this time, more hers, and he smiles at her, “I do like the sound of the second option.”

“I know my audience,” she hums and leans forward, stamping her lips against his before she rests her forehead against his, “Home?” 

He nods, blowing out a slow breath, “Home.” 

She kisses him one more time before she steps back enough for them to walk to the car, both of her hands still wrapped around one of his, “I’m sorry your mom did this, Aaron.” 

He sighs and unlocks the car, “Me too. I was looking forward to the two of you meeting.” 

She slips in between him and the side of the car before he can open the door for her, “I know,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “And I was looking forward to meeting her too. Despite…everything, she still gave the world you. And that’s something I want to thank her for,” she says, worry sparking in her chest again when he tightens his hold on her, something she can’t name flashing in his eyes, “Baby, what is it?” 

Aaron shakes his head, “It’s nothing.” 

“You can tell me,” she says, reaching out for his hand, “You know that.”

He blows out a breath, “I guess I just wanted her to meet you before we start the next stage of everything. Not because I feel like I need her approval or anything. But she’s my mom,” he smiles sadly, “It would nice if she cared enough to meet the woman I’ve told her I’m going to marry one day soon.” 

It makes her angry again. The heat of it washing over her in a way she knows has her gripping his hand a little too tight, her knuckles briefly paper white before she lets go, swallowing the fury back down because it’s not what he needs from her. 

Not today. 

Despite everything, the mere mention of their still hypothetical wedding makes her smile and she squeezes his hand, “I understand that, but if she misses out on anything it’s on her. Not you. Okay?” 

He nods, “Okay.” 

She leans forward and kisses him, “Now,” she says, kissing him again, “Pizza. Then home.” 

“And you in your underwear,” he says, smiling as he steps away so he can open the car door for her, “I seem to remember that being part of the deal.” 

“A deal is a deal,” she says, winking at him as he closes her car door once she’s climbed in. She’s alone in the car for a matter of seconds before he joins her, the key in the ignition as soon as his door is shut. “I just thought of something.” 

He looks over and sees the vague look of horror on her face, the way she scrunches her nose up ever so slightly, “What, sweetheart?” 

“One day our mothers are going to have to meet.” 

[ms-oswald]

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

thank you for tagging me @itbmojojoejo 💕

here we go!

Sweetest Devotion (Osferth)

Pieces of Me (or Pieces of You, or just Pieces, or something else) (Finan)

Devil in Your Eye / Wicked Game (Aemond)

Power (?) (Finan)

Sihtric x OC (bodyguard? Spy? Agent Booth?)

Finan x Freya I

Finan x Freya II

there was something else, but i forgot..... unless, i am imagining it

tagging: @persephones-journey @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @st-eve-barnes @solinarimoon and whoever else who wants to do it!

[buwheal]

ouhhhh debating whether or not i want to show these but i cant help myself... when im bored i love love love to think up just. poses and activities. for you to interrupt him in. (bottom left excluded this is my doodle page) And i dont think ill do any of these soon anyways. besides the top right one. which you wont see. one million things for him to do..... I can do anything i want.... and i can make /him/ do anything i want.... Is the point of the askbox not just for you to hang around with him during his day? his week?? his year???

[seaofreverie]

You ever finish a drawing that you really like and then you spend the next three days randomly looking at it for minutes at a time like that could make it possible for you to absorb its alluring and magnetic essence with your eyes

[cerealmonster15]

i finally made a folder of my google docs re: twst fics/plannings and looking at the names are so fun bc a lot of them i didnt use the final fic name [if it got published] so sometimes it's just a placeholder [especially if it's just notes/ideas and not a fic] and some dont have a title at all and just auto used the first few words of the doc so i have like

i think only like 5ish of these have their ao3 titles on them / on two separate occasions i named an apple juice fic prompt doc the same thing except for literally just one has an extra ! and they were like 2 months apart......... i even checked bc i thought for some reason the doc duplicated themselves but no, those are just two completely different fics, they just both happened to be Apple Juice Kiss Prompts jvdjfdsljg i didnt do that w/any of the other kiss prompt docs but. whatever i guess!!

it's a fun guessing game on looking at the titles and trying to remember which ones they are. they date back to like 2021 when i moved from word docs to google so i could more easily share them with my friend since i wasnt really publishing anything at first lol.

[komystda]

glances at the three other set of storyboards i have...

[hqmillioncorn]

Lalapril 4/27: Secret 

Cherrypit sat down on the edge of the fountain. 

All around him people were running around barking around more words that he didn’t understand. Some of them looked happy, a lot of them looked kind of scared. Gaius ran by him without a word.

At least Cid told him to get ready to fight something soon. Something really big. 

Sofia still didn’t know why she even bothered to show up today.

Well, she kind of did.

That Cherrypit kid had told her that today would be the day that he would be coming by the Archer’s guild again to continue his training. 

He had promised this just a few days ago, when Sofia had just missed him he had just been on his way out. He was rushing out towards something important apparently. Something way more important than their target practice rematch between the two of them.

Sofia had been very insistent on having their rematch soon. So much so that she was even willing to let Cherrypit have the first shot, confident that she would beat his score this time. 

Despite Cherrypit looking to be in a hurry (an awful hurry judging by the way he was dancing around and holding his linkshell) he made sure to give Sofia his word that he would come back soon to play with her.

As he ran off Sofia yelled out at him that she was NOT playing. She wasn’t a little kid, unlike Cherrypit. What she was doing was TRAINING her archery skills so she could go out and become an adventurer just like her hero, the warrior of light.

Maybe Cherrypit thought he was playing but Sofia was going to set the record straight today one way or another.

By kicking his butt in target practice.

Right on cue, Sofia heard the telltale sound of someone arriving at the archer’s guild by aethernet.

Cherrypit had arrived just as he said. Sporting a new outfit than the last one Sofia had seen him wearing. Though in her opinion, it looked like he was really overdressed, especially when it came to the weather in Gridania for the season.

Alongside the bow on his back, Sofia also noticed that in his oversized mitten wearing hands he was carrying a basket. It wasn’t an odd thing to see Cherrypit bring here. Oftentimes she heard whispers among the other serpents of Cherrypit sharing snacks with them. 

She would rather much steer clear of those snacks however.

Last time she heard that Cherrypit had given one of the serpent guards a whole slug as a snack and he refused to leave until he saw them at least attempt to take a bite out of it.

If he offered her anything she would just politely refuse it. Like royalty would.

By now Cherrypit had noticed Sofia waiting by the archer’s guild and waved at her. He started to run towards her only stopped by falling flat on his face. The basket in his hands flew from his hands and flew into the air.

Before Sofia could act, the basket fell right back down to the ground, Cherrypit caught the falling basket with one hand and lifted himself back upright with the other. He shook his head and moved some hair out of his face. Then smiled as if nothing had ever happened.

“Hi Soapiea!”

Sofia’s grin of confidence quickly faded away into a disappointed smile. She was sure that after last time that Cherrypit had finally learned how to pronounce her name. Rather than take another forty minutes sitting him down and slowly saying her name together Sofia decided to take it in stride and let him live with it for now.

“Hi Cherrypit.” She waved back at him.

Sofia watched as Cherrypit walked over to the steps of the Archer’s guild and set down the basket he was carrying. As usual on his back was a bow that looked way too big for him to be carrying around.

Either the bow Sofia was given was too small or someone was trusting Cherrypit with weaponry just a little too much. Whatever the case, she was going to file a complaint just in case Cherrypit was getting special treatment when it clearly should be the other way around.

Sofia’s patience was already running thin so by the time Cherrypit decided to sit down and pull out a sandwich it had disappeared almost entirely. She was about to gently remind him about the promise he made last time, until he pulled out a second sandwich and gestured towards her.

With his mouth still full he wiggled the sandwich at her and asked, “Do you wan’ some?” A drop of purple jelly fell from the corner of the sandwich. Her favorite kind of jelly, in both flavor and color.

As Cherrypit continued to hold out the sandwich for her Sofia decided to give in to his obvious bribe. She reluctantly tossed her bow aside and walked over to Cherrypit, taking the sandwich from his hand and taking a seat next to him.

Now that she thought about it, she was kind of hungry. That sort of thing is just what happens when you skip breakfast, she guessed.

“If you think sharing your snacks with me is going to get me to go easy on you, you got another thing coming.” Sofia used her free hand to take out her handkerchief and placed it on her lap. There was no way she was going to eat something as messy as this with the possibility of messing up her new dress.

Cherrypit looked at her, confused at what she had said and what she was doing.

Sofia clued into Cherrypit’s confusion and decided she would be nice enough to explain what she was doing. For one of her loyal subjects.

“I’m just making sure to keep my dress clean.” Sofia gestured to her immaculately clean dress. It was a pretty purple color, the color of royalty! (for sure!) Custom made and a perfect fit for her fifteenth nameday.

“A princess has to always look her best, you know?” Sofia threw her hair back and let the natural light of the sun shine down on her and sparkle her tiara.

Cherrypit watched her closely and flipped back his own ponytail. Sofia didn’t seem to notice his flattering imitation.

For a while Sofia and Cherrypit sat on the steps of the archer’s guild. Sofia gave every person that passed by a simple wave and a “Good morning.” Cherrypit watched her and waved right after her every time.

Sofia finished her meal and looked over to Cherrypit, hoping that he had finished too so they could start their friendly competition already.

For some reason Cherrypit was holding a tomato between his hands.

Sofia didn’t put much thought into it besides thinking to herself that eating a jelly sandwich with a tomato was an odd choice.

She decided to ignore it until she noticed that Cherrypit was squeezing the tomato with his hands. Or at least, trying to. Sofia knew that tomatoes were fairly easy to squish, unlike an apple or something.

She had half a mind to tell Cherrypit to be careful or he might make a mess or something.

Just as Sofia was about to raise her voice to tell Cherrypit to knock it off, the tomato had reached its limit.

The poor tomato finally exploded with a squish.

Sofia managed to jump back in time to avoid being hit by any of its residue. But the same could not be said for Cherrypit. Parts of his face and his entire shirt were covered in tomato juice. 

All Sofia could think at that moment was that whoever did Cherrypit’s laundry for him would probably have a lot of questions for him.

Not only that, but the tomato had splattered all over the dirt in front of him.

Cherrypit dropped the last of the tomato on the ground. He wasn’t even bothering to wipe off any of the tomato’s residue off his hands, which Sofia found inconceivable.  

Cherrypit looked at his hands and shook them in place. Then he looked up at Sofia,

“I saw that happen to a person.”

It was all that Cherrypit said.

Sofia remained silent.

He couldn’t possibly mean like, a real life person, could he? Where would someone even see something like that?! Let alone just walk away from something like that?

Sofia looked down at the tomato stain on the ground. It was starting to fade.

“Um, where did you see that?” Sofia had asked without thinking. There was a part of her that instantly regretted asking that question.

Cherrypit smiled, then put a finger up to his mouth.

“It’s a secret!”

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

I AM. CONFUSED.