#the boys for the most part had a good grip in playing the gray field

[wolkoshka]

annie january was kidnapped, locked up, and her identity quite literally stolen for ten days, yeah, we got her part, the writing was very sympathetic with that, but what i don't for the life of me get is hughie's.

in a very short span of time, he lost his dad - went through a whole traumatic thing with him before that - got sexually harassed and had people rub one off on him in the sex dungeon (and even that was downplayed and written for shits and giggles) and now, after he's realized that whoever he was sleeping with wasn't annie, which, by the way, he DID NOT CONSENT TO and WOULD NEVER CONSENT TO, and in that got raped, his part is disregarded and once again downplayed so annie could let her anger out on another victim. wow. way to go writers.

before anyone goes around saying omg but he enjoyed it it's not rape, he thought he was sleeping WITH ANNIE the whole time. now i bet your ass if the roles were reversed and if it was annie being tricked by a male shifter pretending to be hughie, y'all would've torched down the boys headquarters by now so don't give me that "it's not the same" BS. it is. rape is rape.

justice for hughie.

[scarletwidowaf]

Yelena Belova x reader “fake dating” to actual!!!!

Plssssss :) 🥲💛

Moral Of The Story

Yelena Belova x female reader, scarlewidow mentioned.

A/N: might be messy, might be cheesy, but I truly don't care because I live for this chaotic due.

warning: stupidity maybe

words: 2000ish- probably more. 

masterlist

You don't know how but somehow training with Yelena always ended up with you being pinned down on the training mat.

"Fuck" you cursed frustrated as she pinned you down for the 3d time in a row. Yelena laughed before she stood up and held out her hand for you to take.

"I let you win!" You said as she pulled you up.

"Sure you did" she joked.

"Seriously. I let you stomp on my dignity because I have a favor to ask!" you said back, a goofy grin playing on your lips as you passed her one of the water bottles.

"Now, that's gonna be interesting" she said as she sat on the floor, her back facing the wall. She gratefully took the bottle from your hand as she waited for you to talk.

"be my girlfriend" you said. The two of you were always comically stupid, so of course that you said that at the same moment she was taking a gulp from her bottle and of course she choked- and of course you laughed.

"I'm Sorry" the blonde glared at you.

"You're not" she responded in between coughing.

After a few moments, she finally stopped coughing and your laugh dyed out as well.

"You're right. I wasn't." You laughed again and she shoved you playfully.

"So, did you seriously just asked me to be your girlfriend?" She asked. Her lips forming her famous-troubled-maker cheeky grin.

"Well.. my fake girlfriend to be exact" you corrected yourself and she laughed again.

"You know you could've started with that, right?"

"And what's the fun in that?"

You smirked at her, knowing full well she found the random question amusing.

"So Why me, anyway..? - Wait, Let me guess.. kate and carol said no and you're scared of Wanda?"

"Okay first I'm not scared of Wanda, I'm scared of your sister.. there's a difference. And Second; my parents in town.. and I kinda told them I have a girlfriend.."

"Oh, now that's classic" Yelena, obviously, found the situation hilarious and you couldn't blame her since you found this dumb conversation amusing as well.

"Does it mean you'll do it?" You asked.

"Yeah why not" she responded you raised an eyebrow at her waiting for the catch. With Yelena, there's always a catch or at least a stupid comment.

"Yeah. I want to meet the poor souls who had to deal with your stupidity on a daily basis for the last 20 years..."

And here it is. You thought.

"I will punch you" you threaten her.

"Kinky" she smirked.

"Whatever stupid. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8" you said as you got up from the spot next to her.

"Wear something nice"

_______________________________

The thing about Yelena is that you can never know what to expect. No matter how much time you spent with her, and it was a lot, she somehow still managed to surprise you.

This time was no different. but in her defense, this time the blame is definitely on you. You saw Yelena wear different kinds of outfits, from gear to fancy dresses, yet for some reason, you just didn't expect the other girl to wear a suit, and damn she looked good.

The gray suit fit her perfectly and her long blonde hair was down. She looked painfully beautiful and you couldn't help but stare- and she couldn't help but notice.

She wasn't doing better, on your defense. The blonde checked you out shamelessly before she sent you a smirk "How lucky I am" she joked and you rolled your eyes.

"Very lucky.. and so am i" Yelena smiled at you and held her hand out for you to take.

The ride was short and 15 minutes later you were standing outside the restaurant.

You could feel Yelena's gaze on you as you bit your lip nervously. "It will be alright" she assured you as she interviewed your hands together. "Thank you" you looked at her gratefully "Don't sweat it" she replayed with a soft smile.

That was the thing about Yelena, people always misguided her for someone she wasn't and it always made you mad. God, Of course, she was strong and fierce and brave and absolutely terrifying at times- but She was so much more than that. She was sweet and loyal and caring, and kinda funny (don't tell her) and absolutely beautiful- inside and out. One of your favorite things about her was her shy and sincere smile, which seemed reserved only for you.

"You ready?" She squeezed your hand. you took a small shaky breath before smiling back at her. "As ready as ill ever be"

The restaurant wasn't busy and it didn't take you long to catch your parents in a corner in the far back of the room. Both smiling wide as you walked towards them. Your mother's smile was contagious and you couldn't help but smile back. God, you missed them.

"We've missed you so much" your father said as he hugged you, your mother doing the same.

"I've missed you too" you confessed before tugging Yelena forwards them.

"I'm assuming that's the girlfriend," Your father said and you nodded. God, You were nervous and Yelena could sense it as she reached for your father's hand.

"Yelena." She introduced herself As they shook hands. Her grip firm and her smile dazzling. "I'm Y/D/N and this is my wife Y/M/N" he introduced himself as well.

"Glad to finally meet you. I heard a lot of great things about you" She said with a confident smile.

Both of you could tell the older man was impressed by the blonde and you couldn't help but smile.

"Were happy to finally meet you as well- although we can't say the same since pumpkin over here hasn't said much about you"

Yelena smirked at you as you blushed deeply. You knew she wouldn't let you forget about the nickname. Like, never. "Yeah, it's actually pretty new. It wasn't really planned neither" she explained.

Your mother, God bless her, wasn't the one to shook hands. The moment Yelena was free from your father's grip she found herself in the woman's warm embrace.

"Okay... I think we should start ordering" you said when Yelena was free again. Her cheeks were a bit flushed. The Russian Assassin wasn't used to be hugged and you couldn't help but smile.

The conversation was light, the wine was good and most importantly, your parents loved Yelena. which was understandable considering the fact she was annoyingly charming.

The Yelena that sat next to you with her hand on your lap was the best version the blonde could pull and you felt stupid for being worried in the first place. Yelena led the conversation with politeness, charm, and grace that you never knew she had in her- and your mom seemed impressed. Impressing your dad was even easier- Yelena didn't even have to try, all she had to do was show her intelligence and add some light humor.

After an hour of light and mostly general conversation, amazing food, many embarrassing stories of you on both sides, and 2 glasses of wine, your mom decided to take the conversation into her hands.

"So Yelena. Tell us about yourself."

Oh boy. Now that might be a problem.

"Well... I joined the avengers a few months ago" she explained "Not long after I met your daughter actually," she said simply.

"That's nice, and before that?" The older woman asked.

"I was a freelance.." Yelena gulped. Her hand squeezes yours

"As?" Your mom asked. You knew she didn't try to push Yelena into this corner, she wasn't this kind of person, but she definitely put the blonde on the spot.

"Well... I was involved with the black market and different criminal organizations. Jobs like getting undercover to dig information or well.. getting rid of powerful men in the criminal world.."

Your parent's eyes went wide. Your dad stared at her with wide eyes and your mom cleared her throat.

"I don't do it anymore" she continued. The blonde seemed as nervous as you felt.

"How did you ended up in this line of work? If I may ask?"

"Mom I don't think-" you started and Yelena smiled at you.

"No, It's fine babe.." she said before moving her attention back to your parents "Sometimes life gets you to places where you have to do bad things to survive."

Your dad's expression was unreadable and your mom seemed worried as she glanced at you.

"Yelena and I met when her sister recruited and pulled her out of this life. Yelena is a good person, despite everything she's been through. That's what I love the most about her." You said.

Yelena smiled softly and your parents exchanged looks.

"I'm a different person now" Yelena promised

"We believe you... but I can't help but worry for my daughter, as you can surely understand. What if the people you've been involved with. Try to get to you through Y\N"

Your father asked calmly. Both were taking it better than you expected and you couldn't blame them for being worried.

"Dad. I know it might come as shocking.. but I'm a big girl and I'm well aware of the risk of being involved with Yelena. I need you to trust me when I say that risks, some worse than the mafia, were a part of my life long before we met."

Yelena bit her lip to hold a smile and you interviewed your hands again.

"You're a doctor" your mom argued "I'm a field doctor. Of the avengers." you corrected her. "which means I'm more of capable of taking care of myself."

Your dad nodded softly to your mom before he smiled at you. "You're are.. Don't you?" He laughed. "Mu little pumpkin.." he sIgh and your mother smiled as well

"I just want you to understand that all we want for you is to be safe and happy. And even a blind man can see Yelena gives you that." He sent Yelena a soft smile. Yelena smiled back at him.

"Take care of my daughter.. she's a keeper" your father said firmly.

"She is. And trust me, I will" she promised.

_______________________________

"Well, that went well" you laughed when you got into the passenger seat. Yelena volunteered to drive which was a relief since you were exhausted.

After the two of you got into your seats the blonde sent you a small smile and took something out of her pocket.

"Is that? A bullet..?" You asked confused as you took the copper cylinder from her hand.

Yelena laughed softly.

"It is. It's the same bullet you stopped me from shooting at Natasha"  she confessed.

"I was in such a bad place back then and I blamed Natasha for it. If it weren't for you things would've been very different now" Yelena whispered

"Yeah, both of you were dead since you would've shot her, and Wanda would've probably hunted you down and kill you" you laughed and Yelena's shoulders relaxed.

"Probably" she said. "But with all seriousness... I was aiming a gun at my own sister and instead of pulling your own gun at me, you decided to shield her with your own body and dare me to shoot you as well. Who does that!?."

"You thought I was insane" you laughed.

"I thought you were stupid, putting your life at risk to save someone fucked up like us! someone like me.." She confessed and it downed on you.

No matter what happened or how many good things Yelena had done in her life, she couldn't let go of who she was trained to be. She still blamed herself for all the terrible things she did back at the red room and she constantly tried to get closure by doing the exact opposite- which was probably the reason she killed all these bad men in the first place. But then Natasha came back for her, and Yelena blamed her for leaving her behind to live with the things they did. She felt betrayed and broken, and Natasha's return only made it worse. Like she was just pitting her broken sister.

"All I know is that the Yelena I stood up to and the Natasha I saved that day were not the villains the red room tried to create." You whispered.

"You truly believed that? Even then?" Yelena was crying softly and you cupped her cheek.

"Especially then! I know you don't see it, but I'm here to remind you, you're a good person. Truly. You have a good heart- and I've seen it"

Yelena's cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes red and puffy and her famous crooked smile was plastered on her lips.

"And that's why you love me?"

She was a mess just like back then- when she was aiming a gun at her own sister as who she thought she was and who she truly is were fighting for dominance.

She was tragically beautiful and scared both then and now, yet somehow at the same time, she was more sure and confident than ever before. And I guess that what life is all about. Sometimes, things start to make sense only when everything else doesn't.

"Wasn't it obvious, stupid?" You said and stroked her cheek carefully as she melted into your touch.

Yelena smiled before kissing your hand softly, without breaking eye contact with you.

"You're the stupid one and you know it. Taking an assassin as your dinner date." She joked and you nodded and looked briefly at her lips.

"Well, stupid or not, I still manage to get a kiss at the end of it." Yelena laughed and got closer to you.

"Yeah you did" she whispered and kissed you.

And that was the thing about Yelena. She was good and kind and loyal. And a damn good kisser.

[moral-turpitudes]

Burnt Toast:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Word Count: 4,226

Characters: Polly Gray + The Shelby Siblings x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @atjafshelby​, I hope you like it love!

Summary: After seeing her family turn to a life of crime, one incident causes Y/N to finally leave Small Heath in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the Shelby name. But when the family makes a sudden appearance after years of no contact, she soon realizes she’s not the only one with news to bear.

“Kids! Breakfast is ready!” Shouted Y/N from the kitchen, the smell of toast and crackling bacon snaking it’s way through the two story town house in the middle of suburban Manhattan. The sight of the meal reminding her of home when she’d help cook, practicing her craft until she rarely made burnt toast. The voice of her aunt telling her how long to toast it so it would be perfect, even if the family eating it was far from so.

As she prepared the table, the scurrying of little feet pattering away on the floorboards filled the room as they sprinted down the lavish hall. Giggles erupting as two bright eyed girls climbed into their seats.

“Now girls, you both have to get ready quickly today alright? I have some errands to run.” Y/N said, placing a mug of coffee in front of herself. Heavy footsteps came trotting down the stairs as her husband, a man of status in the banking industry, waltzed into the room.

“Morning love. I have to go in early today. Are you sure you and the girls are okay?” He asked, adjusting his tie.

“Yes, I’m going to take them with me. I have some...personal matters to attend to.” She said, her tone dropping slightly as the girls played with their food.

“I know plenty of children back home who’d love to eat what you’re playing with, now stop it...” She said sternly, memories of her mother swatting her hand when she’d go to eat with her fingers instead of the silverware.

“Is it your family again?” He asked, brushing a stray hair from her face as he sat down next to her.

“Yes.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee as her hands shook, the anxiety of ever seeing them again gnawing at her brain.

It seemed like only yesterday that it happened. Her younger brothers running out of the old shop in Small Heath to go on a another mission after their fathers business had been left on their shoulders after the war. The sight later that night making her swear off violence all-together.

Her younger brothers had a knack for messing with the wrong people, even before the war changed them. John was the feisty one, always rough-housing with the boys and bullies on the streets, always pestering her and Ada as they chased rats through town. “I’m trying to help you defend yourself sis! Don’t be such a baby!” He’d say after tackling her to the ground where she’d cry and hesitate to fight back, Ada always punching him in the shoulder to stop as their aunt Polly would come running out of the house with the Devil in her eyes.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, Y/N. Too sweet to be a Shelby.” Polly would say while bandaging any cuts or scrapes.

“You sure as hell didn’t get it from your father...” She’d say, looking at the oldest Shelby girl with a mixture of awe and pity. Y/N resembled her mother more often than not, her temper only shining through in certain situations. But she never thought she’d lose it like she did that night.

It was the night of her first real date, Polly helping brush her hair as she flipped through an old book she’d found in their house.

"That Tommy’s?” Polly would ask, looking at the cover to see a horse running wild in a field.

“Yeah.” She’d say, wishing she could be free like the horse.

“Where are you meeting this young man, Y/N?” Polly asked after a moment of silence.

“The pub down the road.” She said shortly. She remembered Polly’s grip on her hair tightening at the mention of it.

“Ow! What is it?” She asked yanking herself free and turning to look at her aunt.

“D-don’t go. Please don’t.” She said, a fearful look in her eyes.

“Why? Arthur, Tommy, and John get to go anywhere in town and I can’t?!” She said, angrily putting her hair up herself and adjusting her dress.

“It’s not safe...” Polly said, walking down the hall.

“Right...so you want to lecture me on what’s safe because I’m so nice aye? What do you fucking see in me anyway?” She asked loudly. She never really raised her voice to Polly, fearing her to a slight degree. But as her younger brothers went out on business more often, she was practically shoved away, only being able to see Ada and Finn even though she was the oldest.

Polly’s eyes welled up with tears as she spoke.

“I see hope for this god-forsaken family. You have more control over yourself than I care to admit and I can’t bare to see you squander it all away by becoming one of them. You should live for yourself, at least then one of us in this family would be doing something good for a change.” She said, sauntering off into the kitchen.

“Tommy’s planning something isn’t he? That’s why you don’t want me to go on the date.” She said, following her into the kitchen with tears in her eyes. Even if she was older than Arthur by two years, he and the rest of them never stopped being over-protective.

“Yes.” Was all Polly said before Y/N ran out the door. If she wanted her to live for herself then she was going to do as she pleased. She was tired of being seen as some family secret, some mystery sibling that was different. She never liked the violence she grew up in but was that such a crime? To know how to not hurt people? To be able to know when to call it quits? These were thoughts she still struggled with as she looked at her two little girls getting up from the table and racing up the stairs. Their hair wild and smiles a mile long. Carefree like she always dreamed of being, and like most of her aunts family always claimed to be.

“I want you girls ready in 10 minutes!” Y/N yelled as the girls moved about upstairs, her husbands voice breaking her from her thoughts.

“Well I’m off love. I’ll see you all at my lunch break.” He said, kissing her goodbye and heading off to his ordinary job. Despite him being successful and full of money himself, she couldn’t shake the fact that they led very different lives before they met. He’d go off to college while she stayed and helped Polly with Finn, and Ada occasionally staying to help as she was always wanting to be out and about. While he grew up with a silver spoon, she grew up with rusted broken ones. She couldn’t for the life her know why he chose her, maybe it was luck? But nevertheless they worked out together and she was grateful no matter how many times her past haunted her.

As she cleaned up the kitchen, she fell back onto the memories from years ago. Her heart still aching like it was yesterday.

Remembering herself sprinting towards the pub where her new date had agreed to meet her, seeing a rowdy group of men near the entrance. The sharp sound of bottles breaking and slurs being spewed as she warily made her way over. Her eyes landed on her date and her stomach dropped. Arthur was holding him by the neck as Tommy pulled off his cap, slashing the mans face open in one fell swoop.

Y/N’s screams soon pierced the air as she saw him fall limp to the ground, Tommy finishing him off with a harsh twist of his neck.

The blinders all looked up to see their older sister just mere feet away from their mess. Without thinking, she ran over to the man she had grown to know, his face almost unrecognizable after what they’d done to him. As she cradled him, her eyes blurred with tears as her brothers stood in silence, the rain washing the mans blood off Tommy and Arthur’s hands as they waited for her to speak.

“Tommy...” She said, seeing red as she started at the man she once knew, lying dead on the cold pavement.

Her brother walked over, a tired look in his eyes as he crouched down to her level and put his cap back on.

“We had to do it Y/N...” He said, trying to reach for her hand.

Without warning she slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster. Her hand stinging with the impact.

Polly came running in the distance, stopping near John who’d been holding his rifle as he sat against the wall of the pub.

As she got up, she wiped the blood on her clothes as she stared down her brother. A red handprint forming on his cheek as she neared him. With one hand she took his arm and with the other she grabbed Arthur’s hand, leading them near Polly and John.

“I knew him you know. How was he so bad that you had to kill him? Why was this part of your fucking plan?!” She yelled as they all looked at her with sorry expressions.

“He was working with Kimber’s men. Remember him?” John asked.

She got closer to John as she spoke, her arms folded in frustration.

“No John. I don’t remember. I wasn’t part of the family meetings...remember that?” She asked, knowing they always kept her, Ada, and little Finn in the dark ‘for their safety.’

“He was bad Y/N...” Tommy said, sticking a cigarette in his mouth.

“Like you all are any better. You didn’t even know him!” She shouted.

“Y/N love, please calm down. We had leads on him. He was trying to get with ya in order to get to us.” Arthur said.

“No...he wouldn’t.” She said, shaking her head as her tears fell.

“He did. Not everyone has a good heart like yours alright?” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette.

“You know what? Fuck the lot of you!” She yelled, her eyes boring into Tommy’s specifically.

“I can’t even look at you all anymore. You took away my one shot at meeting someone that wasn’t associated with this family and you all ruined it. You all ruined everything I’ve ever tried to do and here I am, the oldest fucking Shelby and I can’t even leave me own house.” She said, giving a side eye to Polly. As she spoke she remembered her aunts words, her eyes tearing up as she spat out her frantic goodbyes.

“You know what? I’m listening to what you said Pol. I’m going to go live for myself and I don’t want any of you to come for me. I can’t stand to be around any of ya. Goodbye.” She said, walking through the familiar dark streets for what felt like the last time.

“Mum? We’re ready!” She heard her oldest yell from the front door, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Alright, c’mere you.” She said, swooping her youngest up in her arms and walking out the door. As she walked with her oldest hand in hand they noticed the rain falling slightly as the city life bustled around them.

“I wish daddy didn’t take the car. He’ll be at his lunch break before we get there.” The oldest girl said, her white dress flowing in the wind.

“We’re going right up to the bank. He’ll be there. I promise.” She said, her nerves getting to her as they entered the tall building.

“I got a call about a check being sent from Polly Gray?” She asked the teller.

“Ah yes! Here you are. She also left a note.” She said, handing her the envelope.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the figures on the check, having to clutch the desk for support.

“Jesus fucking christ.” She said quietly.

“Jesus fuckin cwist!” Her youngest mumbled excitedly.

“Hey! We don’t say that.” She said smirking down at the little girl.

“Darling! Didn’t expect you to be here so early!” Her husband said as he stepped out of his office.

“This was uh...one of the errands. Can we go outside for a moment?” She asked.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her with concern.

“Oh um...it seems me aunt gave us a check for...$100,000.” She said.

“My god...you’re kidding. How did they get that kind of money?” He asked, even though they were well-off in New York it was still a shock, especially since the shop back home was far from successful all those years ago.

“Oh...you don’t want to know.” She said, her eyes scanning over the letter.

“Dear Y/N,

I know you don’t want to hear from any of us especially after so long, but we wanted to let you know we’re planning a visit to New York. We have some business to take care of and Tommy saw it best to come there personally. We’d love to meet up upon our arrival if you’d like. We have some unfortunate matters we’d like to discuss. In the meantime though, I wanted to gift you this check, seeing as we’ve come into more than enough good fortune over the years.

With love,

Aunt Pol”

“I have to get to a phone. Watch the girls please? I’ll be back.” She said, running inside the bank.

“What’s mummy doing?” Their oldest asked.

“Calling her family.” He said, holding her hand.

“She has a family? Like us but somewhere else?” She asked.

“Yeah...” He said, not knowing much about them as well. She’d kept that part of her life a secret for a while, but she’d let a few things slip every now and then, and she always got a check from Polly despite her refusing her help, but they never got one for this much before.

“Shelby Company Limited.” The woman said over the phone.

“Yes, this is Y/N...Y/N Johnson-I mean...Shelby. Y/N Shelby....is Polly there?”

“I’m sorry miss. The family has left for America, they’re expected in New York at noon.” She said.

“Alright, thank you.” She said, her watch ticked towards noon at a fast pace, knowing they’d be arriving soon.

“Girls were taking a trip. We uh...have to meet some of my family.” She said rushing out of the bank, scooping their youngest up in her arms with the others following.

“We need to get to customs, now.” She said, hurrying towards her husbands car.

Within the next 30 minutes they’d scrambled to get there, seeing the passengers get off the ship in groups. Her heart sped up as she saw her family, more dressed up now than before, but still the same tired features give or take Finn growing up before her eyes.

“Stay here you three. It’s going to be a moment.” She said, taking a shaky breath as she walked towards them.

“Y/N? Is that you?” She heard Polly call out. She stood frozen as they walked to her, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hello Polly.” She said with a small smile, her tears plummeting to the ground as she gave her a warm hug.

“Oi! Is that really you?! Look at ya!” Arthur said with a smile.

“Yeah it’s me. Same old Y/N.” She said, wiping her tears as her brother Tommy stared at her.

“Cat got your tongue brother?” She asked, he gave her a hug but it was half-hearted at best.

“Right...so what are you lot doing here aye? Why’d you send us all that money?” She asked looking at them, Tommy’s eyes were more dead than all those years ago. She couldn’t shake the feeling something had happened as Polly spoke.

“Can we talk about this somewhere private at least? We just got here love...” Polly said.

Y/N sighed as she turned to her little family, the ring on her finger glinting in the sun as she nodded.

“Of course...follow me. I uh, have some people I want you to meet.” She said.

“Y/N...” Polly said in a shocked whisper as she saw the two girls and her husband standing there looking at them with smiles on their faces.

“This is my husband. His name is Charles Johnson, he’s a banker in Manhattan. And these are our girls. Jane is 7, Polly is 3.” She said, picking the little girl up as she giggled and waved at them.

“You...you never told us you’d met someone. Never told us you’d gotten married...Never told us you had children...” Polly said, waving at the girls.

“Well the street goes both ways. Didn’t know you got married aye Tom...” She said nodding to him, he lit a cigarette as they walked ahead. The tension growing in the air as she nervously took her husbands hand.

“It’s complicated, but yes I did.” He said shortly, the smoke wafting through the air.

“No smoking...please.” She said, her girls looking curiously at the man with piercing blue eyes.

“You serious?” He asked.

“Yes, the girls don’t like it. You’re such a grump though love. You’ve turned into an old man, older than Arthur even. Jesus.” She said, none the wiser to what they’d all been through over the years. Tommy just nodded with a slight smirk, knowing his past couple years would’ve destroyed her.

As the Shelby’s made small talk with the little girls, Charles got them a ride to their house, the bustling city taking them a little bit by surprise.

“I don’t know how you live here. It’s hectic.” Polly said, sitting in a small armchair in their living room.

“Well you wanted me to live my life for me Pol. I came here and I loved it. Never saw a reason to move.” She said, pouring her a glass of wine.

“Anyone want a drink?” She asked as her worse-for-wear brothers sat around.

“Now there’s our sister. You got whiskey?” Arthur asked.

“Did you think I left all of Birmingham behind? Of course I do.” She said, pouring out a couple glasses and handing them out. Her husband taking one and giving her a small peck on the cheek, Tommy staring him down for a moment before she came to him with a glass.

“What kind?” Tommy asked before drinking it.

“Irish...what else would it be? You taught me that.” She said with a smirk.

“Right...” He said, fixing his golden glasses.

“So tell me, what’s life been like here? It seems...grand.” Polly said looking around the place as the girls ran around giggling.

“Jane! Polly! No running in the house...go out to the courtyard.” She said, taking a sip of her whiskey.

“You named the little one Polly? I’m touched.” She said, sipping her wine.

Y/N sighed before she spoke, her husband sitting near her on the large sofa, holding her hand as he knew she had some things to get off her chest.

“Look...I was....angry. I was angry at the world when I left and...I’ve held onto that for so long it’s eaten me up. I know you all don’t care for me now, hell I wasn’t invited to anything anyways, but I did the same. I did this for me. And I’m happy here. I’m happy with my children. I named her Polly because even though we wanted to rip each other’s throats out some days, you were the one that helped me realize who I wanted to be. You helped raise me and I couldn’t not name her after someone I loved dearly.” She said, the room falling silent.

“You want us to forgive you?” Tommy asked.

“No. Honestly Tommy I’m still trying to forgive you. It was because of you all that I watched you kill him. I moved here so you’d never take people away from me again, but no I’m not looking for forgiveness or anything, I just want it behind us.” She said finishing off her whiskey.

“That was for your protection, love. You can understand that now at least, since you have your own children now.” Polly said, clasping her hand over hers.

“I can. But I wouldn’t kill someone. That’s how we’re different. I’ve told Charles about it, because I’ve always been the nice one. He may think otherwise though.” She said smirking at her husband.

“But, I’ve tried to move on. I just want you all to know I’m happy and I’m honestly not that hurt by it anymore. I’m just plagued with the memories that’s all.” She said.

“What about back home? How’s Ada? I’m assuming she’s with her kid...Karl right?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. She has another on the way as well. Different father. Deceased though.”

“That’s too bad, I know she’s probably torn up, the poor thing. Give her a hug for me will ya? God I haven’t seen her in so long.” She said and Polly nodded.

“What about John? Where’s the cheeky bastard at anyway?” She asked. Polly teared up as Tommy held her hand, which he never did unless it was something important.

“He....he got shot. One of the mafias with a vendetta against us got him...it was recent enough that we figured we’d come to tell you.” He said.

“No.” She said, getting up quickly.

“No...no I-I said the most hateful things the last time I saw him. He can’t be...” She said as tears poured down her face.

“Hey....shh it’s alright darling.” Her husband said attempting to comfort her as she clung to him, her tears staining his expensive suit as Arthur and the rest looked away, their hearts growing heavy after re-hashing the news.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We couldn’t get to you in time for the funeral though, love.” Polly said, walking over.

“I have to sit down.” She said, her face paling as she sat on the sofa.

Her hands shook as she wiped her tears away. Polly kissed her forehead as she walked outside, observing the little girls as they played in the garden to keep from breaking down as well.

As Y/N settled down, she took another shot of whiskey, wincing at the burn of it going down. Since having her kids and working, she didn’t have as much time to drink, at least not like they did back home.

“I should’ve came back sooner...I-I should’ve written you all more often.” She said.

“Y/N that wouldn’t have changed much. We’re just happy you’re happy alright love?” Arthur said, patting her on the back.

“Yeah...” She said.

“Say...I know you all are tired. Would you all care to stay? We have enough room...” Charles asked as Polly walked in with the girls.

“Mum! Who that?” Little Polly asked in her sweet voice.

“Hello! Oh you silly girls! I hope you loved meeting Polly! These are your uncles, Arthur, Tommy, and Finn.” She said wiping her tears away as they came in, letting them walk over to them. Tommy smiled at them and put on his best kind expression, knowing how impressionable kids were.

“So uhm...Tommy do you have kids?” Y/N asked, circling back to the ring on his finger and trying to lighten the conversation.

“Yeah. I have a boy name Charlie, and a girl named Ruby. Charlie’s mum was uh...shot...by the mafia, Lizzie is well, she’s working at the office and helping with little Ruby.” He said.

“Shot! Jesus fuckin cwist!” Little Polly squealed out.

Y/N’s mouth dropped as she picked her up. Arthur and eventually everyone erupted in laughter.

“We do not say that Polly! Don’t repeat bad words!” Y/N scolded her, trying to hold back her own laugh in the process.

“I’m sorry about your first wife Tom...I’m also sorry little Polly over here has the mouth of a sailor.” She said playfully eyeing her daughter and giving her brother a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s alright love. Things happen aye?” He said, his heart still hurting after the loss, but warming at the sight of his little happy and not so nicely-mouthed nieces.

“Maybe we can visit the rest of the family sometime? I’m sure we can arrange that.” She asked looking at her husband.

“Of course! We’d um...we’d like that. Very much.” Polly said a genuine smile on her face as she watched her niece with her children.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well for yourself dear. Truly. We all are, and if we haven’t said it yet, welcome to the family Charles.” Polly said, shaking his hand.

“My offer still stands though by the way...” Charles said after a moment.

“What’s that aye?” Tommy asked, finally loosening up a bit.

“You all can stay here. You all aren’t the only ones with big houses you know. You’re family after all.” Y/N said.

“Well it’s not like we have anywhere else to go. What to do you say?” Polly asked, looking at Tommy. He smirked a bit before answering, Y/N could see the conditions he’d have with their stay floating around in his head.

“Alright...As long as we get to have the toast you always made. I’ve hired many a housemaid and none of them could make it like you do, they always burn it up.” He said.

She chuckled at the memory, always making a bunch of it in the mornings before they’d all go running off in the streets.

“Deal.” She said, giving him a small smile, knowing that even after all the years and all the losses, she knew she could never fully be away from family.

[vintagedolan]

alone (egd)

it’s not very often that you and ethan get the house to yourselves... and you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of it

word count: 8k (holy shit haha)

warnings/tags: smutty smutty smut lets goooo, christening the house hehe,  ITS A WILD RIDE 

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

It was almost like watching a scene in a sappy romance movie, but instead of the typical girl in the sundress with the handsome man, it was two handsome 6 foot tall men standing outside the airport, staring at each other uncomfortably.

“Just make sure you text me when you land. You got your charger and everything?”

“Yeah E, I’ve got it. I’m gonna miss my plane man, I gotta go,” Grayson said, but he wasn’t moving, obviously unsure of what exactly to do.

“Bye Gray, have fun and be safe,” you decided to step in, giving him a goodbye hug. He squeezed you back, swaying a little bit back and forth.

“Keep him alive and fed for me, will yah?” Gray teased, ruffling your hair like he always did before letting you go.

“I think I can manage that for four days,” you teased, stepping back. There was an odd awkwardness in the air - the twins weren’t very experienced in saying goodbye.

You stood to the side, watching them hug. It was a genuine one, with just a hint of unease in it - the boys hadn’t spent this much time away from each other since they did their one week without each other video. 

When they were done, the two of you waved at Grayson until he was out of sight inside the terminal. And then you climbed back into the tesla, you in the passenger seat like usual.

And it was time for the real fun to begin.

Riding in the car with Ethan was one of your favorite little parts of your relationship. It was such a simple thing, to sit next to him in the passenger seat with the music playing. And his hand was always on you somehow - fingers intertwined, pressing kisses to the back of your hand. But it wasn’t often that you didn’t have Grayson in the back seat. This time was different.

As soon as he was merged back onto the highway, his hand was on your thigh, thumb rubbing over the bare skin left by your shorts. It was innocent enough to start, but his fingers trailed higher and higher with each mile he drove, and when you looked over he was chewing on his lip - one of his tells.

“Mind on the road,” you teased, but you opened your legs just barely anyways.

“Baby I drive a tesla. My mind can be anywhere,” he reminded you, a bit of his ego popping through.

“We’re five minutes from home,” you breathed as his hand moved further up, brushing over the zipper of your shorts. There was a nervous energy filling the car, and it reminded you of how you felt before you slept together for the first time. You felt giddy at the thought of having Ethan all to yourself, and the house empty except for the two of you, for four whole days. 

“Wanna make sure you’re ready,” he said, voice low and gruff. It sent chills across every inch of your skin. 

“Oh trust me, I am,” you sighed, squirming just barely as he rubbed over your skin. He knew exactly how to press your buttons and get you worked up in a matter of minutes.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing your thigh. He edged the speedometer up, wheels flying over payment in a desperate bid to get home even a few minutes earlier. 

“Hey, we can’t fuck if you crash before we get home,” you reminded him, messing with your nails. When you looked over at him, his pupils were blown wide, incredulous. The easiest way to get him worked up was with your words, and you used it sparingly, knowing if you always said all the dirty things in your mind that it wouldn’t hold the same effect when you decided to use it. It was the only way you could even the playing field - Ethan could have you in a puddle with one touch. 

He slowed down, but only a fraction, and you were itching to get home just as much as he was, maybe more. The gates at the end of the driveway felt like they took an eternity to open when Ethan punched in the code, and you had already undone your seatbelt before he even had smooth cat in park. 

You both jumped out of the car, giddy like unsupervised teenagers. He took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he started towards the house. To your surprise, he didn’t open the door immediately. Instead, he turned to you, catching your hips with his hands.

“I have a proposition.” 

“Oh do you now.”

“New house. All to ourselves for four days.” 

“Mhmmm.” Not sure why we’re not acting on that right about now, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. 

“Christening.” The word hung in the night air for a moment, slowly disappearing into the song the crickets were making. Images flashed through your mind of all the furniture, the floor plan, the layout. Fuck.

“You bought a very large house, with a lot of rooms,” you started. His face fell just a fraction, and his lips parted as he started his rebuttal. You stopped him with a finger. 

“We better get started.” 

night one, 11pm, living room two

You’d never realized just how soft the purple sectional was; probably because this was the first time you were naked on it. Ethan had made quick work of everything you had on as he lead you in the door, past the small living room, through the kitchen and dining room, and into the small sunken living room two, as they called it.

“Odd first choice,” you mused, not really caring where you were. All you were worried about was the fact that Ethan was still fully clothed, which was wildly unfair in your opinion. 

“Well, we’ve already done our room and bathroom, so no need for repeats. Not gonna do Grayson’s room or bathroom, cause that’s just weird. Figured we could work our way across the house. Living room two, dining room, kitchen, living room one. Come back and get the office, guest bathroom, laundry room.” He listed off the rooms like he was reading from the floor plan as he shed his shirt and started to work on his belt.

“You’ve really got this planned out huh. Been daydreaming about having sex with me all over the house?” The smirk on your face was playful, and he just laughed, shaking his head as he shoved his Louis V pants down his legs along with his boxer briefs and stepped out of them.

“I’m always thinking about having sex with you. Duh.” He crawled over top of you, coaxing you to lay down flat on the couch. One of your favorite things about sex with Ethan was that it was always versatile, and not just in positions. You’d had every mood of sex in the book - playful, funny, dirty, kinky, angry. You were so comfortable around each other it wasn’t even funny.

So you weren’t surprised in the slightest that he nudged your hip with his knee and muttered ‘scootch’ so he could get himself comfortable above you. And you also weren’t surprised when you both realized that there was no way in hell that this position was going to work in any way, shape or form on that narrow ass couch.

“Floor?” He asked.

“Floor,” you confirmed, following him as he rolled off you and onto his back on the rug. Now you were hovering over him, straddled over his abs. His hands found the back of your thighs, pushing lightly.

“Come up here,” he grinned, and you knew exactly what he was asking for. You maneuvered your way up until you were hovering above his face. 

“Let the christening... begin,” he said in his most dramatic voice, smile wide on his face as his hands came up onto your thighs to pull you down closer to him.

“That’s the cheesiest shit you’ve eve- oh.”

“Mmmm, what was that?” He asked, pulled away from where he’d just been.

“Nothing! Nothing,” you squeaked, suddenly desperate for him to put his mouth back on you. He obliged, starting to work you over slowly. You shifted your weight onto your knees so you could get closer to him, hands going to his hair, which was finally getting just long enough for you to get a grip on. 

It didn’t take long for him to set a rhythm with his tongue that has your hips grinding, thighs shaking just barely at the tension of you holding yourself at just the right height. He’s always been so damn good with his mouth, even since the first time you slept together.

But it wasn’t until you bit down on your fist as you came that you hear him groan, and he’s tapping on your thigh, signaling you to dismount. You climbed off, catching your breath and relaxing your muscles, coming down. 

“What’d you bite your fist for?” He asked, sitting up and moving towards you like he had on the couch, coaxing you down onto your back again, his fingers ghosting over you.

“Didn’t do it on purpose.” You were still a bit breathless as he ducked down to kiss you.

“Well for once we don’t have to be quiet. Wanna hear you babe, while we can,” he said, more of a request than a demand. You nodded in response as he lifted up slightly, lining himself up. You let your legs fall open to the sides, giving him more room as he dipped down, grazing over your folds. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding as he pushed in, moving slow and easy. He held himself up on his hands, which were splayed on the floor above your shoulders to hold you in place. You bit down on your lip, a force of habit.

He grunted above you, moving down to his forearms, rolling his hips as he shifted his weight to one side so he could bring a thumb up, guiding your lip out from under your teeth.

“What’d I just say,” he groaned, a hint of dominance creeping into his tone. You just nodded, overwhelmed as he continued to stretch you out.

“Fuck E,” you moaned, hands coming up onto the skin of his back, nails dragging down. A tiny part of your brain realized it felt weird to be so loud, but the pleasure took over that as you felt everything start to tighten, an overwhelming feeling that you’d become familiar with.

“God, I can feel that,” Ethan breathed, speeding up the roll of his hips, somehow getting even deeper than he already was. “Shit baby, you feel so good.” 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you whined, pulling him as close as you could, lifting your hips up just barely to meet him. The new angle was electric, just the tiny shift making all the difference, and suddenly your thighs were shaking and you could feel him release, filling you up before he collapsed on top of you. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, rolling off you smoothly. You were only on your back for a second before his arm wrapped around your shoulder, rolling you over onto him. 

“We’re gonna have to pace ourselves if we’re gonna make it through every room in the house,” you laughed, trying to catch your breath. He ran his fingers over your back, feather light over your spine. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re gonna wear me out,” he laughed with you, reaching his other hand up to run through his hair.

“Your fault, you bought a big ass house,” you grinned, squishing your cheek against him, smiling when you heard the rumble of his laughter in his chest.

Eventually, he somehow mustered the energy to get the two of you to your feet and back towards your room, the unspoken agreement that you were done for the night. 

“We should shower,” you mumbled.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Ethan answered, crawling onto the sheets.

“E! We’re gross!” 

“Totally disgusting,” he agreed, curling up further into the bed. You thought for a moment about trying to drag him to the shower, but it was no use. If he didn’t wanna move, you couldn’t make him - you’d learned that lesson many times.

Instead, you gave in and crawled over to him, peppering kisses on his bare back. “You’re washing the sheets tomorrow.”

“Deal,” he sighed, twisting to wrap you up in his arms before you both fell asleep.

morning one, 9:42am, kitchen

As you did every morning, you headed into the kitchen alone. The wood was cold against your bare feet, sending goosebumps up your legs. You’d thrown on one of E’s shirts out of habit, but skipped the shorts when you remembered that the house was empty aside from a quietly snoring Ethan. 

You made yourself a cup of coffee and turned on the speakers, just loud enough that they might wake Ethan up. The playlist that was just a massive dump of every song the three of you liked started to roll through, and you danced along to it, deciding to make a more complicated breakfast than normal. If there was one thing you could cook, it was breakfast. 

The boys had started to branch out and find more vegan substitutes, so you were happy to find all the ingredients you needed to make vegan breakfast bagels - an egg substitute, vegan cheese, even veggie sausage that would work great. While everything cooked away, you cut up some fruit and sipped at your coffee, getting more and more into the music as it played, especially when your favorite Cudi song came on - the boys had gotten you hooked as soon as you moved in, said it was a ‘house rule’ that you stan Cudi.

Lost in your own little world as you scrambled the ‘eggs’, the poke to your hip made you squeal and almost drop the spatula. You turned and saw E, a goofy close lipped smile on his face.

“What’d you poke me for?” You grinned, getting up on your tiptoes to kiss him good morning. He answered by poking your cheek again, then squeezing it gently between his thumb and his index finger.

“Just makin’ sure you’re real, and that I’m not dreamin’,” he sighed, brushing some hair back from your face, proud of the blush he brought to your cheeks.

“You’re such a simp.” You turned back to the ‘eggs’, cutting off the burner, happy they were done so you could give him your full attention for a few minutes.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” you countered. “Okay maybe not a simp, but definitely a sap. Over here poking me to make sure I’m not a dream,” you teased, but you loved every second of it.

“But you are a dream,” he said in his most dramatic voice, hands going to your waist to guide you away from the stove. With one swift move he spun you around and lifted you up so you were suddenly sitting on the island, now just a hair taller than him.

“I wake up to you, cooking a damn good vegan breakfast in my kitchen, with Cudi on the speakers, in my shirt-” he reached for the hem, moving it slightly up from where it sat on your thighs, obviously expecting shorts. He groaned when he didn’t find any.

Immediately, his hand was coming around to the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair as he pulled you down towards him, lips on yours. Usually his kisses were a bit lazy in the morning, but right now he was more than awake, and you could tell. 

It wasn’t another minute before he was guiding you backwards and you were laying on the counter, cold marble setting all your nerve endings on fire as his fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down in one swift motion.

He pressed kisses to your thighs, morning scruff tickling your skin as he made his way up, coaxing your legs to open for him. It was on odd sensation being out in the open like this, but you didn’t have the energy to care once his mouth was on you.

“Fucking shit,” you groaned, the sensitivity left from last night elevating things immediately. 

“All good?” He murmured, looking up to you for reassurance. He knew your body almost as well as you did by now, knew you’d be sensitive.

“Yeah, yeah keep going.” You were practically begging for it already and it had only been a few seconds. He started with long, flat tongue licks that he knew would have you squirming, even if he didn’t add a finger like he did.

“Jesus E, fuck,” you whimpered, fingers grasping at the smooth counter, desperate to find something to hold onto as he worked you over. He just hummed against you, satisfied that you were being vocal and adding to the sensation all at the same time. 

His tongue moved up to your clit and you gasped, sitting up slightly and grabbing at his head, fingers trying to find purchase in his short hair. It didn’t faze him in the slightest and he continued his work, knowing you were close.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you squeaked, body tensing up and then relaxing all at once, causing you to collapse back onto the counter. You barely had enough left in you to make sure that your head didn’t hit the marble. 

“Well, kitchen can get checked off,” he breathed, pressing kisses to your skin as you tried to settle back down. After a few moments he helped you sit up, leaving you to relax while he picked up where you left off with breakfast as if nothing had just happened. That was one of your favorite things about Ethan - he was a giver, through and through, and he never did anything to get something in return.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to repay the favor.

“You are getting the best head of your life later, so prepare yourself.” You tried to stay serious, but your voice was still a bit breathless as you came up beside him. 

“Like I said. Absolute. Dream. My fuckin’ girl,” he smiled, reaching a hand around to cup your ass and pull you up against his side as he continued to cook. 

evening one, 6:33pm, the laundry room

You watched him put the blue liquid into the washer, filling up the little cap and putting it into the little container on the right side. You weren’t sure why, but watching Ethan do domestic shit was one of the hottest things to you. 

“Did you just put fabric softener in with the sheets?”

“Of course I did,” he responded with a smirk. 

“Absolute. Dream. My fuckin’ guy.” You quoted him from earlier with a smug grin, moving from where you were watching in the doorway to right beside him. The washer started to hum, filling up with water as you spun him around so his back was against it.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, looking at you in surprise - you weren’t usually the one to initiate things, not because you didn’t want to, but because Ethan usually beat you to the punch.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled on the waistband of his shorts and briefs, reaching down to find his cock, which was already rising to your attention.

“Laundry huh? That’s what does it for you?” Ethan said, trying to seem unaffected, but his breath was already catching in his throat. He always got very overwhelmed when you took care of him like this - he was so used to being the giver, sometimes he wasn’t exactly sure what to do as the receiver. 

“Shhh, just relax. I told you to prepare for this, remember?” You teased, getting up on your tip toes to kiss him while you pushed his shorts and briefs down. They pooled around his feet and you followed them, sinking to your knees.

“Fucking shit.” He breathed it out, barely audible over the machinery behind him that he started to brace on as you took him in your mouth. 

You just hummed as you worked him over, knowing exactly where to get him weak in the knees. He liked slow, long strokes at first, but you surprised him by coming up to cup his balls, rolling them in your hand.

“Oh fuckkkk,” he whined, thigh twitching and hand coming down to your hair. His fingers tangled in it and you didn’t ease up at all, knowing you were about to get him right where you wanted him. 

You backed off for just a second, just to see his reaction as you looked up at him. His eyes had been closed for a bit, knuckles white as he gripped onto the washer. But with the loss of contact they flew open, just as you wanted them to.

With his eyes on you, you grabbed onto his hips, opening wide and taking him as far down your throat as you could. You fought the urge to gag, grinning a bit when his hips stuttered and his breath hitched. He even bent over slightly, body unsure of how to handle feeling so good. 

He wasn’t even forming words anymore when you started to suck again, paying special attention to the vein that ran along the side as he practically came undone.

When your hand came back up to his balls, he was done for. He came quickly, and you let it slide down your throat, leaving him in your mouth until he guided you off. 

You stood up proudly, wiping the corner of your mouth with your shirt while you waited for him to catch his breath. 

“You are incredible,” were the words he chose, boosting your ego and making you blush all at the same time. 

But you didn’t get a chance to respond, because suddenly he was bending down, your hips colliding with his shoulder as he scooped you up, grabbing onto your legs as he stood up.

“Ethan!” You squealed, bracing your hands on his lower back to hold yourself up. “Your ass is literally in my face.”

“You love it,” he teased, reaching up to give an easy slap to yours, making you  squeak as he headed to the next room.

evening one, 7:07pm, guest bathroom

He didn’t even sit you down - he just waltzed right into the shower, opening the glass door and turning on the water. 

“Cold, cold cold cold!” You gasped as the water ran over your back, hitting your shirt and soaking the fabric through. 

He didn’t react to the water - he only squatted down so he could put you on your feet, hands immediately going to your waist to push you up against the wall. The water was starting to warm up, but the tile was so cold that it still took your breath. 

It wasn’t helping that Ethan’s touch was making you feel like your skin was on fire, flushed and warm as he bent down slightly to catch your nipple in his mouth through your shirt. You moaned at that, back arching off the tiles when he nipped at it with his teeth. 

“Not supposed to shower with clothes on,” you whimpered, already overwhelmed by just his hands on you.

“Not gonna shower, don’t even have soap in here. Christening, remember?” He whispered it, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting the floor. You didn’t have to ask his plans - he showed you, one hand moving to cup your core. He groaned when he felt a different kind of wet.

“All this, just from sucking my cock huh? Don’t deserve you, truly,” he grinned, hand coming up to the waist of your panties and yanking. The fabric tore, making you gasp.

Somehow, Ethan was already impossibly hard again, ready for another round. He pinned your hips back against the wall, foot pushing your legs just a little wider so he could line himself up. He pushed up in one swift stroke, stretching you out yet again. Somehow, it was even better than the day before, and you were so lost in the bliss you barely felt him pull your shirt over your head, leaving you completely naked.

“Fuck E, feels so good,” you moaned, arms going around his neck as he started his rhythm, deliciously slow yet fast enough at the same time. Only he could fuck you like this, you were sure.

“Tell me how good baby, tell me how I make you feel,” he urged, hands moving to the tiles behind your head as he thrust into you, grunts and groans falling from his lips with every move.

“So good E, so fuckin’ good baby, you’re so deep, fuck,” you let the words tumble out, not thinking twice about them. When he leaned in to kiss you it made you clench all over and he hissed against your lips at the feeling.

“So tight for me baby girl, fuck, my fuckin’ pussy.” The mixture of his groans and the filth coming out of his mouth was enough for you to get yourself right to the edge.

He felt it, felt you lift up on your tiptoes, felt your walls tighten and start to flutter. He reached between you, fingers finding your clit just in time. He rubbed quickly, causing you to stop breathing as every muscle in your body tensed and then you were shaking, so hard your teeth chattered. If his dick wasn’t still inside you you probably would have sunk to the ground. 

He pulled out of you as soon as you were done, leaving you feeling entirely empty. You watched with hazy eyes as he turned off the water. 

He came back over to you, strong arms wrapping you up and lifting you with ease, even with your skin slick from the water. You let him do whatever he wanted, just relaxing into his shoulder as he carried you out of the shower with your legs wrapped around his waist.

“We’re gonna make a mess on the floor,” you mumbled, watching the water fall off his body and drip onto the wood.

“Shhh, it’s fine,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he started to walk towards your room. You couldn’t help but feel that he was still hard, practically throbbing below your entrance as he carried you. 

“Where we goin’?” You asked quietly, sitting up. 

“Our room.”

“No repeats, remember?” you mumbled. “Put me down.” 

He did as you asked, but there was already concern written all over his face. He kept a hand on you as you wobbled slightly, knees still a bit weak.

“Baby, you don’t have to-”

You just took his hand.

night two, 7:30pm, living room one

“Sit down,” you instructed him, pulling him towards the couch. He plopped down on the gray fabric - you knew there would be a wet patch there when you all were done, but you didn’t care. 

Before you could say anything else, he reached out, hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing over the skin.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if you’re not up for it. Really, I mean it. The whole christening thing is just for fun.” His voice was so soft - he was obviously worried that you were overdoing it. After all, you did have a history of being too sensitive for so many rounds in a row; Ethan always took it as a compliment. 

But now, you were somehow still horny, and you knew he was painfully hard, especially since it was his second go round. So, you decided to prove to him that you were perfectly fine, leaning over, hands going to his thighs as you got in his face.

“Are you trying to convince me not to sit on your dick right now?” You said it slowly, drawing out your words. “Do you not want me to ride you?”

You actually watched him swallow, and he shook his head like a school boy being scolded. 

“That’s what I thought,” you grinned, climbing onto his lap.

You wasted no time, bracing yourself on his shoulder so you could lift up and sink down onto him. There was barely a stretch this time, and you were glad, because you could immediately start up the pace you wanted. You went to your knees so he’d stay deep inside as you started to roll your hips like you knew he loved.

“Shit,” he choked out, hands moving to your ass, squeezing the flesh there as you leaned forward, adding a bit of a bounce to your movements - having your tits in his face was just a bonus.

“Not gonna last, fuck baby, just like that.” The words disappeared into your skin as he buried his face in your neck while you kept moving. Wanting to see his face, you tugged on his hair until his head came back up and you could kiss him.

His hands were desperate, wandering all over your skin as he tried to keep it together, lips rough against yours. It took so much focus for you to keep your pace as your own orgasm started to build, especially when you felt Ethan rising up to meet you, trying to get impossibly deeper.

“C’mon baby, cum for me.” You didn’t care that it had only been a few minutes - you knew he was so close, you could feel it.

He groaned at your words, and you gasped as his hands came to your hips, actually lifting you slightly just so he could pound into you harder. And just that slight shift of angle was enough to build you up in just a few strokes, and suddenly you were cumming with him, seeing stars as your body tried to process the third major orgasm of the day.

“Holy shit,” was all Ethan could say once he caught his breath. You were still speechless, body totally spent as you just sat there, exhausted. “Three in one day, that’s a lot for you,” he praised, pressing kisses to your temple. “My pretty girl is all fucked out huh?”

“Mmmm,” was your only response, and even you didn’t know what it was supposed to mean. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, moving so he could stand up. He shifted inside you, making you whimper until he was able to lift you off of him. He mumbled an apology, hands coming around to your ass to hold you up. You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he carried you back to your room. 

Ten minutes later and the bathtub was full with hot water, waiting for you as you rinsed off in the shower first, deciding your hair desperately needed washing. Ethan watched you through the glass door as he waited in the water for you, soft smile spreading across his face when you finished up and headed to join him, limbs heavy.

He sat up to help you step into the massive white tub, immediately wrapping his arms around you as you settled back against his chest.

“You remember how you said we needed to pace ourselves?” He murmured in your ear. “Well, we only have two rooms left. We’re beasts.”

“What’s gonna happen when we have our own house? We could do this every weekend,” You teased, twisting around so you could rest your cheek on his shoulder, pressing a few kisses to his neck and collarbone.

“Do you want our own place?” 

You thought on it for a moment, as much as your blissed out haze would let you. “Not for a while. I like living with Gray.”

“Wait. If we didn’t live with Gray, would you just walk around with no pants on all the time?” The seriousness of his tone made you giggle.

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“That’s it, we’re moving, I’m getting on Zillow right now-” he sat up slightly as if he was going to get out of the tub, making you laugh and cling onto him.

“Stop, you know you love living with your brother. You miss him already and it’s only been like a day.”

He sighed, chest rising below you. “You’ve kept me plenty distracted.” But you both knew that you were right.

morning three, 10am, office

Your second whole day at home alone was so... soft. There was no other way to put it. You’d woken up on your own time, thrown on some comfy clothes and went together to your favorite vegan bakery, getting lattes and the best banana bread.

E had driven you up to a lookout and you’d had breakfast together watching the waves crash on the coast. And when you got home, you spent the whole day just moseying around the house, dancing around to the music on the speakers, playing cards, cuddling on the couch and watching movies. 

“Can’t wait till this is us in our house with a few little mini you’s running around,” Ethan had said, pulling you closer to him on the couch.

“Mini me’s? Why not mini you’s?” 

“Oh god, I wouldn’t wish a mini me on anybody, just ask Li,” he’d teased back. And the night had devolved into the two of you talking about what you thought your lives would look like in the future - living either in Jersey or LA, but definitely with Grayson as a neighbor. Two or three kids running around, not too far apart in age. You could picture it all in your head so clearly, and it had even seeped into your dreams later that night when you fell asleep on Ethan’s chest.

So when you woke up on the third morning, you pouted a bit when you didn’t find Ethan beside you in bed. You climbed out from under the covers, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and going in search of him - you wanted to tell him about the little mini-him’s you’d dreamed about, and how cute they were. You checked each room as you went along, finally hearing his voice and peeking into the office. 

He was spinning slightly in the office chair, cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, I think that’s fine. If we restock in July, then we should have enough time to get enough surplus built up before the holidays.” He caught sight of you then, face lighting up. He waved you in, wanting you to join him. 

You could hear the voice on the other side of the line as you got closer, and recognized it as Nathan, one of the main product managers for Wakeheart. He’d made sure not to plan any meetings for the days you had the house to yourself, giving himself a ‘mini-vacation’, but you knew he couldn’t stay away from work that long. You didn’t mind - his ambition was one of your favorite things about him.

So you simply headed over to settle onto his lap, nuzzling up into his neck as you straddled one of his thighs and cuddled up. 

He pulled the phone away from his ear for just a moment, turning his head to kiss you good morning.

“Do you think we should make a holiday line? Grayson and I were talking about it, or we could just run some specific packaging deals, with mini’s or something.” He kept talking, spinning about 45 degrees in the chair and then back again, using his foot to move him.

What he didn’t realize was that just that movement was making your core shift on his wide thigh, and your thin panties weren’t doing anything to help the situation.

You still had a bit of residual sensitivity, but it didn’t hurt - now it just made it that much easier to get turned on. You tried to ignore it for a minute - Ethan always took his work so seriously, and you really didn’t want to interrupt. 

But soon it was too obvious - you knew that if he didn’t already feel the wetness on his skin, he was going to soon. Almost against your own will your hips started to move just slightly, desperate for any type of friction across your throbbing core. 

And of course, Ethan noticed. You sat up, trying to get a new angle and his eyes were blown wide, mouth actually hanging open slightly because holy shit, you were actually riding his thigh while he was on a business call. 

With a devious grin, he bounced his leg once, and you squeaked so loud that you had no doubt that Nathan heard it. Your hands immediately went up to cover your mouth, cheeks bright red in embarrassment. 

“Just my floor, sorry. What’d you say?” He played it off, pressing a finger to your lips and still smirking at you as you started to grind again, one hand going to his shoulder, the other bracing against his right thigh to give you leverage. 

“Yeah, we could do two separate mini bundles, with one set for enterlight and the other with the signatures, maybe spruce it up with some festive packaging.” His voice was devilishly calm, and somehow that only turned you on more. The fact that he could be so unaffected by you literally getting off just using his leg had your skin flushed and hot, a mixture of embarrassment and want. 

“We’ll have to run it past Gray once he’s back. Right now it’s just me and my girl at the house, Sterling isn’t even here, so it’s just us.” His eyes were on you, but you didn’t realize how intensely he was watching you until he brought his other hand up to grab your jaw, tilting your head back until you had no option but to stare directly at him. 

You bit down on your lip hard, fighting with yourself to stay quiet as you worked yourself up, moving fast, the chair starting to creak just barely with your movements. A few whimpers still slipped past your lips and you could actually see his pupils blow wide at the sound. 

“Yeah, uh, actually Nathan I think Y/N needs me for... something. Can we finish this up later?” There was a slight gruff to his voice now, the first real sign that any of this was getting to him. “Alright, talk soon. Bye.”

His phone hit the desk hard as he practically dropped it, both hands moving to your hips as his mood turned on a dime.

“God you drive me insane baby. Don’t know what’s gotten into you lately but I love it,” he groaned, gripping onto your hips as you continued to move, so lost in the feeling that you barely even heard his words.

“Fuck Ethan, I’m close, I’m so fuckin close,” you breathed, digging your nails into his shoulder hard enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth.

“There you go baby girl, c’mon, get yourself off on my leg, c’mon, you’re almost there,” he encouraged you, starting to barely bounce his leg to give you that extra little bit of friction you needed.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fu-” your breath caught in your throat, cutting off your words as your whole body tensed up, thighs closing together to squeeze around his as your toes came off the ground and every muscle in your legs started to shake. It rolled through you in waves, keeping you tensed up for almost 30 seconds before you were finally able to breathe. You gulped down the air you’d been missing, collapsing forward onto Ethan’s chest as his arms wove around you. 

“Woah. That was a good one huh?” His voice is soft as he rubs up and down your back as you caught your breath. “If you needed me, all you had to do was ask.”  

“Was just comin’ to tell you about my dream,” you stood up, moving to close your legs and sit on his lap sideways instead, too sensitive to stay like you had been. 

“Oh yeah? And what did my girl dream about, hmm?”

You launched into the story, talking about how the two of you had a daughter and son, both with dark curls like Ethan’s that bounced around while they played in the treehouse that Grayson had built for their kids to share. 

“It really sent the baby fever into overdrive,” you sighed, tracing over his collarbone tattoo as you finished.

“You know,” he leaned down, getting closer to your ear. “If you want a baby, you gotta at least give me a chance to get my dick in you.” 

“Stopppp,” you blushed, burying your face in his neck. He just laughed.

“Oh so now you’re gonna get bashful on me huh? Just came in here and rode my thigh into oblivion while I was on a business call, but me mentioning putting a baby in you, oh no, that crosses the line.” 

You sat up and pouted at his teasing, but he just kissed it right off your lips with a laugh. “You know I love it, don’t be embarrassed.” 

afternoon four, 3:32pm, dining room

“Babe, c’mon, if we’re late Gray’s gonna be pissed,” you called out, grabbing Grayson’s water bottle from the counter and filling it up - you were always thirsty after a long flight, and you figured he’d appreciate the gesture.

Ethan came around the corner then, taking one look at you and immediately turning around with a groan, heading back to your room.

“E!”

“You’re wearing that? You don’t even have a shred of mercy for me, do you?” He was exasperated as soon as he came back into the kitchen.

You looked down at yourself - you just had on a sundress, it was no big deal.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’m already trying to get over the fact that you’re gonna start wearing pants again all the time and you’re out here looking all... all tempty,” he pouted, and you couldn’t hold back your laugh.

“Tempty? That’s a new one. And hey, technically I still don’t have on pants,” you offered, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Is that supposed to be helpful right now?” He asked, making you realize that pointing out the fact that your were in a dress probably wasn’t helping the already growing bulge in his pants.

With devious eyes, he glanced over at the clock. You had a few minutes to spare before you absolutely had to leave to avoid being late, and he knew it too.

“Ethan... no. No,” you cautioned as he started to walk towards you, but you were laughing at the fact he looked like a cat on the prowl.

“C’mon, we never finished our christening! All we have left is the dining room! You know I hate giving up.” He was pouting again, even sticking his bottom lip out as he kept walking and you backed up until you bumped into the wooden table. 

“We’re gonna be late,” was your last possible defense, and even that was half assed. You were already wet god dammit, all he had to do was look at you.

“Please baby? We’ll be quick, I promise.” 

You answer by turning around, bending over and reaching back to flick your dress up over your ass. His knees almost give out at the sight.

“Absolute.” He leaned down and presses a kiss to your left asscheek. “Dream.” He kissed the other, making you laugh.

“Thought we were gonna be quick,” you teased, secretly loving all the attention. As excited as you were to see Grayson, you sure as hell were gonna miss this.

“So greedy,” he chuckled, moving up to catch your thong with his fingers and pull it down to your knees. You heard the rustle of him getting his shorts down, and a gentle tap at your slit with his tip was your only warning before he pushed himself in.

“Fuckin’ shit baby,” you croaked, hands balling into fists at the sensation. You weren’t sure how it felt so good to be stretched out so nicely - surely you’d get used to it eventually, but you secretly hoped you never did. 

“Hmm, feels nice huh? You feel so good every damn time,” he praised, hands squeezing at your ass as he pulled out to the tip before thrusting back in. “Always so soft for me.” He was lazily rolling his hips, giving you just enough to get you worked up but not enough to get you there.

“Fast Ethan. We’re going for fast,” you reminded him, a bit of sass creeping into your tone. You didn’t want to deal with a cranky post-travel Grayson if you were late.

He stilled his movement entirely, leaning forward to nip at your ear. 

“You asked for it.” 

And then he was moving, pulling your hips so he could slam into you fully, only letting go to reach around and rub at your clit, making your whole body tense up at the sudden change in pace.

“Fuck yes Ethan, fuck just like that, yes, yes yes yes,” you whimpered, a hand even coming to smack at the wood on the table as you tried to process all the sensation happening so quickly. 

“Already tightening up, look at you.” His breathing was already labored as he continued pounding into you, grunting with the force of it. Neither of you were going to last long, it felt too good. “C’mon baby, wanna feel it. Cum for me, I know you’re close.”

You brought one hand down over his, guiding him to just the right spot over your clit, the callouses on his finger giving you just the right friction that had you tumbling over the edge. 

You collapsed onto the table with the force of the orgasm, smiling when you felt Ethan chasing his own high and spilling into you only a few moment later, only your name falling from his lips. 

It took a few minutes for you to calm down, and then you were waddling off to the bathroom to clean yourself up quickly before pulling your panties back up. Ethan watched you with a smug smirk as you tried to walk normally, his ego bursting.

“Shut it,” you threatened, pointing a finger at him. “This is your fault.”

“I said nothing.” But his smirk was enough. “Better get that figured out before we get Grayson, or he’ll never let us live it down,” he grinned, offering you his arm as you rearranged your dress and let him lead you out to the car. 

40 minutes later and you were climbing out of the car, legs not giving too much away as you watched Ethan run around the car and engulf his twin in the biggest hug, both of them more than ecstatic to see each other.

“Missed you bro,” Grayson smiled, looking over at you. “Missed you too munch,” he said, throwing out the nickname that only he was allowed to call you. Once Ethan let him go he moved over to you, giving you the biggest bear hug and spinning you around. Ethan reacted before you did, reaching a hand out to keep your dress down in the wind.

“Woah, easy, that’s only for my eyes,” Ethan huffed, pulling you to his side once you were back on your feet.

“Righttt, I forgot. But hey, I’m home now, so you’re gonna have to start wearing pants around the house again. Sorry to ruin the no-pants party,” Grayson smirked, watching the blush spread across your cheeks as you whirled on Ethan.

“You told him?” You squeaked, embarrassment running through you from head to toe.

“Thanks bro, real fuckin’ nice,” Ethan said over your head before looking at you. “That’s the only thing I told him, I swear.” 

“You’re so dead,” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he knew he was in for it later.

“Ahh, so nice to be home,” Grayson grinned, wrapping you both up in a hug as he laughed.

-----

SORRY this took so long guys. also if u love me u should message me which room was your favorite just for fun haha thank you for reading, ily guys!

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Today, Tomorrow, Forever.

Behold, the four AM dabi fic. Also this is the first part of a series so look out for the next part. Also Also, this is based on a lot of different books and shows so if at any point you’re like “hey this is just like X” you’re probably right. 

Dabi x Reader (not really in this chapter but we’ll get there)

warnings: swearing, violence, abuse, Endeavor, spooky shit, cannon divergence (Dabi is a good brother), this is a full AU so I did mess with the ages of the Todorokis,

words: 2,300

summary: Out of the frying pan into the fire, that was the expression right? leaving one bad situation into something much much worse? That’s where you were right now, in the fire. 

Sometimes it was hard for you to tell what was real, and what was fiction. Often you’d wake from a vivid dream and as you blinked the spots from your eyes and looked up at the textured ceiling of your bedroom, and for an instant, or in truth much longer than an instant, you’d still be there. In the dream. Then you would get up and you would remember, you were in your room, in your bed, in your body. At least that’s what it seemed like. 

Then of course there were the ghosts. You weren’t sure if the ghosts were reality or fiction, they seemed like a gray area between the two. Sometimes other people could see them, which lead you to believe they were real, but then most of the time it was only you seeing the figures and shapes, But that didn’t mean they weren’t real. 

All this to say when Enji Todoroki told you his house was haunted, you were surprised to meet someone so open to believing in ghosts. Of course, he rather quickly squashed that idea with the next words out of his mouth being “Those rumors are of course ridiculous but some idiots still believe it,”

“Of course,” you replied meekly, dropping your eyes from his stern gaze.  “Ghosts, real or not don’t bother me so that won’t be an issue, Sir.”

You needed the job, badly, so you were willing to lie. Enji was looking for a Nanny for his youngest son, you were looking to get away from where you were coming from, so you were both in a position to help the other. And the only catch seemed to a slightly haunted house. You could live with that, as long as your own ghosts stayed away.  

“When can you start?”

The Todoroki manner was a large one, Ornate and lavish if not old, clean and well taken care of it seemed, but empty. There was a housekeeper, a cook, a gardener, and a pool boy, all of whom seemed very nice but all of them seemed to slip into the shadows the moment you turned your back, and as it where you were to be the only one who lived in the manner full time, isolating you further. 

As Enji walked you through the home you couldn’t help but think that perhaps it was more than the ghost rumors that were keeping people away. There were framed photos on the wall, of Enji, his wife, and four children all of varying ages, you found it strange that none of them seemed to be here, save Enji and Shoto. 

Speaking of Shoto, You were warned about the scar that covered nearly half of his face, but the warning wasn’t enough to prepare you for seeing it in person, it took all you had not to gasp when you looked the boy in the face. Similarly, you knew that he was a quiet boy, but you hadn’t been expecting him to give you a single “nice to meet you,” then stay silent for the rest of your interaction. 

“He’s just a little shy, we’ll warm up to each other,” you assured, smiling first at Shoto and then at his father. 

Then Enji left leaving you alone with his son. You were awful with kids, terrible really and if you had had any other choice you might not have taken this job. You had no idea how to even begin acting around this kid. 

You decided to pull from what little human interaction you could and decided to treat him like a coworker. Right so what would you do with a cold coworker?

“Shoto, I’m still new so why don’t you show me your favorite part of the house alright? Then we can do something fun,” you offered. He thought about it and nodded. While he didn’t say anything just stood up and started walking out of the room. You followed him as he lead you out into the backyard there was a large grass field and a pool with trees lining the promoter. It was a warm spring day, but most of the trees in the yard were dead, not yet budding, still suffering from the harsh winter.  

Shoto lead you into a patch of trees further in the back of the field to a cluster of oak trees and you saw one had an old ropes wing hanging from the lowest branch. 

“You like to swing?” you asked and he shook his head

“No? Then why this spot,” you asked and for the first time since meeting him, he spoke

“My mom used to like this swing, she’d sit on it and read me stories,” he said, crouching down and sitting down on one of the roots of the old tree. You crouched down beside him.

“I see, so you come here to remember your mom?” you asked and he nodded silently. You took a shuddering breath and reached down the collar of your shirt pulling out a slender silver chain that held a locket, and showed the necklace to Shoto.

“I do the same thing with this locket, it helps me remember my mom too,” you said. 

“Your mom went away too?” he asked.

“Yeah, she got really sick when I was younger and, she went away,” you said, choking back emotion, you were surprised that talking about your mother still brought up this sadness in you, Shoto reached out and touched your hand. Almost like he was trying to comfort you. 

“We still see her sometimes, in the hospital, but it’s not the same,” He said quietly, a cold breeze passed over you, ruffling your hair and making you shiver. 

“That must be hard,” you said and he nodded, “why don’t you show me some of your other favorite places okay?” You said and he nodded. You both stood and walked back into the house, another shiver going down your spine as you tucked your locket back into your shirt. 

It only took you a week to realize that Enji Todoroki had never spent a day in his life with his son. While Shoto’s room was littered with sports equipment, soccer balls, baseball bats, tense rackets, all unused. 

Shoto liked the library, he liked to read and draw, he wasn’t a hard kid to look after, you would read with him, or fill in coloring books at his request, and often the two of you would walk around the field talk about the books he’d read. 

Sometimes Shoto would ask to see your locket, and you’d show it to him and you’d talk about your mothers together.

“Is there a picture inside the locket?” he asked and you winced, instinctually closing your fist around the silver heart. 

“No,” you lied, “the latch is broken so it doesn’t open,” you  said. He nodded and dropped the subject. You tucked the locket back inside your shirt and went on with the game of chess you were playing, losing badly to Shoto.

He was a good kid, and he opened up to you easily, which only solidified in your mind that Enji had never once tried to understand him but you weren’t getting paid to play family therapist. 

While taking care of Shoto was easy, living in the manner was anything but. The house was old and made a lot of creaking settling noises that never failed to make you jump. The rooms were dimly lit and furnished with dark wood making the rooms feel smaller than they where, making you clostrophobic.  Even though you had been living here for over a month now the lay out of the house still perplexed you sometimes, leading to geting lost in rooms you’d never seen before and would never see again. 

The rooms of the Elder Todorokis, Shoto’s brothers and sisters, always remained locked, not that you had ever tried to open any of those doors, the strage chill that seemed to emanate from that room was always enough to keep you away. 

All of that was annoying, chilling even, knowing what you knew. But none of it was unbearable, but the ghosts. The ghosts made you want to leave. 

Sometimes you would wake up with a transparent blue woman looming over you and you had to clap your hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming. She left as soon as you saw here, leaving you shaking. 

“I am in Todoroki manor,” you started shakily, touching a hand to the top of your head.  “I’m in my bed, I’m in my body,” you reminded yourself before collapsing back to the bed

 No one else seemed to be able to see the man in the kitchen or  the apparitions that plaied out side. So you kept quiet, and didn’t say anything. 

Some nights how ever, they kept you up. You would sit shaking in your bed, one hand firmly around your locket the other over your mouth while widows slammed open and things toppled from shelves.  While most of the ghosts in the house seemed docile there was at least one who wasn’t. This villant ghost never showed themself, until one night. 

It was pitch black when you returned home. You had been permitted to Take Shoto out of the house and the two of you had gone to a movie. 

He tieredly rubbed his eyes as you helped him out of his jacket. 

“Ready for bed?” you asked and he nodded. He took your hand and slowly you both made your way up the stairs.  There was a loud cracking sound and before you saw the heavy oak banister crack. 

You frose in place. Not now, you silently pleaded, not in front of someone else, you couldn���t contain your fear and still play it off as normal. You could smell smoke. 

Shoto suddenly gripped your hand tighter.  “We should run,” he said, could he possibly see what you were seeing?

Before you could ask him anything, the painting on the wall to your left fell to the floor with a crash, blood oozing out of the eyes of the people inside, Shoto screamed, and without thinking you lifted him in your arms and took off running. His short nails dug into your shoulders as he clung to you.  You saw a door cracked open and without thinking you burst into the room slamming the door closed behind the two of you and slumping to the floor, Shoto in your lap your back to the heavy wood. You took a look around assessing your surroundings and saw you were in Shoto’s neat and tidy room. 

There was another loud crash and you felt Shoto go stiff in your arms frozen in fear and suddenly there was only one thing you could think and that was oh god I have to protect this child I have to protect this poor poor child. You lifted him easily in his arms and marched to his bed, then you firmly removed him from your shirt and place him down.

“Hide under the covers, I’ll be right back okay?” you ordered, he looked terrified, he didn’t say anything just crawled under the covers. You spun around on your heel and headed to the door, picking up his toy bat as you went. Sure it was a toy but damn if you weren’t going to swing it hard enough to cause some real damage. And you barrage into the darkened hallway. 

At first, there was a disturbing quiet, just the labored sound of your breathing. “Don’t play coy now you son of a bitch,” you hissed under your breath. There was a groan and you whipped around seeing your ghost for the first time.

The first time you’d seen a ghost, and known it was a ghost, was when you were seven. You were five or six. You were in a park sat on the swingset trying to learn how to swing without needing to be pushed like the big kids did when you saw an old woman who had neither arms nor legs. Most ghosts were like that, half-formed, incomplete as if they had lost more than just their lives.

Not this one, however. You could see him perfectly from the tip of his spikey white hair down all the way to the clasps on his boots. He looked surprisingly like Natsuo, with white spikey hair, a lanky body, and angry eyes. Toya, he had called his dead brother. Toya was right in front of you now. 

This revelation paused you for only a moment before you glaired at the spectator. 

“Can you-” he began to speak but you cut him off by swinging the bat through his middle section, it passed through him harmlessly but you didn’t care you moved to hit him again. 

“Stop,” he growled and caught you by the thought, you gasped feeling his cold skin touch your throat, then his fingers clamped down choking you. He looked stunned, not that you really cared about whatever revelation this bastard was going through if he could touch you that means you should be able to touch him. You swung the bat again this time hitting his wrist knocking his hand off your throat, you stagged back and sneered at the ghost your heart pounding in your chest so loud you wondered if he could hear it. 

He, Toya, Looked at his hand flexing his fingers, then at you, then vanished. You whirled looking for where he would pop up next, but he didn’t appear. You rushed back into Shoto’s room coking him out of the covers and holding him while he sobbed. You might have cried a little too, it was hard to tell.

In the morning there would be bruises of fingers on your neck.

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan Part 41! @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz

Content warnings!! Mentions of corpses, hopelessness,

Raphael’s massive arms engulfed his brothers, pushing them behind him. He braced against a tidal wave of despair that was displaced from the cave, crashing down on Raphael and his brothers. Donatello cowered tightly into Leonardo, and both twins formed a second wall of protection around Michelangelo, encasing him in a protective brotherly shield between them and Raphael.

“Stay together Mad Dogz!” Was the last thing Raphael was able to say before the rush of ashen debris fell down on them.

It was immediately suffocating. The cloud of hopelessness swallowed them body and mind. Sensations of cold creeped over their skin and not just from the snow. It was an unnatural cold, like the chill of a corpse running icy fingers across their arms and stealing the very warmth from their bodies. Breathing was impossible. Raphael could feel his brothers slipping out of his grip, drifting away on their own islands of despondency. He found himself unable to care, especially not when his own suffering was so great. He just wanted it to stop.

“Raph!” The presence like bubblegum ice cream was still drifting, getting further and further away. Getting more and more distant, more unimportant. In fact, it was almost irritating. He wanted it to go away and leave him to his cold suffering.

There was another presence far beyond the mountain of growing illness; another Raphael chose to ignore. Three of them actually, just as resigned to their fate as he was. At least, he would be if that weird red glow would leave him alone! It was disturbing the gray that swallowed his existence, joined with a relentless pulsing at the base of his spine, like pure heat. It wasn't bad, but it was uncomfortably hot compared to the rest of him, beating in time with his heart.

“RAPHIE!” Like malleable cookie dough the voice forced its way through.

The ash of his mind cleared for a second. He felt something gripping tightly at his hand, something rubbing against him, a beak, joined with a noise not unlike a cats chirp.

“Mikey…?”

The red force that had started at the base of his spine started to spread. It forced the cloud of suffocation back and revealed to Raphael his brothers, still crouched at his back and braced against the storm roaring around them. Donatello opened his eyes first, looking around with confusion, fear, and then astonishment in his eyes.

“That’s new…”

“Look at that!” Michelangelo squeaked. His eyes had opened soon after Donatello’s and he was pointing toward where the now-shattered rift once held, at a creature emerging from within.

Whatever it was, it was massive! Exceeding even The Shredder’s height by several feet, the creature pulled itself around on its belly like a squid with bone mass. His head was large— in fact, he seemed to be almost all head with very little torso to separate it from the seven distended tentacles that seemed more like bony rope than anything else. There were several joints that made the tendrils bend in a way that should have been impossible as the pink, bubblegum-like oni pulled himself across the snow.

“Ohhh... You made such a good distraction…” The oni rumbled, laughing and spitting out splashes of viscous slime with each word. It splattered over the red shield, but Raphael was just grateful it didn't hit him. He didn't want… whatever that was anywhere near his skin. “These two weeks have been fun fun fun!”

“Ugh.” Raphael scrunched up his beak, “That’s disgusting.”

“Oh I’m sorry!” The creature almost seemed to speak with a lisp as his tentacles carried him slowly over to the quad. “Is this unsettling you?”

“Uh. Just a scooch.” Leonardo smirked as he brought his fingers to almost touch.

“Well…” The oni pulled himself over the group, unable to get past the field. The moisture of his body leaked out over the red dome like thick raindrops. “It’s certainly a lot warmer out here than in my prison. Oh, I can’t wait to play!”

Raphael’s eyes searched behind him. Reaching through the mist was a small golden gateway, vines sprouting flowers grasping in the snow trying to find something to drag through. Draxum? It certainly didn’t look like Draxum’s gateway. Draxum’s gateways never had flowers, and they were most often red. But it was a gateway, a way out. Raphael scooped his brothers up in his arms, holding the shivering trio tightly as he bore them through the snow and to the rift.

“Time to go!”

The oni slipped off of the shield and laughed. He didn't attempt to follow the brothers with anything except his eyes.

“Oh~ Run run run, little turtles. I’ll be there soon~!”

There was a heat around the gateway, flowers sprouting in a circle around it and blossoming even further to grasp and guide Raphael with their gentle pedals into the warmth of his beloved home. The rift sealed behind them and locked the laughing evil in the forest where he was freed.

“MY SONS!” Splinter ran forward and tossed himself at the brothers, not caring who he landed on as he wrapped his arms around them. “Oh my boys! What happened?!” Splinter looked around at each of his sons in turn, his whiskers tickling their cheeks as he sniffed them and breathed in the peculiar smells that clung to them.

“Did you defeat the evil?” Draxum asked; he didn't seem to care about the return of the brothers, simply examining his finger nails as he leaned against a wall.

“Uh. Not exactly.” Leonardo smooshed his hand against Splinter’s snout and shoved the old rat away, “Raph will give you the run down. Ahem.” Leonardo put on his best actor voice, “Previously on turtle ninja teenaged mutants…”

Raphael rolled his eyes but still gave his best recounts of the events. Splinter listened, becoming more and more agitated with each passing sentence until his ears were flat and his tail lashing like an angry cat. He flashed his teeth as he let go of his sons in favor of pacing around the room.

“Thing is, Bishop didn't even tell us how to seal the rift.” Leonardo said.

“He never intended for you to…” Splinter snarled. “I figured Bishop would pull something, but not like this! Not coming after my sons and my daughter!”

“Yeah well— wait, daughter?” Leonardo looked around, “April? Is she—?”

Right on cue, April slowly backed out of the medical room, looking back in through the open door and saying words that couldn’t be heard before she turned around and came to face her adoptive brothers.

“GUYS!”

With April's shout of pure joy, Cassandra and Sunita poked through the door to see what was happening. The three all ran over together, practically tackling the brothers in a hug; if Raphael hadn’t been there to support them, they would have been taken down. Cassandra, it seemed, favored Raphael as she fussed over him, trying to clean his clothes and dry the cold wetness of his skin while muttering Japanese swears. Sunita danced around the group, checking for any wounds that she could lend aid in fixing. April showed each of the brothers' attention in turn while ranting relentlessly.

“Ya’ll okay— y'all good— y'all hurt? If y'all hurt, then someone else boutta be hurt! Tell me who hurt you I’ll hurt them who hurt you I’ll fight them!”

“We’re okay April!” Michelangelo snickered, and then started to fuss over April in turn, “are you okay?”

April took a deep breath and explained everything that happened with Bishop while the boys were gone, never once breathing until she wrapped up the quick and rushed story.

“Cassandra kicked some serious TCRI butt!” Sunita giggled.

“Are you hurt…?” Raphael was so careful, so tender when looking over the short girl; he cupped her face and turned it around looking for any wounds, and then picked her up to look over the rest of her body.

“Have you met me?” Cassandra smirked, kicking her legs out like an excited puppy eager to run, “I’M UNTOUCHABLE!”

“Yeah, untouchable, sure…” Leonardo frowned as he scrutinized a large gash in Cassandra’s shirt, ripping the top almost in two pieces and staining it red. “That your blood? I don’t see a wound…”

Raphael’s eyes went wide with worry. “I’m going to crush Bishop into the ground if he laid so much as a hand on you—“

“We can commit the act of violence later, Hermano.” Leonardo said, “I’d rather deal with the mystic threat before the human one.”

“I’m not so sure he is human…”‘April said, “he… said some weird things while I was captured…”

“Tell us about them.” Raphael said, and April obliged.

While they were busy, Leonardo addressed his father. “Dad, do you remember the story of how the oni was sealed?” Leonardo kneeled down to be face to face with the small rat.

Splinter shook his head. “I am sorry— I do not.”

That seemed to put a damper on the celebratory reunion as the clan all looked around at each other with a settling sense of doom creeping over them.

[boneandfur]

Time After Time

Pairing: Ethan x MC // Rating: T for themes of war // notes: This was written as a secret Santa gift(yeahhh I know it's late). The next part will have a link to the NSFW part on ao3, should you so choose to read it. The fic can be read without it as well. // The poem on the mood board is Flanders Fields by John McCrae. The lyrics in the fic are from When This Lousy War Is Over, a World War 1 song. // Summary: It's New Year's Eve in 1915 and Nurse Helena Valentine is on leave for twelve hours. Will she be able to say what's in her heart when she runs into Dr Ethan Ramsay, her superior at the field hospital, or will they run out of time? Note: sorry folks the cut isn't working. Will be moving to ao3 sometime here

ONE

"Rookie." The rich Scottish brogue is rough as he catches Helena's arm in the darkness of a Flanders night. "What are you doing here?"

The snow is falling thickly, beyond the ring of torchlight from the town square. In the reflection of the inky water, Helena can see the twinkling of fairy lights in the dark sky, and she steels her spine, only a faint tremor in her hands betraying a hint of fatigue.

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Taking her grandfather's silver pocket watch out, she marks the time in her head:

(Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds.)

That's how much longer Helena has until she must walk back to the train station and meet the girls, and doesn't she have a warm room waiting for her, and a little fire, and some of that Flemish wine that Aurora was always going on and on about back at Smith? Yet here she is, on the very last day of the year in 1915, And I cannot seem to move an inch from it.

The strains of drunken soldiers singing makes her heart squeeze -- When this lousy war is over -- "I have official leave for the next twelve hours." I would give my eyeteeth for twelve hours of sleep, but I can't sleep. Time was, I would have given anything to sleep, back when I was studying to be a doctor, back in Boston.

When this war is over -- it feels like a lifetime before it began, just a little over a year ago.

I'll be back someday, when this war is over, Helena Valentine. And then I'll marry you, and we'll dance until Father Time forgets we are mortal.

(But he had never returned, and she went about with a band of black mourning ribbon on her upper arm, hidden under her sleeve: the bruise in her chest expanding until she felt nothing there any longer but silence, until she got on a ship bound for London Town...)

Helena feels the supple leather of Ramsey's gloves, butter soft, against her wet cheeks. She does not know if they are wet from tears, or from snow.

When this war is over/No more soldiering for me

There is a soft quality to Ethan Ramsey's blue eyes as he gazes down at her, brow troubled.

"You should be asleep behind the lines, Rookie." He ties the hood of her threadbare velvet cloak under her chin, as though Helena Valentine is still that pretty maid from Boston, the one who ran off to France to join her cousins in the war effort, three seasons past. "This isn't the place to spend your next twelve hours. You should be curled up in your cot with that book you always carry around in your apron pocket --"

"Sherlock Holmes." Helena lifts her chin a fraction of an inch, and pushes her spectacles to the bridge of her nose, meeting his gaze squarely. "He would have made a brilliant doctor, Dr Ramsey, sir."

"I am not disagreeing with you." Ramsey touches her elbow with his fingers, gesturing with his other hand towards the warmth and lights of the square. "But a bridge at nighttime, Rookie, even behind friendly lines, is not the wisest course of action."

(Twelve hours, seven minutes, and twenty-three seconds.)

The bridge begins to vibrate slightly, and Helena feels her whole body tense, a hot surge of liquid burning just behind her lashes. She sucks in a deep breath and turns her head, just -- the movement as jerky as a film reel at the pictures. His mouth moves, sound traveling as though they are underwater.

Rookie! Can you hear me, Rookie?

That's what Ramsey has always called her, ever since he found out she was a student of medicine, back in Boston. He brought her from the field hospital in Poperhinge with him, all the way to a makeshift hospital just behind the lines in Ypres. Brilliant surgeon Bryce Lahela had been there too, since gone at Loos, or perhaps not gone, but she has heard no more of him. Not even a whisper on the wind.

Helena tears her gaze from Ramsey's mouth, looking towards the eastern sky. The darkness evaporates, opening up in a brilliant reddish gold splendor of color, and Helena feels the warmth of Ramsey's grip on her shoulder all the way down to her frozen bones.

When this war is over,/No more soldiering for me./When I get my civvy clothes on,/Oh how happy I shall be.

Her debutante ball in Boston, the one her father had insisted upon, before the Titanic sank and took his life away with it -- there had been fireworks at that ball. The guests had oohed and ahhed and the bells had rung for the New Year of 1910, a lavish decade of glittering splendor laid out ahead of them -- and she had fought for her inheritance, so damnably hard -- Let me be a lady doctor, Mother, I beg you -- years upon years, gone in the blink of an eye, working with only the most wretched of immigrants in the squalid slums, and then back home to Beacon Hill, to play the debutante.

You must secure a good marriage, Helena, and put this silly dream aside...

The world rushes in with a thunderclap as the artillery barrage begins, and Ramsey pulls Helena to his chest, his hand against the back of her head, wound tightly into her dark curls. She can hear his heart beating in time to the band -- one two, one two, the steps to the waltz.

Eleven hours, fifty-eight minutes, thirteen seconds. The pocket watch ticks on. One two, one two. She pulls back from Ramsey's chest, embarrassed, and turns back to the direction of the Front.

It's hard to believe that only six hours ago I was in a field hospital just behind the front lines. She hasn't realized she's said it aloud until she feel his greatcoat settle over her shoulders. It smells like him, she realizes with a shuddering breath -- like him, without other men's gore staining him up to the elbows. Smoke, and peat, and whiskey.

Once, two months ago, she'd found herself alone in his office to fetch more morphine, and she'd taken the liberty of burying her nose in his extra uniform. She had lost track of how long she'd stood there, nose buried in wool, until a stretcher bearer had rapped on the door and startled her.

"Yes, and you're a dammed bloody fool of an American chit." Ramsey clears his throat. "The war won't be over any faster if you continue to stare at it like that, Rookie."

"Should just be another month." Helena tries, and fails, to sound chipper. "That's what Rafael says he heard from the Cordonians, who heard it from that fighter pilot, Jake Mackenzie, who heard it from the French Foreign Legion --"

And any minute now, out there in the distance, Rafael will come chugging up to Edenbrook Field Hospital in his rattletrap old ambulance, and out will swagger Captain Beaumont of the Cordonian Calvary, dog in his arms and patch over one eye, with a wink and a grin, as if to say, Well, I survived another match with the boys in gray -- as if they'd just had a football match in time for tea -- or it will be that Mexican mercenary from the French Foreign Legion, swearing a streak as blue as those tattoos on his skin, the indomitable Sargent Salazar, or, or --

"Come on, Rookie. Let's get you warmed up."

(Eleven hours, eleven minutes, eleven seconds.)

[betweensceneswriter]

Island Hopper-Chapter 28b: Just Add Water Part 2

Shots and the ‘Shungle’

Previously on Island Hopper:  Chapter 28: Just Add Water Some things are instant.  Not usually sons.

ISLAND FEVER (Jimjeran Book 1)

ISLAND HOPPER (Jimjeran Book 2)

FanFic Master List

 The days blended into one another after that.  Mornings began with waking a reluctant child to give him his long-acting insulin.  Jamie started taking Perkaj into the stall with him after I was done with my shower, washing Perkaj’s hair, wrapping him in a towel and sending him in to me.  While they were out of the apartment I would rush into my own clothing. On Perkaj’s arrival back in the apartment I would dry him off, brush his hair, and give him a little privacy while he dressed.  

He was amused by the bustle and pace of our household.  If we ever tried to rush him, he would respond after a deep sigh, “Oh, Mama Peach, I am lazy,” or “Oh, Baba Shamie, I am lazy.”  Jamie assured me that ‘lazy’ didn’t have the same negative connotation in Majel, but it still made me laugh every time Perkaj said it.

Perkaj was also surprised by how often we bathed, but after a few days Jamie said the boy had started to industriously scrub his skin with a washcloth and soap while Jamie washed his hair.

Breakfast was when he would test his blood sugar and give himself injections with an amount based on his level and how hungry he felt.  In the beginning he turned up his nose at the steel cut oats we would usually have for breakfast, but he was delighted by bread with honey or jelly and peanut butter.  Eventually with a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar, we were able to coax him to eat the ‘porridge’ as well.

Jamie had to leave for school a few minutes early so he could drop Perkaj off at his house, or if he was running late I would take him. There the little boy would be fussed over by his family and then walk to school with his brothers and sisters.  His mother would pack him a lunch to be eaten at school, when he would check in with Jamie for testing and another dose of short-acting insulin before joining the other kids on the lawn for lunch & recess.

After school, Perkaj would come home with Jamie.  They would test his blood sugar to make sure it was high enough for play and family time and give him a snack if it was on the low side.  Most days of the week  Jamie would walk him the rest of the way to his house, returning to our apartment to do grading and planning for the next day.  Around six I would take my turn to travel to Perkaj’s house, supervise as Perkaj would prick one of his poor fingers again, and then the little guy and I would assess his dinner plate with his parents & auntie, talking about the insulin amount needed before eating.

At 7:30, one of Perkaj’s family members would walk him to our house where we would tuck him into bed with a story.  One more test and snack or insulin would finish his long, eventful day.  

After Perkaj headed to bed was when Jamie and I made sure to cuddle up to each other, having a little contact while reading or writing letters by the  warm light of the bedside lamp.  More  often than not one or the other of us would nod off accidentally and wake up only when the other person turned off the lamp. Jamie or I would rouse long enough to climb under the sheet and turn to the other for a goodnight kiss before we would drift back into slumber.  

Our life felt strange, broken up into little chunks like this-- repeated interruptions and moments of being apart when we would normally have been together. It wasn’t easy, but I steeled myself with the fact that there weren’t any other good options.  This—serving the health of the islanders—was why I was here; not marriage, not sex, not selfishness.

“Ijab konaan,” Perkaj cried, sitting at the table with his tester and insulin pen in front of him. “Emetak.” He rubbed his face with his hands, smearing the dust from an afternoon of active play into gray streaks on his skin.

Of course he didn’t want it.  Of course it hurt.

Jamie looked up at me, his eyes full of compassion and desperation.  We had to get Perkaj to buy in to his own health if we were ever going to get our own lives back.  

All of a sudden I had an idea.  I grabbed a syringe from my black medical kit and a vial of sterile saline.

“How many carbs are you going to eat, Meester Shamie?” I asked him. He eyed the syringe and then looked back at me, narrowed eyes giving way to a tiny smile of understanding.

He took a deep breath, looking at the soup and muffins on the table. “Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, “I  know I’m hungry, and I’m lukuun kilep, so I’ll have five servings… some noodle soup and three muffins. How about you, Miss Peachay?”

“Oh, I’m not very hungry,” I responded. “When it’s hot like this, ijab konaan moni, so I’ll have three.”

Without looking off to the side at Perkaj, I picked up the tester, a strip and a lancet. “I wonder what my blood sugar is right now,” I mused. I pricked my finger, the sudden shock of pain giving me shivers, then pressed the drop of blood to the testing strip. “Eighty-five,” I remarked.  “That’s good for before a meal.”

Jamie took the tester I offered him and did the same. He winced and stuck his finger in his mouth after he’d touched it to the testing strip. “Seventy-six? No wonder I’m starving!” He passed the tester on to Perkaj, who had grinned at Jamie’s over-the-top reaction to the prick of the lancet and blood on his finger.

“Okay,” I said. “Five servings means five units.”  I held the vial up as I inserted the syringe and drew out several milliliters of saline. Then I handed the syringe to Jamie.

Up until then he’d been playing along with me.  When I handed him the needle his face drained of color. His raised eyebrows communicated clearly, “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Perkaj had tested his sugar and was already clicking the units into his insulin pen.

“One for being little high,” he murmured to himself. “And tree for carbs.”  He screwed on the fresh needle tip and looked over at Jamie. “Why you waiting, Baba Shamie?”

Jamie frowned. “Ijab konaan,” he said, his eyes showing some genuine fear. “Enaj metak.”

Perkaj’s response was adorable.  He patted Jamie’s arm like I’d seen my husband do to him  countless times over the last few weeks. “Is okay, Baba,” he said reassuringly, shaking his head. “It not hurt forever.”

After that, there was no way Jamie was going to let his fear of pain stand in his way.  

“Let’s do it together,” he said.  “Will you count?”

“Juon, ruo, jilu,” Perkaj counted.  On ‘three’ both boys jabbed themselves with their needles and pressed down on the plungers.  They made faces at each other as they did, and when the syringe and insulin pen were returned to the table, Jamie pulled the little guy in for a hug.

“You’re so brave!” He exclaimed. Perkaj grinned and grabbed a muffin.

Out of necessity we discovered that about five minutes after Perkaj fell asleep he would be dead to the world for a solid fifteen minutes.  If we’d saved enough energy, we could engage in a clandestine lovemaking session, covered by the bedsheet, trying to keep the bed frame from squeaking or the headboard from banging against the wall.

Unfortunately, I was gun shy after our ‘coitus interruptus’ and Jamie seemed to be internalizing the stress of parenthood even more than I was. He was still affectionate, and would frequently wrap his arms around me for a hug, come up behind me when I was doing dishes and rub my shoulders, or pull my head to his chest when we lay next to each other in bed reading.  But after my experience being married to him thus far, it wasn’t like him. It was surprising that Jamie wasn’t lusting after me, wasn’t taking liberties with my body, wasn’t making it clear he wanted nothing more than to have me naked.  

Perhaps even more disturbing to me, I was okay with the lack of sex. I tried to reassure myself.  Jamie and I were still cooperating with each other, accomplishing an important thing.   We were still working together, laughing together.  Despite the inconvenience, Perkaj was adorable and Jamie was adorable with him. But both of us were exhausted at night. We were all sleeping in the same room; less alone time meant fewer opportunities when the same idea would strike both of us, when raised eyebrows or a simple caress would be the snowflake that started an avalanche.

But as my dad had said, this was ‘just a season.’

And what a season.  Along with the hot, dry conditions that made it challenging to keep my garden healthy and brought the mamas to clinic fanning themselves and telling me they were lukuun bwil, the level of the catchment continued to drop until the bucket would scrape against the cement bottom of the tank when we drew our drinking water.

One afternoon after school Perkaj announced that he was going to stay and help Baba Shamie cut the grass.  Apparently he and Jamie had been talking on their walk home and Jamie had shared his plans for the afternoon.

“Ikonaan jibaneke,” Perkaj said.  “I want help you!”

Perkaj helped me water my plants and then used the hand-held grass clippers to assist Jamie by trimming the grass near our outbuildings and well.  Jamie used an old school scythe to cut the grass, a wicked looking curved blade on a long wooden handle with two grips.  When he held it on his shoulder as he headed out to the field, he looked like a tropical themed version of the Grim Reaper, with khaki shorts, a tee shirt, and flaming red hair.

I followed the boys as they worked, using a rake to heap up the grass and lift it into our wheelbarrow. Jamie had decided that composting was a necessity to increase the quality of our soil, so we were layering grass clippings with palm fronds and kitchen waste in a heap in the back corner of the property.

I was across the yard when two girls walked hesitantly up to Jamie.  He leaned on his scythe, giving them his attention.

“Meester Shamie,” one of them said, “we no have water to drink.  Our catchment is emmat...empty?

Jamie looked at them, at their water container, and at the big jug by the still, three quarters full from the days’ filtration. He glanced at me.

“Of course,” I insisted, “we have enough to share.”

As Jamie poured water into their bottles, I crossed the yard to the well. Someone would need to draw more well water to refill the solar still.

Through the sunny hours of the day while Jamie was teaching, I had taken it upon myself to keep the reservoir of the still filled with enough well water to keep the trickle of distilled water constantly flowing. When one water jug was filled, I would transfer the hose to the next jug and place the cap on the now-full container.

“Jibaneke?” The little voice asked from behind me. “I help you, Mama Peach?”

Perkaj might have been only seven, but he was an expert at the wrist flick necessary for getting water from the well, and the rapid hand -over -hand motion to bring up a full coffee can. He filled the five gallon bucket in half the time it would take me, then beamed up at me as we carried the bucket together to pour into the solar still.

He stood up on his tiptoes to peek through the sloped glass cover. “Well water enana?” he questioned, brown furrowed.  

“Is it bad?” I responded. “Not bad.  Just doesn’t taste good  for drinking .”

“But Mama Peach,” he said with his forehead wrinkled, “Aolep well water,” Perkaj said.  

It was all well water? I didn’t understand what he meant. Rupert had brought the lower grades over to teach them a lesson about the solar still and evaporation, so I had seen them peering in interest at the setup. I was sure Rupert had explained how the process removed minerals, salt, and impurities from the water.

“Ke?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

He showed the motion of the water with his hands -- the upward wafting of moisture, at which he said, “Well water,” then indicated the abrupt stop at the sloping glass, “Well water also” and then showed the drops falling into the collection channel. “Aolep well water,” he finished, holding up his hands as if to encompass the whole water cycle.

“Well, not exactly,” I tried to explain, hesitantly trying out my baby Majel.  “This is a small version of how the earth makes fresh water.  When the water goes into the air, it leaves behind germs and salt and bitter minerals.  Do you see the white crust on the black fabric?  That's the bad part-what was left behind.”

Perkaj peered into the still through the condensation -covered glass curiously.  “Oh.” He exclaimed, wide eyed.  I wasn’t sure he’d understood, but at least I’d tried.

The day stayed hot past sunset, the air barely holding any humidity.  Without a breeze, the house didn’t cool off even when it got dark.  Jamie had tried to cuddle me, but any place our skin contacted we would stick together, and any movement would feel like trying to detach from an octopus.

Perkaj was snoring quietly in his bed when Jamie got up and headed to the door, shoving his feet into his flip flops.  He headed outside without an explanation; I figured he needed the restroom.  

I was lost in my book when I startled at a faint sound behind me. Was that shifting gravel outside the window? I paused to listen. We’d opened the curtains because it was so damn hot, but that meant anyone outside would be able to see me… and could see that Jamie wasn’t here with me.  Still, none of the island men would even try to  bother me.  I wasn’t a single woman anymore, and they wouldn’t dare insult Meester Shamie…

“Tssst tssst,” a voice hissed from outside the window.  “Tssst tssst.” I pretended not to hear them, hoping inwardly that Jamie would return any minute and this person would fade away into the night and stop embarrassing themselves.

“Miss Peachay,” the voice sang, “I want to talk to you.  Tssst tssst.  You want to go to the shungle with me? Kwe konaan bwebwenato?”

As the invitations continued, I turned slowly to squint out the window.  The light from the apartment shone faintly on the pole supporting the short wave radio antenna.  There was a large hand gripping the pole, and next to the hand… there was curly red hair.

“You dip wad!” I hissed.  “I nearly peed my pants!”

“Shhhh,” he responded.  “Grab a quilt.  Come to the shungle with me.”

Perkaj was sleeping, so I figured what the heck.  I obeyed, grabbing a quilt and the mosquito net, turning off the lamp, shoving my feet into zories, and joining Jamie on the road in front of the clinic.

“Come on,” he whispered, taking me by the hand and leading me across the road.  There was only a little sliver of moon, but it was enough to keep us from crashing into trees as we wove deeper into the ocean-side palm forest.  

We got far enough that we couldn’t see the clinic light anymore, and giggled as we spread out the quilt and covered ourselves with the mosquito net.  

Out of the house it was actually cooler, and I sighed in relief as I looked up at the stars, Jamie’s arm behind  my head.

I couldn’t help it, laying on that quilt, covered by that mosquito net, looking up at those stars. “Oh, Frank…” I breathed.

My husband froze, and then he reacted. “Oh, you did not just call me Frank,” Jamie exclaimed.  I giggled as he rolled over on top of me.  “You take that back,” he ordered, his hand forcing its way under my tank top.

I laughed again, meeting his lips with mine, helping him peel off his shirt, wriggling out of my shorts and panties.

It had been so long and the circumstances were so novel I was fully engaged, blissful at his hands on me,  kissing his neck, reaching for him with my hand.  I attempted to change positions, to urge him inside, but he seemed determined to dominate me, insistent.

His hands were on my breasts and then his mouth was, teasing my nipples, biting them gently.   His hands were on my thighs and he was between my legs.  But he seemed to just be teasing me, pressing his pelvis towards me but then pulling away as I opened to him.

I realized he was waiting for something.

I took a deep breath. “I know who you are,” I whispered.  “Jamie.  Soulmate.  True love.  Partner.”

He paused, relaxed against me, kissed me gently between phrases.

“Provider,” I continued. “Protector. Gift of Providence.  Father of my babies. Friend.  Jimjeran.”

When we joined, finally, I was crying. I reached up and found his face, placing my hands on his cheeks, keeping his lips on mine as we moved together, as we connected, as we bonded ourselves together once again.

The whine of mosquitoes chased us inside, but not before we heard a wolf whistle from Anni and Kona’s yard as we crossed the road in front of the clinic. “Miss Peachay, Meester Shamie!” She exclaimed.  “You go to shungle?”

We headed inside to the sound of her laughter.

The next morning as we were getting ready for work and school, I noticed Jamie scratching himself rather intently  on the ass.  

“Hey Meester Shamie,” I joked, “How did you get a mosquito bite?”

He grinned at me adoringly. “I wonder, Miss Peachay.”

[fea-warriorheart]

Another Life

His heart pounds as he edges around the side of the barn, peeking out into the field beyond. There's no sign of his hunter, yet he's not stupid enough to think he's safe.

He's given odd looks as he sneaks across the gap between the buildings, from people and animals alike. One of the horses gives him an indignant huff as he brushes past, and he's probably lucky there's a fence between them.

He's in a bad spot. His hunter knows it better than him. He has to get to familiar ground before-

"Found you!"

Jaskier shrieks as strong arms wrap around his waist, lifting his feet off the ground. He can hear the smug grin as the boy behind him adds, "Too exposed, lark."

The hands dart down his sides, tickling him while also letting his feet touch the ground once more. Jaskier shrieks again, but there's no fear this time; laughter and mirth sound in every sound as he squirms in the stableboy's hold.

"Geralt! Stop it! I yield!"

A soft laugh comes from behind him, and the arms around him loosen, releasing him. Jaskier turns, face flushed and split with a grin as he takes in the redhead before him. Geralt's a good head taller than him, despite only being two years older. While Jaskier spends his days studying and being proper, Geralt spends his split between helping at the estate stables and learning medicinal practices under the watchful eye of his mother. He's lean from winter, as most of the village is, but there's already muscle starting to build back up on his frame with the scraps of food he's given by a sympathetic cook.

Laughter sparkles in Geralt's fern-colored eyes, a feature many might call dull compared to some of the other shades sported by humanoid races, but Jaskier was of the firm belief it fit him perfectly. Geralt was a child of nature, just like his mother, and it was fitting for such a prominent feature to reflect that.

"Julian! Get back here!"

The brunette grimaced at the sharp tone. Geralt's expression instantly smoothed into the neutral stance most of the servants took when a member of the house approached, let alone one of Jaskier's parents.

His father stalked over, scowling at him. "You're late for your lessons. I shouldn't have to come out here and drag you around. It's disgraceful."

Julian bowed his head slightly. "Yes, father. My apologies."

An iron grip latched on to his upper arm. His father sneered at Geralt as he started dragging him back towards the manor. "Get back to work, brat."

Julian didn't risk glancing back. Geralt would only get in further trouble; he knew his father already disliked the boy for being friendly with him, but kept him around because of his old friendship with Visenna. The woman had been there for Jaskier's birth, as well as his two sister's. Plus, Geralt had a way with the animals that no one could quite explain - or replicate - and it was too much trouble in his father's eyes to find and train a new boy for the job.

Geralt is one of the few good things Julian has in his life. He won't risk him by being stupid.

-

A fierce storm is raging against the windows of the kitchen. Many of the servants are fast asleep, but Jaskier paces the room, worry lines etched into his brow. Geralt is making them both a pot of tea; a messenger had arrived in the early evening, stating that Jaskier's father had been ambushed by bandits and that his location was currently unknown. Despite being reassured by his mother, sleep had not come easy to the young viscount.

Geralt rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts, and offered him a steaming cup. "Sit down," he murmured. "You'll do nothing for no one wearing holes into the floorboards."

He sits with a flop, tracing a finger along the edge of the cup as he waits for it to cool a bit. Geralt sits beside him, something they're only allowed to do in moments like this; moments of solitude in a life full of company. "You know I worry."

"Yes. It's why I knew you would seek me out."

Jaskier glances at him. Geralt's coat is drying by the fire; he'd accompanied the messenger to the manor through the storm, soaking both of them through, and his mother had insisted the poor boy stay the night. He'd taken a place by the kitchen fire to stay out of the way, and had been waiting when Jaskier slipped inside.

With Geralt, Jaskier is able to be... well, Jaskier. He's able to laugh and tell stupid jokes and not care about being proper, but only with Geralt. With all others, he must be Julian Alfred Pankratz.

It's no wonder why he feels drawn to the boy.

He sighs softly, leaning against Geralt. "What if they hurt him?"

"He's a hardy man, you know. This isn't the first time he's had to fight."

"That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

"I know, lark." Geralt gives him a one-armed hug-squeeze around his shoulders. "He'll be alright. Probably just lost his way in the storm, is all."

Jaskier shrugs miserably, sipping at his tea. They sit in silence for a while; Geralt eventually stands to clean their cups and dry them off. He's placing them back in the cupboard when the door slams open, startling both boys and causing the fire to give a threatening flicker.

Two figures stumble inside; one is unmistakably his father, while the other has broad shoulders and wears a thick cloak, obscuring all but the chestnut beard with gray flecks peppering it. The stranger slams the door shut, bolting it against the wind, and Jaskier's father stands there for a moment, breathing heavily as he takes in the two boys.

The stranger turns, then, and Julian's heart clenches when he sees the Witcher's medallion hanging around his neck. He pulls down the hood of his cloak, golden eyes reflecting the light of the fire. His gaze is on Julian, studying him curiously.

He turns back to Julian's father. "I assume you didn't expect either of them to be here. Which would fulfill your payment."

The man tenses, then shakes his head. "No, I expected my son to be here. He always waits up when I'm late. The stable boy, though- bah. You can take him."

Julian feels his world slow to a halt. When he looks at Geralt, he feels like he's moving through pine resin. The redhead's eyes are wide with shock and fear, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, though no sound leaves him.

"Fine. I doubt I have enough rations to bring both of them with me, anyways." The Witcher turns back to them, crossing his arms. "Your name, boy."

"No!" Julian's voice starts working again, and he stands between them. "You can't take him!"

"Julian," his father hisses, storming over to him and yanking him away. "He claimed the Law of Surprise for saving my life. It must be fulfilled."

"No! He can't take Geralt! Please, father, you can't let him!" Tears burn his eyes. Geralt still isn't moving, still hasn't looked away from the Witcher.

Golden and green gazes snap to them as Julian is backhanded. The Witcher is there in an instant, gripping his father's wrist enough to make the man cry out.

"I don't take kindly to those who would abuse a child for caring for a friend," the Witcher says softly. "Touch him again and lose your hand. Your oath has been fulfilled. Leave us, now."

"Wait." A small voice sounds from the corner where Geralt stands. He's trembling, eyes darting between the Witcher and Julian. "Can I- Can I at least say goodbye?"

Something in the Witcher's face softens, and he steps back, nodding. "Do you have any family?"

"My mother, she lives in the village..."

"You can say farewell to her as well and grab some spare clothes. Make it quick."

The Witcher leans against the fireplace, and Geralt rushes over, wiping at Jaskier's tears with soothing motions. "It's alright, lark. Don't cry... It'll be okay..."

"Geralt... Please, you can't leave me..." Jaskier gripped his shirt, twisting the fabric in his grip. A gentle hand brushes through his hair.

"You know I can't just ignore this, lark... I have to go, but we'll see each other again eventually, yeah...?"

Jaskier sniffles. Geralt lifts his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. He smiles gently, and for the life of him, Jaskier can't help but feel the truth in his words. He nods, even as his bottom lip wobbles. "Yeah."

The Witcher steps in again, a hand on Geralt's shoulder. He hands the boy his coat, and with one last look back, Jaskier's best friend vanishes into the stormy night.

-

He learns in Oxenfurt how few boys survive the Witcher mutations. He does not want to believe it, but part of him mourns his friend. Geralt was strong, but verging on too old for the Trials; his body would be more likely to reject them than to adapt to them. And besides, Geralt was a farmer, a healer, not a monster hunter.

So Jaskier does his best to move on. But there are nights, often dark with storms, where he curls in on himself and wishes things had happened differently.

He graduates Oxenfurt a master of the arts and top of his class, and then he just... wanders. He plays as a bard in taverns and inns, earning enough coin to stay the night and occasionally buy some new clothes. He takes lovers, but never partners; he loves too much and yet too little, flitting from person to person as his very being rejects each and every one.

He's nineteen, playing in some backwater village. The road there had been harrowing; he had been lucky to join a group of merchants at the last town. A nest of monsters - he wasn't sure what, he hadn't paid attention - had been terrorizing most travelers in small groups for weeks. They'd even been so desperate as to put up a notice for a Witcher.

Despite all of the stories, Jaskier hasn't seen another since that night. He's beginning to wonder if they're just a figment of everyone's collective imagination; perhaps the monsters just kill themselves off or migrate elsewhere when the pickings are slim.

He's just finished a song, collecting some meager coin as the door opens. Jaskier is retreating to his table when a hand rests on his shoulder; his mind runs through anyone he might have pissed off. He hasn't been in town long enough to anger any husbands, fathers or brothers, and no one would have followed him through such a dangerous area. So truly, for the life of him, he doesn't know why-

"Lark."

His world goes still in a way that has happened only once before.

He turns slowly. He's no longer a head shorter; his eyes are about level with his nose. His skin is paler than Jaskier remembers, contrasted with dark armor. A wolf's head gleams above it, snarling at his foes, and two swords are visible on his back.

Snow white hair brushes his shoulders, tied back clumsily. Jaskier can't find the strength to breathe as he finally looks him in the eye.

Gone is the green of ferns and grass in the spring; molten gold takes their place, slitted pupils darting in minuscule movements as he searches Jaskier's face. For all the differences, he's still the same boy - still the stable boy Jaskier knew.

He's still...

Jaskier is breathless as he whispers, "Geralt."

A small smile spreads across the boy's - man's, he's twenty, twenty-one now - face. He takes Jaskier's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I told you I'd see you again."

//An indulgent thing that I came up with out of the blue. Lost steam at the end which is why it sort of trails off, but hey, if anyone's interested in a part two.... (bold presumption, I know.)

[liquid-reign]

Wicked Game

Yes I have a thing for naming things after songs

Wicked Game- Chris Isaak

But for this fic, its the Daisy Gray version

And I don’t know to write an ending sentence or a closing sentence or whatever it’s called. So, uumm, yeah.

Tommy Shelby x Roslyn Asheton

//

//

She had just had her breakfast with Charlie, preparing him for his morning violin class. She had to go to office late today and made sure whatever time she had could spare, she spent it with Charlie. After prepping him up she went to her office to look forward to the days meetings. Halfway through the work, she heard bangs in the field. Charlie was playing specifically loud, so she rushed to the front door and saw something that horrified her.

Tommy was shooting at a scarecrow, surrounded with explosions. Not even a second passed since she saw this, and her feet ran at their fullest potential towards the field. The explosions stopped and Tommy was walking out of the field but she still ran until she was blocking her husband.

"Tommy?" she said, panting from all the running.

"What are you doing, still home?" he said, in a hurry, without even glancing her way and continued walking towards the house.

She followed him into the library, not asking anything. He immediately made a phone call and she listened, standing right there at the other end of his desk. Something about sending someone to Birmingham. Whom?

"What was that?" she asked

He just stood there, his hands leaning on the table, as if for support, head low.

"Tommy? What the fuck was that?" her voice angry and concerned now.

"I'll let you know later" he said, in a low thick voice. She knew him well enough to know when he didn't want to talk.

"You better", and she left.

Roslyn wasn't new to danger and could sense when things weren't right. Tommy had been behaving weird lately. They usually discussed about their businesses in whatever fragments of time they found with each other and were even beginning to settle into the marriage, maybe, but that was before he started behaving like this. So, she felt like it was time to fulfil the promise she had made.

.

.

.

It was late at night, way past midnight, when the door to her study opened. It could only be him. He didn't seat himself anywhere, rather poured himself some whiskey and walked to stand by the fireplace.

Tension and silence lingered in the air for sometime before he broke it, "You put your men on me"

"Finest men I have. They know how to handle anything."

He turned to look her way. Eyes giving away disbelief, disappointment, anger. His face, ever so expressionless and voice ever so professional.

"You put your men on me, Roslyn" he repeated

"It had to be done." she didn't look up from the work she kept herself immersed in

"Since when?"

"4 days now"

"Fair enough. I don't give you enough reasons to trust me, do I?" eyes fixed on her

Now she looked up and gave him a hard stare as if she could destroy him then and there.

He walked towards her, hands on her shoulders, lifting her up from her chair and pressing her back against the nearest wall. He raised both his eyebrows at her in question.

"You said you would let me know. You didn't, did you?" she paused to take a good look at him with her rage filled eyes, "It's not about trust, Thomas. I put my men on you because I promised something to you on our wedding night, eh?"

His expression relaxed a bit and his grip on her relaxed. He remembered how she had promised to stand by him as his strength.

She could tell he remembered. She wanted to tell him that his safety was prime to her, that sometimes she wanted to handle everything that he did and let him have some rest. But he didn’t function that way and she didn’t want to say it out loud. She couldn’t ever let rationality leave her. And in this very moment, anger is all she felt

"Michael is back and I know it is something related to him. And what happened in the field, Billy Boys, weren't they?" She paused and removed his hands off of his grip on her, "Don't forget that I'm not someone you can push-over, Thomas Shelby. I have my sources but I respect us enough to trust you to tell me things, which I can find out much easier on my own" now she stood close to him, as close as possible without touching him anywhere, "Anybody lays a hand on you, they won't see another day" she warned. Voice and expression stern. Like she would kill anybody who even tried to touch him.

He ran a finger to trace the side of her face.

She took her chance and walked out of his way towards her desk.

"Here", handing him the files, "I think you came here for these"

After taking the files and putting them back on the desk he grabbed her from the hand and pulled her to him. She, looking at the wall on the other side of the room, avoiding his face.

"You'd do that, eh?" he asked, knowing bloody well that she was fully capable of it.

No answer.

He cupped her face in his hands, to make her look at him.

"It's late, you should go to bed." her voice plain. She was annoyed at him. Her body turned on by the vicinity of them standing so close, yearning for him because they hadn't had an encounter for a long time now, but her mind knew better.

He did realise in that very moment that she was very serious and his treatment of her wasn't right.

He took his clue and left.

Tommy straightaway went to the library, sleep was far fetched. Tried to concentrate on everything but his mind wouldn't let go of his wife's words. How, after a very long time, he had felt something. He would be lying if he didn't admit how incredibly sexy he had found her at that very moment. A woman who could do that for him. Do what no one else had dared to till now. A woman who knew him so well. A woman who wasn't afraid of him. Who didn't want to change him. He wanted her. Needed her. To savour her. But-

She didn't want to give into what her body and heart demanded. Wanted to be strong, but the past few days had been rough and she needed a good enough distraction. He's your husband, Roslyn. You have the right to fulfil your needs with him. So, for the first time in a very long while, she decided to give in. To keep functioning.

He leaned back in his chair when he saw her enter the library. After a few seconds he got up, walked towards and absolutely crashed his lips onto hers, pressing himself to her, hands holding his wife from the waist, painfully close.

She parted, breathing heavily, "Take us to bed?"

He lifted her up, her legs hugging his abdomen and went upstairs to their shared bedroom.

They fucked like they could save each other by being getting lost doing it. Like it was the only thing keeping them alive. The intense two rounds left them empty and tired. She had ended up on top of him in the second one, collapsed into him.

She got up, out of the bed towards the window for a smoke.

Roslyn had no intention of being affectionate towards him right now, having had listened to her body and heart once, not anymore. Once in a while was enough.

He just lay there in the dark room. Her naked silhouette, smoking, against the huge dimly lit window. Sometimes, he thought, he was scared of how he saw himself in her. How she could match him, even better than him, in a lot of affairs.

His train of thoughts halting to a stop for a second when she left the room, dressed just in a light night gown. It was almost dawn. There was no way sleep would make it's way to him now.

Roslyn didn't want to be near Tommy. She had snapped, had too much. She needed a break and this was it so she made her way to her study and let herself be lost in the work.

Space was something both of them craved most of the times and this is what it looked like.

//

But I kinda have an alternate ending for this, so pick whichever you like

Here it goes;-

//

//

He leaned back in his chair when he saw her enter the library. After a few seconds he got up, walked towards and absolutely crushed his lips onto hers, pressing himself to her, hands holding his wife from the waist, painfully close.

She parted, breathing heavily, "Yes I'd do that, Tom. I will have your back, protect you, because God knows you deserve it"

Tommy nodded, felt pride. Strange, that. He had only ever felt that when someone could beat him, someone close, when Polly was a step ahead of him or when Ada threw clever answers his way. A rare occurrence. But Roslyn had already instilled pride in him when he had found out what she was capable of while giving protection and muscle for the Vendetta, or when she crushed anyone who tested her knowledge in ammunition.

It felt strange. A woman willing to protect him. It was the last thing that Tommy could've asked for. Protection for himself. Someone who cared deep enough to do that. And on top of that a woman, it felt unreal.

"Take us to bed?" she suggested, grazing on his lower lip.

He lifted her up, her legs hugging his abdomen and went upstairs to their shared bedroom.

They fucked like they could save each other by being getting lost doing it. Like it was the only thing keeping them alive. The intense two rounds left them empty and tired. She had ended up on top of him in the second one, collapsed into him.

She got up, out of the bed towards the window for a smoke.

He lay there on the bed in the dark room. Her naked silhouette, smoking, against the huge dimly lit window. Sometimes, he thought, he was scared of how he saw himself in her. How she could match him, even better than him, in a lot of affairs.

Roslyn was looking at him, through a thin layer of smoke.

Put out her cigarette and walked towards him. She sat on his laps, one leg on either side. He was propped up, his back against the back of the bed. They couldn't see much of each other, but the faint glow of the oncoming dawn was enough. Roslyn held his face in her hands, and kept gazing at him. Lost in thought.

"You'd let me do it" a statement rather than a question, almost a whisper.

"Why would you?" his arms wrapped around her waist now.

"Let me"

His head fell into her chest. And she held him. Running a soft hand to feel his hair. So soft. Not the kind of hair a gangster would be expected to have. Held him there. Hands drifting to his strong shoulders and back. Hugging him almost.

None of them kept track of time. When she realised he had dozed off on her, she didn't dare wake him up. He slept very little these days so she felt a bit of a relief when he finally did. His face looked tired and worn.

Roslyn couldn't sleep anyway, so she stayed until he would naturally wake up. Savouring the touch, the entangled bodies, his calm breathes. Gently kissing his neck and head several times in between, giving out all the emotions for him she usually kept locked in. And it hit her, something she wasn’t aware of up until now. She was afraid of losing him.

[littlesilverplatinum]

Far

@twinleaf-royalty​

---

-Out over the fields, a mist of birds lingered through the early morning hours and the air – despite summer being just around the corner – had felt cool. Touchable, almost, yet not quite so. The modest shed had smelled of soil, wood and smoke when she entered it, its door heavy and crooked as she quietly closed it behind her. Her weight, laid to rest against it. Her grandfather had asked her, behind the shield of a wrinkled, worn hand, to meet him there once breakfast had been through and Hikari, despite knowing exactly what it was that he would ask of her, had felt a tingling of ant’s feet traverse over her fingertips. Anticipation.  

(Her grandmother had sneered at their secrecy antics – she always did – for she was well aware of her husband’s poor habits… Though put a stop it, she did not. At some point, one simply stops trying.)

Johto, she had learned, had a culture of ‘fetch quests’ – the children of old, just as well as young, earning their independence early on in life to perform tasks such as gathering a carton of milk from the local store, or a box of flour from a neighbor. Even the purchasing of ‘medicinal’ herbs could be done by children as young as five, as long as they carry with them a handwritten note from the family member who asked. And, though Hikari was well beyond the age of a kid… Her excitement over being trusted for such a task still was childlike.-

-Hiroji had been sat with a pipe between his lips, the gentle glow of a lighter dancing over his aged features as he lit its cup. His words came in unison with thick, gray smoke.-

“… Would you be a dear and go buy herbs, Hiccup?”

-Hikari, who had been shifting between standing upon her toes, to the flats of her feet, had nodded her head so fiercely that her dark hair had fallen into her eyes. A smile of which gave a peek at her missing tooth, broad upon her lips.-

“Sure, I can do that.”

---

-It would’ve been the third time in her life that Hikari had gone and brought her grandfather his remedies (a description that was faulty, indeed, but it was how she liked to see such things) and, when she had entered the modest, backroad shop in Ecruteak, she had been greeted by a quietly chiming bell. She had rolled a string of copper coins within her hands, staining their scent upon her palms yet she did not particularly mind that she did so – not now, at the very least. Mrs. Mimura, the wife of the small boutiques owner, had been the one sat at the counter that day – something she had done once before, and so Hikari knew her well enough. Hesitantly, after catching her eye as she wandered between low shelving and stands, Hikari had bowed her head twice before finding herself at the counter to make her purchase.

She was asked about her morning (good), as well as if her grandfather was doing well (he was). She was asked if she had grown since they last saw her, and she had to admit that she hadn’t – a silly thing indeed, if one truly thought about it… But, a part of Hikari quietly enjoyed the chatter as it came. It may have been for pleasantries sake, but a part of her had come to wonder if Johto’s culture truly did display such pleasantries unless an interest truly was there.

… Perhaps she was just making it all up to feel good. She hoped not.-                                                                        

-When she had left, the bell had rang once more and the string within her palms no longer were as heavy. As she so often had decided to do, when traversing the roads of the old, yet young, city, rather than taking the roads most traveled – Hikari took to wandering the narrow backstreets. A path that left little room for even bicycles to travel upon, but was just enough for a person to wander through. It was quieter, too. Less crowded.

(Sometimes the friendliness of the world could get to be a little too much, could it not?)

She hummed as she walked, swaying the plastic bag she had gotten for her purchase before her knees and periodically hitting it upon them. Her dress left little to the imagination, when it came to her summer activities – for her shins and calves were littered by grass stains and accidental bruises. She never had been the most careful of kids, even now – as full grown adult (or presumably so…) Hikari found herself stumbling and blindly running through forests without much care for what may have laid in her path.

Those sort of things usually always sorted themselves out after all.

She had done the exact same thing way back then, back home in Twinleaf. Playing with only boys growing up may have been the true cause of her recklessness but, Hikari liked to imagine that it had been less because of Kouki and Barry’s influence, and more so her own personal choice. Well, perhaps the blonde boy had played part in some of her habits…-

-Hikari found herself upon streets she did not know so well, but it did not alarm her at first. Lost, she often had been when she had taken it upon herself to travel all across Sinnoh – so she didn’t get scared, not easily. Every now and again, the corners of which led into alleys had mirrors mounted upon house corners. Giving peeks, small glimpses into the paths she bypassed and ignored. From alleys without ends, to those who did – each and every time, something new was to be seen.

She wondered, had they grown up here instead of surrounded by large, vast forests, if they ever would’ve felt as confident as they had running about like they did. Or would they had felt more comfortable in the metropolises of Hearthome and Veilstone, instead?-

-A pause.-

“… No, not Veilstone,”-she quietly muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear absentmindedly. As beautiful as the city was, it held more danger than it was worth going through – even if it meant one got to spent time at the glimmering casino. God, she did miss that part of it…

Out of the corner of her eye, as she – out of habit – glimpsed at the next mounted mirror, Hikari felt her heart physically leap into her throat. Her steps, faltering to a standstill until she eventually just stood and stared. Up into that reflection, mounted so very high above her own head, into the alley just to her left.

She saw messy, gold locks and for a moment she felt that she would die if she dared move just another inch.-

-It… wasn’t, was it? No, Barry wasn’t in Johto… he couldn’t be.

This was supposed to be hers.-

-Despite the anxiety that gripped her heart – such an ugly, foul tightness that made her want to throw up – Hikari did, eventually, turn upon her heel. To stare down the alley through wide, slate eyes.

No, it wasn’t Barry – he was too tall, too broad too… old. Only when the stranger (or, as she would shortly learn, family friend) turned to bid his farewells to the keeper of an envelope and stamp shop, walked directly in her own direction, did Hikari fully realize who it was that she saw.-

-She hadn’t seen him in… In… She couldn’t remember how long.-

“Mr. B-Barry’s dad?”

[diddlesanddoodles]

DEAD WALLS RISE - CONNAR

PART THREE

His father was grim faced and his mother clutched her children’s hands hard enough to hurt but neither Connar or Penny pulled away. Gen stood near the small hearth, watching the flames dance.

“What...what does that mean for us, then?” Arthur asked. “Now that he’s dead.”

“The war’s over,” the captain explained, cleaning the inside of his pipe’s bowl with his pinky finger. “But don’t get too excited just yet. King Warren’s mandate will take time to reach the ends of Vhasshal and still there’s no guarantee all folks will honor it. Smuggling and selling humans has become quite profitable for some. Best keep on as you have for a while.”

Gen pushed back from the hearth and turned to regard the blue coated giant. “Should I keep sending in the reports?”

“Yes. They may be more valuable now than ever. Now that the trade’s illegal, information’s going to start drying up. People will be less likely to tell you all that they have. So whatever you have, keep sending it to me.”

“But still,” Penny said, surprising most of them as she never spoke whenever Keral visited. The large man outright terrified her and she always made it a point to make herself scarce around him. “The Blood King is dead. Things will get better right? They have to...”

Keral took a moment to regard the girl. “Doesn’t always work out that way, lass. Nethrin’s dead. His last son’s King now. He’s gonna have to work hard and smart and very quickly to secure his power. The time between transitions of power is precarious and if not done right, will make more of a mess than what we had to begin with. For now, all we can do it wait and see.”

…………………………………..

Connar and his family stayed with Gen in his home for another five years. In that time, Gen continued to supply the blue coats with as much information as he was able to garner, but as Keral predicted, most of it dried it very quickly.  Connar’s skill with leather continued to grow and he branched off into metal works. For almost a year, he worked on nothing but knives. Pocket knives, axe blades, kitchen knives, etc. Gen was beyond pleased with his progress and continued to challenge the boy as his teenage years began to slip into young adulthood.

Gen’s gray hair began to turn white and his strength was not what it had been until one day he gathered them all to tell them something.

“I have been playing with the idea of perhaps moving in with my sister,” he said. “She’s already assured me you all would be welcome.”

“Doesn’t she live in the village outside the castle, though?” Maria asked. “Would it be safe?”

“With the King so near, I’d imagine the village might very well be the safest place of all,” Gen replied. “And there is also the option of the Hill Tribe if you wish to live with your own people.”

Maria suddenly sent her daughter an amused side eyed glance. “We might be able to find you a nice beau, Penny. And you can start giving me some grandchildren.”

Penny flushed red and pointed to Connar as he took a large bite of an apple. “What about Connar?”

Arthur laughed. “Oh, he’s hopeless. He’d scare any girl off.”

Connar made a muffled whine of offense at the accusation as they all had a good laugh.

In the end, they did make the move the Gen’s sister’s home. Beth was a pleasant woman, fifteen years Gen’s junior, and like her brother, was a widow with all four of her children grown and having moved away. She and Maria became fast friends and both immediately began a crusade to find Penny a nice young man, despite her protestations. Connar was simply happy that they had not began to do the same to him and he was free to continue on learning whatever Gen still had left to teach him.

A little over a year later, Penny was married and moved to the Hill tribe with her new husband and soon after, they welcomed their first child into the world and both Connar’s parents moved in to help with the baby. Connar stayed behind in Beth’s house with Gen, still eager to learn and hone his skills.  

Gen passed away in his sleep two months later.

Looking back, Connar would remember very little of that time. In many ways it felt as though he had lost a father. He and his family owed so much to Gen and with him gone, Connar felt adrift and without a moor like a boat being carried away by the current. Too tired to try and steer himself back on coarse and too numb to understand why he should even try.

His family had a new baby to help distract from the pain and as much as he tried to throw himself into his work, he just could not bare to even look at his tools. The same ones Gen had made for Connar himself. With his hands.

Gen’s funeral was attended by more people than Connar would have thought and he stayed very close to Beth and her eldest son during the whole affair. Trying very hard not to see the way some of the attending giants sneered at him. Unlike Silvaaran funerals, Vhasshals buried their dead rather than burn them on pyres. They were placed in family tombs built far into the ground and the flesh of the dead would be returned to the earth and once there was nothing but bones left, they were pushed back into the far chamber with the bones of their ancestors to make room for the next body. So a single family tomb could hold hundreds of individuals.

Connar’s family were forced to leave early as the baby began to make a fuss and Penny was worried he might catch a cold in the chilly air. Connar thought it was more to do with being nervous around so many giants and he did not blame them. But he petitioned to stay.

He couldn’t leave.

Connar stared at the large opening to the Taversh family tomb as six Vhasshalans carried Gen’s shrouded body down, feeling numb. Flowers and wreaths and ribbons were places all around the opening as well as food and gifts that would be collected after by the family. When the giant emerged from the tomb without Gen, Connar felt the tears fall heavily down his face.

We can’t just leave him down there...

“I’m so sorry, Beth,” said one of the giants, voice thick with emotion. He was very tall for a giant and his arms were thicker than tree trunks. He lowered himself to hug the much smaller woman.

“Oh, Hevian. You’re so much taller then I remember,” Beth said, smiling through tears. She patted his shoulders. “And thicker! By the Gods, you’ve grown.”

The giant smiled, but it looked hollow as grief was painted thickly upon his features. He turned to Gen’s son and shook his hand, muttering a small greeting and condolence. But his eyes dipped lower to spy Connar. Beth caught the giant’s questioning look.

“Hevian, this is Connar,” she said. “Gendril took him and his folks in during the war. The human lass with the wee babe that left earlier? That was them.”

Hevian crouched down and extended a hand towards Connar and stuck his finger out. “It’s nice to meet ye, Connar.”

He looked up at the giant and reached out to grip the tip of the large finger.

“You too,” he mumbled.

“You know,” Beth said. “Gen was teaching Connar here. You should see some of his leather work, Hevian. It’s beautiful. A wee small, but beautiful.”

Hevian’s face lightened with intrigue and he spared the human a smile. “Well, I might need to come visit ye some day and take a gander myself.”

Beth looked down at Connar. “Hevian here was Gendril’s apprentice. Took over the royal smithy when Gen retired.”

And then Connar’s brain kicked him as he suddenly connected the dots and he blurted, “Oh! So you’re Hev.”

The giant grinned. “Aye, that’s me.”

“Gen told me a lot about you,” Connar replied.

“Good things I hope.”

“Mostly he said your leather work was crap,” Connar replied and then cursed at himself. But much to his relief, Hevian just threw his head back and laughed.

“Aye, that sounds ‘bout right to me. Never was much good with all that stuff. Was always more interested in playing with fire and sharp metal.”

…………………….

The funeral came and went and Connar returned to Beth’s house. That night at dinner, she pulled him aside.

“You’re always welcome here, dear,” she told him. “But I can’t help but wonder if you might feel better with your folks.”

“I thought about it,” he replied. “And it makes the most sense. I don’t want to impose on you. I know it’s a pain having me here. Your neighbors would be happy, I guess.”

“Oh, who gives a right hooey what they think,” she spat. “Gen loved you, Connar. And until the day they lay be beside him, you will have a place here. Same as your folks and sister.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said finally.

“Well, however long you need to decide take it.”

“Thank you, Beth.”

………………………………………..

His father had gotten him a job as a field hand working one of the wheat fields in the Hill Tribe. In all honesty, Connar did not even know anyone in the Hill Tribe farmed at all. But it sounded like a good way to start off on his own and long hard labor might just be what his idle brain needed to snap out of his rut.

He refused Beth’s offer to escort him there, promising her he would be fine. “Besides, if anyone give me trouble, I’ve got this,” he said, pulling out a large hunting knife. Beth was very reluctant to let him go on his own, but finally convinced her by promising he would go through the woods instead of using the roads.

“Please be careful,” she begged.

“I will,” he laughed, waving back at her as he began to walk. “I’ll see you soon.”

The Vhasshal castle was an imposing looking structure set at the top of a large gentle sloping hill with the village just below. The Hill tribe was a few miles away on the other side of the castle where the hills were more pronounced. In order for Connar to get there, he traveled through the forest that made a half moon shape around the castle and since it was strictly part of the castle grounds, it was considered trespassing for anyone to use it without permission from the Crown. Which made it the perfect path for Connar to get to his destination without being spotted by anyone with ill intentions.

He was almost through the thicket part of the forest when his foot caught on something and he fell forward just as metal teeth sprung up from the earth and clamped down onto his left leg. He fell to the ground and drew in a shocked and rattling breath as the worst pain he had ever felt radiated from his leg. He gave a breathless cry and he rolled over to see what had snagged him and he felt his heart drop at the sight. A spring loaded metal snap trap was clamped onto his leg, the sharp metal teeth digging and cutting into his flesh and passed the exposed meat of leg and the seeping blood, he could see the pale white bone.

His head spun as he gave his first real scream of pain. There was so much blood. Already he felt his backside was damp with it. He reached for his hunting knife and tried to pry the teeth apart, but his strength was quickly waning.

“F-fuck!” he screamed. “Augh!”

He quickly pulled his tunic off and used his knife to cut long ribbons out of it, wrapping them around his leg just under his knee and prayed desperately that it would stop the bleeding. Oh Gods, it hurt so much…

He pulled the ends of his makeshift tourniquet with a muffled cry of pain and fell back onto the ground. With every wave of pain, he screamed; fingernails digging into the ground and racking up the earth. All sound around him became muted as every piece of his waking mind was dedicated to feeling the pain from his leg.

He felt more than heard someone approach and the ground shook as a very large someone dropped to the knees beside him. He barely registered that they were speaking to him and through the tears clouding his eyes, he could not make out a face. The end of a stick was pressed against his lips and the voice above began to speak with a little more clarity.  

“...gonna hurt like hell. Bit down on this,” the giant commanded. “Better a stick than your tongue.”

A soon as his teeth were around the stick, there was an abrupt and wholly unwelcomed pressure on his leg as the metal teeth were pulled from his flesh and he heard the shriek of springs. His whole body was shaking from the pain and he sobbed, hands reaching out blindly until they found the warm flesh of a giant hand.

“You’re gonna be fine, Connar,” said the giant. “Keep biting down, lad. Keep breathing. I’m gonna pick ye up, now. Ready? One...two...”

He didn’t wait for the count of three before picking the injured boy up and Connar screamed through his teeth. The trees above him rushed by at an incredible speed before disappearing and were the replaced by stone walls and ceilings. Unfamiliar smells and sounds passed by and he got his first real proper look at the giant.

“...Hev?” he asked just as the darkness around his vision became absolute and he passed out.

………………………….

When he woke up, his head felt thick with fog and his limbs were heavy and sore.

But he couldn’t feel his leg. Weak as he was, he lifted his head up as high as he could and looked down at himself. He lay in a human sized bed in a room that was anything but human sized. There was a collection of bottles and rolls of bandages on a small table next to his bed, but the one thing that struck him was the tell tale lack of shape next to his right leg. Just below his left knee, there was nothing. A wave of emotion roiled up from inside him and he fell back against his pillow, tears already falling.

The second time he awoke, Keral was there and was speaking to a human who he initially thought was a man, but their voice revealed themselves as a woman.

“...he’s on some pretty heavy sedatives and pain tonics,” said the woman. “But he made it through the fever just fine. He’ll be bed ridden for a while yet while he heals.”

“Beth’s all outta sorts,” Keral said. “Blamin’ herself fer lettin’ him go on his own. His folks are wonderin’ when they came come see ‘im.”

“They’re welcome to come and see him, but don’t give them the impression he’ll be awake at all. I’m trying to keep him sedated as much as I can so I don’t need to bottle feed him pain tonic. I’m not trying to make him into an addict and with the dosage he would need at this stage, he surely would be.”

Time became inconsequential as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He vaguely remembered his mother and father visiting and Beth as well, but he was unable to speak or if he did, he could not recall what he said.

And for three weeks, that was Connar’s existence.

………………………….

Sawyer handed him a small book. “Barnaby said you might enjoy this one. Funny poems and such.”

“Thank you,” he said, idly flipping through the pages.

“So,” she said, “Give any thought to what you might do?”

“I guess go back to Beth’s place for a while. Teach myself to walk again with a crutch and be the local cripple. Beg for coins at the street corner.”

“Well, what were you doing before?”

“...honestly? Mooching off Beth. Gen before her. I was going to go be a field hand, but...well.”

“I though Hev said you were a craftsman.”

Connar blinked. “He said that?”

“Yeah. That you worked with leather and such.”

“Well, yeah. I do. Gen taught me. I wasn’t his apprentice or nothing. He just showed me some stuff.”

Sawyer gave him a look. “So, why aren’t you working with the skills you already have? You’re a skilled craftsman. Go craft. You don’t need both legs to do that, do you?”

“No, but what could I make that a giant would want to buy?”

Sawyer rolled her eyes. “Just because you lost your leg doesn’t mean your life and dignity went with it.”

………………..

He had just finished the book of poems when Hev came to visit him. Even among giants, Hev was tall and broad shouldered. His black hair was pulled back into a braid and though his tunic was clean, he still smelled like the forge; ash and metal and smoke. It reminded him a lot of Gen.

When Hev entered the infirmary, he gave Connar a wide white tooth grin and grabbed a chair. “How’re ye feeling, lad?”

“Better now that I can think straight,” he replied, setting the book aside. “But I think I’m done spending all my time in bed.”

Sitting into the chair, Hev gave Connar a nod. “Aye, suppose there’s only so much peace and quiet ye can take. Manage to get around on them at all?” He pointed to crutches leaning against his bed posts.

“A bit,” Connar shrugged. “Not that hard. Just tires me out. Not use to walking with my arms.”

Hev chortled at that. “Well, reason why I wanted to come see ye was I had an interestin’ talk with Sawyer. About yer future.”

Connar furrowed his brow. “Yeah, she was talking to me about that. Thinks I should try and use the skills Gen taught me. Since I’m useless like this for any job in the fields.”

“Aye,” Hev said. “And I agree with her. Last time Beth visited ye, she came by the shop and gave me this.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a knife sheath. He had made it for Gen for a new knife he’d made. It was not long after they had first moved into Beth’s home and Connar had decorated the flat sides of the sheath with depictions of the village with the Vhasshalan castle up on the hill.

“Ye made this?” Hev asked, his tone oddly serious.

Connar nodded and stared at the sheath in Hev’s hands. “Yeah. For Gen.”

“Ye want a job?”

Connar blinked at him. “Wait...what?”

Hev grinned and held up the sheath. “This is amazing work, Connar. I showed it to Master Donal and he showed it to the King.”

Connar blanched. “You...he did... wait, what?”

But Hev just grinned wider. “Aye. He was might impressed too. Told me I should offer ye a job in the smithy. And I agree. Ye’d be a great help.”

Connar did his best impression of a fish as he gaped open mouthed at him. “You...you’re offering me a job?”

“I am.”

“Oh...well,” Connar shrugged as a wide and elated smile crossed his face. “Fuck yeah I will!”

“Don’t ye wanna know the wages?” Hev laughed.  

“Doesn’t matter,” Connar replied excitedly. “You could pay me in fucking paper coins and I’d still do it.”

“Oi, careful now, lad. If Donal ever hears ye say that he might take ye up on that offer.”

[imaginingsoftly]

New York, New York - Mat Barzal

Type: established relationship

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: nope!

(Y/N = Your name)

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for, anon! 

You swore you hated New York. It was the Boston way. New York was the Yankees, and the Yankees sucked. It was the mantra your parents would chant at you as far back as you could remember, Jerry Remy calling the Red Sox in the background; “Yankees suck, Yankees suck”, over and over again until a two or three-year-old version of yourself repeated it back to them. 

But Mat? Mat was New York too, and every day you found yourself softening a little bit to the city. You came to appreciate the innovativeness of NYC in the way you loved the oldness of Boston (although you would never admit that to anyone), and you came to enjoy living in NYC even though you swore you never would. 

The Yankees hat Mat was trying to shove at you, however, was never going to be part of the city you would adopt. “Mathew Barzal, for the last time, NO!” Mat laughed, doubled over as you threw the hat back in his face. “That is sacrilegious, and I will not wear that goddamn logo as long as I draw breath.” You were amped up, and you knew that he was doing it on purpose. Going to a game in the Bronx was fine; visiting every MLB ballpark was something you wanted to do, and you had worn the hats of other teams when you’d gone to places like Coors Field or to see the Braves, but there was no way in hell you were putting on a Yankees hat. You had already settled on wearing one of your hats from your alma mater, because the Yankees were playing Toronto, and one of the guys you had watched in college was making his debut for the Blue Jays that afternoon. 

“Y/N please, just put it on so I can take a picture.” You flipped him off, sticking your tongue out for good measure, and he took a picture of that instead. “Beautiful, babe, that’s gonna be my new lockscreen. He poked at his phone, looking far too pleased with himself. While he was occupied, you took the opportunity to stare at him undetected. He was always hot; it came with his bone structure and the fact that he was built like a fucking sculpture, but you really loved days like this one when he looked soft and normal and totally yours. The Yankees hat was now on his head, facing backwards and covering most of his dark curls, minus the couple twisting out from underneath to wrap around the edges of the hat. His black t-shirt and gray board shorts were expensive, because of course he had to buy designer brands of the most simple pieces of clothing, but the sweatshirt that he was holding was old and worn, something from back before you two had met. 

Mat glanced up from his phone to catch you staring. He smirked, stalking over to where you were perched on the kitchen counter. “What? Change your mind about the hat?” You gripped the brim of your old university hat instinctively, and shook your head. “Not gonna happen, Matty.” He patted your knees. “Your loss. It’s a damn nice logo though, babe, you sure?” You shoved on his chest, sliding down off the counter and heading towards the door. “If I ever put on a Yankees hat, take me to the doctor, because something is wrong.” 

“Okay, Y/N, but what if one of our boys gets drafted by the Yankees?” 

You paused, smiling down at the growing baby bump currently being covered by one of Mat’s t-shirts. Twins, and they were already taking after their father, if their constant motion was any indication. 

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” 

“You mean cross it?”

“No,” you called as you walked out the front door. “I meant burn it.” Mat’s answering laugh followed you outside as you chuckled to yourself. Your boys shifted in response to the laughter, and you reached down to rub on your stomach soothingly. “If you boys want to play baseball, and you get drafted by the Yankees, I’ll support you all the way. But god help me, if you sign with them just because they offer you a lot of money, I will disown you.” Mat touched your back gently, and you looked up to see him staring at you incredulously. “Did you just threaten to disown our unborn children?” You patted him on the shoulder. “The Yankees, Matty.” 

“I know, baby. Yankees suck.”

“You’re damn straight they do.”

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (42/?)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121633/chapters/73887387

S1, OP2

“I’m sorry, Kusunoki-kun...”

I shook my head.

“It’s okay, Kunikida-san,” I insisted, turning to the man next to me. “Really.”

I shot him a small, hesitant smile.

“You were uncomfortable and you wanted to leave. I understand.”

But Kunikida didn’t respond.

For a moment, he just kept staring out at the line of trees at the horizon, as if he could see something beyond those thick green groves that no one else could. But then, he turned to me and smiled, and his expression was so uncharacteristically weary that it actually hurt for me to look at him.

Kunikida-san...

I tightened my grip on the bench.

He was so quiet the entire way here. In fact, that apology was the first thing he said to me since we left the tackle shop behind and arrived at Negishi Forest Park.

Something must have happened at that tackle shop before I’d joined the Agency—something awful.

I bit my lip.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him like this before...

“Thank you, Kusunoki-kun,” Kunikida murmured, his beautiful gray-green eyes appearing to focus on me at last.

His expression softened a little as he looked at me, but not so much that I couldn’t see the shadows subtly lengthening under his eyes.

“You’re very kind.”

I wanted to shake my head again, to protest.

‘Kind?’

How was it kind of me to take him to a place that clearly held bad memories for him? A place I’d barely researched before dragging him all the way out to Negishi from the middle of Chinatown?

“I’m sorry... Rokuzou... Sasaki-san...”

I took in the fine lines around my mentor’s eyes—lines that I hadn’t noticed before in the harsh glare of the bright midday sun.

Who were the people whose names he had called? How were they connected to that refurbished tackle shop by the sea?

And why...?

I bit down harder on my lip.

Why did he sound like he was in so much pain when he whispered their names out loud?

I studied my companion, taking in his slightly hunched posture, his faraway gaze.

I should cheer him up. It was the least I could do after what I just put him through...

“H-hey, Kunikida-san?”

The blonde detective perked up a little at the sound of his own name.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and scooted closer.

“Have you... come to this park in the spring before?”

Kunikida looked me.

“No, I don’t think I have,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Well...”

I gestured up, at the trees in the distance he’d just been staring at. As I’d looked at them earlier, I’d slowly recognized them as sakura trees and knew that in about a year’s time, their branches were sure to erupt in clouds of pale pink blossoms. It might be a little hard for Kunikida to picture it but I’d sketched enough of these in classes to know what I was talking about.

I looked back at my handsome mentor’s face and smiled.

“This just strikes me as a nice place to go flower-viewing in the spring,” I said, noting the way his sage-colored eyes seemed to brighten behind his thin, rectangular glasses.

I twiddled my fingers in my lap.

“I-if it’s something the rest of the Agency might be interested in,” I suggested, “I could organize a flower-viewing trip to the park next year in March?”

I paused.

“W-what do you think?”

“A company flower-viewing party next spring?” Kunikida mumbled, turning back to look at the scenery ahead.

A tiny smile slowly crept onto his face.

“That sounds nice,” he said, nodding a little as he continued to stare at the trees.

He glanced back at me and that tiny smile widened.

“But I thought we both agreed not to talk about work any more, in case Yosano-sensei somehow hears about it and decides to chop us both in half?”

I blanched.

“Shit, I forgot!”

But as I clapped my hands over my mouth and flushed in embarrassment, mortified that I’d caught myself swearing in front of my crush, Kunikida suddenly tipped his head back and started to laugh.

I stopped trying to cover my face and stared.

“K-Kunikida-san?!”

“Sorry,” Kunikida chuckled, “I was just teasing, Kusunoki-kun. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just—your face.”

He turned away and covered his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make such a face before. It was just too funny, I couldn’t help myself.”

He let out one final chuckle and leaned back against the bench, crossing his legs in front of him and folding his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry I was in such a strange mood earlier,” he said, running one hand through his hair as he looked out across the fields. “And I’m sure you have a lot of questions about what happened at the tackle shop and why I reacted the way I did but...”

His expression grew somber.

“I’m not quite ready to talk about these things with you. Not right now anyway. Maybe in the future, when you’ve gotten to know me and Dazai—”

I stiffened.

Dazai? What did he have to do with all this?

“—and the Agency a little better, we’ll be able to discuss it. But for now...”

He smiled softly.

“I want to say thank you,” he said, the look in his eyes radiating warmth and sincerity. “For cheering me up. I really needed that laugh...”

I felt my cheeks grow warm.

“No problem...”

Ah... he’s too brilliant...

I looked away, my cheeks glowing like the setting sun.

It’s hard to look directly at him when he’s smiling like this...!

But as my gaze finally settled on the neatly paved path in front of us, I caught sight of our shadows stretching across the road.

Our very long shadows stretching across the road...

I jerked up to look at the setting sun and gasped.

Oh, no...

I scrambled to my feet, startling Kunikida.

“Kusunoki?”

It was almost five. Almost the end of the official work day at the Agency and the end of my scheduled time together with Kunikida. I knew my mentor well enough to know that the moment the hour was up, he was going to get up from that bench, thank me politely for taking him out for the day and just leave. Probably for whatever location was next on his tightly packed agenda. President Fukuzawa might have ordered Kunikida to not do anything work-related during the day, but that didn’t mean he had to discontinue his evening routine, whatever that might be.

If I was going to confess, I was going to have to do it now, while the mood was still good!

I clenched my hands into fists.

“K-Kunikida-san...!”

Sweat was pouring down the back of my neck. I could feel the collar of my shirt sticking to my skin.

“I...”

Kunikida sat up a little as I struggled to speak.

“I...!”

“Yes...?” Kunikida asked patiently, his sage-green eyes locked on mine.

His lips parted and he spoke his next words in a low, husky whisper.

“What is it, Kusunoki-kun?”

Oh God...

I sagged a little on my feet under the man’s gentle gaze.

I can’t do this...

I slapped my hands over my burning face.

Not while he’s looking at me like that! It’s too much...!

“Are you... feeling alright?” Kunikida asked, his voice now tinged with concern. “Your face is really red.”

“Fine,” I mumbled, slouching forward. “I’m fine. I’m just... a little thirsty. That’s all…”

Spotting a set of vending machines just down the road, I turned towards Kunikida and gestured towards it rigidly.

“C-can I get you anything to drink, Kunikida-san?” I asked abruptly, as my companion blinked at me in surprise. “I’m sure you have a long journey back to your apartment complex later and uh, you know...”

I tried to smile but it felt strained.

“Good to stay hydrated, right?”

“Uh, sure...” Kunikida trailed off, looking at me oddly. “Then... green tea, please. If they have it.”

I nodded quickly.

“Be right back!”

And before he could say another word, I ran off.

Coward. Idiot. Moron.

I banged my head against the vending machine as I waited for the cans of tea to come out.

How could I have chickened out like that?!

How??

Over the past couple of months, I’d been chased down, shot at, blown up, dissected and strangled—not to mention slashed into ribbons by one of the most fearsome Ability Users in the entire country. How the hell had I faced down all of these threats and more, only to come out the other side unable to do something as simple as tell my crush that I liked him?!

I heard an echoing thud and opened my eyes to see that the canned drinks had tumbled into the receptacle by my feet.

I crouched down to pick them up and sighed.

I had to confess and I had to do it today! Who knew when I was going to get an opportunity like this again? Yosano, Kyouka and Atsushi (probably? I wasn’t exactly sure if the tiger boy actually knew what was going on) were all rooting for me. I’d even gone to the trouble of calling Dazai for help...!

I frowned.

Speaking of Dazai...

Why had Kunikida suddenly brought up his bandaged partner? And in the same breath as the fishing tackle store? Did that maniac know something that I didn’t?

Or worse...

I reached inside the receptacle for the first of the two cans.

“You already have everything you need...”

Had Dazai actually given me that hint so that he could sabotage my confession somehow? He was the type to play the long game, after all and I knew just how much he loved a good prank.

But then again...

I took the first can out and set it on the ground.

If that was the case...

Once again, I heard Dazai’s long, drawn-out sigh echoing in my ear.

“ You really want Kunikida-kun to like you, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

I took the second can out and studied its slightly dented surface.

Then why did he always sound so sad whenever he was talking to me about Kunikida-san?

I put my free hand over my face and closed my eyes.

Dazai Osamu...

What was he doing this for? Why was he helping me? Was it really all for the sake of some immeasurably cruel joke?

Or...

“ I know I’ve said and done a lot of things in the past,” Dazai said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “But I need you to trust me on this one. I don’t lie during negotiations and since you’ve already held up your end of the bargain...”

He paused.

“ I’m all but obligated to help you. So, I’ll ask you again.”

I opened my eyes and stared at the slightly dented can on the ground.

“Kusunoki-kun...”

Was Dazai actually helping me because he genuinely cared about me?

“Do you trust me?”

“ I do,” I whispered aloud.

Rising onto my feet, I took out my cell phone and opened the photos back up.

“Kusunoki-kun... Sometimes things happen that you’re not ready for. Things like developing feelings for someone... But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to act on those feelings.”

I enlarged the first photo.

“Even if you’re not sure it’s right.”

It was possible that I’d gotten Dazai’s meaning all wrong.

I squinted at the pixels on the first image, examining the margins for any sign of bleeding ink from the previous page.

It was entirely possible that he hadn’t meant that I should be using Kunikida’s notebook to figure out how to make him happy...

I finished scrolling through the first image and went to the second one.

... But this was the only thing I had to go off of. And I wasn’t planning to call to ask about it again.

The second image yielded no results, so I went to the third.

I had to trust Dazai. I had to trust that the answers were somehow in my possession already and that it was because of my own blindness and stupidity that I’d missed them the first time.

I briefly lifted my eyes towards the treeline, where the bright orange ball of the sun was now grazing the tops of the deep green foliage.

And I had to trust that I would be able to find them in time in order to make this confession a successful one...

“...Kusunoki-kun?”

I jumped.

I was so focused on frantically searching through the photos for some kind of hint that I didn’t even hear Kunikida’s footsteps approaching from behind.

“ Kunikida- san! ”

I hid my cell phone behind my back and tried not to look suspicious.

“H-hey!” I quipped, all too aware of my twitchy smile and unnaturally stiff posture. “What’re you doing all the way over here?”

“Well,” Kunikida said, stopping just a little bit in front of me. “You were taking a while, so I thought I’d come over to see if everything was okay .”

He grew quiet.

His eyebrows knitted together, his lips turning downwards in a frown.

“ Is everything okay...? Kusunoki- kun? ”

Huh?

“Of course everything’s okay ,” I stammered, blindly trying to stuff my cell phone into my purse before realizing that it was actually hanging in front of me .

What’s with that reaction? Why is Kunikida looking at me like that?

“W-why wouldn’t it be?”

Kunikida’ s frown deepened .

“ Because this is the second time you’ve run off this afternoon,” he said, crossing his arms. “ With that look on your face .”

I stopped fumbling with my cell phone at once.

“ Eh?”

“First,” Kunikida explained, “there was the tea shop. You were looking pretty stressed out right before you ‘went to the bathroom,’ and when you left, you were gone for such a long time that I almost decided to ask the clerk to go and check in on you. But then, when you came back, you seemed to be doing so much better that I decided it was better for me not to ask.”

I felt my mouth drop open a little in surprise.

He... he noticed?

“ But then, you ran off again just now,” Kunikida said, gesturing to the vending machines behind me. “While you were clearly in the middle of trying to say something to me. It actually made me wonder if I’d done something wrong.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“I thought maybe it was because of what happened at the tackle shop earlier. I started wondering if I should just pull myself together and tell you what happened. But then I realized…”

His gray-green eyes met mine.

“You’ve been stressed out all day, haven’t you?” Kunikida asked.

I was...

The cell phone I was holding behind my back slipped a little in my grasp.

I’d been trying to hide it from him all day, but he’d noticed anyway.

I couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Kusunoki- kun ...”

Kunikida sighed.

“I know that you were given the difficult task of helping me relax today,” he said, “but that shouldn’t come at the cost of your own peace of mind. You know ... ”

He took a step towards me.

“If there’s something bothering you—something besides just the schedule getting thrown off—you can talk to me about it. I’m your—”

He faltered for a moment, a streak of bright pink flooding across his face.

“I’m your mentor,” he said at last, his cheeks flushing redder. “And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. Anything at all! No matter what it is. So, please...”

He studied my face.

“ L et me help you with it.”

I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

“ Kunikida- san ...”

No matter what it is...?

My cell phone slipped a little further in my hands.

Did he really mean that...?

“ I mean that, you know,” Kunikida said, as if reading my mind.

He took another step towards me.

“ But I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

What’s going on...

I parted my lips, the words beginning to form on the tip of my tongue.

Should I tell him?

I looked around the park, at the trees and fields of grass dyed in shades of orange and gold, as if set ablaze in the late-afternoon light. I glanced up at the road, where the last of a group of tourists was gradually making their way past the building in the distance, slowly exiting the grounds.

And finally...

I glanced back at the man in front of me, whose dirty-blonde bangs were blowing gently in the breeze, his thin ponytail flowing behind him like a ribbon made of silk. His gray-green eyes burned in the light of the setting sun.

I swallowed.

Was it really time?

“ Kunikida- san ...”

I took a tiny breath in and steeled myself.

“There... there actually was something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Kunikida perked up.

“Oh?” he ask ed.

And before I could say another word, he slowly reached into his blazer—

“Alright. In that case...”

—and pulled out his notebook.

I froze.

“What did you want to tell me?” Kunikida asked, taking out his black-and-gold fountain pen and holding it at the ready.

But I could no longer speak . At the sight of that familiar olive-green notebook coming out of Kunikida’s blazer, I abruptly remembered exactly what I was hiding behind my back:

Photographs... of some of the most private pages in Kunikida’s notebook. The notebook he was holding in front of him right now.

My hands shook.

I couldn’t do this. I had no right.

Without thinking about what I was doing, I started backing away.

“ Kusunoki...?”

Lowering his notebook a little, Kunikida stared at me over the top of those lightly-bound pages.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t...” I whispered, my voice shaking as I spoke. “I can’t tell you...”

Kunikida’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asked, suddenly looking shocked.

But I shook my head and kept backing away.

I couldn’t confess to him. I wasn’t qualified to. I never was.

Kunikida’s ideal woman wouldn’t do something as underhanded as what I just did—what I’ve been doing this whole time.

I was never worthy of Kunikida to begin with.

“ I just can’t , okay?” I stammered, squeezing the cell phone behind my back so hard that my hands started to shake .

“ I’m so sorry, Kunikida- san . But I can’t tell you why I’ve been so stressed. Please don’t ask me any more about it.”

“ Why not?!” Kunikida asked.

He sounded genuinely alarmed now.

“Kusunoki—”

I felt my shoe bump into something metallic but I ignored it and kept backing away, my mind fully focused on pressing the right buttons on my phone so that I could delete the photos I had up on my screen.

But I couldn’t see what I was doing.

And I couldn’t see where I was going.

I heard a tiny metallic squeak as the heel of my left shoe pushed against something rounded and smooth. Without thinking, I put my weight down.

Kunikida’s eyes widened.

“ Watch out —!”

He reached out towards me but it was too late. I heard a weird crunching noise coming from beneath my shoe and before I knew what was happening, my leg suddenly shot out from under me.

My phone flew out of my hand.

“Ah—!”

Kunikida rushed towards me, his hand outstretched.

“ Kyou—!”

But I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at my phone, watching helplessly as the thin, silvery device sailed through the air and away from me. I tried to reach for it but my arms were just too short...

I hit the ground without it.

“ Ow.. .”

Groaning, I sat up a little higher where I fell, wincing as I felt my backside bruising painfully underneath me. When I opened my eyes again, I saw that the bright green can of tea I’d forgotten to pick up earlier—the can I’d just stepped on, causing me to slip and fall—was rolling away from me like a wheel from a car wreck. And as it hit Kunikida’s shoe and came to an abrupt stop in front of him, I saw my cell phone lying face-up on the pavement between us.

Before I could get up and try to take it back, Kunikida stepped forward and scooped it up in his hand.

“ You dropped this ,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t smiling.

“Kunikida-san...”

I stumbled a little as I tried to get to my feet.

“ This isn’t what it looks like.” “Oh?”

Kunikida inclined his head towards the phone in his hand.

He flipped the phone around so that I could see the display. Even from where I was sitting, I could make out the neat penmanship and fine, dark strokes of Kunikida’s handwriting.

“It looks like you were hiding this from me. And that you went through my notebook, took a picture of a very private page and saved it to your phone. And I’m guessing...”

His jaw tightened.

“This isn’t the only one.”

From the way he said it, I got the feeling I didn’t need to answer.

Kunikida sighed.

He closed his notebook with a sharp snap but didn’t put it away. “Then, tell me. What does it look like? Because from here...”

“ Kusunoki... I’m not opposed to showing you things from my notebook if there’s something in it you’re interested in. Like I said, I’m your mentor and I completely understand if you want to see my schedules, plans or ideals, or even just see how I work. But this...!”

At once his expression grew pained.

“ This is what you were hiding from me?” Kunikida asked, his tone tinged with shock and disbelief. “ This is what you were running off to check all day? I don’t understand. Kusunoki...!! ”

He ran his hand through his hair, looking hurt and confused.

“Why were you so interested in these particular pages?”

“ Kunikida- san ...”

I bit my lip.

“You really don’t know...?”

Kunikida shook his head.

“There’s a reason I have the photos of those pages ,” I told him, gradually rising up before his eyes . “ A very good one...”

I slowly got to my feet.

“ Do you remember my very first day at work, Kunikida- san ? When you took me downstairs to get lunch together at the Uzumaki Cafe? You told me that everything there is to know about you —no ...”

I shook my head.

“That everything you consider important about yourself—is written in that little green book.”

I stood before him.

“I kept those photographs because I wanted to study them,” I said, my voice growing stronger as I spoke. “I wanted to know exactly what kind of woman was Kunikida-san’s type... because...”

I swallowed dryly.

“ I wanted to become that woman. What I’m trying to say is...”

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Kunikida- san ...”

I opened them and looked straight ahead into Kunikida Doppo’s beautiful sage-gray eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, his lips slowly parted. *** (stop playing music here)

“...what?”

“I’m in love with you,” I repeated, my face growing warm at last. “I’ve been in love with you... For a long time now... I...”

I clutched at my chest, twisting and wrinkling the fabric of my shirt.

“I was planning to tell you at the end of the day today, just...”

I bit my lip again.

“ Just not like this...”

I heard Kunikida breathe a sigh.

“Kusunoki...”

“ I’m sorry I kept those pictures of your notebook and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier!” I said in a rush. “It’s just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

I looked away .

“ Kunikida-san...” I mumbled, staring at my feet. “I’ve been in love with you ever since we finished our first case together. When you first saved me at that art gallery, I thought you were amazing. You were so strong and brave and selfless . But then, when I started working at the Agency and you became my mentor, I realized...”

I felt my face burn even hotter under Kunikida’s silent gaze.

“N ot only are you strong and brav e, you’re patient and kind as well. I don’t know how you were able to deal with someone as useless as me, especially considering how often I messed up but...! Then I realized!”

I looked back up at him.

“ Kunikida- san is kind because he cares ...”

I felt my voice breaking.

“And it’s because you care so much that you work so hard. You’re always working so hard, Kunikida-san! For the sake of those around you!”

At those words, Kunikida suddenly twitched.

“I think it’s incredible how you’re always looking to see the good in everyone. Even me... In fact, I think it’s one of the best things about you.”

For some reason, Kunikida was shaking his head, but I pressed on.

“ You’re always helping people, always looking to make this world a better place, one case at a time. And you have. You’ve saved so many people, Kunikida-san...! You’ve saved me—!”

BSD Music 1

“ YOU’RE WRONG!!” Kunikida burst out .

I stopped talking immediately.

“Kunikida- san ...?”

“I said...” Kunikida whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I said you’re wrong. I’m nothing like the man you’ve just described. I’m not...”

He covered his face with one hand, his posture visibly crumpling. Alarmed, I ran to him but h is next words stopped me dead in my tracks .

“ I’m not that incredible at all.”

“ Yes, you are!” I exclaimed, confused and frightened. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said? I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt for such a long time, but I never worked up the nerve—”

“Kusunoki.”

Once again I was struck silent.

Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. I didn’t know what kind of reaction I was expecting after confessing and laying my heart out on the line but it wasn’t this—!

“ I haven’t saved as many people as you think I have ,” Kunikida said quietly, his hand still over his eyes.

“In fact, I’ve failed...”

He gripped his notebook in his hand with my cell phone, his knuckles going white against the stark black lettering. The kanji for “Ideal” shook in his grip.

“... more times than I can count. ”

“Kunikida-san...”

“ Kusunoki- kun .”

Kunikida dropped his hand away from his face.

“Please don’t talk about things you don’t understand. There are so many things that happened before you joined the Agency—”

Like the thing that happened at the tackle shop?

“Things that would make you shrink in horror— things that would make you hate me, if you knew...!”

“ I could never hate you !” I cried, clutching my chest. “ Never! Why don’t you t ell me what happened and then let me decide for myself?”

But Kunikida was shaking his head again.

“ I can’t do that,” he said. “ There’s just too much to say. Too much that I can’t properly explain.”

He lowered his gaze.

“My misdeeds are a weight I must carry on my own . It wouldn’t be right of me to burden you with them.”

“Even if I want to share the load?” I whispered aloud.

Kunikida’s eyes sharpened .

“ You’re a compassionate girl, Kusunoki- kun, ” he said, his eyes softening just a little. “And your kindness is just one of the many qualities that make you well-suited to being a member of the Armed Detective Agency . But you should never—never—offer to carry a load when you don’t understand just how heavy it is.”

He took my cell phone out and held it in front of him, gazing wretchedly at it.

“If you knew the truth about me... about the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt...”

He bit his lip and squeezed the cell phone in his hand, anguish written into every feature of his handsome face as he stared at it.

“ I wonder if you would still feel the way you do.”

“ Why...?”

At the sound of my voice, Kunikida looked back up.

“Why do you talk about yourself like this?” I asked, letting my hands drop away from my chest. “Why do you talk about yourself as if you’re a despicable person? I don’t understand...”

I took a step towards him.

“Kunikida-san... what could you have possibly done to make you see yourself in such a way?”

Don’t tell me...

I swallowed uneasily, thinking of his skill with a gun.

Don’t tell me he’s killed before...?

Unfortunately, my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Kunikida took one look at me and backed a step away.

“ Kunikida- san ... Please...”

I took another step forward for Kunikida’s one back.

“No matter what you’ve seen... No matter what you’ve done... I still think you’re a good person. I know you are.”

“You don’t know that, Kusunoki-kun.”

“ Yes, I do!” I cried. “ Because I’ve seen it! You hel ped me rescue Mei- chan and the other kidnapped women. You took me to see Katai- san and shielded me when the apartment nearby suddenly exploded onto the street. You dropped everything in the middle of the day to drive to an abandoned dormitory just for the sake of saving one man’s life!”

I balled my hands into fists.

“Can’t you see?”

Can’t you see yourself the way I see you?

Tears were openly flowing down my cheeks.

“ You were always there for me. You’ve been helping me this whole time. You’ve saved me... O ver and over and over again! Kunikida- san ...! ”

Unclenching my hands, I slowly lifted them up towards the man in front of me.

“ How could I not fall in love with you?”

Following my words, silence fell throughout the park once more.

Kunikida did not answer. He just watched as I stood there before him, my tears doing the rest of the talking for me. Only when I finally lifted my hands back up to my face, to wipe them away, did Kunikida speak at last.

“Is this how you really feel? Kusunoki-kun?”

I stopped wiping my tears just long enough to let out a tiny sniffle.

“Yes.”

I nodded a little.

“Yes, that’s how I really feel.”

Kunikida’s mouth flattened into a thin line. He grew quiet once more and I could tell by the look in his gray-green eyes that he was clearly thinking about something. Then, he sighed.

“I see.”

He stared at his notebook for a moment, then gazed back up at me.

“I’m sorry, Kusunoki-kun.”

Eh...?

“But if that’s how you really feel about me...”

His expression wavered, his eyes searching mine.

“Then I can’t accept your feelings.”

Insert song: Blind to You

What...?

“ Here.”

He tossed my cell phone back to me .

“ I’m not going to ask you how you got those photos. Nor will I ask how long you’ve had them either. But I will ask that you delete them.”

“ W-wait,” I stammered. “ Kunikida- san— ”

“ Those pictures,” Kunikida cut me off, “are from a notebook I haven’t used in a long time— a notebook that I keep in my locker at work because it is full and can no longer be used for combat or for other purposes .”

I stiffened.

“ What?”

“In other words,” Kunikida said, “I wrote that list a long time ago. Long before you came to the Agency.”

He paused to look down at his notebook once more.

“ A lot of things have happened since then,” h e continued. “ Enough to make me question both the list and my values. I’ve been told before that the list was...”

His expression became strained.

“‘Too much...’ to use Sasaki -san’s words exactly. And after she passed— ”

I twitched.

That name again...

“—I couldn’t bring myself to look at these pages the same way again.”

He studied me.

“ I don’t think any of our coworkers are aware of the things I’ve just told you,” he said quietly. “ So I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d gotten some of your ideas from them or if they actually corroborated them . But I am disappointed...”

He sighed.

“I wish you could’ve just talked to me about things and tried to get to know me normally instead of doing—”

He gestured in the air.

“ This . All this sneaking around behind my back... It’s not like you, Kusunoki- kun .”

I flinched. Being physically struck would have hurt less.

“I actually had fun today, you know,” Kunikida mumbled . “And I get the feeling that if you hadn’t been worrying over this list and trying to make everything as perfect as possible, then maybe...”

He ran his hand through his hair one more time, his gaze lingering on the dented can of tea that had rolled to a stop by his foot.

He sighed again.

“ I just have one final question for you.”

“ What is it?” I asked quietly, my phone feeling heavy in my hands.

“ Tell me,” Kunikida whispered, dropping his hand at last.

His expression was pained.

“When you were planning to tell me about the photos?”

When...?

“I...” I started.

When would have been the right time to tell him? I’d have to come clean after we got together. It wouldn’t sit right with me, otherwise.

But when?

After our first date? No. That was too soon. He’d be hurt and betrayed, just like he was today. Enough that he would end things right there. But what if I waited a few years, after we’d really gotten comfortable with each other?

I bit my lip.

No, wait... What if things went further than that? What if we got married? Would it be best to tell him before we were engaged or wait until after the ceremony? Would he leave me at the alter or forgive me eventually? But what if I waited too long or decided never to tell him?

How long was I willing to keep the secret?

I pictured transferring the photos from device to device. Keeping printouts in a shoebox in the closet while I fed our first child in the kitchen. Taking the secret with me to the grave as an old woman, lying on the truth hidden just underneath my mattress.

But then I realized...

A single, heavy tear rolled down my cheek.

I’d rather kill myself than choose a lifetime of hiding the truth from the man I loved.

I hung my head.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But I would. I would have told you before things had gotten too far.”

Kunikida nodded.

“I think so, too,” he admitted, glancing down at the notebook in his hand.

He turned away from me and faced the path ahead, his gray-green eyes fixed upon the exit and his profile bathed in the dull orange glow of the setting sun.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Kusunoki-kun,” he said.

He brought his hand up to his face to readjust his glasses.

“I appreciate that we were able to talk a little.”

His expression growing somber, he dropped his hand and shot a quiet look over his shoulder at me, not quite smiling but not quite frowning either.

“Let’s just keep what happened today between us,” he said softly, “due to the nature of our workplace relationship. I’m flattered and I appreciate your feelings for me, but...”

He looked away.

“I’m afraid I cannot return them.”

Stuffing one hand into his pocket, Kunikida turned away from the sunset and began walking away.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Kusunoki-kun. Don’t stay out too late.”

No...

I stood frozen behind him, staring after his tall, broad-shouldered figure as he headed for the gates in the distance.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way...!

I clutched at the phone in my grip.

I had to do something. I had to find some way to make this right! I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let Kunikida go like this—!

And as my gaze fell upon his bare hand slowly trailing after him as he moved, I thought of a solution.

A stupid, desperate solution.

My Ability.

I ran after him.

“Kunikida-san, wait..!!”

I reached out my hand.

I knew there was no taking back what had just happened, no fixing anything that had happened in the past... but what about the future?

I gritted my teeth as Kunikida’s hand swung backwards towards mine.

If I could just see what lay ahead, find a path forward, through this mess, then perhaps one day, I could still make Kunikida mine...?

My fingertips were just millimeters away from the man’s bare skin.

I’d used my Ability to change the future before. So, why not now? Why not make the change that I desperately needed the most? Why not change my future and his for the happy ending I craved more than anything else?

Almost there...

I braced myself for the pull.

Just a little further...!

But just as his hand was almost in my grasp, Kunikida abruptly turned around and spotted me.

“KUSUNOKI!!”

I stopped reaching for him at once.

“What are you doing?” Kunikida whispered, his gray eyes wide with shock.

He jerked his hand away from mine with a sharp snap.

“I already gave you my answer,” he said, tucking both his hands away.

I felt my heart sink.

He knew...

“This needs to stop.”

He knew what I was doing—what I was about to do...

I felt my knees start to wobble and shake.

“Go home, Kusunoki-kun,” Kunikida sighed, his expression every bit as weary as his voice. “You’ve done enough.”

He turned back towards the road.

“You’ve done more than enough.”

And as he picked up his feet and walked away one final time, I felt my legs crumple underneath me. My cell phone hit the pavement right next to my knees.

“Kunikida-san...”

My vision blurred and swam and I could only watch helplessly through a curtain of tears as the tall, blonde detective walked further and further away from me and disappeared down the road.

It’s over...

“What have I done...?” I whispered as the tears continued to leak out of the corners of my eyes.

I really never was worthy of Kunikida Doppo to begin with.

And before I could stop it, a sudden sob burst from my mouth; I covered my face with my hands and cried into my open palms, my cell phone lying forgotten at my side.

And I’d just proved it...

How could I have done this?

How could I have tried to use my Ability on the man I loved?!

I could hear the trees rustling in the wind, the air around me in the park growing colder as the sun disappeared over the horizon at last. But I didn’t move from my spot. I just kept sitting there on my legs, sobbing as the day turned into night. Hating myself and hating everything I’d done.

Was I really willing to override his wishes—what he explicitly told me—in order to gain his affections?!

I sniffled loudly as the wind began to pick up.

“ I’m the worst. The worst...! ”

***(Stop music here)

And as the chill of the night breeze slowly began to fade at last, I finally wiped at my eyes and took my hands away from my face. I stared at the cell phone on the ground, which had fallen face-up once again, the image clearly visible on the scuffed-up screen that of a page from Kunikida’s notebook.

The kanji displayed showed Trait Number Seventeen: “Honesty.”

I picked it up.

“Honesty, huh?” I mumbled to myself.

I clicked a few buttons and hit “delete.” But another image of the notebook popped up instead.

I sighed heavily.

If I really did love Kunikida, then I should do what he asked: delete all of the images associated with his notebook and go home.

I clicked a few more buttons.

When all of the images of Kunikida’s notebook had been deleted at last, I closed the app and went to the maps. But just as I was about to look up directions to my apartment from here, my phone suddenly buzzed to life with an incoming call.

I blinked at the screen.

“Yosano-sensei?”

Confused, I hit “accept.”

“H-hello?”

“Kyou-chan!”

Yosano’s voice was cheery; I could hear people moving about in the background behind her. Was she still at the Agency? A restaurant maybe?

“So...?” she drawled, a hint of a tease sneaking into her voice. “How did it go? Hope I’m not interrupting anything right now...”

“No.”

I let my gaze drop to the patch of dirt on the front of my skirt.

“You’re not.”

“Huh? Kyou-chan...?”

Yosano sounded confused.

“Why do you sound so glum?”

I heard her breath hitch over the phone.

“Wait, don’t tell me—”

“I messed up,” I mumbled, still staring at the patch of dirt.

There was a small rip hidden in this part of the fabric, but it didn’t really matter. Even if the skirt had been completely whole and clean, because of the memories, I still wouldn’t be able to wear it again after today.

“I did something that I shouldn’t have,” I told her, picking at the rip on my skirt.

The fabric began to wrinkle and fray.

“ Something terrible. And now...”

I sucked in a tiny, shaky breath, unwilling to let myself cry in front of another member of the Agency today .

“Now there’s no way he’ll return my feelings any more.”

“Oh, Kyou- chan... ” Yosano breathed .

I thought I heard the clinking of a mug against a table.

“ And here I thought this would work out perfectly,” she mumbled, her tone at once both pensive and disappointed.

“It was one of Dazai’s better ideas after all, and we all know just what happens whenever he’s the one making the plans…”

**https://youtu.be/_4nESyjxjIM?t=194

I stopped breathing.

“What...?”

“ Aha...” Yosano’s chuckle was weak. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

I had.

She sighed.

“ Okay, I’ll just come right out with it,” she said. “Last week, when President Fukuzawa called both me and Dazai into his office to talk, I had no idea what he wanted. We rarely work together and even when there is an assignment that specifically requires both me and him, it’s usually something involving the entire Agency. Which is why I only understood when the President brought up Kunikida...”

I brought the phone closer to my ear as she continued speaking.

“You see, it is true that Kunikida hasn’t taken a break in some time. Furthermore, his last several assignments have really taken it out of him. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

I nodded, feeling my pulse quickening as I listened to Yosano’s words.

“ So of course, we realized the man needed a break . The question was, how to enforce it .”

Above me, the street lamps began to flicker on, one by one, as the sun finally finished dipping below the horizon.

“That’s when Dazai suggested that you tag along with him.”

I felt my grip tightening around my phone.

“ Did he... say why?”

“No, but I don’t think he had to. I thought it was a great idea, myself, so as soon as the meeting ended, I went to find you.”

“I see...”

I trailed off, my gaze lingering on the path ahead as the park steadily grew darker around me. A cold wind began to blow through the trees.

“ Ah, Kyou- chan? ” Yosano inquired. “Where exactly are you right now? If you’re not feeling so well, I can come get you and we can maybe talk a little at my place—”

“No, that’s okay, Yosano- sensei ,” I told her.

I slowly got to my feet.

“I... actually have somewhere I need to go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”

“A-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, turning towards the exit. “Don’t worry about me, sensei . I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, then.”

Yosano sounded doubtful.

“Good night, Kyou- chan .”

“Good night.”

I hung up the phone and stuffed it into my purse. Then, I walked down the path, exited the park and headed for the train station.

Dazai Osamu.

I stared at the tiny, glass name plate before me, the deep, black lettering still clearly visible beneath the reflected shine of the bright, full moon.

It had taken nearly two full hours for me to get here from the train station in Negishi—two hours in which I wandered through Yokohama in a fog, replaying my conversation with Yosano over and over again in my head...

It was Dazai who suggested I accompany Kunikida on his day off.

Dazai, who sent me those notebook pages back when he learned about my crush.

Dazai, who told me I already had everything I needed when I called him on the phone earlier today...

I kept staring at the name plate next to the door.

This was his fault.

I didn’t know how or why but it had to be.

How else could things have gone this badly, if not thanks to the hidden orchestrations of his half-bandaged hand?

A sudden burst of canned laughter came from a room several doors down and I winced. Even though I knew it was probably just the Tanizaki siblings watching a little early evening television, some small, irrational part of me still wondered if the laughter was directed at me.

I went back to staring at the door in front of me, the silence emanating from beyond that thin slab of wood washing over me like a thick, oppressive fog.

What was Dazai doing in there?

Reading comics? Playing video games?

I frowned.

No, it was far too quiet for him to be doing either of those things. Whenever he was goofing off at work, he’d almost always do it in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible—whatever was likely to gain him the most attention from whoever happened to be nearby. Of course, this usually ended in him getting yelled at or even body-slammed by Kunikida...

I felt my fingers tightening around my bag as I thought once more of the tall, blonde detective—the man who had just rejected me.

Clenching my jaw, I raised my fist to the door and knocked.

“Dazai-san?”

But no one answered.

I felt my eyebrows knitting together.

“Hey, Dazai-san?” I called a little louder, knocking more forcefully. “Are you in there?”

But as I looked to the window, I realized that the curtains were drawn and the lights were all off.

Maybe he wasn’t home right now...?

But no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I heard something clattering around inside. Like the clunking of something heavy against a floor or table.

My mouth flattened into a line.

So he was home.

“I can hear you in there, you know,” I snapped, banging on the door. “Open the door, Dazai! I need to talk to—”

The door abruptly swung inwards.

“—you.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“Ohh! Is that you, Kyou-chan?” a merry voice called from inside the darkened hallway.

A single, pale hand latched onto the metal door frame and slowly pulled its owner forward.

“What brings you to my humble abode in the middle of the night?”

“Dazai..!”

I brought my fingers to my lips, my eyes widening as I beheld the man now standing in the doorway.

“What...”

I took a step backwards, dropping my purse.

“What were you doing in there?” I whispered.

Dazai blinked at me, his normally sharp, inquisitive gaze looking oddly dulled and unfocused.

One side of his dark, tousled hair was sticking up the wrong way, like he’d been lying down moments before getting up and answering the door. His black vest was missing and his bolo tie was in complete disarray. Some of the bandages were coming loose from around his skinny neck and as I followed the swaths of tightly bound fabric down the front of his chest (just how far down did they go?), I saw that half the buttons of his thin, striped shirt were completely undone. And as I let my gaze travel further down his form, past his pale, wrinkled slacks, I spotted his tan trench coat, lying in a heap just beyond the open door.

That’s when I noticed the smell...

“Well...”

Dazai grinned and shifted a little so that he was leaning against the door frame. He crossed one bandaged arm over his chest and lifted the other into the air, a tiny porcelain sake cup held firmly in his left hand.

“What does it look like I was doing?” he asked, raising it to his lips.

“You were drinking...?” I stammered.

My eyes darted to the pitch-black rooms beyond his foyer.

“Alone? In the dark?”

“Bingo!” Dazai chirped, toasting me with the cup. “That’s correct! One point to you, Kyou-chan. But minus one point for answering in the form of a question.”

He drained the remaining liquid inside in one gulp.

“This isn’t a quiz show, you know.”

I had no words.

“So?” Dazai quipped, pausing to take a massive bottle of sake out from behind his front door and pouring himself another round. “Now that I’ve answered your question, it’s time for you to answer mine.”

He set the empty bottle down outside.

“What brings you here to my apartment in the middle of the night?” he asked, studying me over the rim of his tiny cup. “Are you here to join me in a celebratory drink? Or maybe...”

His grin widened into a lopsided smirk.

“You’ve changed your mind and you’re actually here to confess your feelings to me, instead?”

I froze.

“Just kidding,” Dazai chuckled, raising the cup to his lips once more. “If you were gonna do that, I might as well invite you in and ask you to commit double suicide with me—”

“You...”

Sensing my tone, Dazai paused mid-sip.

“Was that your game this whole time?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

I could feel my hands balling into fists as I spoke.

“Was that why you messed up my chances with Kunikida-san? Because you wanted that badly for me to join you in that double suicide?!”

Dazai frowned.

“Kyou-chan,” he said, lowering his cup slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you explain—”

“Oh, like you really don’t know?” I retorted, my eyes flashing. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You knew! You knew exactly what was going to happen when I finally confessed! That’s why you sent me those photographs of Kunikida-san’s notebook that day at the Agency. That’s why you insisted I go along with him on today’s assignment! That’s why—!”

My voice broke.

“That’s why you told me I ‘already had everything I needed!’ Because you knew! You knew everything that was going to happen from the very beginning and you—!”

Tears poured down my cheeks.

“You arranged for it—!”

I raised my open palm into the air and Dazai’s eyes grew wide.

“All because you wanted me to go along with your sick aspiration—!” I cried, bringing my hand back and preparing to swing.

How long had I dreamed about this moment?

How many times had I envisioned wiping that stupid smirk off of Dazai Osamu’s face? Cutting off those smart remarks, those aggravating taunts, all with one well-deserved slap across the cheek?

I must have pictured this moment at least half a dozen times while I was still sitting on the train, the dark, vengeful aura gathering around me like a miasma thick enough to ward off both children and adults alike.

But as I took a step forward, my open palm raised and held at the ready, I saw the look in his clear, brown eyes.

And as I watched, the tall, bandaged brunette tossed his empty sake cup backwards over his shoulder, tucked his hands into his pockets and waited.

Dazai...

I faltered.

He... he wasn’t going to dodge it?

My lower lip quivered.

Why not...?

Distantly, I thought back to the way Dazai had looked at me when he’d lied about Mrs. Yamazaki’s death. His eyes had been somber and dull with guilt back then, the bright amber tones of his warm brown eyes rapidly fading to dun as he looked at me and accepted my rage.

But tonight...

I felt my hand lowering by itself, all momentum lost.

Tonight, I was standing before a drunken man whose gaze betrayed no hint of fear or regret or shame.

No.

Tonight, I was looking at a Dazai Osamu who knew as well as I did that he had been wrongfully accused...

My hand fell limply at my side as I beheld his disheveled form, the bandages started to unravel from around his neck and left wrist.

...and yet he was willing to accept the punishment anyway.

“Dazai... san...”

I couldn’t do it.

I let out a dry sob.

I couldn’t hit a man who looked like he’d lost all will to live.

“DAZAI—!!”

Insert Song: "Saving Us"

And before I could think about what I was doing, I launched myself forward—

“Kyou—?!” Dazai squawked, his mouth falling open in shock. “Wait—!”

—and threw myself into his arms.

“Wait a minute—!!”

His words ended in a sharp gasp as I wrapped my arms around his neck, the forward momentum of my sudden rush knocking all the air out of his thin, wiry body. As we sailed through the open door of his darkened apartment and crashed onto the hardwood floor below, I thought I heard the sound of muffled cheering from the television down the hall.

“Dazai...!” I sobbed, thick, salty tears leaking out of my eyes and soaking into the thin, wrinkled fabric of his open dress shirt.

“Dazai...!!”

As I lay there on top of him, crying quietly into his warm, bandaged chest, I felt him slowly stir. It took me a moment to realize that the soft, sporadic tremors wracking his body was a wave of laughter.

I loosened my hold just enough to look at him.

“Dazai?”

“Ahh, how hard did I hit my head just now?” Dazai mused, gazing down at me with undisguised warmth. “Is this a dream? Or a hallucination?”

His eyes were a little unfocused.

“But what a wonderful hallucination this is!”

His cheeks grew flushed and his beautiful amber eyes seemed to glow even in the dim, yellow light of the lamps from the hall.

“My adorable little Kyou-chan... My sweet, Camellia blossom... All dressed up and coming over in the middle of the night—just to cling to me!”

His thin, bandaged arms slowly wrapped around my shoulders and waist.

“Lying on top of me, no less.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“If this is a dream, don’t wake me up...”

His arms tightened around me.

“Ah...”

He sighed again.

“Please, don’t wake me up...”

“Dazai...”

I sniffled a little and tightened my grip around his neck.

“He rejected me, Dazai... Kunikida-san, he—!”

A fresh wave of hot, bitter tears surged forth and I sucked in another small, shaky breath to try to calm myself.

“He told me that he couldn’t accept—that he couldn’t return my feelings for him! Why, Dazai, why?!” I whimpered, burying my face in his chest. “What did you do?!”

But even as I spoke the words, I knew that there was nothing I could accuse him of.

This wasn’t Dazai’s fault.

It never was.

It was mine.

I was the one who had overstepped my boundaries. I was the one who’d kept the photos and tried to use my Ability on the man I loved.

I was the one who was “No Longer Human.”

“Kyou-chan..."

I felt a hand, large, warm and comforting, descend on top of my head.

“I didn’t do anything, Kyou-chan,” Dazai murmured.

He began stroking my hair.

“It wouldn’t have been right. I may have dreamed of committing the perfect double suicide for years now, but I would never try to trick or force a woman into doing it with me. In fact...”

His hand traveled from my hair to my cheek.

“I think that would actually count as a murder-suicide. And I would certainly kill myself before I hurt you, Kyou-chan.”

Dazai smiled.

“You know that, right?”

“You—you’re drunk,” I hiccuped, smiling in spite of myself. “You’re crazy and you’re drunk.”

“And so I am, Kyou-chan,” Dazai breathed. “So I am. But, then again...”

He smirked.

“I’m not the one who came barging into a drunk man’s home in the middle of the night in order to commit assault.”

“It’s seven thirty,” I mumbled. “And this isn’t an assault.”

“You could make it one, if you really wanted,” Dazai teased, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hard pass.”

“Aww...”

Dazai laughed and without meaning to, I started laughing too. But as I lay there in his arms, I suddenly thought of my other mentor, the man whose arms I’d wanted so badly to be in that I’d deliberately chosen to lie to him. The breath I was about to take abruptly changed into a dry sob.

“Oh, Kyou-chan.”

And as Dazai’s bandaged arms slowly tightened around me once more, I buried my face into his cotton shirt and broke down at last, the sound of my sobs echoing around us in the dark, narrow hallway of Dazai’s apartment.

“There, there,” Dazai murmured, soothingly rubbing my back. “I’m here. Let it all out. There’s a good girl.”

“I loved him, Dazai,” I hiccuped, choking on the salty taste of my own tears. “I really, really did.”

“I know. I know...”

And as I lay there in the hallway, crying into the bandaged brunette’s shoulder, breathing in the sharp, sweet, heady scent of convenience store sake, I felt Dazai shift ever so slightly underneath me.

“Looks like you finally fell into my arms,” he chuckled. “This isn’t exactly what I was hoping for but, hey...”

He sighed.

“I’ll take it.”

I looked up to see him staring up at the sky, his deep brown eyes reflecting the light of the full, shining moon as it shone down on us from the open door.

“Dazai?”

Dazai smiled.

“Stay as long as you like, Kyou-chan,” he whispered, bringing one hand to my face and wiping away my tears.

His expression softened.

“Even when you’re crying, you’re still oh-so-cute... my sweet Camellia blossom.”

I nodded and as I lay in Dazai’s arms, sniffling and trembling as waves of emotion over took me, I could feel him rubbing my back.

“I’ll be here...”

[kairi-chan]

Where Sarada is from Slytherin and Boruto Gryffindor. "Everyone is afraid of Slytherin members, why are you talking to me?" the other houses are prejudiced with Slytherin, but Boruto will not give up his love... BoruSara

Title: Light 

Rating: T 

Genre: Fluff - Boruto x Harry Potter AU 

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I finally got to finish part 1, and just in time for BoruSaraWeek19 - Day 3: Crossover AU 

Art by @benteja

“Light is to darkness what love is to fear; in the presence of one, the other disappears.” -Marianne Williamson

First Year 

Boruto sat on the chair and eagerly anticipated to feel the weight of the worn sorting hat on his head. His eyes burned with light and excitement as he gazed on all the other first years. There were a few that he knew, others he had never met, some who intrigued him more than others. It all happened so fast. As soon as he got his letter, his mother wasted no time in proceeding with their shopping. He was accepted into the same wizarding school his parents had been admitted to. All the years of the wonderful stories he heard from his uncles and aunties were going to become his reality. From buying his wand, and trying on his robes, he knew deep inside this was where he was meant to be. But what house would he be in? 

His father was in Gryffindor, while his mother hailed from Hufflepuff. He was certain one of these houses would become his, as well. Or perhaps he would be in Ravenclaw, like his uncle Neji. Boruto had always been praised for being a genius. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Although any of these three houses would be fine, there was one in particular that he did not want to be in. As the sorting hat came nearer, his eyes landed on the girl he had perhaps known, but never really knew his entire life—Sarada Uchiha.

She sat there on the table in the far right, smiling proudly under the green banner that also represented her father’s house. Sarada’s smile faded as soon as she realized she was being watched, and a grim expression marred her features. Boruto knew she wasn’t bad, but he didn’t know if she was good either. 

If the Sorting Hat was all too sure she belonged in Slytherin, even after much contemplation, perhaps the darkness that loomed over her clan also resides in her heart.

He pressed his lips to a fine line as the hat was finally placed on his head. The old thing took its time, gnawing on where Boruto really belonged. “This one has true potential,” the Hat drawled. “A brilliant mind, a big heart. Which house would best suit…”

Memories of Boruto’s father flashed before his eyes. Although Naruto was smiling, he knew there was some pain that lied beneath. “Sasuke’s changed a lot since then. He isn’t bad.” Boruto drew in a shaky breath. His father was a fool to think that. His gaze never left Sarada’s dark pools, seemingly reading his thoughts. The child of a muggle and a practitioner of the Dark Arts… no. He could not associate with someone like that.

“Not Slytherin,” Boruto gritted out. “Not Slytherin, even if those are your trail of thoughts?” The Hat asked before continuing, “Then it must be… Gryffindor!”

A loud cheer roared from the Gryffindor table, and a wide grin found itself on Boruto’s face. He had broken eye contact with her, as he was now looking at his fellow housemates, all smiles and cheers.

There was no time for him to worry himself with people he must not associate with. Muggles with the darkness that shadowed over their hearts they called ambition. 

.

.

.Quidditch. 

Boruto gripped his broom and puffed his chest. He felt good in his uniform. He had not even stepped on the field yet his heart was already brimming with pride. For he, a first-year, was the seeker for his house. Not even his father was given this recognition. He had many fond memories with Quidditch and his father. 

It was a game he played since he was a child with his dad. Boruto looked at the photo from behind the glass case. His father’s face was rounder, hair much longer. He was covered in bandages, and yet his smile was as bright as the sun.

On one hand, he held on to his broom, the same one that Boruto liked to steal from his father’s study and play around with when he was six. It was old but reliable. Naruto was holding up something barely visible, yet it was all too clear to Boruto’s sharp eyes. 

The Golden Snitch. 

Naruto was a Seeker, and arguably the best one. However, when Boruto’s eyes slid over to the other man in the photo, he felt his lips dip to a frown. It wasn’t just Naruto who was holding on to the Snitch. A man with dark hair and eyes and the smuggest smirk Boruto had ever seen was also held on to it with his left hand. 

Naruto and Sasuke were both holding on to the Golden Snitch. 

He knew this story well. It was one of Naruto’s favorite to retell, over and over again. About how he and Sasuke nearly died trying to catch that snitch–how both Gryffindor and Slytherin tied that year because they had both caught it at the same time. 

Boruto knew about Sasuke and his dad’s rivalry. It was legendary. Everyone knew about it. For a time, Boruto used to find his uncle cool. All until he heard of what happened after their schooling years. All the hardships Sasuke had placed everyone through–what his father and auntie Sakura through. He gritted his teeth. Some part of Boruto still couldn’t understand how auntie Sakura could forgive him, and still love him after everything he had done. Then again, he always knew she also had a big heart and knew his uncle more than anyone else. 

Auntie Sakura had been one of the kindest souls he had ever met–she had what was deemed to be one of the most brilliant minds in the wizarding world. A muggle who made a name for herself and broke all barriers. One of the only things people could pick on was that for the most part, her husband had been absent. Wandering around the world doing Merlin knows what. Boruto rolled his eyes at that. 

Boruto’s gaze lingered a little longer on Sasuke’s face. Sarada looked a lot like him, in fact, almost entirely like him. Although she did possess the signature dark locks and eyes of an Uchiha, there was a certain softness in Sarada’s eyes, a certain light that shunned the darkness. They were so enthralling, so mysterious. 

How could something so dark be so full of light? 

Before Boruto could think about it a little more, he was distracted by a loud cheer. He whipped around, his broom knocking the glass, shaking the entire case. He sighed to see he had not broken it. Quickly, he ran into the field, and his eyes widened. 

Perhaps this girl was the devil, as whenever he thought of her, she would appear. 

Sarada Uchiha was dressed in green, a color that made Boruto frown. Although she looked beautiful, he thought a different color suited her far better. His thoughts immediately dissipated as he caught her wide smile, and the tiny golden ball in her hand. She was high up in the sky, and yet he could feel her glee all the way to the ground. It filled his heart, and then slowly, his entire being. It was a warm feeling, one that he relished and found infectious. Boruto didn’t even realize that he, too, was grinning. 

She had caught the snitch, and her teammates were surrounding her. All of them nearly a head taller, twice her size. Sarada’s lithe body moved fluidly in the skies as she rode around, cheering at her victory. It was only practice, but catching the snitch was always a feat.

Boruto gulped as it dawned upon him.

Sarada was Slytherin’s Seeker. 

.

.

.

Lectures were always boring for Boruto. The only upside that he found amusing was spending time and getting to know the other students from different houses. Even if he mostly only spent time with the students from his house, he found a lot of the others interesting, too. 

In the course of a few weeks, he had made friends with two boys from Ravenclaw. Two of which who he had apparently been running in the same circle with – Shikadai Nara and Inojin Yamanaka. Shikadai was really all smarts, while Inojin was more of the creative sort. Although he wasn’t from the same house, Boruto found himself spending a lot of time with them. He shrugged it off as his natural genius self, wanting some smart company from time to time. 

There was another boy he met, one who really was quite strange, yet found him to be fun. Mitsuki surely was not like other normal people he met. He would always say the strangest things and had an affinity for snakes. That was an obvious reason why Mitsuki was in Slytherin, he could also be sly and his morals played around in gray areas. Boruto thought he was set to hate this house but Mitsuki was alright. He wasn’t as bad as he thought people from this house would be.

“I just want to be with you, Boruto,” Mitsuki replied. That creepy smile on his face made Boruto cringe, and laugh nervously. Mitsuki could be really… weird at times. Shikadai and Inojin seemed not to mind it much, though. Or perhaps they were just used to him.  

The Hufflepuffs he had met was also a nice and warm bunch. Although they could be quite… loud sometimes. Chocho, Namida, and Wasabi would also hang out with them from time to time. But not as often, as they usually hung around another person, one that Boruto felt he had to watch out for. 

“Sarada!” Chocho called to the girl on the other side of the courtyard and waved. 

She wasn’t alone. Sarada was with another girl with Purple hair, and donned blue robes. This made Boruto raise a brow. Right next to Sarada was a person Boruto thought he could have been friends with–the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team–Kagura. He was always hanging around Sarada, training with her, and helping her with her studies. But with the classes he took with Sarada, Boruto knew she didn’t need the help at all. 

Boruto almost never heard her voice, but whenever he did, he found himself so annoyed, yet he wanted to hear more. Whenever she recited in class to give her two cents, or to challenge a concept, he felt like she could easily put a Ravenclaw to shame. 

It wasn’t surprising. Her mother was deemed as one of the most intelligent witches, one who had contributed so much to the medical magick community. She had innovated spells, potions, concoctions, more than the great Tsunade Senju. Sakura Uchiha was a force to be reckoned with. Not just with smarts, but with strength as well. Naruto always joked that Sakura could end his life as easily as she could revive him with a flick of her wand. His mother would always second the notion, her eyes never betraying any doubt to this truth. It was a running joke that without her, Naruto and Sasuke would have been long dead during their misadventures. 

Seeing all of the books in Sarada’s arms made Boruto blink. She waved at Chocho, and so did the other girl– was her name Sumire? – and Kagura. 

Chocho, Namida, and Wasabi took their leave and walked towards the trio across the yard. 

“Seriously, what is it with Hufflepuffs and hanging out with Slytherins?” Inojin raised his brow. “And that Sumire girl, she likes hanging out with Chocho and Sarada a lot.” 

Shikadai sighed and stuffed his hands inside his pockets. “I don’t know. Sometimes those guys are just far too nice, you know? Sarada’s also pretty smart.” 

Mitsuki smiled and tilted his head to one side. “Is there something wrong with Slytherins?” Although he was one, it didn’t sound like he was offended at all, more on the curious side, really. 

Boruto had a sour look on his face and tore his gaze away from Sarada. He faced his friend and laced his fingers behind his head, walking away. “Heh! Slytherins!” He eyed Mitsuki. “No offense.” 

Mitsuki’s smile melted away from his face and asked again, “what’s wrong with them?” 

Inojin shrugged. “Everyone’s afraid of them.” 

“Afraid?” Boruto repeated, incredulously. “Maybe you, but not me!” He pointed to his chest with his thumb. “None of them scare me.” 

“Oh?” Shikadai smirked. “Maybe not afraid, but you seem interested in them.” 

Boruto stopped walking and raised his brow at Shikadai. 

“One in particular.” 

“Oooohh…” Inojin teased, falling in step with Shikadai, leaving Boruto and Mitsuki behind. 

“I am not!” Boruto stomped his feet on the ground, glaring at the back of their heads. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “You think you know everything, but you don’t!” 

The two boys didn’t look back, but Boruto knew they were still smirking. 

How stupid. Him? Interested in a Slytherin? In Sarada? And yet, he thought they were supposed to be the smart ones. 

“I am not interested in Sarada,” he muttered. 

Mitsuki was mere inches away from his face when he spoke up. He was so close, Boruto felt his warm breath on his jaw, “They never mentioned it was Sarada, Boruto.” 

Boruto jumped, his heart nearly flying out of his chest. He fell on his butt. “Don’t stand so close!” 

Mitsuki only smiled knowingly. “I see…” 

“See what?” Boruto got up and dusted his pants off. 

Mitsuki only smiled and slunk away in the opposite direction. 

.

.

.

The wind was starting to pick up, and sooner rather than later, Boruto was waking up to first snow. His hands touched the icy glass and he looked outside with wide-eyed wonder. It also snowed in his hometown, but it looked so magical seeing it from Gryffindor’s tower. 

“It’s snowing!” Boruto exclaimed, barely containing his glee. 

His roommate flipped over in his bed and grumbled, “Don’t be so loud.” 

Boruto threw a pillow at him. “Get up, Iwabe! It’s snowing!” 

Iwabe grumbled more and refused to open his eyes. Meanwhile, Boruto was excitedly putting on his sweater and scarf, blindly reaching for his cloak by the door before dashing out the door. 

First snow. 

He felt like a child on Christmas morning. 

Seeing the blanket of white on the ground, trees, and on the roof was setting such happy feelings inside of him. Memories of him and his little sister filled his mind, they used to race to their yard and play in the snow all the time. But things were different now, as he was alone… he didn’t let the sadness sink too far in. In just a few weeks, he would get to go home to see her again for the holidays, anyway. 

As Boruto flew down the stairs, he nearly squealed when he saw fresh snowflakes slowly falling from the sky. He didn’t know it was possible to run any faster, but apparently, it was. All the paintings followed his speeding form down the stairs, even earning a few, “no running in the halls!” from his early rising seniors and prefects. But that didn’t stop him. He wanted to jump into that snow and watch the flakes slowly descend into his face.

The door flung open and Boruto was so ready to throw himself into the snow. However, he found himself stopping at the sight before him. 

A sole figure stood in the middle of the courtyard. Her dark hair and cloak standing out in the pure white landscape before him. His heart jumped to his throat and struggled close his mouth, an attempt to swallow it back down. 

Her green scarf was wrapped around her neck, her breath visible. She wasn’t wearing her red-rimmed glasses and Boruto instantly missed the red hue on her. He always thought she looked better in red than she did in green. 

Sarada’s long lashes had caught some of the flakes. How long had she been standing in the snow? Her hands were covered in black mits, palm facing the sky. Boruto’s eyes followed a snowflake’s trail. It landed softly on her hand, and she pulled it close to her face. A soft smile appeared on her face as she examined it. Slowly, her gaze shifted to him, her smile never wavering.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” 

Boruto blinked and took a while to process that she was talking to him. He closed his mouth and swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice. “W-what is?” 

Smooth. The first time he talks to her and he stammers. 

Her smile stayed on her face and Boruto suddenly forgot the cold weather. It was warm… all too warm. From her smile to his blood rushing around his body. 

“The snowflakes,” she started. “They’re all so different, so unique. Yet they’re all so beautiful.” 

His brows knotted together. He trudged into the snow to join her.

“I’ve been catching snowflakes for a while now. I can’t even judge which one is the prettiest I’ve seen so far.” She giggled. 

Boruto was starting to think this girl was sorted in the wrong house…. She seems really weird. Or maybe that’s why she and Mitsuki were in the same one. Who knows. 

“I guess it is,” Boruto responded. He grinned at her. “Is that what you like about it?” 

Sarada looked up at the sky, snowflakes landing on her cheek. Boruto didn’t understand why, but he wanted to gently brush it off her face. 

She hummed in reply, still a soft smile on her lips, the light in her eyes being replaced by a certain kind of melancholy that Boruto knew well. It was the same look his sister would take whenever their mother would break the news that Naruto wasn’t coming home for her birthday. 

Himawari would smile like that whenever she was being brave. She never wanted their mother to worry, or for her father to feel guilty. Certainly also did not want Boruto to be angry should he see her cry. 

Brave. 

That was one word he never thought would be used to describe Sarada. 

.

.

.

“I’m hooome!” Boruto dropped his suitcase on the floor and opened his arms wide. His little sister was running towards him from the top of the stairs, the widest grin on her face as she cheered that her big brother was finally home. She jumped off the second step and straight into his arms. He hugged her tightly and squeezed her, making her squeal.  

“Welcome home, dear.” His mother came to the front door to greet him. “How was your ride back?” 

Boruto placed his sister down and responded to his mother, “Ah, it was alright. Inojin and Shikadai kept me company.” 

She smiled at him, “Getting along with the Ravenclaw boys, huh?”

“My natural genius self craves smart company from time to time, ya know?” 

Hinata giggled and made her way back to the kitchen. “Put your luggage away and wash up. Dinner is almost ready.” 

“I’ll help!” Himawari raced after her mom. “Will Dad be coming home, too?” 

“He said he will!” Hinata responded. 

Boruto hid the small smile on his face. He was happy to hear that his father would be home for dinner on the night he returned. 

Christmas was still a week away, yet the presents under the tree were already piling up. One quick glance and Boruto already caught some familiar names signed on tags meant for him and his family. There were three neatly wrapped gifts, covered in dark blue wrappings, tucked at the corner, signed by his mother: Happy Christmas, from the Uzumakis 

Strange. Usually, his mom was early when it came to Christmas shopping and sending out gifts. Boruto walked a little closer and tugged on the golden tag lightly. His eyes went wide when he saw who the gifts were for. Their names were written in his mom’s pretty script: 

For Sasuke, Sakura and Sarada Uchiha. 

.

.

.

Christmas morning had finally come and Boruto and his little sister, Himawari, were opening presents. There was a mountain of it at the foot of the tree, and the two relished in the magical gifts their parents had bought them. 

Despite all the colorfully wrapped gifts that laid before him, his eyes scanned for three gifts wrapped in dark blue but failed to find any. He shrugged one shoulder up and then turned his attention to more important things. 

After a while, their father flooed through the fireplace, a wide grin on his face and holding on to a large shopping bag. 

“Back so soon?” Hinata rose from the sofa and kissed his cheek to welcome him home. 

“Yeah, Sakura-chan wanted some time alone with Sarada and Sasuke.” 

“Sasuke’s home?” Hinata clapped her hands together, delighted that her friend’s family was complete for the holidays. 

Boruto, being the little snoop he was, craned his neck to hear their conversation more as he pretended to distract himself with the spellbook his auntie bought him. 

“Yeah,” Naruto scratched the back of his head. “He looks to be well, and Sarada’s grown so much. They even prepared some gifts for us.” He lifted the bag up and called his kids. 

Naruto first pulled out a large one for Himawari. Turns out it was a stuffed bunny. She loved it and refused to let go as she walked around the house. There was a small cookbook for Hinata and a ramen-looking paperweight for Naruto.

Boruto knitted his brows together. They were all so… strange. Not the usual wizard-like gifts they usually received. He then remembered that Sakura was a muggle, and probably purchased these gifts for them back in her world. 

Naruto pulled out a small box from the paper bag and handed it to him. “This one’s for you, Boruto.” He grinned cheekily. “I think you’ll like it.” 

This made the boy skeptic but took the box from his father anyway. Who would turn down a gift, right? Carefully, he pulled the white red ribbon off and lifted the lid. There was a golden ball inside, and slowly, a pair of white wings unfolded and it floated out of the box. 

“A snitch,” Boruto whispered under his breath. 

Naruto snickered. “Guess it’s a good gift from a seeker for a seeker, huh?” 

Boruto caught it in his hands and opened his palm. He couldn’t believe it. 

Sarada gifted him a golden snitch. 

.

.

.

Platform 9 ¾ was full of students and parents, wishing their children off and meeting their other friends. It always amazed Boruto how a lot of alumni knew each other and was almost always friendly towards each other once they knew each other’s alma mater. 

Hinata handed him his suitcase and fixed his cloak. “You be good now, and don’t cause any trouble,” she joked. 

“Yeah, do your best.” Naruto gave him a thumbs up and a wide grin. 

Himawari gave him a tight hug and told him she would miss him while she was away. 

After another round of goodbyes, Boruto turned around to get on the Hogwarts Express. However before he could hop in, he noticed a small family saying their goodbyes as well. 

It was the Uchihas. 

Involuntarily, Boruto reached to feel the contents of his pocket. Once he felt the bump from the small box, he pulled his hand away and hopped in, and went to find his cabin.

.

.

.

His first day back was festive to say the least. He ate his fill at the feast, played games with his friends and hung out in the common room with his housemates. By the time he was in bed, all his tiredness came crashing down, but before sleep could take him, he extended his arm towards his bedside table and took the small box in his hands, opened it and picked up the snitch. 

The small golden ball unfurled its wings, flapping slowly. He studied it in the dark, letting the moonlight shine on its body. Boruto put it back in the box and sighed, as he curled to his side, attempting to be comfortable. 

He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t get Sarada out of his head. 

Boruto closed his eyes and tried to shun her away from his thoughts. But all he could see was her laughing in the great hall as she toasted with her housemates, Sarada gliding around the halls, and imagining how she must have tied the ribbon around his present. 

With one deep breath, Boruto drifted to sleep, with the Uchiha girl as the last thought on his mind. 

.

.

.

To be continued. 

—- 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! The WIP was sitting in my drive for months, but I’m glad I got the push to finish it today. 

I have to admit, I haven’t read all of the HP books, or watched all the movies. You’ll have to excuse me and my mistakes with the lore. I tried my best. ^^; 

If you like what I write, please do check out my profile, there you will find links to my master post, FFnet, Ao3, Twitter, and Ko-Fi. 

Write on, darling. 

[plumblossomkun]

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷:「𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛, 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 / 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎?」

word count: 3.5k

setting: student!Taeyong x writing assistant!Female Reader, University!AU

warning[s]: none for this chapter besides some angst. later chapters will have more sensitive topics and they will be mentioned. 

chapter summary: in which Taeyong reminisces & tries to forget, but doesn’t stand a chance against the stars & their song. or, in which Taeyong & y/n meet again under the same sky, after years apart.

a/n: this is heavily inspired by Love Deluna; a big thank u @starxblossom for the help on this fic, which is VERY loosely based on something between a boy & me that began sweet. here is chapter one, as inspired by my messy [love] life. 

READ ME: this story will contain a LONG series of chapters :) i will italicize flashbacks in their entirety & indicate any changes in scene or point of view in bold. furthermore, chapters will alternate between Taeyong and y/n unless otherwise indicated.

other tags: @bunny-doyounq! enjoy~ ♫ 

moodboard | playlist | main masterlist | a map of the campus | extras | fun facts

previous | next

Exactly 4 years ago—

“What are you looking for?” he asks, leaning into her so that their shoulders are barely touching. She stares up into the dark, cloudless sky, eyes focused on something he cannot see, painted coral lips slightly parted.

He wonders if one day he’ll feel them against his skin, instead of the winter breeze. Instead of the knowledge that her heart is somewhere else, has always been somewhere else.

“The stars,” she replies, abandoning her search in favor of looking sideways at him with a faint smile. Her gaze is distant, though, and it feels like something sharp has lodged itself in his gut, because he can’t remember if she’s ever really looked at him. “I love the city lights. I really do. But I want to see the stars, I want to see the sky covered in them.”

And then her eyes turn back to the heavens.

He wishes he could anchor her, bring her down from the clouds— but he knows she won’t let him. At least, not as they are. 

Not as he is.

So, instead, he places his hand on top of hers, the words he really wants to say stuck somewhere between his heart and his throat, threatening to choke him as he assures her, “We’ll go somewhere you can see them, someday.”

Someday, when I return, he promises silently.

She looks at his hand, then at him, and her voice is tiny, barely audible when she asks, “How far?”

He sees the glimmer of fear in her eyes, and takes his hand away, missing the warmth of her even as he does so. But he knows better than to linger too long and spook her. 

“As far as you want.”

Now —

Daly City, CA

 —in one word, home

How many moons has it been, since he last set foot in this tiny city, engulfed in a sea of fog pierced only by the headlights of the Model Y Teslas that speed away towards the skyscrapers of the big city to the north?

Too many.

And yet, though he’s returned to the place he’s loved most out of all the homes he’s forged, he feels like he is about to make the second greatest mistake of his life. 

He scales the moss-lined steps leading up to the park from the main road, relishing the way the sounds of traffic are muffled by the towering, groaning pines. But when he steps off the uneven dirt path, his heart drops a little when he digs his heels into the earth and finds that the soccer fields have been filled with fake grass and rubber dirt.

He shuffles towards the library, passing through the playground and its vacant swings, sparing a wistful glance for the sand pit, which is filled with mud and litter and not a single child to dig through it. It’s early, the sun hasn’t even started to peek its head over the horizon, but he remembers when he was a child, the seesaw was always creaking away, and the swings were never left unoccupied.

The jingle of a bell lifts his chin from his chest, though, and he sucks a breath in between his teeth in disbelief. There’s no way it’s the rickety old ice cream truck that used to come around when he was a kid, the one with the smiling old man and his wife.

And he’s right, though he’s never wished more in his life that he was wrong. 

It’s a cluster of kids on their bikes, ringing their bells like mad and whooping as they zoom through the parking lot, past the basketball and tennis courts that have always been worn and gray, but seem all the worse for wear without the thud of shoes against the cement to fill the spaces in between the groaning fences. 

He shoves his hands in his pocket and walks back to his car, shoulders heavy with the knowledge that the world he left behind was not untouched in his absence.

You included, though he knows better than to think you’d be waiting for him. You would never have looked back, not when he’d left like that, without warning, without so much as a goodbye.

You probably hate him for it.

So he gets back into his car, grits his teeth, and promises himself, later, he’ll forget about it. He’ll start at a new school, make new friends, focus on his classes, and act as if the past doesn’t still have its claws in his heart. 

Later, he’ll pretend he doesn’t miss the days you’d sit at the top of those steps and drink Arizonas together, wasting the hours until the sun set and you had to decline call after call from your overprotective father, insisting you come home because it was getting too late.

Later, he’ll unpack his boxes at the university apartments, and thank his parents for leaving out the pictures of you and him.

But for now, he grips the steering wheel and takes the I-280 south, all four windows down, using the roar of the autumn wind to drown out the voice inside that says he’s made a mistake, coming back home to California. The voice that insists he came back not for a new start, not because his parents insisted he finish his education abroad, but to see you again.

Santa Clara, CA

— the place you imagine when you think California vibes.

“You know, Taeyong, you didn’t have to come all the way from Korea to bring me flowers.” Johnny eyes the bouquet of violently pink hydrangeas that Taeyong has just produced from the passenger seat of his car like they’ve offended him. “These are pretty, but you know I have allergies, right?”

“They’re not for you,” Taeyong snorts, lifting his computer tower from the backseat with a grunt. “Can you grab the other box from the back?”

Johnny grabs the storage box filled with peripherals and shuts the trunk. “Who else would they be for?”

“My mother told me your mother was visiting.” Taeyong kicks the door closed and locks the car twice, holding his beloved computer tower close to his body and the flowers under his arm. “And that we’re getting lunch together, apparently. Also, since when have you been allergic to flowers?”

“Since I saw these.” Johnny wrinkles his nose at the flowers. “And we’re not eating on campus— I never thought I would say this, but I am sick of burritos.” He shudders as he taps his ID to the scanner at the front entrance, and holds the door open as Taeyong tiptoes through, careful not to trip over the door frame. “There’s a good Korean barbecue place in San Jose, ten minutes out from here. Mom’s checking out the stationery store at Santana Row, said we can call her when we’re ready to go. Have you toured the campus yet?”

Taeyong laughs. “No, I haven’t had the time to look around—”

“Seriously?” Johnny purses his lips in an exaggerated pout. “Okay, come on. Let’s put this stuff away, and I’ll show you around.” He ushers him through another set of double doors, past a small expanse of grass complete with a volleyball net and red flowers draped across a wooden pavilion, shining steel grills polished and ready for the next Sunday playoffs, to the ground floor apartment of a building on the opposite side of the complex.

Taeyong can’t help but already imagine himself sitting on the grass, when he has time after classes, taking the time to watch the sun sink below the rooftops, coffee in one hand and music filling his ears. He can imagine himself mapping the skies, searching for stars.

He catches himself there, shakes his head at his own foolishness. “Lee Taeyong,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, “this is no time to think about stargazing.”

“Stargazing?” Johnny echoes, emerging from the bathroom with his hands still a little wet, waving them about to dry them. “We have an observatory, if you’re interested in that.”

Taeyong tries to act like the idea hasn’t excited him, bending down to tie his shoes to hide the grin splitting his face. “We can check it out if it’s not too out of the way, I guess.”

Johnny chuckles, closing the door behind him. “Of course. Last and least on the list.”

Palm trees overlook the majority of the campus, leaning low over the buildings and casting long shadows along the pavement. And where there isn’t red or gray brick, there is carefully curated grass, neatly clipped hedges, and collections of too-perfect, too-saturated flowers highlighting each walkway.

It’s a little artificial, a little unreal, but Taeyong can’t deny that, with the afternoon sun beating down on his shoulders, casting golden light without a single wisp of fog in the air, and a slight breeze nipping at his fingertips, it feels like a slice of paradise, straight out of the movies.

Near the end of the main road, Johnny points out a pastel rainbow of roses that lead to a side path that wraps around the church, under a canopy of vines and branches and ornately wrought wood. “I like to come here instead of on the quads; it’s quieter. Some people even take wedding pictures here when the weather is nice.”

Taeyong spots a bench a little ways down the path, surrounded by roses— the perfect spot to take a picture, one to remember his first day back under the California sun. 

When he turns back to ask his friend to capture the moment for him, Johnny is already motioning for him to hand over his phone, a knowing smile playing across his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me to take a photo earlier.” Taeyong laughs, brushes rose petals off of the bench before he sits, squinting as he finds a spot that is both well lit and doesn’t have the sun blazing directly into his eyes. “This is too pretty to pass up.”

“Ready?”

Taeyong nods, smiling chastely into the eye of the camera.

“Okay, three, two, one—”

Click.

“Another pose~ three, two, one—”

He adds a peace sign. He knows his mother will definitely ask for one of him and Johnny later, and makes a note to take one at lunch.

Click.

“Last one, look sexy, Taeyong-ah, say mwah for the camera~”

Taeyong bursts into laughter at that, but Johnny snaps the picture anyway.

Click.

“That’s the candid I was looking for,” he says, clearly pleased by his work, handing Taeyong’s phone back to him. “You look good.” And for all his teasing, Johnny is right about the photos— he looks sun-kissed and happy. Nothing like how he’d felt earlier that morning.

He takes a deep breath, taking in the rich scent of the roses around them as the church bells sound, signaling noon. He gathers a handful of pink petals and marvels at their unmarked, silken beauty. “I feel good, too.”

“What did Seoul do to you?” Johnny asks thoughtfully, looking him up and down as if this is the first time he’s really looked at him all day. 

Taeyong tosses the petals in the air with a chuckle. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when we were teenagers...” Johnny snaps his fingers, looking for the right words. “You look like you know yourself better. Is that it?” A girl’s wail splits the air before he can answer, followed by the pitter-patter of quick footsteps. “Excuse me, I’m laaaate—” 

Taeyong steps aside automatically, and as the girl runs past him, long hair whipping him in the face despite his quick reflexes, he catches a whiff of summer, of wildflowers, jasmine, and something of the ocean breeze.

And while he doesn’t recognize the perfume, his heart sinks when he realizes he does know that voice. 

Your voice.

His phone drops from his hand, and he jumps to his feet.

There’s no way.

Luckily, Johnny snatches up his phone before it hits the ground, and when he sees the expression on Taeyong’s face, leans in front of him with a concerned look, waving a hand to catch his attention. “Whoa. You good, buddy?”

Taeyong’s eyes don’t even register the movement. He presses a hand to his chest to check if his heart is still beating, and has to sit down on the bench again, because he is shaking like a leaf caught in a hurricane. 

He feels like all the breath has been sucked out of his lungs, like the bones in his body have suddenly become hollow and thin like glass. “I… was that...?”

Johnny follows his gaze, staring at the back of the girl who is still rushing down the path. “Oh...” he exhales, craning his head to get a better look. “Oh.”

Slowly, he nods his head, and the confirmation is like a death rattle to Taeyong. “I heard she was here, but, you know... I didn’t really go looking.” 

Johnny places a firm hand on Taeyong’s shoulder, and his voice is gentle when he reminds him, “You shouldn’t either.”

Taeyong closes his eyes and shakes his head, because after all this time, despite the years he’s spent under a different skyline— here you are— here—

The thought chokes him. It wraps icy fingers around his heart and crushes it, crushes him. 

He can’t remember the reason he left, only that it wasn’t right, only that he should’ve stayed.

And though he has only caught a moment’s glimpse, shared a single breath, he can’t deny it, he hasn’t changed at all.

He is still the same boy, praying that a flower that lives for starlight will bloom for him instead.

6 and a half years ago— 

Taeyong did not want to attend Winter Ball— in fact, he would rather have eaten dirt—  but Yuta and Ten ended up buying him a ticket anyway. He had tried to escape after the last bell, ducking towards the door before the teacher had even dismissed them, but Johnny locks an arm around his shoulders before he can escape.

“You can skip every dance after this one,” he bargains, clicking his tongue, and drags Taeyong down the street to his house to lend him clothes for the night. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Live a little. Dance a little.”

“No, it won’t,” Taeyong grumbles, but puts on the white collared shirt and black tie ensemble anyway, Mrs. Suh cooing “So handsome!” a thousand times at them as she snaps photos to keep in her newly-bought scrapbooks, before ushering them out. “Be back by midnight, okay?”

And now, he plays the wallflower in the small gym, watching in faint amusement as the people dancing freeze in confusion as they try to guess at what song is playing next, the DJ’s transitions between songs awkward and stilted. Despite that, towering over everyone in the very heart of the crowd, Johnny dances like there’s no tomorrow. Yuta and Ten had tried to get him out there, too— they had tried to drag him, princess-carry, and Yuta had even tried to throw him— but Taeyong isn’t in the mood to dance.

A flash of silver catches his eye, and he momentarily forgets that he is supposed to be uninterested in everything that the evening has to offer.

A girl strides towards him, sparkling white glitter sliding off her collarbones like someone has poured starlight on her, refracting tiny pinpoints of light onto her face. She is smiling, and her cheeks are a deep shade of rouge, but her smile is more like a lioness baring her fangs, and the rest of her expression is cold and hard. 

Her lips purse as she stares at the half-open door to his left, and the wind whispering behind it. She pauses in the doorway, gaze flicking back to the crowd.  And then to him. 

When she sees that Taeyong’s looking back at her, her expression lightens, the corners of her eyes crinkling in true mirth. 

And then she’s gone, the door swinging shut behind her with a sigh.

He finds her perched on the railing outside, on the balcony that overlooks the entire campus, watching the last snatches of day start to die away. She turns as he approaches, the light on the horizon line pooling around her, framing her figure in gold and scarlet. The breeze bites at his cheeks, and her midnight blue chiffon dress clings to her body, but unlike him, she does not shiver; instead, she leans into the icy caress of winter like it is an old friend. 

So when her eyes burn into his, he is already half-convinced that she is some ethereal creature. He opens his mouth to speak, but she shakes her head, as if the sound of his voice will break the spell she’s cast, one that blurs the noise behind him in favor of the shifting world before him. 

A wry smile curls her lips, like she’s laughing at some unspoken joke, and she pats the railing next to her, inviting him to join her in the moment.

Mutely, they watch the sky until it darkens and the northern star has begun to twinkle, the last murmurs of gold plunging below the school buildings. So much time passes, in fact, that when she suddenly takes a deep breath, consuming the night air like it is her lifeblood, it startles him, and he almost falls off the railing into the uneven hedges below them.

She laughs aloud then, and says, in a low, almost husky voice, “Are you afraid I might bite?”

His brain fizzles as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t stupid. He settles for the truth. “You look like you might just fly away if I come too close.”

She looks startled, like she wasn’t expecting him to respond with those words, and then shakes her head, that same mysterious smile curving her lips. She tips her head back and lets the wind comb through her long hair. “I wish I could fly. Don’t you?”

He thinks about it, looks up into the sea of gray clouds filtering the moonlight into ivory shards. “Maybe. Where would you go, if you could?”

She leans back a little too far and loses her balance for a split second— and he instinctively reaches out to catch her, gripping her hands in his. 

Her hands are small, and freezing, but still, they do not shake. Her heartbeat thrums against his palms, and she laughs breathlessly, the noise dragging his eyes up to meet hers. 

He can’t help but flinch; her gaze is filled with stone that had not been there a second before. It does not soften until she has extracted herself from his hold, and the cold railing is the only thing they share in common. 

Only then does she answer his question, clearing her throat. When she speaks this time, her voice has lost its airy quality, becoming sweeter, softer. He loses himself there, and openly stares at her, awed by— everything about her. “I think I’d see if heaven existed,” she breathes, reaching towards the stars, cupping the curve of the moon within her hands. “Go as high as I could until my lungs cried out for mercy.”

She slips down from her perch, lighting down quietly on the hard cement. On level ground, she is quite a bit shorter than him, and yet he feels intimidated by her proximity when she leans towards him, face impassive as she studies his.

“What?” he asks, jutting out his chin in challenge.

The girl rolls her eyes, unimpressed. But whatever she finds in his expression, she clearly doesn’t dislike because she says carelessly, tossing the words out at rapid-fire speed, “I’m going to go find a better view, and real food. Feel free to tag along, if you want.” 

And then she’s walking away before he can even accept the invitation, tugging off both her heels in one fluid motion and dangling them off of her shoulder as she starts heading down the five flights of stairs leading down to the main entrance, completely barefoot and humming a tune he does not know.

He looks back at the gym. He doesn’t see Yuta, or Ten, or Johnny through the glass— in fact, he’s sure they won’t notice him leaving, either, not while they’re dancing— so he makes his choice. 

He can be back by midnight, if he keeps track of the time.

“Wait—” he calls after her.

She pauses, and their gazes lock. For a split second, something flickers to life in her eyes, summons a peal of laughter from deep within her throat. She licks her lips, head tilted up towards him, and he understands it then. She is lovely, and the moonrise suits her, but she is no ethereal being, no angel, no goddess.

“Catch me if you can, then.” 

Still— he can’t look away.

He can’t help but chase after her.

a/n 2.0: feedback of all kinds is appreciated! ♥ luv y’all