#the twins offer to help her come up with one but she produces a set of leather lacings given by her grandfather

[twofoursixohjuan]

Skandians having very complicated hairstyle traditions for weddings, incorporating crew braids, job braids, family braids back several generations, your partner's family braids, etc., etc....

Hal and Stig doing Ingvar's.

Ulf and Wulf doing Lydia's.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

i’ll follow you anywhere

prompt nine: what if?

I hope everyone has enjoyed Elriel Month- I’ve loved it!! The sheer number and quality of all the content everyone created, shared and loved has been incredible! I love the elriel community so much. I have so many fics to still catch up on so if you have any I missed, please let me know! Many are already on the tbr :).

I’ll also be putting up a little EM Masterlist soon for anyone that missed any of my fics and would like to catch up 🥰

So, something a little different for this prompt. Sometimes, during moments of agony, it helps to go to another place and make up stories. This story was born from one such time when I was struggling through my own spin class. It’s trashy, enjoy 💚

*******

Angel Face was back. 

She’d just walked in, scanning her tag at the front desk, offering the muscle clad guy behind the reception desk a dazzling smile. He truly did look dazed, his eyes following her curvy form all the way across the gym to where the lockers were. 

Azriel glowered. He wanted to go and punch him in the face for staring at her like that. Not that he could talk, or blame him. Angel Face in form fitting workout tights threatened to send grown men to their knees.

Him. He was grown men. It threatened to send him to his knees.

Every time he caught sight of her at the gym, Azriel lost IQ points. His brain turned to marshmallow in her presence. He couldn’t help it.

He'd been coming to this gym for years with Rhys and Cass. It was central to all of their apartment blocks, clean enough, and had all the equipment they needed. Five and a half months ago, though, Angel Face had walked in for the first time. 

He had no idea who she was, where she had come from, what her name was. But she was fucking beautiful. She had the shiniest hair he had ever seen, and her eyes, God. Her eyes! If he could dive into them and swim forever, he would. And she always smiled. She had an air about her that was so…warm. He could just tell she was warm. She was like the fucking sun, and he couldn’t help but bend toward her light.

At first, she had started coming alone, her AirPods visible in her ears when she tied her hair up in that high ponytail that knotted his stomach and did salacious things to his thoughts. That ponytail made him want to run his tongue over every inch of her body and see what part produced the sweetest sounds.

But she had since made a couple friends, of course she had. Who wouldn’t be drawn to her? She was the fucking sun.

Azriel watched her greeting those friends with a bright smile, her head tilted back in laughter as the twins she had started working out with conversed with her across the massive floor.

It was 5:45pm, which meant Angel Face had come in for a class. Whenever he saw her here in the evening, it was always for one of the classes taken up on the mezzanine floor of the gym.

“Az. AZRIEL! Earth to fucking Azriel!!”  Cassian’s voice broke his little hopeless bubble of lust.

Azriel startled, tearing his eyes reluctantly off the brunette beauty, remembering he was supposed to be counting Cassian’s reps. “Yeah, twelve. Good job.”

Cassian huffed out a final rep. “Don’t act like you were paying attention to me you prick. I’ve been bench pressing for at least four minutes. Twelve reps my fucking ass. Worst spotter ever,” Cassian grumbled, placing the barbell back on the hooks himself and sitting up from the bench he was supine on.

“You should have known better brother,” Rhys grinned from the neighbouring bench, a set of heavy dumbbells gripped in his fists as he finished his set of chest flys.

“Wifey just walked in,” he finished, his face split with a shit eating grin, violet eyes sparkling.

Cassian followed Rhys’ gaze until he spotted the object of Azriel’s attention, her long golden-brown hair flowing down her back in soft waves, clad in a cute powder blue crop and tights set.

“Oh my god,” Cassian lamented with a long-suffering eyeroll, “stop being a pussy and just go talk to her. Put us all out of our misery.”

Azriel finally peeled his eyes away from Angel Face, reluctantly turning to his brothers beside him. Cassian’s look of annoyance overshadowed by Rhys’ utter fucking glee. Even though he encouraged others to stay out of business that wasn’t theirs, Rhys was the captain of the meddler ship.

“Women don’t come to the gym to be hit on Cass. That’s fucking creepy,” Az retorted. As he had many times before. 

“And you staring daggers at her fucking ass isn’t?” Cassian pointed a thick finger in his face, his mouth tilting up in a crooked smile.

“If you don’t go over there, I fucking will.” He’d fucking do it too. Bastard.

Azriel wasn’t sure if Cassian was so perturbed simply because it had been almost six months that Azriel had been quietly obsessing over the gorgeous brunette without making a single move, or, if he just wanted his spotter back. He took chest day very seriously.

Azriel simply stood rooted to the spot, going through every scenario possible; talk to her and possibly come off as a gym creep, or never talk to her and live with that regret forever. 

Women really hated being hit on at the gym, didn’t they? But then, what was he going to do, pine after her forever? And it would be forever because he was certain he’d never find another like Angel Face.

It didn’t seem like such a bad idea, pining. Except the thought of never knowing her name would haunt Azriel for eternity.

He could offer to help her with her workout? No, that was even creepier. He could walk past and smile, that shouldn’t be too hard. She might strike up a conversation with him, she seemed friendly and outgoing enough. But what if she didn’t?

Fuck. Why was he acting like a scared teenager? Go, Azriel. Go and fucking talk to her, you pussy. Put one motherfucking foot in front of the other and go.

“Do you think he short circuited?” he heard Rhys murmur from behind him.

“Either that, or fantasy has taken over reality and he’s half-way through fucking her brains out in the locker room in his mind,” Cassian answered without missing a beat.

“I can fucking hear you, assholes,” Azriel shot over his shoulder, still not taking his eyes off the side of Angel Face’s profile as she milled about the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her class to start.

“Oh good,” Rhys drawled, “we haven’t lost him completely.”

Just then, the group fitness instructor came waltzing out in lycra bike shorts and tank top, her headset hooked around her neck as she greeted her class. The group followed, ascending the stairs onto the mezzanine floor, taking their places for their class.

Angel Face started heading up, still animatedly laughing with her friends, her delicate hand resting on the banister as she followed the group.

“Ahhh. Too late bro, maybe next time,” Cassian mocked behind him, knowing very well that it was just another example of when Azriel had not gone over to talk to the woman he’d been lusting over for months.

Fuck. Azriel exhaled harshly, running a scarred hand through his hair. It’s not that hard! 

Before he could change his mind, Azriel grabbed his water bottle off the floor and jogged over to the bottom of the stairs where the latecomers were still piling into the group fitness room.

“Oh, so now you decide to make a move?” He heard Cassian squawk behind him, his arms splayed about wide as his voice boomed across the gym floor “Az! Who’s gonna spot my next set?” 

“You’ve got tweedle dum right there,” Azriel retorted, spinning to face his brothers as he jogged backwards, pointing a scarred finger at Rhys. His brother’s violet eyes glimmered as he laughed at the quip.

Darting up the stairs to the group fitness room Azriel halted suddenly as he came face to face with a room full of stationary bikes. Fuck. Spin class? 

Turning desperately to his brothers for help, a look of utter horror on his face, he was only met with their smug fucking expressions, challenging him silently from the level below. He couldn’t back down now. Fucking spin class.

Wandering into the room cluelessly, he spotted Angel Face in the third row, slowly rotating her legs, her feet already strapped into the pedals, the bike to her left still unoccupied. Here goes fucking nothing.

Striding over to the bike, he placed his water bottle in the holder and sat down, and immediately leapt back off. What the fuck was up with this seat?! Was it supposed to be this uncomfortable? And his knees knocked painfully into the handlebars. He groaned. He did not belong here.

“You’re tall, you’ll need to adjust your position.”

The voice that spoke was silken and soft, like a breeze dancing across the delicate petals of a rose. It melted his insides whilst simultaneously igniting them, if that were possible.

Snapping his face to the right, he was pretty sure he looked deranged. His mouth was agape, flapping noiselessly like a fucking fish out of water. 

Holy fuck. Angel Face also had an Angel Voice.

She was so stunning up close. Her eyes were like molten chocolate. She had the prettiest nose. He spotted a little beauty mark under her left eye, high on her cheek bone that he had never been close enough to see before. Marry me. 

Realising his mouth was still hanging open like an imbecile he snapped his jaw shut, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah. Right.”

Climbing back off the bike he stood beside it, eyeing off all the knobs and levers. He yanked what he thought would adjust his seat height. Nothing happened. Fuck. Maybe he should just walk back out. Why was this was so fucking awkward.

“Twist it first, then pull.”

Azriel gulped. She didn’t mean it to be sexual, she didn’t mean it to be sexual. Don’t make it weird, you fucking bastard.

Following her instructions, the seat eased and allowed him to adjust the height.

“It should reach your hip bone, keep going,” she assisted from beside him. “You might want to pull it back, away from the handlebars too.

Azriel just nodded, eyes roving over the frame of the bike.

“That lever there,” she pointed, “flick it to the right and slide the seat back,” she supplied with a smile, sensing he was lost.

Azriel swallowed. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she replied, her smile blinding him with the light she emanated around her.

Fuck she was so beautiful. He couldn’t help but stare. He also knew he was making this interaction anything but normal. Say something. Say something and stop making it weird. JUST. SAY. ANYTHING.

“Azriel.” 

Oh my god, did he just blurt out his name like that? That wasn’t even a sentence. SHE DIDN’T ASK!! Abort! Abort! 

Alarms went off in his mind, but he schooled his face into one that he hoped conveyed a cool, calm demeanour. He was sure he just looked like a blubbering fucking idiot.

Angel Face just looked back at him, mildly perplexed, her perfect brows knitted together delicately.

He cleared his throat again. “I’m Azriel. That’s my name.”

Holy fuuuuuck dude just shut up!

She smiled back at him kindly. “I’m Elain. It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s mind went utterly blank. He was pretty sure he looked mentally deranged right now but how could he possibly function like a normal human being when Angel Face— Elain— had just uttered his name for the first time ever. So casually. Azriel. Like it belonged on her lips. Like she had wrapped her tongue around the L many times before. He couldn’t wait to hear her say it again. He wanted her to say it for the rest of his life.

Just then, the instructors voice boomed across the room, having hooked up her mic to the speakers. Taking a seat back on his bike, Azriel winced.

The bike seat truly was the fucking worst, it felt like it was making its home way too high up his ass. And he felt too big to be allowed, leaning like that towards the handlebars. Were they supposed to be so low? But he was here now, and he was doing this… the shit you do for love.

Fifteen minutes later, Azriel was in agony. Sweat was dripping down his back, and the bike seat had truly set up camp in between his ass cheeks.

Elain barely looked like she had broken a sweat. She was still smiling, somehow still able to sing along to the songs the instructor played at some points.

Another thirty minutes later and Azriel was straight up dying. He was certain blood had been cut off to his nuts, surely rendering him infertile.

Bye-bye kids, the family jewels were crushed when daddy went chasing after mommy. His breathing also rattled embarrassingly. Fuck, he really needed to work on his cardio. 

Elain on the other hand looked radiant. She didn’t sweat, she sparkled. She fucking glistened and looked like the blinding sun after a storm. He looked like the storm. A drowned rat in the storm. That couldn’t breathe. Holy fuck, how did she do this three times a week?

“Good job everyone, up off your bikes and stretch it out!”

The fitness instructor looked way too fucking chipper for someone that had just conducted a forty-five-minute torture session. Azriel’s eyes threw daggers at her as he unstrapped his feet from the pedals and gingerly stood up on shaky legs. His ass felt violated. That was gonna hurt tomorrow.

Grabbing his ankle, he tucked his foot up toward his behind, stretching out his quad, the pull causing a slight wince.

“It’s always hard the first few times,” came Elain’s kind voice from besides him, one foot hooked on the bike seat as she leaned forward to stretch out her hamstring. She bent over her outstretched leg, her body lithe and strong. Her cheeks were delicately flushed from her exertions, her chest glistening beneath a thin layer of sweat. He was going to burst at the seams.

“I admit, I didn’t think it was going to be that hard.” Good job Az. Finally, a full sentence. Albeit a slightly pompous one, but a full one all the same.

Elain chuckled. “Men never do.”

Azriel’s face fell. Fuck, she thought he was a pig. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh! No! that’s not what I meant, only that— I just assumed. Fuck.” A scarred hand ran through his hair, tugging at the ends as his mind scrambled for the words to make it better.

Elain just laughed again, that light, breezy laugh fluttering over his anxiety. 

“I’m just teasing,” she continued with a mischievous smile, her eyes lighting up with mirth as she reached for her towel and water bottle, preparing to head out.

Panic clawed at his chest; he couldn’t let her get away. Not yet. He’d barely spoken to her. 

“I’ll see you around, then?” He blurted, throwing the question out desperately, like a buoy uselessly floating in the roughest of seas.

Elain glanced at him over her shoulder, her big brown doe eyes wide, a sparkle winking in them like she had a secret.

“I hope so. Have a nice evening, Azriel.”

Her lips lifted into an adorable, crooked little smile before he watched her turn around and walk out of the class. Her svelte curves swayed deliciously, the light sheen of sweat across her skin only adding to her ethereal glow.

I hope so. 

She hoped to see him around.

He smiled. It was worth it. The last forty-five fucking minutes was worth it. She now knew he existed.

I hope so. 

Azriel was on cloud fucking nine.

~

Rhys was finishing his last three reps when Azriel floated back over to them. Literally floated.

Cassian nudged his brother, nodding his head in Azriel’s direction, and Rhys sat up, both watching their quietest brother make his way back over to them.

Azriel’s hair was dishevelled, beads of sweat running down his temples and his tank top was drenched. Absolutely fucking drenched. But the bastards’ face the epitome of wistful bliss as he wandered over to them at the squat racks where they had continued working out.

Noting his dopey expression, Cassian gave Rhys a disbelieving look, pointing a thumb at Az as he asked, “Do you think she blew him in the locker room?”

Rhys snorted, face lined with mock concern, and waved a hand in front of Azriel’s glassy eyes.

“Honestly, it looks more like he’s been lobotomised. Maybe Angel Face is a neurosurgeon from 1941?”

They only knew Az’s girl as Angel Face, since that’s what he always sighed when she appeared at the gym. The hold this girl had on his brother was something else. It was kind of cute though, he’d never thought Azriel would be the kind of guy to be down so bad.

“Fuck you guys,” Azriel retorted, but it had no bite, a goofy grin spreading across his face. Cassian had never seen him so…giddy. It was fucking hilarious.

“Did you ask her out, then?” Cassian prodded, growing impatient and needing to know what had happened.

“Her name is Elain,” Azriel stated, like it was the most important thing in the world. This fool was truly on another planet right now.

“And?” Rhys prompted, hoping for something juicier than her name.

“And she said she hopes she sees me around.”

Cassian and Rhys both groaned, turning back to their workout, clearly resigned to the fact that they won’t be getting any exciting news today.

Azriel just smiled.

*******

Elriel month tag list:

@waternymphia

@shedoessoshedoes

@nightcourtseer

@tealeaves-and-rosepetals

@jasmineandshadows

@zdenkah

@dottielovegood

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@elriel-month

[starsheild]

Forbidden Magic: Reflections

“Prowl.”

It was the softest whisper of his designation, though it did not sound like his originator's voice.

“Prowl.”

It was not the voice of the monster in the guise of a Voice of Primus either.

He onlined his optics, and wondered if both of his senses were conspiring to trick him.

“My lord?”

“Jazz.” The Polhexian countered as he reached to free Prowl. The cage door wasn’t even really locked, merely bolted securely on several levels down the front. The restraints themselves were more thorough, and as Jazz studied he quickly reached the conclusion that they had not been meant to come off ever. He hesitated door only a klik before he produced a tool, snapping the links at the cuffs and the ankle bindings. 

Prowl sagged into his arms, doorwings flaring, and the Praxian hissed as they struck the edge of the cage. Jazz held him steady, waiting until he got his pedes under him. “Can you move?”

“Yes.” Prowl gathered himself. “Though I do not know if Soaring can.”

“Her?” Jazz repeated, looking over at the Praxian Ricochet had freed and was still supporting. She was weaker, leaning heavily on the dark Poyhexian. This one was not known to Prowl. He had never seen him in the market, but as he looked closer he could take a guess. This must be the brother that Jazz had mentioned, the one whose mate was suffering from the difficult carrying.

“Jazz.” Ricochet hissed, eyeing the single door to the room they were in, to the vent, and then to the femme leaning heavily on him. His entire frame spoke the question- take her or leave her?

“Prowl.” The femme raised her helm and she attempted to pull away from Ricochet. “Go. Just grant me peace before you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She argued. “Find your brother. Live for me.”

“‘is brother?” Ricochet repeated. “Barricade?”

“How?” Prowl and Soaring stared at Ricochet as he knelt by Soaring.

“Yer Cade’s origin?” Ricochet asked, looking into her optics.

“She is.” Prowl moved to his creator, Jazz on his heels.

“Then ya ain’t stayin’ here.” Jazz declared, moving around the three and springing easily into the vent. Turning, he stretched down and offered his servos to Prowl.

The Praxian wasn’t sure that Jazz was going to be able to lift him on his own, and Prowl himself had no strength to help him at the moment. He needn’t have worried as he found himself boosted from behind and helped into the vent. Jazz moved him further into the shaft before turning again, and lifting Soaring into the vent, handling her with gentle ease. Ricochet hopped up behind her, and the Praxians watched as Jazz lowered his twin by the ankles.

Ricochet snagged the grate from the floor and pulled into place Jazz hauled him back up. The paused only long enough to make sure that the sound buffer fell back into place. There was nothing really to be done for the peep holes that the pair had punched through the weave, they were small enough that they would likely not draw attention.

Jazz set off in the lead, sliding easily through the vent. Prowl followed him, almost as silent if slower. It was Soaring that worried him. While she was clearly doing her best, in her visibly weakened state it was going to be a challenge to get her out.

“How’re yer wings?” He murmured to Prowl when they reached the outlet he wanted.

“Sore, but functioning.” Prowl replied as he stopped behind Jazz, lifting them to get a sense of the two mecha behind him. He could tell that his origin still wanted to protest being brought along, but she remained quiet.

“Well ‘nough ta give warnin’ of anyone comin’ from b’hind?” Jazz asked, and Prowl nodded an affirmative.

“Good.”

The why that had Prowl curious was answered when Jazz helped Soaring on to Ricochet’s back before taking the lead through the temple, leaving Prowl to bring up the rear and watch their backs. Both Poly’s let out silent sighs of relief when they exited the temple proper and made their way around the edge of the inner yard to a side gate.

Picking the lock was a nanokliks work for Jazz and he pushed it open, ushering the other though before him, A figure materialized out of shadows, and Prowl relaxed as he recognized Frontrunner. The captain of the guard had become a regular at his stall even when he was not accompanying his lord through the market.

“Prowl.” The captain greeted him with a nod, taking in his bare frame and offering him a cloak before he caught sight of Soaring as Jazz helped her from Ricochets back. “Who?”

“Soaring, my origin.” Prowl informed as he took the cloak he had been handed and wrapped it around her instead. 

“Leave me.” She urged again, optics brightening as she diverted the energy she had been using to hang on to Ricochet to looking around.

“Nah a chance, M’lady.” Frontrunner informed her as he removed his own cloak and offered it to Prowl before scooping her into his arms and looking to Jazz.

“Get’m out.” Jazz said, confirming that the plan from earlier was still in motion.

The captain nodded, directing Prowl with a nod of his helm as he turned away. The Praxian arranged the cloak so that he could still see relatively well behind him without it being obvious that he had no armor on his frame. Prowl risked a single look over his shoulder as they set off, just long enough to see the gate close.

*****

Soaring sat in the chair, knees drawn up to her chin as she looked out the window where the cover was pushed aside  just enough in one corner to allow her a sliver of the outside world and it’s shining sun beyond, lost deep in her own thoughts. Around her the room was silent, the Polyhexians arranged on their travel berths on the floor, Prowl among their number.

Her creations were alive. Both of them. Alive and with creations of their own, or soon to be if they could get back to Barricade in time. Her optics drifted to the dark Polyhexians on the floor recharging by his twin. His concern for his mate and his unemerged creation had been clear as he had explained the conclusions of the medic that had sent him after his twin to rescue Prowl.

And Jazz, his twin, had come because of a promise to her creation’s creations to return their origin to them, and because it was right. As he had said, Prowl was one of his mecha, living under his care, and he had failed to protect them.

Prowl, bless him, had protested that it had not been the Polyhexians lords fault at all, but Prowl’s for being what he was, and hiding it. Ricochet had shook his helm, a half smile crossing his lips at the protest. 

“If I’d doubt’d b’fore, I wouldn’ be now.” He had explained as he had offered more fuel to Soaring, the energon glowing with as much as of the potent energy additives that she could handle in an attempt to build her strength against the haste of their departure. “‘Cade tried ta apologize sayin’ sometin’ like that when Ratchet called ‘im out on it.”

“Ratchet?” Soaring had repeated, pausing with the energon halfway to her mouth.

“‘Bes’ medic we know.” Jazz had said with a nod as he pushed energon at Prowl.

Soaring had merely nodded, but the odd expression that had flitted across her features at the designation had not been lost on Prowl, and he tilted his helm in question at his creator. “I once knew a mech by that designation, a healer.” She had explained at his unspoken question.

“He said Prowl wasn’ the first witch he’d met.” Ricochet said, his expression bordering on disbelief. “Said one ‘ad saved ‘is life once. Ya can’t tell me that was you?”

Memories flooded her processor, and for a moment Soaring was lost in them, in a time long ago in the village of her emergence high in the mountains. “It is… possible. Many things have come to pass that I never thought I would live to see, Why not one more?”

“Origin? You should be resting. There is still far to go.”

Soaring looked up into the crystal blue optics of her younger creation and smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek gently and assure herself once more that she was not dreaming. Her creation stood before, holding a steaming cube of tinsane.

Prowl touched her servos with his own, then reached out to lift her free and servo and place the cube in it. Soaring huffed softly, lifting it and catching the scent of garnet and jade, She took a sip and sighed, then frowned.

“What creator?” Prowl questioned, leaning closer. “Is it wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be using your power for me.” Soaring sighed as she looked up at him, then down at the steaming energon. “You need it.”

Prowl had smiled, the little look that was his alone, and lowered his helm until she had looked up at him once more and their crests brushed together.

“”I have enough to share. I was taught by the best.” He informed her. “Drink, creator. Then to your berth. The darkcycle we need travel though now will be here soon enough.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 20

A/N  With this epilogue, I’m wrapping up the crazy crossover that was bringing Jamie and Claire into the Man from Snowy River universe.  Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging.  It’s been a real joy to introduce many of you to this world that I’ve loved since I was you.

Previous chapters are available on my A03 page.

“Twins?” sapphire eyes rounded with tentative excitement.  “How can ye be sure?”

“If you put your hand here, you can feel one head,” Claire patiently explained.  “And over here is another.”

“Tang dhia,” Jamie offered up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for this abundance of good fortune.

“Ye’ll be able to deliver them safely, Sassenach?” his smile faltered as worry set in.

Claire looked up from where she was crouched on the barn floor.

“That’s really up to this lady here,” she patted the cow on the flank as she rose to her feet.  “But I’ll do whatever I can to help her out.”

Jamie nodded, relieved by his wife’s reassurance.

“That was the last heifer ye needed tae examine, aye?”

“Yes, I’m all done.  With a little luck, we’ll have eleven calves joining the herd come springtime.”

It was better than Jamie could have hoped, and it was all thanks to his wife.

***

After a blissful few days sequestered indoors, familiarizing themselves with the many carnal delights their new marriage offered, Claire finally convinced her husband to don enough clothing to step outside on a crisp, clear day, and show her his ideas for improving Lallybroch.  Excited his humans were no longer abed, Rollo lolloped ahead of them.

“A larger stable would go aboot here,” Jamie indicated a relatively flat piece of elevated ground, “wi’ space enough fer six stalls and a wee storage room fer yer instruments an’ such.”

Claire marveled once again at her husband’s easy acceptance of her chosen profession and his utter certainty she would be successful in pursuing it.

“Around the bend in the river there is a spot that’s sheltered from the northerly wind where I’d build a shed fer the cattle,” Jamie continued, his voice growing eager with anticipation.

“Won’t it be too cold to keep them out of doors all winter?” Claire wondered aloud.

With no little pride, Jamie preceded to spell out his grand plan. By crossbreeding hardy Highland cows with Lowland breeds better known for their meat, he intended to beat the cattle barons like Henry Beauchamp at their own game, albeit on a much smaller scale. The resulting livestock would be far cheaper to over-winter and would not need to be driven back and forth to the rich upland grazing, thus saving time and increasing yield.

“Jamie, that’s brilliant!” Claire enthused.  Her husband blushed beneath his winter tan, delighted by her praise.  Caught up in her excitement, Claire then proceeded to suggest several refinements to his plan.  The most important of these was to purchase slightly older heifers, rather than the one-year-olds he’d planned to procure from her father.

“Wouldna the older mothers ha’ fewer years tae produce?” he asked.

“Some animals bear young that are carbon copies of themselves, no matter the sire.  If you look at a cow’s previous offspring, you’ll know whether she’s going to pass along the longer coat and that Highland hardiness that you���re after.  You lose a few generations of calves, but what you gain are the characteristics you’re trying to ensure.”

Jamie looked at his wife in awe, the cold breeze staining her cheeks the colour of summer apples and blowing her hair amok.  It made him wonder.

“Will our bairns take after their sire’s red hair, do ye think Sassenach?” he half jested.  “Or will they have a mad curly wig like their mam?”  In truth, he rather hoped for a combination of the two.

Still a bit shy about speaking openly of their romantic life and its consequences, Claire bit her lip and looked down the glen, rather than meeting his eye.

“I suppose we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

***

“When do you leave for Inverness?” Claire asked as they walked hand-in-hand back to the main house after examining the cows.

“Day after next, if the weather holds.”

“I’m so proud of you, darling.  Perthshire’s first crofting commissioner.”

The Napier Commission had finally achieved its aims, and Parliament had passed the Crofters Holding Act the previous summer.  No longer could the Campbells or any other landlord turn Jamie or his fellow crofters out of their hereditary homes, so long as they continued to occupy them and used the land productively.  Rents couldn’t be arbitrarily increased.  The various counties of Scotland had elected representatives to a Crofting Commission that oversaw all disputes between crofters and their landlords.  Well-respected, charismatic and intelligent, James Fraser had been a natural choice for their region.

“Will ye visit wi’ yer Aunt Rosemary and Murtagh while I’m away?” he asked as they closed the door against the wind and moved into Lallybroch’s new ground floor sitting room.  A beautiful pine stairway Jamie had crafted by hand led upstairs to the three bedrooms.

“Maybe for the day, but I’m looking forward to having the time to do a little reading, perhaps catch up on some mending.”

Jamie settled into his favourite overstuffed armchair beside the fire, pulling Claire onto his lap before she could sit elsewhere.

“Are ye tired o’ yer husband awready then?” he teased, kissing the velvet skin beneath her jaw.

“You are rather distracting,” Claire purred as she extended her neck to invite further exploration.

“Aye,” he agreed, too pleasantly occupied to feign indignation.  Claire shifted her weight, rubbing her ample bottom against his groin in a move he was quite certain was deliberate.  She looked like an angel, but his wife was an incorrigible wanton, God be praised.

“Jamie?” she interrupted as he began the laborious process of peeling off all her winter layers.

“Hmm?”

“Maybe, by the time you come back from Inverness, I’ll have news for you.”

Even nose deep in her cleavage, Jamie heard the tentative, expectant tone in his wife’s voice.  His heart started to pound like a fist against his ribs.  He looked up into her bright, hopeful face with tears stinging the back of his throat.

“Then I shall rush home wi’ all due haste, Sassenach.”

[sirnavergi]

Just discovered your blog and

First of, WOW YOUR ART STYLE IS SO COOL. I ESPECIALLY LOVE THE VIBRANT COLORS YOU CHOOSE. ABSOLUTELY STUNNING

Second of, if it isn't a bother would you mind telling me more about your pjsk OCs? Cuz they look so cool and I love their group energy on the group drawing. I wanna know more about them

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! OFC!!!!

I actually have 2 groups!!! One of them is called SILamENT_ and the other is called ChromaChronicles

ChromaChronicles is a group I share with my friend @starbiistruck on instagram!!! :3 The redhead Ryoichi Yoshino and Mion Nakabayashi are from this group! They’re fairly new characters and we haven’t gotten the chance to work on them much yet, but the idea is that they play shows with stories behind them, kind of like musicals but instead of it being like one story per show, ALL their shows and music are connected to some story? With characters and stuff. 2 of them sing as narrators while the other 2 sing as characters.

Their sekai is like an 80s mall,,, and the genre of music they focus is synthpop/new wave!!

SILamENT_ is a bit more developed as I’ve had them for longer! The group consists of Eihi Mizano (red-black hair), Machi Mizano (light grey-red/grey streaks), Michika Neji (Blue), and the unit leader, Yuika Fujita!!(purple)

Eihi and Machi are twin siblings and go to Miyamasuzaka as second years! The other two go to Kamiyama. Yuika is a first year while Michika is a second year!

Eihi, Machi and Michika knew each other as kids, because they all used to attend ballet classes together! Unfortunately after a while, Michika decides that she no longer has fun doing ballet and it’s becoming too stressful for her, and stops coming.

While this is happening, Eihi gets scouted to be a model, and after a while she finds it hard to attend to everything and also drops the lesson.

Machi attends by herself for a while before also dropping it as she’s left all by herself now.

I think they keep in touch,, but they’re definitely more distant after they stop seeing each other frequently.

Yuika transfers to Kamiyama a little late than the beginning of the school year!

Yuika composes music and also wants to make short films !

She has a run in with Michika, they end up talking about their interests n stuff and Michika offers to help Yuika make a movie!!

Michika now makes,, scrapbooks and cool journals to set the vibes for their movies I think.. But yeah, she mostly wants to help with the direction but not act herself at this point. So they’re kind of stuck with no actors.

A lot of details r actually rlly fuzzy bc I barely work on these guys n im actually making up some stuff as I go… Michika sees SOMETHING with Eihi on it, as she’s still working as a model right now. And is like, hey. We used to be friends (we still are?? Kind of. I think) I’ll call her (Machi too) up n see what she thinks about helping with the movie.

Turns out, Eihi doesn’t really want to do modeling all that much from the beginning. But got pressured too much from people all around her who were “worried about her future” and decided to stick with it because she understood that sometimes in these industries you had to take the option that works, even if its not what you want truly.

Anyways, these all meet up n they discuss how the movie will be. Yuika actually doesn’t want to make movies with dialogue! Just movement and music. (So I don’t think they actually sing too much in in-universe content they produce, but I do still have voice hcs for them all obv.)

Anyways machi also,, I think she’s kind of shut in now bc she feels betrayed by her sister? They grew up doing everything together and one day she just starts doing her own thing n now they barely see each other or do anything together. N she resorts to some kinda I dont need you anyway🙄🙄 mentality to get over it but she is kind of sad about it inside😞

So the whole making movies together yippee thing gets her an opportunity to do something with her sister again like in the good old days so shes . happy (tho she tries to hide it)

yuikas just happy she found people who are willing to help make her passions reality!

and michika is happy her friends r reconnected after a few years of very awkward,, are we still friends or was it just a casual-we only spoke bc we existed at the same place at the same time and now that we dont we aren’t friends anymore- kind of thing.

Their sekai is a kind of minimalist modern art museum !!! And the main genre of music they make is,,, idk what to call it tbh? It’s atmospheric.. but its also inspired by those beep bops that u get from hooking plants to those machines that convert the waves into sounds ???? this is definitely not the right terminology for it but my main interest is maths n physics idk this stuff much

i have a very makeshift not SUPER accurate but accurate enough spotify playlist for them..

i havent designed any virtual singers yet…

other small things i can add are,,,

yuika is casual with Michika but speaks more formally with the twins in the beginning (which gets confusing sometimes bc they have the same surname obviously) after a while she does start using their names to save everyone the confusion.

yuika also looks up to the twins ! But is a bit more intimidated by Machi at first, but they end up becoming close friends!!

Machi skates! Skateboard and rollerskates i think! After yuika and her become closer, yuika helps her record cool videos of herself doing tricks LMAOO

Machi hangs out in vivid street a lot also! Because Yuika moved from outside the city, it’s likely Machi introduces Yuika to vivid street.

AHHH i cant think of anything else right now thank u so much for the kind words n reading :33

[calpalirwin]

I Think I Like You

Summary: Bucky falls for his best friend’s sister

A/N: I told y’all I wasn’t ready to let them go yet

Word Count: 5k

And away, and away we go!

__

1936

The ache in my knuckles was starting to occupy more and more of my attention as I followed Steve into the apartment complex. “So, this is home, huh?” I asked, flexing out my hands.

“Something like that,” he quipped, digging around in his pocket to produce a key, before letting us into one of the apartments.

I was about to ask what he meant by that, but stepping into the home quickly answered the question for me. There was something… acutely feminine about the place. It was tidy, much tidier than my own apartment down the block. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen, the counters were wiped down. And on the dining table, a vase of flowers. All subtle signs of the home containing a woman’s touch. “Oh?” I said suggestively, taking a seat on the couch.

Steve just rolled his eyes, as he sat down next to me, sighing deeply as he sunk back in the soft cushions. I looked over at him with a smirk. Alright, if he wanted to keep his secrets, he could, I decided. I also wondered if I looked half as bad as he did. His lip was split, and he was already beginning to bruise along the right side of his face. I looked down at my own hands, flexing them again. No doubt they’d bruise too. But that was about the extent of my own injuries compared to my friend.

The door clicked open behind us, and both of us swiveled our heads to look at the woman walking in, a bag of groceries in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder with papers all but spilling out of it. She was smartly dressed in a crisp blouse tucked into a black skirt that hugged her small frame tightly. She toed off her heels, blonde curls falling to obscure her face from my view. She didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence as she walked over to the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, her face pinching into a frown when he winced. “Oh, Steven, what did you do now?” she asked, moving to set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, her tone suggesting that she was used to seeing the man this way. She didn’t appear to care for an answer either, as she turned out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a small first-aid kit. Only then did she acknowledge my presence, blue eyes sweeping over me with slight disdain. “Bringing your fights home now, huh?” she asked, tongue clicking in her cheek, as she grabbed his face, examining the damage carefully.

“We were on the same side,” he replied bluntly, sitting still for her while she cleaned up his face.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her tongue clicking again. “For being on the same side, it looks like he got out better than you did.”

“He’s a better fighter,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“And who is he exactly?”

“James Barnes, ma’am,” I told her politely. “Pleased to meet you. Wasn’t aware Steve here had a lady.”

Steve gave a bark of a scoff, “She’s not a lady.”

Her own eyes rolled. “What he meant to say was that I’m his sister. And I’m no ma’am either. It’s ‘miss,’ Mr. Barnes.”

“My apologies, miss.” I bit back my smirk. Not Steve’s lady, and not a ma’am only worked more in my favor. “And would you happen to have a name to accompany your title?”

“That would depend on who’s asking.”

“That would be me.”

“Then, that information would be classified, James.”

I chuckled, definitely toeing a fine line of getting in way over my head, and not caring the slightest bit. “Well, then, I suppose it’s only polite to ask if you prefer ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ then.”

“From you? I’d prefer neither.” She flashed me a sweet smile, releasing Steve’s face, and snapping the first-aid kit shut. Then, she was on her feet, going back into the kitchen, and returning with two ice packs. “Might wanna ice your face and hands there, sluggers,” she said, tossing one to Steve, and the other to me. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, let alone one that was a nurse, and we’ve been friends for how long now?” I questioned Steve, letting the ice pack rest across my knuckles.

“2 years. And she’s not a nurse. Just a nuisance,” he quipped, leaning his head back and placing his ice pack against his face.

“You’re the one who comes in here all bloody and bruised. So who’s the real nuisance here, dear brother?” she retorted.

“That would still be you, by a long shot. I fight bullies. You just like to fight.”

“No, I command respect. Feeble-minded men only view that as liking to fight. And you?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “Steve fights bullies. I fight for respect. What do you fight for, Mr. Barnes?”

“I fight to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, how noble,” she said, clearly not impressed with my answer.

“And half a lie,” Steve snorted. “Go on, Buck. Tell her what you do at school.”

“Buck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A nickname,” I brushed past. “And I’m on the wrestling team. So, sure, one could make the argument that I have fighting in my DNA. But as I’ve said, I use the advantage I have in fighting to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, well maybe next time care a little quicker about my brother, yes?”

“With all due respect, miss, your brother has a tendency of getting himself into fights before I’m around to help get him out of them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true… Steve, do me a favor, and put up those groceries would you?”

He pulled the ice pack off his face to squint over at her. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not going to be useful?”

He grumbled, but got to his feet to do as she asked anyway. “So, how’s Mother?” he asked her.

“Still dying,” was the answer. “And still asking why you don’t visit.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to visit,” he started.

His sister held up her hand, cutting him off, “I know. Watching her die isn’t exactly pleasant. And she knows you’re busy with school, and stopping by her to help me. Nobody blames you, Steve. But she’s getting worse, so I’d make time if you can. Sooner rather than later. But not too soon. Wait until your face heals a bit. James, has my brother offered you anything to eat or drink? Or is he as bad a host as he is a fighter?”

“We were barely home a minute before you came bursting in, and started chastising us,” he told her.

She ignored his excuse. “James, can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“So, safe to assume you’re a friend of Steve’s from college,” she continued to make conversation with me as she filled a glass with water, then came to join me on the couch while Steve finished with the groceries. “Do you prefer to be called James? Or whatever it was he called you? Buck?”

“James. Buck. Bucky,” I shrugged. “Either works. I’m not that picky.”

“Why Buck?”

“Middle name’s Buchanan.”

“Oh, a middle name after a president, just like Steve.”

“Y/N,” Steve said in a warning. “Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Don’t you have a fight to get into?”

“Y/N?” I asked with a slight smile, liking how her name sounded on my tongue.

She glowered at Steve, not liking that he’d given her the one edge she had over me. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

“Pretty.”

Over the course of my afternoon spent in the apartment, I learned a great deal about the girl with the pretty name. For one, she wasn’t just Steve’s sister, but actually his twin, and she hated how adamant he was about the fact that he was still technically older. And the chip in her shoulder was just as justified as the one in her brother’s. They had a rough go of it after their father had passed a few years prior, and with the economic situation being what it was, and their mother falling ill herself it was crazy to me that they still had their education as a priority. But as someone who valued education myself, it was a trait I greatly admired.

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more I liked her, and the more she seemed to warm up to me. Although I was uncertain if she was warming up to me because she was as equally infatuated with me as I was with her, or if it was strictly a means of stirring annoyance in her brother. Either way, I had her attention, and I wasn’t complaining.

And when the evening did draw to a close, while I wasn’t brave enough to ask her out directly, I was brave enough to suggest my interest in her.

“Bucky, can I ask something of you?” she asked, pulling the front door shut behind her to allow for a brief moment of privacy between us.

“Of course,” I asked, trying not to take too much glee in how she said my name.

“Well, I suppose it’s not really a question. But more of a request to take what I said about caring about my brother quicker seriously. He has a strong tendency, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed, of doing what he thinks is right, without stopping to think about the consequences. And he doesn’t have the… erm…” heat colored her cheeks as she fought to find the right words, “physique like you do to defend himself, despite his best intentions. So if you could be a bit quicker with that ‘I protect those I care about’ bit you were mentioning earlier, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Did she just admit she found me attractive? “That would require me to be around your brother a lot more, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing you two are friends then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I meant that it would mean I would probably be around more if I were to do that. Which I can do, no problem. Steve’s a great friend. But I would hate for my presence to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would your presence make me feel uncomfortable?”

“Well, you didn’t seem all that keen on me. And if I’m being honest, I still can’t really figure out what your opinion of me is. I’m hoping it’s favorable.”

“In my defense, I came home to find my brother with a bloody face, and you with bruised knuckles. All the same, I do apologize if my original assumption made me come across as cold. Because it’s become clear to me that my brother holds you in a high regard as his friend, and I’ve never known Steve to be a bad judge of character.”

“Well, if being around Steve more for the sake of getting him out of fights quicker means I can see more of you, consider your request granted. G’night, Y/N.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

~~~

“So my sister, huh?” Steve asked when I saw him a few days later.

“What about her?” I asked, playing dumb.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

I sighed, opting for honesty rather than something that would be an obvious lie. “Do I find her to be beautiful and charming? Yes. But would I go so far as to say I’m smitten with her? We barely know each other.”

“But you want to know her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re my best friend, and she’s your sister.”

“You’re both adults. And it’s Y/N. She’d go out with you just to spite me if I was stupid enough to warn her away from you. Which I have no reason to do anyway.”

“So if I did want to ask her out, I’d have your blessing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Buck. I’m simply saying I wouldn’t be mad about it. But if you do ask her out, which I don’t recommend doing anytime soon because she has a lot on her plate as is, she likes roses and dancing.

~~~

I was there when their mother passed away a few months later. I sat with them in the kitchen while they tearfully planned a funeral, offering to make the necessary phone calls that left their own words choked and stuck. And I stood between them when they buried her, one hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder, the other hanging limply at my side, fingers begging to stretch out and pull her hand into mine. 

When Steve excused himself to talk with the minister, Y/N sighed deeply next to me. “He’s all I got left,” she murmured with sad finality. “I mean, we always used to joke that it was just me and him. And I knew this would happen eventually. But… I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for Steve to be the only family I have left.”

“He’s not,” I told her. “You have me, too.”

She blinked up at me. “I do?”

Heat colored my cheeks, and I rubbed at hand at the back of my neck as my nerves kicked in. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m friends with Steve. I have no interest in ending that friendship. So you can count on me to be around if that’s something you want to count on.”

“Steve, yes. So a relationship with each other via proxy? Seems like quite the investment on your end.”

“Well, I’d hardly say our relationship with each other is strictly via proxy of your brother. I like to think we’ve become at least friendly with each other, if not friends directly.”

“And is that what you would like? A friendship?”

I hesitated. There was no way of answering her without condemning myself one way or another. If I said yes, then that’s all I would ever be to her. But if I answered no, I risked losing her before I had her. Either by her thinking I was insulting her by not wanting a friendship, or scaring her off if she interpreted what I said as being too forward too soon. “I’ve told you that I protect those I care about. Which means if you need me, for anything, I’ll be there.”

“And do you care for me simply because I’m your friend’s sister? Or do you care for me because you genuinely care for me?”

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. Surely you can answer that for yourself.”

~~~

1937

“Steve,” I groaned as he dragged me through the streets of Brooklyn towards his place with a grin on his face. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

“I know. And that’s what I told Y/N, but you know she doesn’t listen to me.”

I groaned louder. “What did she do?”

“It’s just cake,” he promised. “So even by Y/N’s terms, this is very tame. But, you have to act surprised because she’ll kill me if she knows I told you.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented with a laugh.

“Close your eyes,” he said as we bounded up the stairs to the apartment.

“Is that part necessary?” I asked, closing my eyes anyway and letting him push me inside.

“Surprise!” both him and Y/N yelled, and I opened my eyes to see a small banner hanging up on the wall with the words “Happy Birthday,” sprawled across it, and a small cake waiting on the kitchen table. “We know it’s not much,” she went on, “but we wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “But you didn’t have to.”

“I know we didn’t have to. But we wanted to. Turning twenty is something special, Bucky.”

“Well again, thank you,” I told her as I took a seat at the table, noticing a small parcel wrapped neatly. “What’s this?”

Her eyes went wide. “That,” she said, snatching it off the table, and hiding it behind her back, “is for later.”

This time, it was Steve who groaned. “Y/N, we agreed on no presents. Now I look like an ass.”

“This is what makes you look like an ass?” she questioned.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned humorlessly. “You’re hilarious.”

“Okay, this you really didn’t have to do,” I told her with a chuckle.

“Bucky? Shut up, and make a wish.” With that, she grabbed a small lighter, lighting the candles on the cake.

While she and Steve sang “Happy Birthday” I thought about what wish I wanted to make, no matter how silly the notion seemed. But my mind couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I already had everything I wanted. So ultimately, I decided to wish for things to stay the same as I blew out the candles with a huff of breath.

“Okay,” she said, setting the small parcel in front of me, after we’d eaten the cake and Steve excused himself. “Now, you can have this.”

Carefully I tore at the paper, revealing a hardcover book, the words “The Hobbit” etched across the front cover. “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers across the cover.

“The lady at the bookstore said it was popular. But if you end up not liking it… Well, I kept the receipt, so we can return it for something you would like,” she offered as explanation, a soft embarrassed mumble

We. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I love it. This is great, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” she smiled back. “And uh, if you don’t mind, when you’re finished with it, I’d like to borrow it. Didn’t have enough to buy two copies.”

“Or,” I suggested, a thought coming to me, “we could read it together.”

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I could read it to you. We could… make an afternoon of it. Or a few afternoons of it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing a date.”

“And if I was?”

“I think I’d like that.”

I grinned. “How’s Saturday, then?”

~~~

“This is going to sound stupid,” Y/N interjected when I paused in my reading.

“What’s going to sound stupid?” I asked, looking at her over the top of the book. She looked cute, resting on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she cradled her chin in her hands. Her hair blew softly with the light spring breeze, and her eyes held a dreamy look to them. Okay, she looked way more than just cute. 

“I like the way you read,” she said. “Your voice… it’s nice in general. But there’s a certain flow to how you read. Your voice does this thing where it rises and falls with what you’re reading. It’s… animated. Very engaging.”

“Well, I can easily say that’s the first time someone ever complimented my voice,” I said with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you it was going to sound stupid.”

I tucked a scrap of paper in the book, marking our spot before setting it aside. “It’s not stupid. It’s a nice compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flickered from me to the book. “Are we done for the day?”

“No, I can keep reading if you want me to,” I said, picking up the book and opening it.

She smiled up at me, and then, in a move I wasn’t expecting, she rolled over onto her back and then shifted her body perpendicular to mine, resting her head on my outstretched leg. I stiffened at the sudden intimacy of the contact. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out with a cough, forcing myself to relax. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

She gave a small giggle. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you get shy, Bucky.”

“You’re pretty cute all of the time,” I mumbled back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re pretty cute all of the time,” I said again, this time without mumbling, but glad I had the book in my hand to block my face from her view.

Her hand gently pulled mine down, the book closing once more. “Bucky, if I ask you something, do you promise to be honest with me?”

“Course,” I nodded.

“Do you like me? Romantically that is.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding. “And if you want the whole truth, it’s the ‘I’m falling in love with you’ kind of like. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does that terrify you?”

“Because it means I have more to lose.”

She let out a soft “oh,” as she pushed herself to sit upwards, a timid hand stroking up the length of my arm. “You’ll never lose me, Bucky.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back. I shifted to lean towards her, my hands going to cradle her face. And then my lips were on hers, and it was sweet and powerful. And my thumbs were brushing along her cheek bones as the rest of my fingers bunched up in her hair. And her own hands were looping around my neck, her fingers tugging lightly at my hair. The air came rushing out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t dare break the kiss, savoring every sensation. 

There was a sharp intake of air and I wasn’t sure which one of us had done it, because our lips stayed locked, and I had to drop one of my hands to brace myself as the kiss grew hungry and she moved in closer, practically on top of me. I moved the hand that was still holding her face to wrap tightly around her back, needing her more than I’d ever needed anybody else before.

~~~

1939

“Whoa, slow down there, doll,” I chuckled, pulling the glass away from her lips.

“But it tastes like juice!” she told me, her eyes big with excitement.

“I know, but those drinks have a lot more alcohol in them. And if I bring you home drunk, Steve will kill me.”

“He can try,” she scoffed, grabbing the glass from me and taking another big drink. “And neither one of you can get mad at me drinking, because you both do it too,” she half sang.

“Again, your drinks have a lot more alcohol in them than our drinks do. And for another, I’m a lot bigger than you. My body can handle more.”

She set the glass down, scowling over the rim at me. “You’re no fun.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have your drink, doll. I’m just asking you to slow down.”

“Well, can you order me another one? This one’s almost empty.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead before going back over to the bar to get us each another drink. I could feel the eyes of other girls on me as I drummed my fingers across the tabletop of the bar while I waited, but they didn’t bother me. I already had the girl I wanted staring at me like they did, and she did a whole lot more than just stare. When I turned with the drinks, I saw the way other guys in the bar were looking at Y/N back in the booth. Now, that made my skin prickle. So I squared my shoulders and slid in next to her placing a heated and heavy kiss on her cheek, smirking in triumphant as the looks dropped. “A-are you growling?” I asked with another chuckle, becoming aware of the low rumble in her throat.

“I hate the way they stare at you,” she whispered with disdain.

“Jealous?” I teased lightheartedly.

She scoffed into her drink. “Me? Jealous? Please…”

“Good. Because if anyone should be jealous, it’s me. You have the attention of every man in this bar.”

She scoffed more. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You,” I said, kissing her cheek again. “Are the most beautiful girl in here, and everyone knows it. And I’m the lucky son of a gun that gets to take you home.”

Her eyes went wide, and a grin broke out across her face. “Take me home, Bucky.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I held her steady as I let her into my apartment, and she blinked in her surroundings. “This isn’t… Where are we?”

“We’re at my place. Steve would kill me if I brought you home like this.”

“I-” her face flushed. “Bucky, I’ve never…”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “I’m going to help you into bed, and then sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” It was a simple utterance both of understanding and… was that disappointment that nothing would come of the night besides her safely sleeping her intoxicated state away?

I gave her one of my shirts to sleep in, turning my back to give her privacy, before helping her into bed. “G’night, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Wait,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab me by my shirt. “Can you stay?”

I looked down at her, the blanket pulled up tightly around her. My bed had never looked more inviting. And what was the harm in sleeping? I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.” I stepped out of my pants before joining her on the bed, but staying on top of the covers. “G’night, doll,” I whispered, clicking off the light.

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?” she asked me, her voice filled with sorrow.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You can’t even share the covers with me!” was the wailed explanation of despair.

“I-” I sputtered, shocked at whatever had caused this outburst. “C’mere,” I coaxed, lifting up my arm for her to curl into me. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“So you want me?”

“Of course I want you, doll.”

“Then how come you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

“I- You’re the most independent woman I know. I didn’t know you wanted to become a wife.”

“I don’t want to become a wife. I want to become your wife.”

“You’re gonna need to give me time to buy a ring.”

“But you’ll ask?”

“Until I’m blue in the face,” I promised.

“And we can have a house, and kids? Not an obnoxiously big house, but not a tiny one either.”

“We can have a medium-sized house, and fill it with as many kids as you want. And you can teach, and Steve and I can open up a mechanic shop. And every night,” I said, shifting to get under the blankets and pull her closer, “we can fall asleep just like this.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed in content.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Rogers.”

“It’s Rogers-Barnes.”

~~~

1943

“Why do you keep fiddling with your pockets?” Y/N asked as we walked through Central Park, one of her hands holding mine, the other clutched holding a picnic basket with the flowers I’d bought her poking out the top.

“I’m not,” I lied, feeling the small box drop as I pulled my hand out of my pocket and waved it in her face. “See?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re plotting something.”

“If by plotting, you mean enjoying a nice picnic with you, then ya got me. And it’s hardly plotting if you already knew.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, as we came to a stop underneath a large tree by the lake’s edge. “And what are we reading today?” she asked as I busied myself with laying out the blanket for us.

“Steinbeck.”

“Oh, I love him,” she marveled, kneeling on the blanket and pulling out our lunch.

“I know you do.”

With her head resting in my lap, and between bites of sandwich, I read from the small paperback novel. Our lazy Saturday tradition that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I only stopped reading when I heard the soft sigh as she started to doze off like she usually did. “You still with me?” I asked with a small laugh, tracing her cheek with one of my thumbs.

“Mhm,” she murmured like she always did, keeping her eyes closed. “Just thinking.”

I frowned. Her normal answer was “Keep reading.” “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’m gonna miss this when you’re gone. How much I’m gonna miss you.”

My heart sank as I thought about the draft papers sitting on my kitchen table. “It’s just basic training. Couple weeks and I’ll be back. And I’ll only be in Jersey.”

“Ugh… Jersey…” She opened her eyes to roll them.

“I’ll be so bad at being a soldier, my sergeant will yell at me and ship me back home to you,” I laughed.

“You will do no such thing. You’ll do what you have to at camp, and then you’ll come home to me,” she told me, sitting up. “And then…” Her voice broke off, not wanting to finish the rest. After camp came Europe. And that was more than either of us were willing to think about. Camp. Camp was first. Camp had clear dates we could work with. 3 measly months. And what came after didn’t matter.

“And then,” I said, slowly pulling the box out of my pocket.

“No!” she interrupted, sternly. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you say one damned word about Europe, I will drown you in the lake,” came the threat.

“Y/N!” I laughed. “Can I tell you what happens after I get back from camp, or not?”

“Bucky…” she whined.

“Please? I really think you’re gonna like it.”

“What could I possibly like about what you coming back from camp means?”

“Because it means you’ll be my wife,” I told her, presenting her the box, snapping the top open to reveal a small gold band. “Marry me, doll.”

__

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[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

     - (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder. 

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.                                          

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well. 

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

[glimmerglanger]

If you feel like doing more HotR, could you do a Christmas (or any other family event) scene? I had a thought of Ben having a huge family Christmas for the first time in his life and it made me feel some type of way

Ohhhh, that’s such a cute and sweet idea. I ended up not going for Christmas, because the idea of a Thanksgiving meal occurred to me and wouldn’t let go. This is SO DOMESTIC. Codywan with a lot of family feels.

~~~~~

Ben had tried to cook a meal on Thanksgiving precisely once in his life, while in college and sharing an apartment with Quin. They’d attempted to cook a turkey in their oven, promising to handle the stuffing and potatoes, as well. Luminara and Bant were each supposed to bring other dishes, he could no longer recall exactly what.

None of them had succeeded.

Some of the resulting food had been, at least, edible. Much of it had not.

They’d eaten stale cereal with milk while sitting around and watching a football game, instead.

It was a good memory, in the end. Something they laughed about together. And Ben had never tried to cook anything like that, again. Qui-Gon had never been interested in such things growing up. He said it always ended up being a waste, and that true thankfulness had nothing to do with cooking too much food or overeating.

And so, really, Ben wasn’t expecting anything when he woke up on the last Thursday in November, tucked in close to Cody in the new bed they’d bought a month ago, tired of trying to wedge into Cody’s little twin.

Technically, he mostly noted Thanksgiving because it meant he didn’t have to work and could, allegedly, sleep in. But Cody was always up early. Cattle didn’t take holidays, after all, and Ben was generally up when Cody rose, after sharing a bed with him for a few months, and so he was sitting at the table in the pre-dawn light when Cody put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Eat a big breakfast this morning, we won’t eat again until late.”

“Hm?” Ben asked, tilting his face up, and got a kiss in answer.

“I’ll be back,” Cody said, brushing a kiss to his forehead, as well, before zipping up his coat and disappearing through the door. “You finish waking up.”

Ben nodded, drank his tea, and pulled out his books to make some headway on his final paper; not due for weeks yet, but it was a huge project. By the time Cody came back, cold clinging to him, he’d gotten most of his work done and grinned, standing to pull Cody into a hug, murmuring, “How about you let me warm you up properly, hm?”

Cody grinned against his mouth, slid his cold hands up under Ben’s shirt, and said, “Later. We’ll warm each other up. Come on, get dressed. We’re about to start the cooking.”

And it was only then that Ben really, truly, recalled that most people around the country did something for the holiday. “Ah,” he said, with a little grimace, thinking about the delicious food that Jango and Val managed to produce on a regular basis, “I really can’t cook.”

Cody snorted, thumbs brushing over his skin, and said, “We know. That’s alright. Anyone can cut up vegetables. Come on.”

Which was how Ben ended up standing in the kitchen in the main house, which had been cleared of all chairs, the counters and table stacked with meat, vegetables, and large metal baskets.

“Here,” Cody said, nudging Ben between Wooley and Echo, “just cut whatever mom tells you to chop. I have to go check the pit.”

“The pit?” Ben asked, but Cody was already heading out the back door. Echo was involved in an animated conversation with Fives, and Wooley was humming along to whatever music playing through his earbuds, and so Ben just shrugged, took the yams he was handed, and started peeling and chopping them.

The parade was playing on repeat in the other room, the television turned so that everyone working around the table could kind of see it, and Ben fell to talking with Boba and Ahsoka - also contributing by chopping vegetables - as Val and Jango did something with what appeared to be a bunch of chicken over by the counters.

It wasn’t until Fox - and Ben had only met the man the night before - brought over a basket lined with aluminum foil and started putting the vegetables in, that Ben thought to ask, “What are we cooking, anyway?”

Fox blinked across at him. Despite having only met in person the previous day, Ben felt like he knew Fox well enough. They’d spoken often throughout his court cases, after all.

“Dinner,” Fox said.

“It’s a hāngi,” Boba said, tossing yams into the basket. “Mom and dad only do them for special occasions. You missed the one in July. Just put the vegetables in, you’ll see, it’s really good.”

And that was that. Ben helped load up the vegetables, and carried one of the baskets out through the back door when instructed, over to what appeared to be a pit, well back from the house.

Cody and Wolf - who had also flown in the night before - were standing over the pit, which was radiating heat, leaning on shovels. A large pile of ash sat to one side, and Cody’s pants were covered with it. Jango and Val reached the pit first, and Ben watched as baskets were lowered in, one after another, meat first followed by the vegetables.

Cody covered the food with blankets before he and Wolf grabbed up their shovels again and started burying the whole thing.

Ben lingered to watch, smiling when Cody finished and stepped over to kiss him sweetly. “Now what?” Ben asked, since he’d just watched them bury dinner.

“Now it cooks for a few hours,” Cody said, nuzzling back against his jaw. Cody no longer felt cold, but he’d been, apparently, standing by a fire pit and doing manual labour. “And then we eat it.”

“No,” Fives said, bounding up and pushing Cody’s shoulders before continuing on, “now we play football.”

Cody rolled his eyes and said, “That, too.” His expression grew more serious as he looked Ben up and down. “You don’t have to play.”

“I think there’ll be an uneven number of players, if I do,” Ben pointed out. It seemed handy, having twelve children if you wanted even teams for sporting events.

“Nah,” Rex said, arriving at a jog, “Ahsoka’s playing, so you have to, otherwise we’re a man down.”

Which was, he supposed, how they all ended up down in the field where Ahsoka still did the dog training classes, though the obstacles had all been cleared away, giving them lots of open space. The brothers agreed, after only a little arguing, that Fox and Wolf should get to be captains, to welcome them home, and the oldest set of twins quickly picked teams.

And Ben only realized that Cody thought he didn’t know how to play when Cody tugged him to one side - they were on the same team, which Boba had thought was hilarious - and said, “Just have fun, alright? We don’t play tackle anymore, and it isn’t a big deal who wins or loses.”

Ben stifled the smile that tried to curl across his lips at Cody - quite possibly one of the most competitive people he’d ever met - claiming that it didn’t matter who won or lost. He just nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And, when he got the ball, two plays into the game, he scrambled back, looked down field, and nailed Crys a few feet away from the line they’d designated the end zone. Crys caught the ball, shouted, laughing, dodged past Ponds, and took the two necessary steps before getting jumped on by half his brothers and buried.

Ben laughed, well back down the field, blood pumping fast with a swell of pleasure, and Cody grabbed him by his shoulders, turning him and pulling him into a kiss. “You!” Cody said, after a beat, pulling away from him. “You can--”

“Throw a football?” Ben suggested, kissing him again, briefly. “Indeed I can. Not as well as I could in highschool, but--”

Cody kissed him again, laughing against his mouth, and only quit when his brothers all gathered around to heckle them, insisting on getting back to the game. They chased one another around the field, grabbing for the rags tucked into belts, tossing the ball around, until Ben felt breathless and delighted, until Jango hollered for them from back towards the house.

Cody took his hand on the way back up the lane and led him around to the back of the house as many of the rest of his brothers flooded inside. Cody, Fox, Wolf, and Rex seemed to be on, well, unburying duty.

Ben watched them work for a moment, turning as Val stepped up to his side, offering him a beer, asking, “Good game?”

“Seemed to be,” Ben said, nodding his thanks and taking a long drink. It was cold, which felt good after all the activity. Despite the chilly temperatures, he was sweating all down his back, even with his coat thrown to one side.

“Good,” she said, and nudged him, “come inside and get cleaned up for dinner. Then you can come back and watch Cody, if you want.”

He snorted a laugh and followed her, scrubbing his hands clean over the kitchen sink, watching Cody through the window over the counter, listening to the family bicker about setting the table behind him and--

Swallowing, thickly, as his throat got tight all at once. He took the opportunity to splash water across his face, drying his skin even as cheers started going up, the brothers outside pulling the first of the baskets from the pit.

Ben shook himself and went to help out, bringing food inside, watching Val and Jango start dividing things up among all the different plates set around. It felt kind of like getting caught in a whirlwind of delicious smells and laughing people, all of it sorting itself out in the end with them clustered around the table, chairs all pressed together, wedged so close that Ben wondered, for a beat, if Cody were about to end up in his lap.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing.

The food smelled delicious, savory aromas filling up the room, chicken and some darker meat on his plate beside sweet potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, and what he thought might be pumpkin. The family talked and yelled and laughed through the meal, and Ben just...absorbed it, sat in the middle of it all and took it in, even as they finished and even as everyone pitched in to clean up.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, much later, when all the work was done and they were back in their space, Ben toweling off his hair after a shower that he’d desperately needed.

“Mm?” Ben asked, tossing the towel into the hamper and shivering when Cody caught his hips, tugging him over to the bed, pressing a kiss low on his stomach.

“Today too much?” Cody asked, looking up at him, expression concerned, his hair still wet as well, curling up more from the moisture.

“No,” Ben said, leaning into his touch and threading his fingers back through Cody’s hair. He smiled, just a little, feeling his chest aching with an overabundance of contentment. “No,” he repeated, and sighed when Cody kissed his stomach again, “It was just enough.”

[magicbystarlight]

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy - Colin’s Photographs #2

*Bonus Content*

Series Masterlist, The First Time You Met George, Colin’s Photographs #1, Colin’s Photographs #2

Summary: The story behind Colin’s second photograph of you and George. This is backstory to “One For Sorrow, Two For Joy” but you can still enjoy this without reading the rest.

Word Count: 1509

Warnings: None. Just fluff and some angst.

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy Taglist: @byelannie @sugasthreedollarkookie @bethanystan

The last dozen photos were of their last year. Most of them in the DA. There was the group picture where Sarah had strategically placed the two of you in front of the twins. And then there was another one of you.

“How on earth did he take this one?” You marveled as you stared at the photo of George and you smiling triumphantly at each other, your hand clutching his wrist. It had been the only time you and George had worked together in the DA, when you were struggling to produce a Patronus. Colin had managed to capture the moment right after you produced your first non-corporeal Patronus.

“Blimey, Colin,” George said, taking the photo from you. “I didn’t even know he had his camera that day.”

March 1st, 1996

“Expecto Patronum!”

Nothing. Not even a tiny little wisp. Half of the DA had already produced full fledged Patronuses and the other at least produced something. But no matter what you did, no matter what memory you used, nothing came out. In the years you’d been at Hogwarts, you had never struggled this much with anything. If you didn’t get something on the first try, you would on the second or third attempt. It never took you days to get something right.

“Maybe we should ask Harry for help,” Sarah offered. Not that she needed any help. It was easy to see that she was holding back when she cast her own Patronus. With your permission, she went and fetched him. A few minutes later, she returned with him in tow.

He watched as each of you attempted the spell. Well, as you attempted the spell and she cast it. He gave pointers, but nothing helped. She seemed adamant not to cast a corporeal Patronus in front of you. After seeing her ignoring all of his tips and giving you cautious glances every time she produced anything, Harry must have realized what you had.

“Alright, how about I set you up with someone who’s already cast theirs, Sarah? And I can keep practicing with her.” She reluctantly agreed. Harry looked around the room for a moment, spotting who he was looking for. “Fred!” he called out, waving him over.

Fred, who had been with George and Lee, strolled over with his usual grin in place. “What can I do for ya, Harry?”

“Would you mind helping Sarah here practice her Patronus?” talk

“Not a problem, mate. What about our other little Ravenclaw? Need anyone for her?” he asked, tilting his head in the direction he had come from.

“Oh no, I’m going to be with her, thanks,” Harry told him, already turning back towards you.

“You know, actually, uh, Lee had something important to tell you.”

Harry waved it off saying that he could tell him in the Common Room later.

Fred stepped between you and said, “Actually, it’s a bit time sensitive. Probably should go to him now. Don’t worry though, George can help her out. He definitely won’t mind.”

No. Nonononononononono. Anyone but him. Literally anyone other than George freaking Weasley. It was too late, however, as Fred called him over and Lee gave him a shove in your direction. Harry gave you an apologetic smile, promising he’d be back in a few minutes. You wanted to beg him not to go or say that you would wait for him instead, but he was gone before you could form the words.

You looked to Sarah for help. Sarah, being Sarah, seemed to think your personal hell was a brilliant idea. She gave you a small push towards George, an encouraging expression on her face. Her friendly encouragement was met with a glare. She didn’t mind at all and mouthed “Go talk to him!” as she walked away with the other twin.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to George and hoped you wouldn’t embarrass yourself more than necessary. “So,” he started, “we’re working on our Patronuses, right?”

“Yeah,” you said. You were both aware that you were the only one who needed to practice, but it was still sweet of him to try to make it seem like you both needed it.

“Ladies first.”

Your eyes closed as you tried to recall visiting Granny in the country when you were little. Mum would take you on walks through the small town center and Dad would moo at every cow you passed. Granny always made the best pastries and her house always smelled like lavender and roses. Dad would read you his favorite bedtime story about the Three Brothers. Mum would give you a kiss and tuck you in snug. It was probably one of the happiest times of your life.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Nothing. Every exceptionally happy moment had been tainted as you remembered they could never happen again.

George, always the gentleman, said it was a good effort and encouraged you to try again. You thought of your fifth birthday when you went to the house by the sea. Nothing. Again, this time thinking about your eighth Christmas. Nothing. Again, about getting your wand. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“This is hopeless,” you told him.

“No, it’s not. I know that you can do this. Is it okay if I ask what memory you’re using?”

“It’s always different. Mostly family stuff. Nothing seems to work though.” You pulled the hair tie out of your hair, hoping it would relieve the headache that had been forming. It didn’t.

He coughed into his hand as you looked back up at him and straightened up. “Okay, how about we try something other than family stuff?” He paused. “Maybe your first kiss?”

A loud snort came out at that.

He gave a grin. “Or maybe not. How about a memory with Sarah? You two are close, right?”

She was your best friend. There was the time she nearly got you both killed on the Astronomy Tower. Or when she thought it would be a good idea to make fun of Professor Snape in Potions. Or that time she tried to brew a love potion in Second Year to give to Lockheart. They were all great memories, but there was one that was better. The night you became friends.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Silvery mist shot out of your wand.

“I did it!” you nearly yelled, clutching George’s wrist and looking back up at him with excitement.

He returned your excited smile and congratulated you. “Think you can do it again?”

You nodded, sure you could. You closed your eyes and held your wand out again.

“Hold on,” George said.

Your eyes opened to see him step behind you. He used his foot to move yours a little further apart, giving you a wider stance. His hand guided your arm a bit further down before moving up to change how you gripped my wand. “Okay,” he said into your ear, “this time I want you to dig really deep. Think about that one moment and just hold on to it.”

You felt him slip away, but you could still feel tingling where his hand had touched yours. That moment. That one moment. Once more, you shut your eyes and pictured a happy memory. But this time, the memory was fresh.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Out of your wand flew a stunning silver raven. It cawed and flapped its wings before soaring around the room.

“I can’t believe it. I really did it.”

He put his arm around you, admiring the bird as it circled. “You really did. And look at that, we both got birds.”

“A magpie, right?”

The raven dived into the floor and disappeared. “Yep. Fred too. You know the saying: One for sorrow, two for joy?”

“I thought that was about ravens?”

“Nope, definitely about magpies.” He pulled you in a bit more before letting me go. It seemed like he had more to say, but Harry decided it was the perfect time to fulfill his promise and come back.

“Was that your raven”?“ he asked, looking impressed when you confirmed it was. "Maybe George should be teaching the class.”

Several of the DA members who had seen you struggling earlier, followed in Harry’s footsteps and came and congratulated you. Sarah thankfully rescued you from the onslaught and dragged you over to a quiet corner.

“He was totally hitting on you,” she squealed.

Sarah wanted you to believe that George liked you. She’d been insistent on the supposed fact since the First Task even though this was the first time he had spoken to you since. “No, he wasn’t. He’s just being George. He’s a nice, helpful guy. It’s kind of the whole reason I like him.”

She looked at you like you were an idiot. “Come on! Even Fred kept looking at you guys!”

“Knowing what Fred is like, he probably thought he was making George suffer by having to help me.”

“You’re unbelievable. He literally put his arm around you at the end! Jeez, what does the man have to do? Spell it out for you?”

“He could just tell me. But he hasn’t and we don’t even talk. Trust me, he’s not interested in me.” Looking back at him now, he was with his brother and friends talking and laughing just like before. “See?”

She shook her head at you, probably wishing you would just do what she would and go up and talk to him again. But you couldn’t. It would be harder to get over a stupid crush if you actually were around him and talked to him knowing he would never like you back. No, it was better at a distance. After he leaves Hogwarts at the end of the year, you would move on. You’d probably never even see each other except in passing in the real world. You were two very different people living very different lives.

Part Six

[jeonggukkiepabo]

CRYSTAL SNOW ❄ MYG

SUMMARY: Christmas has always been a stressful time for Yoongi: buying presents, decorating the tree, baking cookies, you name it-Yoongi does it. It wouldn't be so difficult if Yoongi had someone to help him, but all he has left in his life is his beautiful daughter Ara.But maybe this year, he won't be all alone.

GENRE: christmas fluff  ❄ a bit of smut

WORD COUNT: 7,3k

WARNINGS: f l u f f, single parent yoongi, kindergarten teacher y/n, oral, satoori, domestic christmas vibes :(, mentions of death

AUTHOR’S NOTE: the secret collab is finally here! thanks @kimtaehyunq​ for letting me join💞 i’m so excited to read the other fics as well! & thank you Mags for doing this amazing banner I think this is the prettiest banner I've ever had. 🤧 Tysm love💞

MERRY CHRISTMAS

People usually say she looks a lot like her father, but all Yoongi sees in Ara is his wife. Wherever his daughter goes, his wife's ghost follows, the memory of his teenage love and the wonderful years they spent together until she left their lives.

Min Dasom died almost one year after Ara was born, her death coming too sudden for anyone to bid their last goodbyes-leaving her husband and baby heartbroken and alone.

It was awful, Yoongi won't be able to forget that one night the police called him, telling him that his precious wife drowned in the ocean during her monthly trip to the beach with her friends. 

Ever since that call, Yoongi has never stepped near a beach again, never felt hot sand between his toes again, never went swimming again.

It was hard, being a single parent and Yoongi was tempted to give up many times, but seeing Ara grow and bloom into the beautiful girl she is now, Yoongi is beyond thankful that he survived the pain and sorrow.  

He never drowned his thoughts in alcohol because his sunshine always looked at him with her sad little eyes, almost as if she knew what he wanted to do and hugged his legs tightly until Yoongi set the bottle away and picked Ara up and spent the night cuddling her.

Things got easier as soon as Ara was old enough to finally go to kindergarten, allowing Yoongi to work more hours and on a daily basis again. It's not like he needed a lot of money, it's just that Yoongi needs to work. 

He's used to working all the time, he's always been-because working doesn't give him time to think about the tragedy that is his life.

Money wasn't an issue for the Min family, Yoongi used to be one of the most successful pianists and producers in South Korea, but he gave up on that as soon as Ara was born, just to have time for his family.

His friend Hyunjin offered him a job as a songwriter and composer at his own label JinHit Entertainment. 

Yoongi could work from home whenever he wanted and needed to, but the studio Hyunjin set him up was way better and filled with new technology that Yoongi loved playing and experimenting with.

The acclimatization to her new daily routine wasn't easy for Ara because she wasn't used to having women in her life-until now, it has always been Yoongi and Ara. They ended up switching kindergarten two times before Ara came into the one that you've been working at for a while now-instantly falling in love with you.

The first few days with your new reference child we're quite… interesting because the little girl was full of action and so curious about every little thing in the room that you couldn't sit still and talk to her father for a while because Ara grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the next game she wanted to play.

Her father, Min Yoongi, sent you an apologetic smile as he watched you play with his daughter from a distance, giving you time to get used to each other and build a bond. You winked at him as you took a seat next to Ara and started to explain the rules of the board game to her-impressed about how well she was understanding them.

It didn't take Ara a long time to send Yoongi home, waving him goodbye and pressing a loud kiss onto his lips. "Go and work, Appa! Uncle Hyunjinnie waits for you to make good music!"

Yoongi looked at her with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're telling me to leave? Just to go and work? That is rude, princess."

You giggled and hugged Ara as she ran over to you, Yoongi long forgotten.

"Would you like to bring your dad to the door, Ara? I think he might be sad if you won't. Remember: he won’t see you for a few hours and you don’t want your dad to be sad during lunch, right?"

Ara giggled but nodded nonetheless and grabbed Yoongi by the hand. "Hurry!"

Yoongi looked at you in shock, desperately trying to hold in his laugh. "I think you gave me Ara's evil twin instead of my sweet little princess! Where is my nice girl that always kisses Appa goodbye?"

You shrugged your shoulders playfully as one of the other kids asked for you to help him with building a big tower out of building blocks. "Have a nice day, Mr Min. Oh and make sure you won't forget about our appointment on Thursday! I don't think it'll take longer than an hour, it's just to talk about Ara's development so far."

Yoongi was one of the few parents that were always punctual, not even a minute too late-and the only parent you've never felt any kind of rage towards. Not only that, but he attended every kindergarten fest, always prepared little cupcakes for Ara's birthday to bring with her to kindergarten and share with her friends.

May was rolling around quickly and you were as eager as always to craft some little gifts for the children to give their mothers. 

You prepared some candle wax and melted it so the kids could fill it in plastic forms and add glitter and scent to their preference, just to have a nice little gift to give. 

Most of the kids had fun, some of them were a bit grumpy because they got glitter all over themselves, but there is one little girl pouting and trying not to cry in front of them, not even touching the wax.

Ara.

It breaks your heart every time, knowing that Ara's mother died years ago and that she probably had no other woman in her life because you’ve already heard that her father works quite a lot. 

Squatting down next to the little girl, you gently pinch her stomach just to hear her little giggles. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't you want to make a nice candle?"

Ara looks up at you, one single tear slipping out of her eye. "I don't have a mom, so no candle for me."

You coo, playing with Ara's hair as you stand up again, leading her towards the crafting table.

"That doesn't matter, Ara. I think your dad will be happy to get a candle too! We can pick a different color than pink, what do you think does he like the most? I’m sure we will find something!"

Ara taps her chin, smiling slightly as she thinks about Yoongi's favorite color. "Black! He wears black clothes! Always! Do we have black glitter, Y/N?" 

She scrunches her nose at the first few oils, but one scent really lights up her face. "This smells like Appa! Can we use this?" 

"We do, I didn't put it on the table because usually nobody wants it so it sits on the shelf, all by itself. I think the glitter finally deserves to be used!" You smile at the kid, grabbing the small container of glitter from the shelf and handing it over to Ara.

"We do have a few scents, would you like to smell them? Choose whichever you think smells the best and we can put a few drops in the wax,' you offer the bowl of different oils to Ara and help her open the lids.

Ara holds up the little bottle of rose oil and you smile to yourself. Black roses, that really seems to fit the impression you have of Mr. Min.

"Of course. Now, let's mix the glitter with the wax and we can put it into the mold. Alright, now stir it while i put in a few drops of the rose oil, okay?"

You guide her through the process, talking to her and listening to her rambling about the piano lessons Mr. Min gives her on a regular basis, just because Ara wants to be like her favorite man in the world.

"He is a great dad, Ara. You're so lucky to have him, I know that he must be sad sometimes too, but you're such a sunshine and help him as much as he helps you," you hug her from the side, enjoying the way Ara leans into the hug as well.

"I want a mom, but Appa is almost like a mom! He lets me paint his nails, goes to ballet with me and always bakes princess cookies for our tea parties!"

Ara giggles as she dips the wick into the liquid wax.

"Appa needs a woman to love, the only dates he goes to are work-dates with uncle Hyunjin," she says.

And yes, you think so as well.

One day around September, you decide that it’s definitely hot enough to prepare the blow-up outside pool for the kids, allowing them to change into their swimsuits and let them play around, even adding some bubbles to the water to let them experiment.

Mr. Min smiles at you, his gums fully showing and you can’t help but smile as well as you hear his words.

“And I think there’s no job that you could do better than this one.”

You’re sitting next to the pool on a bench in the shadow, reading some books to those few kids that don’t want to hop into the water as Ara jumps out of the pool.

“Y/N, come inside as well, it’s so nice!” She jumps up and down, her wet ponytail dripping onto her shoulders.

You pout, pointing to the kids next to you. “I can’t, you know that some of the kids are still afraid to go into the water with so many other children around. Maybe next time. Now, go and enjoy it, it’s super hot and I don’t know when autumn will come around and surprise us with bad weather!”

Ara nods quickly, hopping back into the water and continues splashing some water around with her friends, but she glances at you every few seconds. Then, she whispers with her two best friends before all three of them nod as they look at you.

Suddenly, they run towards you, surprising you with wet hugs and loud giggles, leaving your white summer dress almost see through.

Suddenly, there’s someone clearing his throat right behind you and you wish you could sink deep down into the pool once you see that it’s Mr. Min. 

“Girls!,” you can’t help but yelp, the cold water causing you to jump up from the bench. Yet, you laugh with them, the cooling really helping you with the heat.

“You can’t just do that, Ara. Look at my dress now, you can almost see through it, you’re lucky that the parents won’t come in within the next two hours, otherwise they would see me like this,” you try to look stern, but to be honest: you would have done the same if you were Ara.

“Ara, why did you do that?,” he asks with his calm voice and tries his best not to look at your hardening nipples under the dress. 

Ara’s bottom lip trembles as she looks at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just thought it would be funny…”

Mr. Min turns to you and bows slightly. “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have done that. And well, I came to pick her up earlier because we will visit her grandparents over the weekend. I should’ve informed you earlier. Is there any way I can help you with your… erm, dress?”

Mr. Min nods at you, picking up his-still wet-daughter as he looks you up and down slow enough to leave goosebumps all over your skin once again. 

You blush, shaking your head as you grab Ara’s clothes and hand her to her father.

“It’s alright, Mr. Min, it’s not your fault-and a water fight is too much fun to just not do it, right, Ara? It’s sunny enough so I’ll just bring the bench into the sun and I’ll be dry soon enough! I hope you’re having fun with your grandparents, Ara! Have a nice weekend, Mr. Min.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Min, really. You don’t know how many children happen to call one of us mom without realizing it. It’s nothing too wild, I’ve gotten used to it and I think especially in Ara’s case… It was supposed to happen, you know? I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your private life, but I suppose you’re not seeing another person and Ara isn’t growing up with other females, so she takes those she sees here as a female person to bond with, you know?”

“Thank you, mommy! Oh… I mean Y/N..,” Ara quirps as he turns around in her father’s arms, even though it doesn’t look like she’s really sorry at all.

“Ara!” Mr. Min gasps as he looks at his daughter. 

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t seen another woman ever since my wife died. Ara is the only woman in my life, the only one I give all my love to. She deserves it,” he sighs. “But you’re right, I think another female person would really help her with growing up. I just don’t want to introduce her to some random woman I might not even want to spend the rest of my life with. Is this egoistic?”

His honest words hit you, knowing how lonely he must be, all alone with his little girl and a bunch of work he has to do. “It’s not, Mr. Min. You don’t have to date just because you think it would be the best for Ara. There are many single fathers that raise their kids perfectly fine and I think you’re one of them! Ara never tells bad stories about you and I think you’re doing a really good job, spending all of your free time with her and allowing her to experience so many fun things. I’ve met so many ‘happy’ families that didn’t even manage to pack breakfast for their kids, so really, don’t break your head over something like this! I’m happy that Ara accepted me so much and that she always comes to me whenever she has a problem. This is why I chose my job.”

Over the next few months, Mr. Min is all that’s on your mind, even though you know how unprofessional it is, but he’s even kinder to you than he’s been before. You usually have a small chat with every parent whenever they bring or pick up their children, but Mr. Min makes sure to always catch you and ask you about your day, if there’s anything new in your life and you can’t help but ask him about his work and the songs he’s been working on as well.

“Ah, it’s really stressful right now. I’m working with this band that’s debuting soon and we have to prepare and finish the entire album I wrote about five songs for. They’re really good but still so young, I think the oldest is 16? Or was it 17? Whatever, that’s like ten years younger than me! I think I’ll grow grey hair soon when I keep on working with such young idols,” he sighs playfully as he helps Ara to put on her shoes and jacket. 

“I mean, you’re not that old, Mr. Min. Don’t worry-as long as you keep that handful smile you will look like you’re straight out of some perfume poster. But I’d love to listen to one of your songs! I mean, if you’d let me,” you smile with honesty as you hand Ara her backpack. 

Mr. Min shrugs, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he opens his Spotify account. He types something in and turns the screen towards you. AGUST D, it says. You scrunch your eyes at the name, trying to remember where you’ve known it from, but it doesn’t ring a bell right now. 

“I’ll make sure to listen to some of your songs, I hope they aren’t too sad though, I prefer my music to be more… pop and rock?”

You cringe at your own words, hoping that the man knows what you were trying to say. 

And fuck, you did like it. Turns out that AGUST D wasn’t some softie that plays guitar lullabies, no. 

Yoongi cracks a grin, then winks at you playfull before he takes Ara’s hand after she said goodbye to you.

“I think you’re going to like it.”

AGUST D seems to be one of the best rappers in the music industry that you’ve ever been listening to. He sounds so aggressive and fast that you needed to listen twice to some of his songs to understand what he was saying, but you ended up adding much more songs into your playlist than you’d like to tell him.

But you did tell him.

“Oh, I’m not doing that crazy rap thing anymore. It was a phase, I guess. By now, I use the name to help smaller musicians and trainees, produce their songs and write their lyrics. It’s better to do so with a bigger name, but AGUST D died a long time ago, I guess I killed him.” Mr. Min says the next day.

"I mean, as long as you keep all of them on Spotify, I'm alright with that. Most of those songs match my aggressive driving vibe and I can't imagine driving to work without it." You try to joke before you realize what it must've sounded like. "Oh lord, I didn't mean it like that!" 

You blush, trying to hide your reddened cheeks in your palms, but Mr. Min just laughs it off.

"Don't worry, I get what you mean. I usually play Love Talk as soon as i leave this building."

He even has the audacity to wink at you before he leaves with a grin, causing Ara to coo.

"Appa really likes you if he teases you!"

And the teasing goes on and on, there’s almost no day without a snarky comment from Mr. Min or a sarcastic comment from you-but neither of you takes those words to heart because that’s what you need in your lives, someone to laugh with, someone to make jokes with.

Even though there are plenty of other children in your group and so many parents you talk to daily, the only one you’re happy to see in the afternoon is Mr. Min.

The summer is long gone and fall said goodbye a few weeks ago, December came around and your little crush on Mr. Min isn’t as little anymore-and you can’t help yourself but wonder if he might be into you as well. You’ve shared a few noons talking about Ara’s development and if she’s ready for school next September, but most of the times you didn’t talk about the girl for more than thirty minutes before one of you switched the topic to something more private as the man leans closer to you and locks his gaze with yours.

You’re not as nervous around him as you were before and you can feel him starting to open up towards you as well. Yet, you’ve never met outside of the kindergarten, knowing it would be way too unprofessional and you’d never want to ruin the wonderful bond you share with Ara just because you’re desperate to jump into her father’s lap and call him Daddy too.

You’re not one of those women to go into a club and have a dirty one night stand with a random stranger, but you’ve been too busy to actually go and meet people, so you’ve kind of gotten used to being alone, even though you’re really missing late night cuddles and Disney marathons.

It’s Saturday afternoon and you’ve been strolling through the mall for a while now, looking for some christmas presents for your friends and family-but also wanting to treat yourself because work has been more than just exhausting lately.

You’ve been handling the entire group alone, having a lot more smaller children because new kids have been coming to kindergarten and having to deal with so many parents alone can be pure hell. Sadly enough you’re living all by yourself, only having a few close friends that don’t understand why you’re even doing this underpaid job and your last relationship crashed almost two years ago.

The mall looks amazing, beautiful christmas ornaments are hanging from the ceiling and there must be someone playing the piano somewhere because the soft melodic tunes fill the entire mall, reminding you of Mr. Min once again.

You just stepped out of a lingerie store, something you’re really passionate about even though nobody but yourself sees you in it, but you love the feeling of lace on your skin, love how beautifully the soft colors compliment your skin and love imagining Mr. Min ripping the soft material off you.

The small paper bag in your hand, you look around for another shop that might hold the next christmas present for one of your friends. 

“Appa, please! I already have a picture but we need you to have one too!”

You know that voice too well to ignore it, searching the area for the small owner of it, giggling as you found her. Ara and Mr. Min are in the Santa area of the mall that gives you the ability to sit on Santa’s lap and take a picture with him as you tell him your biggest christmas wishes.

But the little girl is not sitting on Santa’s lap, she’s trying to push her father towards the man with the fake beard, clearly wanting him to sit down on that lap.

You giggle, walking towards them just to find out what’s going to happen.

“Ara, I’m too old and heavy for poor Santa, I think he prefers girls your age-wait, no not like that. I think he likes boys and girls-ugh. You’re driving me crazy, princess. Look, there’s a few other kids wanting to have their time with Santa as well, why don’t we just leave and try to find some more presents from the giftshop here, hm?” The man tries to talk his daughter into leaving the uncomfortable situation, but Ara is as stubborn as ever-she always gets what she wants, especially from her father.

“But… I want you to have pictures with Santa too!” She pouts, looking over at the confused Santa before she hears your giggle. “Y/N!”

Mr. Min turns around, a shocked expression on his face and a soft pink tint on his cheeks.

“Oh, Ms. Y/L/N. What a surprise.”

You giggle even more, stepping closer towards them. “Hello Ara, good afternoon Mr. Min,” you bow slightly before accepting the little girl’s hug. 

“I see, you really want to sit on Santa’s lap, but Ara doesn’t want to let you because she’d be embarrassed.” 

Yoongi hums in agreement. “Horrible, those children. I mean, I just want a nice christmas picture with Santa, but you know how they are… right before puberty hits them.”

“Y/N, Appa doesn’t want to take a picture with Santa, would you sit on his lap and take a picture for me?” Ara looks up at you with her big eyes and like always, you can’t say no. Instead, you hand Mr. Min your bags-not thinking about the fact that one of them is from the lingerie store-before taking Ara’s hand and walking over to the smiling Santa.

The picture is quickly taken and not even five minutes later, Mr. Min hands you your bags, whispering, so Ara wouldn’t hear you. “I think the peach one will suit you the best.”

Ara nods and rips the bags out of Mr. Min’s hands to show you her cute dresses and bows while the man just stares at you with an open mouth. Did you really just say that to him? 

You gasp, hiding the bags behind your back but who are you to deny the fact that this man is the exact reason you stepped into the store?

“Thank you, I hope someone will get to see them before Christmas. It would be a shame to waste those pretty pieces for some lame mirror selfies,” you smile innocently before squatting down next to Ara. “Did you buy something nice yet?”

“Appa, we wanted to get hot chocolate, can Y/N come too please?”

Yoongi is speechless once more as he quietly follows his daughter and her kindergarten teacher towards the mall’s cafe-realizing that he shouldn’t have chosen his tightest pair of skinny jeans because somehow, they got quite uncomfortable as soon as you arrived.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his daughter before he picks up all the dresses that Ara tried to shove back into the bags. “If she wants, she’s welcome to join, but I think you should ask her first, maybe she is busy.”

You blush at the invitation, not sure whether to accept it or not-but you’re not one to decline on hot chocolate. Smiling at Ara, you nod. “Show me where to get the best hot chocolate, I’m craving something sweet and thick down my throat.”

He watches you as Ara grabs your hand and swings them around with a soft giggle, heart warming as he sees your fond smile.

Ara talks about you a lot-hell, Yoongi asks about you a lot whenever Ara doesn't want to talk about you but watch her favorite show.

It's unprofessional and probably not allowed, Yoongi knows, but Ara leaves for school in March anyways, so who cares? 

It's obvious to the both of you that you're interested in each other, the flirting and teasing coming to a point where Yoongi can't wait for another snarky remark of yours.

And now that he has the chance to sit and talk with you outside of your workplace, you just chose to buy a bag full of fucking beautiful lingerie (yes, Yoongi looked inside, no, he doesn't regret it).

Ara leads you into this beautiful cat cafe that apparently has "The best hot chocolate and bubble tea, but it's too cold for bubble tea… Can they make hot bubble tea?" as Ara says, earning a harsh "no" from Yoongi, because that's something he wishes for as well.

"Go find a place with Mr. Y/L/N, Ara. I'll get your order, yeah? What can I order for you?" Yoongi looks at you as he pulls out his wallet, giving you some time to read the menu.

"Oh, the candy cane hot chocolate, please! And please, as long as we are not talking inside the kindergarten, call me Y/N. I mean, you've seen my underwear, I think you deserve to call me by my name."

Yoongi blushes, nodding and rushes towards the cashier to order your drinks. You smile at the man, then at the cats-they look somewhat similar-before you sit down next to Ara who is currently petting four cats on her lap.

"They're adorable," you coo, "Do you have any pets?"

Ara nods with a big smile and hands you one of the cats, a pretty one with orange fur and big eyes. 

"I have a turtle! Gukkie gave it to me and Appa didn't like it first, but I love her!"

You enjoy the cat's purring as you gently stroke her chin. "A turtle sounds lovely, I hope you can show it to me one day."

"Oh, that won't be a problem, I can invite you for dinner and Appa will get shy and red in the face, but he wouldn't say no because he's super soft for-" "ALPACAS! I'm soft for alpacas, haha, here we go, three hot chocolates."

Yoongi appears with a pained expression as he places your hot chocolate right in front of you.

"Thanks, Yoongi," you smile at the man and Yoongi swears that his heart stopped beating for a second. "I'm soft for Alpacas as well."

Right after you all finished your drinks, Ara decides that it’s time to walk through the mall once more, just to make sure that Santa is still there and will take another picture with hot chocolate-filled Ara. 

“Did you enjoy your date with Y/N, Appa?” She looks up at her father as you walk towards the mall. Yoongi trembles, blushing brightly. “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a date, Ara. Don’t assume things like this, it’s rude,” he mumbles as he gently pets her head to make sure she isn’t hurt by his comment.

You giggle, whispering loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “I really liked it, Ara. Your Appa can be funny if he wants to.”

The picture with Santa comes out pretty, even though the man groaned as two grown adults decided to sit on each of his legs, the bright smiling Ara kneeling in front of them. But it’s really worth it, because Yoongi’s smile never leaves his lips this evening, gums showing beautifully on the picture and you quickly make sure to get a copy of that picture as well.

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “So was this a… you know?” It’s endearing, how shy he suddenly seems to be. You’ve never seen him like this. Stressed, overworked and happy - yes. Shy and blushing? Never.

You nod with a soft smile as you lay your hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, I’d like that to be a ‘you know what’, Yoongi.”

You can't even tell when the two of you officially started dating, but you'll never forget the first kiss you've shared during one of your walks-thanks to Ara for snapping a picture of it. Yoongi's hands wrapped around your waist, eyes clenched shut and lips curled in a soft smile as fresh snow fell down on you.

Seeing Yoongi at work wasn’t as weird as you had expected it to be, it’s quite the opposite. He’s attentive and lovely, bringing you fresh croissants or donuts every morning or puting little chocolate for you and Ara in his daughter’s lunchbox.

He’s caring, picking you up after your shift to invite you to dinners and walks through the forest with Ara, because that little girl just loves walking in the fresh snow that has started to fall recently. She takes pictures of your footprints with Yoongi’s phone and makes him promise to print it for her to hang up.

“Of course I can, Ara. You’re already wearing your sleeping clothes and you’ve brushed your teeth with Appa, so hurry up and pick out the book you want me to read!” 

Ara grows closer and closer to you, until that one day where you stay over the Min’s house for dinner, she asks you to bring her to bed.

“Can she, Appa? I want her to read my favorite bedtime story to me! Please, Y/N,” Ara looks up at you with a pout, her beautiful eyes-that remind you of Yoongi-sparkling with admiration. 

That girl really makes your heart melt, combined with the soft smile that Yoongi gives you. And suddenly, you feel like you’re meant to be here, helping that man that you’ve grown so close to, helping the girl that lost her mother way too early and maybe even helping yourself with accepting that love really comes unexpectedly.

You gently tuck the soft blanket over Ara and place her favorite stuffie next to her as you smile at the girl fondly. "Sleep well, Ara," you whisper quietly, trying not to wake her up.

"Kissies, please," she mumbles sleepily and makes grabby hands towards you.

"Ara, I-" "Please," she whines and opens her eyes, tears starting to build up.

"Okay, it's okay, Ara." You swipe her hair out of her face before you plant a soft little kiss onto the girl's forehead. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Y/N. Will you be there tomorrow morning?"

Your smile fades, unsure if you really want to tell the little girl the truth. 

"Probably not, I have to get ready for work. You know that I love to wear dresses on Thursdays and I didn't bring mine. But we will see each other in the kindergarten!"

"Okay," she whispers before she falls back into a quiet slumber.

Yoongi has cleaned the kitchen in the meantime and poured more wine for the both of you to enjoy in front of the fireplace.

"She really adores you," he says as you sit down next to him, sipping the rosé Yoongi bought just for you.

"And I adore her. She's an angel. Thank you for allowing me to spend so much time with her, Yoon."

Yoongi blushes again, shaking his head. The greyish blonde hair got messier as the evening passed. "No, Y/N. You're the first mother-figure Ara has, I have to thank you in both mine and Ara's name. I know that dating a single father is a lot, but you're accepting my family so well… I never thought I'd find another woman in my life again. Ever since my wife died, it was hard for me to even look at other women, let alone build up something like a relationship with them because I always felt bad. But that's what she would have wanted for me. To love again, to not waste my last handsome days," his lips curl into a smirk before he shakes again. 

Then, his sharp eyes met yours and soften within seconds. 

"I… I don't know if it's the right time, we've known each other for two years, we've been officially dating for only three weeks, but I think I won't change my mind about it-no I know that I won't change my mind. I love you, Y/N. And I know that Ara loves you too."

You gasp, lips beginning to tremble once your eyes meet Yoongi's. "Yoongi…," you whisper before you place your glass on the table and basically jump onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"I wanted to be the one to tell you first. I love you so much, Yoongi. I've had this stupid crush on you ever since you saw me in that wet dress, ever since you've shown me your music. Ever since I've seen you being the wonderful father you are-and that's so sexy, you can't even imagine."

Yoongi smirks as his hands find their place on the curve of your ass. "Sexy, huh? Me, doing the laundry and cooking dinner? Or me walking Ara to kindergarten with the homemade lunch boxes? That turns you on?"

You laugh, hiding your face in his neck as you lean closer to press your lips against his ear.

"All of that-and the way that you love Ara with all your heart, that's maybe the sexiest thing about you."

The man groans as he grabs you even tighter. "I never thought that sweet talk would turn me on even more than dirty talk," he laughs shakily as he wiggles his hips slightly to get into a more comfortable position that won't suffocate his hardening erection.

You sigh, sit up and run your hands through his hair. "Isn't all of this too early? I always tell myself that I shouldn't fall so fast, but here I am, ready to go every step with you."

Yoongi nods before he presses a peck on your nose. "Same, but we have all the time on earth. Ara wants us to get married by tomorrow, but I'm sure she'll survive it if we decide to postpone it for a few weeks."

You giggle as you look over your shoulder to the fireplace. "Did someone ever suck you off in front of a fireplace? Isn't this the definition of Christmas?"

The man underneath you gasps in shock. "No, but… I mean, I… You don't… have to?"

Laughing, you slide out of his lap and onto the floor, thankful for the soft carpet. "I want to, bubs. I wouldn't do something either of us isn't comfortable with. I assume you're alright with it?"

"Of course, but… I guess nobody ever did it because they wanted to, but because they feel like they had to?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, obviously disappointed in his previous partners. 

"It's as much fun and pleasure for me as it is for you, believe me, Yoon. Now lay back and enjoy, yeah?" You give him a calming smile as you open his pants carefully, then sliding them down his toned legs.

You press kisses all around his thighs to warm him up to the feeling, knowing that it has to be overwhelming to have some that close after all that time. Then, you gently remove his boxer shorts as well, leaving him bare and proud in front of you.

You groan as you start to stroke his cock, earning a low growl from Yoongi. "So beautiful," you whisper, then you take him into your mouth, getting a feeling for the weight on your tongue before you start bopping your head. 

Yoongi tries to contain himself, knowing that Ara could wake up every second, but alone the sight in front of him could make him come with a scream.

Instead, he cups your cheek, feeling the bulge that he causes there. Another groan leaves his lips. 

You look up at him, smirking-or trying to, with a mouth full of cock-and leading his hand into your hair, using it to push you down even more.

Yoongi's eyes lighten up. "Really?"

You almost laugh out, but you're doing your best to contain yourself and nod, placing your hands on his thighs to stop whenever you can't take it anymore. Yoongi is long and thicker than the average you've had before, but it's a challenge that's worth it.

He pushes you down slowly, enjoying the hot warmth of your mouth and then your throat as he pushes in-surprised that you didn't really gag around him.

Spit trickles down your chin as he moves faster, thrusting his hips to meet the movements of his hand and enjoying the gurgling sounds you make.

He comes far to quick for his own liking, shooting his load down your throat with a quiet groan. "Fuck."

You giggle as you swallow what he gives you, standing up to sit back on his lap to kiss him.

"You're welcome." 

Then, before you can grab your wine again, he flips you around and goes on his knees in front of you. "My turn," he smirks, eyes shining dangerously behind his fringe. 

"Yoongi, I-," you try to say, but he shushes you with a sloppy kiss.

"I know that I have to, but believe me: I love giving pleasure more than receiving it."

You pout, hands running through his soft hair.

"I didn't shave…," you whisper, a bit ashamed because you didn't come prepared, not thinking that this would be happening today.

The man in front of you raises an eyebrow.

"Do you think I am a 15 year old, pre puberty fuckboy that cares about shaved pussies? It's natural, love. Even if you can't believe it: I grow hair too, nobody is freshly shaved every day. I don't mind that, okay? Now, stop pouting and let me do my work, will you? Can you be a good girl and do that for me? All you've got to do is lean back, open your legs, throw them around my shoulders and let me devour you."

His shameless words turn you on, you can't even deny it-especially not when your panties are that damp. So, you naturally obey and help him to remove your pants.

"I told you, peach is your color," Yoongi groans in his deep Satoori as he looks at your clothed core. The peach colored lace has darkened from your arousal and the man can't help it but press his face against the material, licking one bold stripe over it.

Nobody has ever done that to you, rather pulled them off in a hurry because they thought that body fluids were disgusting, but Yoongi didn't seem to mind as he gently bites your folds through the lace. 

"God," you moan in pleasure as Yoongi finally pulls your panties to the side and spits onto your pussy, making it even wetter.

You're a whimpering mess as soon as Yoongi's tongue is on you, flicking and playing with your clit, collecting your juices and spreading them all over your pussy. You've read about that before; men eating pussy like they're starving, but Yoongi is somewhat different.

He eats pussy like he wants you to always remind it, to make you obedient and never being able to enjoy anyone else doing that job.

He does it well-of course. His tongue is as fast as he's been spitting rhymes on his mixtape, and you're more than thankful for that.

He doesn't even get to use his fingers before your orgasm approaches you, strong waves of pleasure hitting you as Yoongi keeps on kissing and slowly licking you through your high.

Then, he grins at you. "Round two, here we go."

And this time, it's not only his tongue working wonders, but also his fingers stroking you on the inside until they found your spot. 

You press your hands on your mouth to keep yourself from screaming out loud, hips bucking wildly as you come for a second time within less than ten minutes. And again, Yoongi guides you through it and softly caresses your stomach.

"Fuck, I love you," you pant as he comes back up and steals a kiss from you.

"I can't wait to have you in my bed properly," he whispers and takes a large sip from his wine. 

You can only agree.

You've started to spend the nights at Yoongi's more often, bringing Ara to work with you and helping Yoongi with her and the household whenever you can. Your relationship blooms beautifully and Ara is the happiest little bean when you're around.

Obviously, you spent Christmas with Yoongi and Ara as well, buying little presents and enjoying the comfortable atmosphere with the family.

Yoongi gave you a spare key to his house, so you're always able to visit them, spending the nights there and soon enough, you moved in.

❄❄❄❄

The Christmas after that, you surprised Ara with the adoption papers, telling her that now that she's in school and not one of your kindergarten kids anymore, she'll be able to finally call you Mommy (not that Ara minded before, you just felt weird and guilty about it).

And here you are now, preparing the huge breakfast for your third Christmas around, smiling at the ring that adorns your finger. 

"Smells fabulous, Mama," Ara says as she runs towards you and falls into your arms.

"Do you want me to help you with dessert, Mrs Min?" Yoongi asks as he presses a kiss onto your cheeks. You lean into his touch, shaking your head. "It's almost done. You can go into the living room, I'll be there in a minute to open our presents, bubs."

Yoongi prepares the fireplace, lightens some candles with Ara and lets his daughter hand out the presents. 

"I have one more for you, Yoon," you whisper as you hand him a small box.

"Oh? Can I open this first?" He tilts his head curiously, shaking the light box.

"Open!" Ara squeaks and sits down between her father and you. You nod with a fond smile as Yoongi lifts the top. Then, silence.

"Really?" He whispers with teary eyes.

"Yes, finally," you smile, "Ara, you'll become a big sister!"

Yoongi sniffs, hugging his family tight.

"And she'll be the best sister in the world. Merry Christmas, loves."

[space-b33]

Post-War AU

Ideas from a clone centric AU I’ve been writing where the war ended early and before order 66 could ever be executed, here’s a snippet from the piece that’s been sitting in my docs (shout out to @lavenderstaars for listening to me go on a tangent about it and kickstarting my brain to curate more ideas):

“The Clones were no longer to be considered assets, to some they never were, that was one of the first measures taken into account when the war ended. No more clones were to be produced, and they were free to be individuals - no repercussions for acting selfishly, for acting upon feelings and wants that would be normal for anyone else but came with a cost if they fell to temptation. They were still bound to a minimum of three more years as soldiers in the GAR, but after that they would have as much freedom and rights as the next citizen; and will have the choice to leave or remain in the Republic Army, enlisted but not forced, and paid a proper wage including a “forgiveness” fund made available for every clone. Nothing could bring back the lives and autonomy lost, but money and a public recognition for their sacrifice was as best of an apology the senate could offer.”

First off, this started as a happy thing where the clones get to actually live their own life buuuut then I really thought about it, and...

What a slap in the face to receive a copy-and-paste written letter (some sort of letter of recognition) and check, after all they’ve done and been through. Like how insulting? I get that there’s really only so much that can be done, I mean, how do you really make up for a mass-production of brainwashed-since-children soldiers that were also genetically modified to be obedient. They also age hecka fast, so they hardly get to enjoy the peace they fought for (personally, I headcanon that growth acceleration ends around their twenties bc gosh they deserve it). I imagine it just depends on the clone, the ones who suffered and lost so much would probably be more upset than the ones who hadn’t.  

The shinies out here buying new kicks and beach vacations while Rex is punching walls. 

(This one was pitched by Lav, themselves, thank you for the rage) The letter addresses them by number, not by name. THE DISRESP- *THROWS HANDS*

I’m just imagining Rex, Fives, Echo, and Kix together when they get the letter and it’s just silence. Kix is the first to do something, a humorless and sour laugh, a baffled and just entirely over it lopsided smirk. All he can think about were the numerous brothers he’s treated, some with life-lasting injuries (mental and or physical), and others who died on scene. He walks out of the room and drops the letter, uncaring for where it lands or what happens to it.  

Fives? Fuming. Kix has already walked out by the time Five’s looks up, eyes wide and confused, but behind it seethes an undoubting rage. “This - is for real? This is what they sent out to everyone?” I imagine the context of the letter could have been delivered better, in the least put in the effort to know their names. The more he speaks, the more he shakes until his eyes burn and his throat feels tight. He has to cut himself off and turn away. 

Echo only stands there, holding the letter with his remaining hand and stares at key elements - phrases that were meant to thank or praise but just come out as tasteless, by-the-book, manufactured. He also stares at the amount of credits he’ll be paid, wondering how he would ever be able to spend any of it without the reminder of where it came from, why it was given. He thinks bitterly to himself, ‘Sure, I’ll just go buy a fucking speeder for the price of a brother.’

Rex doesn’t even try to justify it, he understands how big of a change this has all been, for everyone, and for a while has been the sort of “mediator” between his brothers and the politics of it all. It’s hard on everyone, there’s only so much that can be done. But this? Rex doesn’t comment on it, he’s read the room and can tell it’s one comment away from setting either Echo or Fives off. When those two storm away, Fives taking the lead while Echo follows to make sure his twin doesn’t get ahead of himself, Rex slowly turns. He doesn’t even remember when his fist came in contact with the wall, nor does he bother to look at how a perfect imprint of his knuckles are left behind. He goes off to find Cody. 

Just like “’Kay, the war is over, we realize we did an oopsies. Here’s some money.” *kicks a clone into the real world, when all they’ve ever known was the one orchestrated for them* 

Buuut, with that aside, I DO like to think that certain services and help are provided to active, in-active, and retired soldiers, sort of like VA benefits.  

Clones living in homes together. I definitely have this in mind while writing this, some are even neighbors or maybe straight up just neighborhoods of them! Block parties would be a blast, fs. 

I wonder how they’d be treated in normal society. The thought of people thanking them for their service makes me so hnnnn, but they’d also probably have some haters. 

....ok but omega going to normal-kid school and getting picked up in the marauder by her brothers. Wrecker air-dropping through the roof bc she forgot her lunch.  

[starsheild]

Forbidden Magic: Reflections

“Prowl.”

It was the softest whisper of his designation, though it did not sound like his originator's voice.

“Prowl.”

It was not the voice of the monster in the guise of a Voice of Primus either.

He onlined his optics, and wondered if both of his senses were conspiring to trick him.

“My lord?”

“Jazz.” The Polhexian countered as he reached to free Prowl. The cage door wasn’t even really locked, merely bolted securely on several levels down the front. The restraints themselves were more thorough, and as Jazz studied he quickly reached the conclusion that they had not been meant to come off ever. He hesitated door only a klik before he produced a tool, snapping the links at the cuffs and the ankle bindings. 

Prowl sagged into his arms, doorwings flaring, and the Praxian hissed as they struck the edge of the cage. Jazz held him steady, waiting until he got his pedes under him. “Can you move?”

“Yes.” Prowl gathered himself. “Though I do not know if Soaring can.”

“Her?” Jazz repeated, looking over at the Praxian Ricochet had freed and was still supporting. She was weaker, leaning heavily on the dark Poyhexian. This one was not known to Prowl. He had never seen him in the market, but as he looked closer he could take a guess. This must be the brother that Jazz had mentioned, the one whose mate was suffering from the difficult carrying.

“Jazz.” Ricochet hissed, eyeing the single door to the room they were in, to the vent, and then to the femme leaning heavily on him. His entire frame spoke the question- take her or leave her?

“Prowl.” The femme raised her helm and she attempted to pull away from Ricochet. “Go. Just grant me peace before you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She argued. “Find your brother. Live for me.”

“‘is brother?” Ricochet repeated. “Barricade?”

“How?” Prowl and Soaring stared at Ricochet as he knelt by Soaring.

“Yer Cade’s origin?” Ricochet asked, looking into her optics.

“She is.” Prowl moved to his creator, Jazz on his heels.

“Then ya ain’t stayin’ here.” Jazz declared, moving around the three and springing easily into the vent. Turning, he stretched down and offered his servos to Prowl.

The Praxian wasn’t sure that Jazz was going to be able to lift him on his own, and Prowl himself had no strength to help him at the moment. He needn’t have worried as he found himself boosted from behind and helped into the vent. Jazz moved him further into the shaft before turning again, and lifting Soaring into the vent, handling her with gentle ease. Ricochet hopped up behind her, and the Praxians watched as Jazz lowered his twin by the ankles.

Ricochet snagged the grate from the floor and pulled into place Jazz hauled him back up. The paused only long enough to make sure that the sound buffer fell back into place. There was nothing really to be done for the peep holes that the pair had punched through the weave, they were small enough that they would likely not draw attention.

Jazz set off in the lead, sliding easily through the vent. Prowl followed him, almost as silent if slower. It was Soaring that worried him. While she was clearly doing her best, in her visibly weakened state it was going to be a challenge to get her out.

“How’re yer wings?” He murmured to Prowl when they reached the outlet he wanted.

“Sore, but functioning.” Prowl replied as he stopped behind Jazz, lifting them to get a sense of the two mecha behind him. He could tell that his origin still wanted to protest being brought along, but she remained quiet.

“Well ‘nough ta give warnin’ of anyone comin’ from b’hind?” Jazz asked, and Prowl nodded an affirmative.

“Good.”

The why that had Prowl curious was answered when Jazz helped Soaring on to Ricochet’s back before taking the lead through the temple, leaving Prowl to bring up the rear and watch their backs. Both Poly’s let out silent sighs of relief when they exited the temple proper and made their way around the edge of the inner yard to a side gate.

Picking the lock was a nanokliks work for Jazz and he pushed it open, ushering the other though before him, A figure materialized out of shadows, and Prowl relaxed as he recognized Frontrunner. The captain of the guard had become a regular at his stall even when he was not accompanying his lord through the market.

“Prowl.” The captain greeted him with a nod, taking in his bare frame and offering him a cloak before he caught sight of Soaring as Jazz helped her from Ricochets back. “Who?”

“Soaring, my origin.” Prowl informed as he took the cloak he had been handed and wrapped it around her instead. 

“Leave me.” She urged again, optics brightening as she diverted the energy she had been using to hang on to Ricochet to looking around.

“Nah a chance, M’lady.” Frontrunner informed her as he removed his own cloak and offered it to Prowl before scooping her into his arms and looking to Jazz.

“Get’m out.” Jazz said, confirming that the plan from earlier was still in motion.

The captain nodded, directing Prowl with a nod of his helm as he turned away. The Praxian arranged the cloak so that he could still see relatively well behind him without it being obvious that he had no armor on his frame. Prowl risked a single look over his shoulder as they set off, just long enough to see the gate close.

Soaring sat in the chair, knees drawn up to her chin as she looked out the window where the cover was pushed aside  just enough in one corner to allow her a sliver of the outside world and it’s shining sun beyond, lost deep in her own thoughts. Around her the room was silent, the Polyhexians arranged on their travel berths on the floor, Prowl among their number.

Her creations were alive. Both of them. Alive and with creations of their own, or soon to be if they could get back to Barricade in time. Her optics drifted to the dark Polyhexians on the floor recharging by his twin.His concern for his mate and his unemerged creation had been clear as he had explained the conclusions of the medic that had sent him after his twin to rescue Prowl.

And Jazz, his twin, had come because of a promise to her creation’s creations to return their origin to them, and because it was right. As he had said, Prowl was one of his mecha, living under his care, and he had failed to protect them.

Prowl, bless him, had protested that it had not been the Polyhexians lords fault at all, but Prowl’s for being what he was, and hiding it. Ricochet had shook his helm, a half smile crossing his lips at the protest. 

“If I’d doubt’d b’fore, I wouldn’ be now.” He had explained as he had offered more fuel to Soaring, the energon glowing with as much as of the potent energy additives that she could handle in an attempt to build her strength against the haste of their departure. “‘Cade tried ta apologize sayin’ sometin’ like that when Ratchet called ‘im out on it.”

“Ratchet?” Soaring had repeated, pausing with the energon halfway to her mouth.

“‘Bes’ medic we know.” Jazz had said with a nod as he pushed energon at Prowl.

Soaring had merely nodded, but the odd expression that had flitted across her features at the designation had not been lost on Prowl, and he tilted his helm in question at his creator. “I once knew a mech by that designation, a healer.” She had explained at his unspoken question.

“He said Prowl wasn’ the first witch he’d met.” Ricochet said, his expression bordering on disbelief. “Said one ‘ad saved ‘is life once. Ya can’t tell me that was you?”

Memories flooded her processor, and for a moment Soaring was lost in them, in a time long ago in the village of her emergence high in the mountains. “It is… possible. Many things have come to pass that I never thought I would live to see, Why not one more?”

“Origin? You should be resting. There is still far to go.”

Soaring looked up into the crystal blue optics of her younger creation and smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek gently and assure herself once more that she was not dreaming. Her creation stood before, holding a steaming cube of tinsane.

Prowl touched her servos with his own, then reached out to lift her free and servo and place the cube in it. Soaring huffed softly, lifting it and catching the scent of garnet and jade, She took a sip and sighed, then frowned.

“What creator?” Prowl questioned, leaning closer. “Is it wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be using your power for me.” Soaring sighed as she looked up at him, then down at the steaming energon. “You need it.”

Prowl had smiled, the little look that was his alone, and lowered his helm until she had looked up at him once more and their crests brushed together.

“”I have enough to share. I was taught by the best.” He informed her. “Drink, creator. Then to your berth. The darkcycle we need travel though now will be here soon enough.”

[kellyvela]

Hi! I wanted to ask you something. Jon and Sansa thinking about having children and having domestic life with their respective partners is a strong foreshadowing for jonsa. Then there was Jeyne W who also told Cat that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned. While Robb is dead, it's not sure if jeyne is pregnant. Sansa didn't married to Willas and Jon will not gonna steal Val. Do you think it's foreshadowing something?

Before actually answering your question, I think we can't compare Robb and Jeyne, who willingly married, actively tried to have a baby, and were arguably in love, to Sansa and Willas (they never met, they never married, they weren't in love), and Jon and Val (they never had sex, they never married, they weren't in love).

Also, while having the wish to name their children after their late father and siblings, Sansa couldn't stop thinking about Loras, not Willas; and Jon wished Ygritte were alive so he could marry her instead of Val.

And Loras is a stand in for Jon the same way Ygritte is an stand in for Sansa.

. . .

"A king must have an heir."

Jeyne Westerling told Catelyn that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned???

Are you talking about this passage???

"Jeyne," she called after, "there's one more thing Robb needs from you, though he may not know it yet himself. A king must have an heir."

The girl smiled at that. "My mother says the same. She makes a posset for me, herbs and milk and ale, to help make me fertile. I drink it every morning. I told Robb I'm sure to give him twins. An Eddard and a Brandon. He liked that, I think. We . . . we try most every day, my lady. Sometimes twice or more." The girl blushed very prettily. "I'll be with child soon, I promise. I pray to our Mother Above, every night."

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn III

Because it was Jeyne who told Catelyn that she (Jeyne) was sure to give Robb twins to be named Eddard and Brandon, and that she thought Robb liked her idea (Jeyne's idea).

We don't know if Jeyne Westerling was, at some point, pregnant or not.

With all the Tully super fertility references, Jeyne could have been pregnant, but, as you can read in the quote above, her mother Sybell Spicer was giving her an abortifacient all the time, and sadly, that's what happened to Lysa Tully in the past... That's why a guilty Hoster Tully repeats "Tansy" in his sickbed several times, since "Tansy" was an ingredient of the abortifacient that Lysa took all those years ago...

The Lannister not only plotted to kill the King in the North, but also to prevent that said king have an heir... Sybell Spicer and the abortifacient were part of the plot.

And if there was still the slightest chance that Jeyne was pregnant with Robb Stark's heir, the Lannister would not hesitate to kill the unborn child and the mother, if necessary.

Actually, I'm afraid that in the next Book Jeyne Westerling will die anyway...

Now, Robb also used the same phrase "A king must have an heir." while later talking with Catelyn about the North's Succession, and guess who were the ones actively mentioned during that conversation? Any thoughts?

The answering is, a "Lady Lannister" (lol) and a "bastard Snow". Let's see:

"I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child . . . we tried often enough, but I'm not certain . . ."

"It does not always happen the first time." Though it did with you. "Nor even the hundredth. You are very young."

"Young, and a king," he said. "A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." His mouth tightened. "To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north."

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ."

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”

“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”

“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.”

“Jon would never harm a son of mine.”

“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”

“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa … your own sister, trueborn …”

“… and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.”

“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this … this folly. Do not ask it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

As you can see from the quote above, Robb and Catelyn were pushing to prevent Sansa or Jon from inheriting Winterfell and the North after Robb. For Robb, the problem was that Sansa was "Lady Lannister," and for Catelyn, the problem was that Jon was a bastard "Snow," and a brother of the Night's Watch.

Ironically, Robb ended up losing Winterfell and the North, and it will be precisely Sansa (the Lannister by marriage) and Jon (the bastard Snow) the ones retaking the ancestral seat and all the lands of House Stark, and I suspect they will do it together.

Indeed, Robb and Catelyn's conversation is also very telling because Robb said: "By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her". But since Sansa was married to Tyrion Lannister, Robb had to name another heir, Jon.

Robb's reasoning is a contrast to Jon's reaction to the offer of getting Winterfell and the North.  Stannis Baratheon used the same argument (Sansa's marriage to Tyrion Lannister) to convince Jon to accept his offer to become a legitimized Stark and Lord of Winterfell, Stannis even called Sansa “Lady Lannister”, but no matter what, Jon didn’t accept Stannis's offer.

And what was Jon's answer?

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Beautiful, isn't it?

And Jon and Sansa could also produce a new generation of Starks, honoring their late relatives by naming their children Eddard, Robb and Catelyn, the ones that are actually dead, because fortunately Arya, Bran and Rickon are still alive, even if Jon and Sansa believe they are all dead.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Be still my beating heart!

. . .

So if you're wondering if the sad fate of Jeyne Westerling and Robb, who had a similar wish to Sansa and Jon's wishes, to name their children after their late father and siblings, could mean something negative for Jon and Sansa in the future. The answer is no.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Soulmates and Everything in Between

A/N: Hey! Here is now my two centavos for the Trese/Kambal fandom. I offer to you a Basilio x Fem!Reader fanfic... you can also consider it a Maliksi x Fem!Reader bc it has some parts with Mal. Also, what a title, emerite. It’s loosely based on this song:

https://open.spotify.com/track/4jq5J39hJ28RmDhNp1QkYk?si=1bff151aeec64129

(I had to put a link bc how do u insert a like... song from spotify???)

It was an idea I had overnight so... enjoy!

~~~

You were never one to believe in love, not after breaking up with your boyfriend for 4 years; you caught him cheating on you for 6 months. Basilio was the one who believed in love, despite the destiny that his mother had and that his dad was a killing machine. He still believed that there’s this good kind of love. It has been a year since you two met at The Diabolical, after Maliksi practically pulled you out of your bed so that you can finally hang out with him and the wind girls after two months of moping in your apartment. It was a good time, being able to debate with Basilio that night about love after just an hour of meeting each other in the bar.

 “You know, Basilio,” you said, alcohol streaming through your blood, “love is just a social concept that was made up to trick people to fuck and produce more people. That’s why this country is overpopulated.” Basilio laughed. The others just listened and hummed in agreement. “It’s not just a social concept, Y/N. It’s Bathala’s way of leading people to their other half, their soulmate. He knows that we cannot live alone, so he created other halves for each one of us.” You scoffed and had another drink of your beer. “Really? If so, then why are there womanizers? Cheaters? If that’s Bathala’s way for us to find our so-called other halves, then no one should be cheating. Soulmate my ass, it was never real in the first place. Whoever wrote that must’ve been whack.”

 “Girl,” Amie said, rubbing circles on your back, “kalma ka lang. Let’s just enjoy this night, shall we? No more debating about love.”

 The next day, despite the hangover you had, you were sobered up to the texts you received from an unknown number and a friend request on your socials. It was Basilio. You groaned. “What does he want this time?” On his texts, he apologized about the debate and that he got your number from Maliksi. Good ol’ Maliksi, playing cupid all over again.

 Since that day, Basilio has been bombarding you with texts messages, asking how you were, how was work, or anything in general. It was annoying, honestly, since that you obviously got a feeling that he likes you. You scoffed at that thought. “No way. If he thought he’d win my heart, keep dreaming na lang.” Then, in a few months, it was no longer just texts. He started coming over with Maliksi. He knows that you and Mal were bestfriends. He started bringing food, worse, even cooking in your own kitchen! He knew about your favorite dish, and he just smiled at you when this shocked you. “How?” You asked him as he was setting the table. He then tilted his head to Mal, who was already grinning at you. You just cursed under your breath.

 It was not long when it was just Basilio coming, still with food and movies and haranas. It made your heart flutter, in all honesty, but you tried not to fall in love again. You knew about the twins’ history with girls, how they would sometimes bed them. The thought made you shiver. Still, Basilio was persistent, and consistent. It even surprised you that he came with you on your grocery day at the public market, and he was wearing shorts and sando. He helped you carry your groceries, and put them all on the shelves in your kitchen. “Thanks, Basilio. It’s very nice of you to help me out today,” you said, smiling at him. “It’s nothing. I’d do everything for my girl.” That caught you off guard.

 And that was when you knew you got it bad.

 You were in love. You finally fell for him.

 You then started to shut him out. You started to make up excuses if Basilio wants to come over. This worried Basilio, and asked Maliksi about what happened. “This this isn’t new to me,” Mal answered, “she did that to me too after the break up.”

 “But this isn’t a break up,” Basilio said, a bit of panic in his voice. “It was always okay for her if I was coming over.” Maliksi gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.”

 You were reading a book on your sofa when the front door opened. It was Maliksi. You trusted him enough for him to have the spare key of your apartment, in case something happened. “I guess you heard the news, huh.” You joked, and he chuckled. “Yes, bub, I did. What happened?” He asked as he sat beside you. You turned to him, and rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m scared, Mal,” you said, your voice quiet. “About what?”

 “Love.”

 Maliksi sighed and you finally faced him. “I understand that you’re scared of getting hurt again, but please don’t stop yourself from experiencing a new kind of love. It’s always good to try again,” he said as he took your hands. You just groaned and tears fell from your eyes. “He’s just too good to be true, Mal. He’s kind, and gentle. He knows what I want and he’s trustworthy, and he helps me with everything I do. He wants to be involved with my life and wants to do everything with me. He even went with me to the public market! No guy ever did that!” Mal chuckled and hugged you as you sobbed. “Then why are you scared if he’s doing all these amazing things?”

 “Because,” you said in between sobs, “what if he changes over time? What if he’ll get used to all of this and decides that it bores him?”

 “Are you gonna let your what if’s stop yourself from experiencing this wonderful kind of love?” He asked you. You just sighed. “Y/N, don’t ever be scared to love again, because it’s the only good thing in this horrible world we’re in. It’s the thing that Bathala gave us so that our souls will be at peace.” He was right, you thought. Ever since Basilio came, everything was beautiful, your soul was at peace. Maybe this is what Basilio was talking about months ago, about soulmates. Maybe he was yours.

 Days after, you asked Basilio to come over, and it overjoyed him. Maliksi told him about your fear, and it was enough for him to understand why you shut him out. When he arrived, you gave him a weak smile. He brought all your comfort food, street foods, to be exact. He prepared everything on the table before he sat beside you on the couch. “Hey, Y/N,” he said softly. You then hugged him. It felt like it was everything you needed. “I know you’re scared,” he said softly, as he enveloped you into his arms, “and I understand if you’re not ready. Nevertheless, I will still be here, because after I met you, and after all the time we spent, I knew that I love you. My soul is at peace when I’m with you.”

 You swore to yourself that you won’t cry, but you did, and he hugged you tighter. It was the best feeling in the world, to be at peace, to be with someone who understands you. You were then surprised that he played a song on his phone. He placed it on the couch and he stood up. The intro played, the very familiar guitar chords spilling through the speakers. He offered his hand to you, and said, “Care to dance, baby?” You laughed when he said ‘baby’, but you accepted. You gingerly placed your hands on his chest, and his hands rested on your waist. It was an odd song to dance to, but you figured that Basilio was the kind of guy to tell his feelings through a song, thus the endless haranas.

 The chorus of the song came up, and he sang along to it. It was everything he wanted to say. Basilio, the guy you just debated about love, is now the man you swore to be with until the end. A secret promise for now. After all, it’s what Bathala gave us; a partner to be with until the end.

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Twenty

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, character death, tiny bit of fluff.

Words: 2671

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me, and I’m sorry for the gif I used!

A/N: So here we are at the end! Thank you so much for supporting me with this fic and I'm sorry for this chapter, I kept James and Lily alive to make this part even more sad! This was actually going to end in such an angst filled way but I didn’t want to do that to you guys, though I might write the alternate ending at some point! Hope you guys all enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Twenty - Wherever You Are

Dread coiled in your stomach that fateful morning as you got yourself dressed and pinned your hair. Reggie was sleeping soundly, letting out little snuffles but still, you picked him up and nuzzled your nose into his fine dark hair as you felt the tears build up behind your eyes. You weren’t aware that you could possibly cry as much as you had done, there were little red rashes beneath your eyes where the salt from your tears had irritated your skin. Your heart seemed to be in a constant state of pain as your husband awaited his trial.

This trial should not be even happening, you were appalled at how James had arrested Sirius for treason, “we’ll be alright, little one,” you whispered to your baby boy, “papa isn’t a traitor, he’s a good man,” you pressed a kiss to Reggie’s little forehead.

James was originally going to hold Sirius’ trial the day after Halloween, but Lily had convinced him otherwise, Lily knew that you wanted nothing more than to be at Sirius’ side. So, the King relented and allowed a few days for you to recover after giving birth to Reggie. Unfortunately, it meant that Sirius would have to spend more time locked in the tower but you knew that Sirius understood.

“Y/N?” a soft warm voice came from the doorway and you looked over with blurred vision to see Andromeda who was smiling at you kindly, “I think the King and Queen are ready to start, I’ll look after the children, because they shouldn’t have to be subjected to such an event.”

You nodded with a sniffle as you placed Reggie into her open, waiting arms, “thank you so much. Are you not coming to the trial?” you muttered, feeling like a shell of yourself.

Andromeda shook her head with a sad smile, “I can’t watch that happen to him, I can’t. He’s not just my cousin, he’s my best friend. I’m so sorry that I can’t be there for you both; I know that he’s not the traitor, he would never betray us. Never. I don’t know what James is thinking having him arrested.”

“You are so amazing, Andromeda, we are so blessed to have you in our lives and we appreciate you so much,” you tried to smile but you feared that it came out as more of a grimace.

Andromeda leaned forward to kiss your cheek with a sweet sad smile, “whatever happens today, it’s been an honour to serve two people who are completely made for each other, two people who are soulmates. Good luck.”

You felt tears sliding down your cheeks, stinging at your sensitive skin, you adored Andromeda, you couldn’t have got by without her, “let’s just hope that the King sees sense and does the right thing. He must know that his best friend could never do this to him, he just wants someone to blame, he sees enemies where there are friends, and it’ll be his undoing,” you mumbled with a tight smile as you departed from your chambers.

You would never admit it out loud but you had a strange sense of foreboding, a horrible feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel that something was going to go dreadfully wrong.

As you made your way to the Throne Room where the trial was being held, you just couldn’t understand why on Earth James would believe that Sirius was a traitor. What had happened to make him believe that? Snape was already in the dungeons for committing treason. Under coercion, he had admitted that he had been working for Voldemort but apparently he had told him nothing of the prophecy. You supposed that he had to be lying, he just had to be. According to Lily, the evidence they had against Sirius was damning but it was a lie or a set up, it just had to be.

The atmosphere was heavy and full of dread as you walked into the Throne Room and Lily gave you a brave smile from where she stood at James’ side. James had a grim tight look on his face; the King that you had first met a few springs ago was kind and benevolent. That King was no more, it seemed like his heart had hardened.

Your heart broke when the guards roughly dragged Sirius into the room, showing him no mercy. The past few days that he’d spent in the Tower had seemed to age him considerably, his eyes were starting to take on a haunted look but they softened when he looked at you. You tried to offer him a small smile.

As Sirius was pushed to his knees before the King, James glared at him as he produced a letter, “you’ll remember writing this, I bet,” he snarled and began to read the letter out loud “’Lord Voldemort, in regards to my last letter, you will now know how to break Dumbledore’s enchantments. There are underground caverns and a secret entrance on the West side of the castle. They will lead you into the royal chambers and you can complete your work. Your faithful servant, Sirius Black, Duke of Bedford.”

James tossed the chilling letter at Sirius’ feet, “if it hadn’t been for Peter telling us of the conversation he overhead you having then we would be dead. We managed to prepare and we managed to defeat Voldemort when he came after us. We were supposed to be your friends, your sovereigns. How could you do this to us? How could you plot to kill our son?”

“But, I didn’t!” Sirius shouted, “I didn’t have a conversation of this nature with anybody! I didn’t write that letter, I wouldn’t!”

“Then how do you explain the fact that your seal is on the letter?!” James demanded.

You saw Sirius’ face falter for just a moment and you almost winced, hoping that James didn’t catch it, “my seal was stolen.”

“A likely story,” Remus spoke up, his voice breaking and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Where is Peter? He’s lying to you! I saw him sneaking around the castle with a hooded figure!”

“Of course,” James mockingly slapped a hand to his forehead, “blaming the victim is the right thing to do, you’re just trying to save your own skin. Peter was found dead in the hallways, shortly after he came to warn us of your plan.”

You barely managed to conceal a gasp, Peter was dead? “I didn’t kill him,” Sirius whispered, “I was with my wife who was giving birth to our third child!” he glanced at you and you gave him an encouraging nod.

James looked at you before looking back at Sirius, narrowing his eyes, “the midwife says that you left a couple of hours after the birth, around the time that Peter was murdered, he was killed with your ruby encrusted dagger.”

Sirius swallowed nervously, “I lost that dagger shortly after coming back from our last battle with Voldemort,” that was the truth, you remembered Sirius lamenting after its loss. It was clear that someone was setting him up. Why didn’t James see that? “And the reason for my leaving? It was because I went to see if my twins were awake so they could meet their baby brother!”

“And on the way back, you saw an opportunity to kill Peter!” it was clear that James was hitting Sirius hard with the accusations in the hope that Sirius would confess.

“No!” Sirius took a deep breath, “you’re my best friend, you always have been and I would never do anything to hurt you or your family because you’re my family too, please, you have to believe me,” the tone of Sirius’ voice was pleading but James looked unmoved, which annoyed you.

“The evidence is damning, Sirius. It was your seal, your letter and your dagger, you had the means to kill Peter and betray us. What did you think would happen? Did you think Voldemort would put you on the Throne when he killed us?” James hissed but Sirius said nothing but you could see that he was crying you just wanted to hold him. James glanced over to you, “we found no evidence that Y/N was involved,” cold dread shot through your body and your vision blurred.

“She had nothing to do with any of this,” Sirius glanced at you with tear soaked cheeks and the small smile that he gave you broke your heart.

James nodded, offering you a sympathetic look, “then I’m sorry that you’re married to a traitor,” anger boiled in your veins at James’ words and it was an effort to keep your face straight. He glanced back at Sirius, “Sirius Black, I absolve you of your lands and titles; you are no longer the Duke of Bedford. I charge you with treason and I sentence you to hang by the neck until dead,” Lily gasped in surprise as she looked at her husband.

You felt like you were going to be sick and you rushed forwards to kneel at James’ feet, taking Sirius’ hand in yours, “please, Your Majesty, I beg you, don’t kill him! Think of the children, please,” tears streamed down your cheeks and Lily shot James a meaningful look.

James sighed and bowed his head, glaring at Sirius, “very well, you have an amazing wife who begs for your life even though you’re a traitor,” Sirius just looked at the floor and in that moment you hated James for hurting him. You couldn’t imagine how hard it was to endure this from his best friend, “you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a cell. Take him away,” he nodded to the guards.

You cried out in anguish as the guards began to drag your beautiful husband away. How were you going to live without him? “I love you, Sirius.”

Sirius choked on his tears, “I love you too, and please remember me!”

“Of course!” you sobbed.

You didn’t even get to kiss him one last time; you would never forgive James for breaking up your family. Sirius was innocent; you would bet your life on it.

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

Over the next couple of years that Sirius spent in the Tower, he was full of despair and anger, he couldn’t quite believe that James had locked him away; he couldn’t understand why James hadn’t believed him. How could James think that Sirius could ever hurt his friends? What hurt the most was the fact that he couldn’t see the love of his life or his children, the pain was almost unbearable. He couldn’t even see the grounds from the tiny window in his cell so he couldn’t even catch the slightest glance of Y/N.

In that dank, dark cell Sirius was all alone, he was practically withering away. He wanted his wife and he wanted his children. Reggie had only been a couple of days old when Sirius had been thrown into the Tower, Reggie wouldn’t even remember him.

The guards were particularly cruel; they told Sirius everything that was happening at court. They had told him that the King was forcing Y/N to remarry so she wouldn’t bring shame upon England because she was the wife of a traitor. Sirius had been close to throwing up at this news and he died inside, the knowledge that someone else was going to love his wife killed him inside. A few weeks later, the guards grumbled as they told Sirius that the man that Y/N was supposed to marry had died in a hunting accident. It sounded awful but at the sound of that news, Sirius could breathe again.

10 Years Later

Sirius was rudely awakened by the guards pounding on the bars of his cell, their voices filled with glee, “oi! Wake up, you have some visitors,” Sirius groaned and walked over to the bars to see the guards leering faces, “best make it a good goodbye, you’ll never see your family again after today. Your pretty little wife is going to marry the Austrian Prince.”

The pain that shot through Sirius’ chest almost made his knees buckle and tears stung at his eyes, he backed away from the bars so his family could enter. The breath was stolen from his lungs when his family walked into the cell and the door was closed behind them. Y/N was so beautiful and his children were growing up, and he’d missed it all.

“Sirius!” Y/N cried out as she ran to him and Sirius gathered her up in his arms, after 12 years, she was in his arms again. Once more, she was breathing life back into him, “I’ve missed you so much I love you,” she sobbed into his chest before she cupped his face and drew him into a passionate kiss, her tears running over his lips.

“I missed you too, I missed all of you, I love you,” he pressed his forehead against hers, grinning for the first time in 12 years, it was a wonder that he still remembered how to, he looked at his beautiful children with a smile as Elena and Johnathan ran into his arms, their faces bright with recognition. Reggie smiled at him with a blank look on his face but there was love in his eyes, “look at you three, all grown up.”

“We wish you could have been there, father,” Reggie smiled before hesitantly walking towards him and pulling him into a hug. Sirius smiled as he hugged his son tightly, “it’s good to meet you,” Reggie whispered.

Sirius’ smile dropped a second later when he remembered why they were there, “you’re marrying a Prince? Congratulations.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a giggle and she lowered her voice so the guards wouldn’t hear, “I am never going to marry another, Lily and James just thinks that I am. The Prince doesn’t want to marry me either, he prefers the company of men,” she blushed, “but he believes you’re innocent, he’s a good man.”

“He believes I’m innocent?” Sirius asked, feeling gobsmacked, he was also elated that Y/N wasn’t going to remarry.

“Yes, and he wants to help, we’re getting you out of here tonight, we’ve got a ship leaving the docks at midnight, the Prince will give us sanctuary in Austria.”

Sirius was excited to get out of here, to feel the sun on his skin again, breaking him out of his cell would be dangerous but he glad that Y/N had an ally, but there was something that bothered him, “you’re coming with me? I don’t want to ruin your lives.”

Johnathan sighed as he rolled his eyes, “come on father, we’re going wherever you do. We’re not letting you go alone.”

“But you’ll always be having to hide, that’s no life for you, any of you,” Sirius bit his lip; he wanted to believe that it was possible but it just wasn’t.

Elena took his hand, “papa,” she whispered, “we love you and we’re a family. We’ve been apart for 12 years; you’re insane if you think we’re not going with you. We want to know you and for you to know us.”

Sirius teared up and sniffled as he looked over at his wife who grinned and cupped his cheeks, “we’ll be here an hour before midnight, the guards won’t be a problem. Leave them to us, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he grinned and kissed Y/N deeply before hugging all of his children in turn, excited to be in the world again. The plan was set and at midnight, he was successfully on a ship with his family by his side and a strong ally at his back. This wasn’t how he thought his life was going to be, he never thought he would be running from James’ court but here he was. They were going to be okay. Sirius was free, they were all free, and most importantly, they were together.

-Fin-

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