#unrelated to the other problem I caught later in the day

[tj-crochets]

Good news: after a lot of weeks, my air conditioner is fixed!! Also good news: I caught an error in the software at work that was impacting both contractor pay and customer invoicing! Bad news: going through large amounts of data loosely falls under the purview of the department I am now sort of in charge of, which meant my department (which is me and two other people) had to individually open every single order from [specific subset of customers] since the beginning of the year to manually check if either error had occurred. Hundreds of orders, even with a few different criteria we could use to narrow it down. It's done though! I mean the error is not fixed but previous instances of it causing problems are caught and now that we know it exists we can catch future problems before they are invoiced/paid out I have done zero crafting today and I honestly doubt I will get any done lol

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[nowoyas]

vespertine: evening blooms prologue - nishinoya yuu/cat hybrid!reader

Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: she's here! housekeeping: right now, I hope to update every other wednesday until I've caught a rhythm with this fic, so we're hoping next update will be 10/9. it may come a week sooner, but shouldn't be any later than that--the next chapter is already written, and the ultimate goal is for this fic to update weekly once I've got a more clear plan set in place for it.

Summary: Yuu feels like he's at a dead-end in his life, despite his many accomplishments ranging from a middle school volleyball award to losing his virginity in high school, the proudest of these being befriending the mother cat in the alleyway beside his apartment. She rewards his friendship by introducing him to the dying hybrid behind the dumpsters.

Warnings: blanket series warnings (see vespertine masterlist for details), implied alcohol abuse, light mentions of blood/hospitals

Words: ~3000

prologue: alley cats

Nishinoya Yuu is on the precipice of a mental break, and no one seems to have noticed.

He's not sure anyone would believe him if he bothered to bring it up. He's Yuu, the bright, unrelenting baby of the Nishinoya family and the single best brother his sisters have ever had. (Unrelated, the only brother they've ever had.) He's that Nishinoya, talents ranging from a middle school "best libero" award (the highlight of his life so far, even though he doesn't really play anymore) to finding the wrong time to be at the wrong place and get blamed for shit he had nothing to do with, all because of his kickass hair and inability to keep to himself. He's Yuta, second most popular host at Nakamoto's and soon to be the first, if he keeps up the good work.

It's funny, really, how easy hosting is. He spent all of high school growing used to a reception anywhere from "total disinterest" to "actively making fun of him" if he dared trying to pursue a girl while being only 159 centimeters tall, and here he is, four nights a week, leaning in with bright eyes and nodding along while some beautiful married woman (Misaki, her name is Misaki) tells him he's so cute over a glass of wine. Yeah, he comes back to the apartment most nights totally exhausted, sleeps until noon, is basically forced to drink for work, and has no idea where he's going in life, but what fun is there in knowing that, anyway?

So he leans in. He smiles. When Misaki or one of his other clients comes in for him, he compliments her hair and asks is that a new dress? and flashes a smile, and on his days off, he does what he can to keep the apartment clean enough that Mei doesn't ask questions and forget the taste of alcohol in his mouth.

"Yuta-kun?" Misaki tilts her head with a pout. "What are you thinking about?"

He blinks. Laughs it off. "Sorry, Misaki-chan. You just look so lovely tonight that I keep getting distracted. I'm really lucky that you choose me, you know?"

"Oh, please," she says, a bubbly laugh leaving her lips. "There isn't anyone else for me. You know, the other day, my husband…"

She launches right into another story. He frowns appropriately, files away the details without really processing them, tops off her glass for her when it starts getting low. He's grown skilled at making the mechanical look fluid.

When he tunes back in, she's talking about that damned hybrid, the one her husband brought home and fell in love with. According to her, the single source of every problem in her life: if not for her, her husband would still be interested in her, but instead, he focuses all his attention on a pretty young thing just because she's got doe eyes and a twitchy tail.

"I mean, we have kids! What, am I supposed to tell them their father's sleeping with a deergirl instead of their mother?" she snaps, then sighs. "I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about this."

"No, no, tell me. Is Nara still making trouble?"¹

"You wouldn't believe it." She pauses, takes a dramatic sip of her wine glass. "I'll need another bottle tonight if I'm going to get into the stunt she pulled last night. Any recommendations?"

He flashes another toothy smile, reaches for the menu. "Let's take a look."

The night drags on that way—Misaki for two hours, then another regular, then a new customer who blushes and smiles too sweetly to have ever done anything like this before, who looks at him with hearts in her eyes when she names him her preferred host. It's a victory that feels too, too empty, nearly forgotten by the time he's unlocking the door to his apartment and kicking off his shoes, muttering a quiet tadaima! into the room.

No response comes, not that he expected it. Mei left for another business trip this morning, so it's just him here, and she'd be asleep this late, anyway. No one to talk to when he strips off his suit jacket, or tease him for throwing it on the floor, only to immediately pick it back up and gingerly hang it on the coat rack.

He flicks on the lights in the living room, collapses onto the couch. Mei left a note on the whiteboard, enough words to make his head spin with the last vestiges of alcohol in his system. He'd done good tonight, he thinks, managed to get away with only drinking about two glasses' worth of whatever shit his clients had ordered, managed to come home only a little buzzed.

His alcohol tolerance is basically fucked, he thinks as he stares at the note and doesn't comprehend it.

Right. Focus.

Her handwriting, smooth and font-perfect, fills the board.

Yuu! I had to jet out for another trip! I'll be in Hawaii with a client until 9/22. I wasn't able to take the trash down before I left and trash day's tomorrow, so please run that down so it doesn't start to smell! I'll be 19 hours behind you, but just think of me as 5 hours ahead! Please let Mom + the girls know where I'm at and that I'll bring back souvenirs! I'll call when I've touched down. There's leftovers in the fridge and if you're not gonna cook the chicken tomorrow, you should stick it in the freezer. Be good, okay?

PS. The neighbor in 802 was looking for you. I think he wants to hang out next time you're off work!

He groans. Lets his head drop against the back of the couch.

He'll get to it, all of it, in a minute, once he gets changed out of his work clothes and heats up something to snack on. Gone is his button-down, the silver necklace, the too-nice pants and belt. Before he steps into the shower, his reflection catches his eye, and his stomach turns.

He never recognizes himself after work. The stupid one-day hair dye shit he uses to cover his blond streak is convenient—it lets him walk around on his days off with a certain plausible deniability. Misaki or one of his other clients might recognize his face on its own, but given how much they drink with him, it's doubtful. Still, he covers the blond with black on work nights, runs some product through to make it all… swoopy and dreamy, or whatever, instead of the trademark spikes-and-tuft he wears off the clock. It works well, it washes out easy, and it looks fucking nothing like him.

Nothing like him at all.

"The commission's good," he says out loud. "It's good."

He drops the stupid fucking wristwatch a client gave him into the handmade jewelry dish Mei gave him for his "birthday" earlier this year.² The last work thing weighing him down. It doesn't prevent him from feeling the disconnect when he meets his reflection's eyes.

The commission is good. Good enough that it shouldn't matter how long he has to stand under the running water to wash off the shift, the feeling of the alcohol, the cling of twenty women's perfume on his skin, his clothes, in his hair. It shouldn't matter how his nice, expensive, gift-from-Aya watch feels like a cuff on his wrist by the end of the night, or that he can't skip wearing it even one night for risk of losing a client. It's good.

He doesn't need to worry about affording repairs or maintenance for his bike, can go toe-to-toe with Mei for paying the bills, even with her cushy jetsetting consultant job. His clients bring him gifts and spend money just to spend time with him, and none of them are objectionable-looking in the least. Not that he's ever seen a girl he didn't think was at least a little pretty.

He steps out of the shower, slings a loose towel around his waist. His reflection looks a little better now—still clearly exhausted, but at least he can recognize Yuu looking back at him. He finds basketball shorts, a hoodie. His keys and wallet. Throws a burrito in the microwave, throws his towel on top of the hamper.

While his burrito simultaneously over- and under- cooks, ensuring an ideal 3 AM trash-and-cat-run eating experience, he finds a can of cat food in the pantry and dumps it on a plate. He made good money on commission tonight; Mama Kitty can have some of the top-shelf wet food.

One final pat of his pockets as he kicks into some sandals: wallet so he can open the side door after hours, phone, keys, wrapped burrito. Trash bags in one hand, plate of food for Mama Kitty in the other.

She doesn't greet him right away when he makes it outside. Probably, she's tending the kittens and will be with him soon. He sets down the plate on the stoop, flings the trash bag into the dumpster, takes a seat, and waits. She'll probably come out around the time he burns the ever-loving fuck out of his tongue on his burrito.

It's a balmy night. Quiet, for the city. Quieter in contrast to Nakamura's, to obligate conversation, laughter, serenading women with enough money to afford it, or in contrast still to the roar of his motorcycle carrying him back to the apartment. The trains don't run when he gets off work. More small talk at the end of a shift is the last thing he needs. It's too dark in the alleyway to see whether there's clouds in the peek of sky overhead, but there's definitely the sting of rain amid the smell of garbage. It's just bright enough to see Mama Kitty when she hops up on the stoop beside him with a hoarse nyaugh.

He laughs every time he hears it. She meows like a lifelong smoker, like she pulls eighty hour work weeks at the factory and sleeps ten hours a week, tops. Noya takes another bite of his burrito as she watches him expectantly. "Me too, Mama Kitty, me too. Kittens doing okay?"

Mama Kitty doesn't reply. She's tired, too, at three in the morning, but something feels different tonight; it's in the way she doesn't turn to scarf down the food she's brought, the way she stares him down. Ungrateful, he thinks with a quirk of his lips as she eyes his burrito instead.

"You don't want this, sweetheart. It's somehow the hottest thing I've ever eaten and still frozen in the middle. That food you've got there? It's some fancy American brand. Kaede hand-picked it for you. Said it's good for new mothers. Helps them produce enough milk and rebuild their energy so they can take care of the babies. This cat food will change your life, Mama Kitty. You just gotta eat it instead of my dinner."

Her tail flicks at the air, agitated as she lets out another death rattle of a meow. She's insistent, tail flicking even faster.

He raises a challenging eyebrow. "You're not getting my burrito."

Mama Kitty's eyes focus. Her shoulders drop. Sensing that she's about to pounce, he closes his hand over his burrito protectively, letting his keys rest on his lap.

She lunges, instead, for those keys, and, protective as he was of his shitty 100 yen burrito, he doesn't move quick enough to catch her. He lets out a shout, springing to his feet and narrowly snatching his phone out of the air as it slips out of his pocket with the movement.

"Oi, Mama Kitty! If you don't like the new brand, just say so!" he shouts after her as he chases her further down the alley.

He's never really gone this far down. The one time he tried, Mama Kitty had hissed at him something monstrous, sounding close to a horror movie monster and very visibly prepared to make him find out if he dared fuck around any further. That had been after she had her kittens, so he'd always just assumed that she didn't want him near them. No problem, he just wouldn't go past the dumpsters.

This time, she doesn't hiss, doesn't spit; doesn't turn to him with ears pinned and ratty fur fluffed and perfectly replicate the noise the zombies from one of his shooters make. She drops the keys a few meters ahead of the end of the alley, comes to sit just in front of a lump of something he doesn't recognize. He scarfs down the last of his burrito, proud of how easily he manages to fit half a burrito down his throat without choking, and shoves the trash in his hoodie pocket so he can scoop his keys up.

A noise gives him pause.

It's not one of Mama Kitty's—it's too high and not nearly crunchy enough. It doesn't quite sound like a kitten, either—he's caught the kittens' meows once or twice and they're more like squeaky toys, though they've been growing a bit sweeter lately.

No, this was more like a whimper, like a human whimper, and his blood is tinging cold as he looks for the source.

He stuffs his keys in his pocket with the burrito wrapper. It's dark back here, dark enough that Mama Kitty's all but disappeared except for the white in her tabby coat and the reflection of a distant streetlight off her eyes, so he fumbles for his phone's flashlight.

A chorus of the squeaky meows he'd expected to hear raises in protest as the light shines on them. Later, he'll try to remember back and be sure there was four kittens to report to Kaede, but for now, he's focused on the lump they're curled up with, on not dropping his phone as he takes in the sight.

There's the peek of skin, a tangle of hair. What's not visible, as he tries to make sense of what he's half-convinced is a dead body in the alleyway beside his apartment, is draped in hospital gown blue.

Human. A kid, maybe a teenager.

Then: large ears flicking, almost like Mama Kitty's. One ear torn, though where Mama Kitty's left point is jagged from one fight or another, the lump's ear is torn in a way that looks clean, purposeful. Like someone held it down and just snipped the point off.

Another whimper, or maybe a groan. A tail flicks up, wraps over the human-shaped lump's side.

Not human. Hybrid.

"H-hey," Noya says, clearing his throat. It's coated with cheese—fucking burrito—and that's what he'll tell anyone who might ask why he stammers, why his tone comes out sounding so much like fear when that's not a thing he feels. "Are you—are you alright?"

A flick of the ears greets him, but no other movement. He looks to Mama Kitty, who watches him cautiously. No hostility yet. He crouches, reaches for the hybrid, and when his pinkie brushes one of the kittens, he hears a half-hearted hiss from behind.

Message received.

He swallows thickly. "Alright. Help the hybrid, don't touch the babies. Loud and clear, Mama Kitty."

Nyeeaughh.

A soft huff. He shakes the hybrid's shoulder gently—it doesn't react, except for its tail to flick and drape over his forearm. It shivers under his hand, too violently for the weather.

"Hey, c'mon. You gotta wake up."

No response.

He sets the phone aside, tries his best to sit the hybrid upright without too much force or jostling. The good news is that it's light, concerningly light. Clearly a cat hybrid, which, sure, he thinks he remembers they're supposed to be smaller than your average human, but he'd swear that he's slung around toddlers that were heavier. Makes it easy to lift, even as he wonders whether any hybrid is supposed to be this light.

It's awake, he thinks. It looks at him with bleary eyes, pupils constricting harshly when he raises up the flashlight again. "Hey. Can you hear me?"

No response, except to track his lips with its eyes. It occurs to him, belatedly, that some hybrids never learn to talk, and this one might be one of them.

"Can you, like, blink twice at me if you understand me?"

Two blinks.

He exhales a sigh of relief. "Okay. Alright. I don't know what happened to you, but I'm here to help, okay?"

The hybrid's eyes flick to Mama Kitty, and for a split second, Noya swears she nods back.

The hybrid nods in reply.

"Are you hurt? Can you show me where you're hurt?"

It glances down. Noya follows the eyes to the pricks of red beginning to seep into and stain the hospital blue covering its abdomen, and… well, fuck.

He's gonna have to call Kaede for this one.

Footnotes

1. Nara is a deer hybrid, "adopted" from the Nara prefecture itself. Misaki's husband is not very creative with names.

2. Noya, mostly on Mei's insistence, tells clients his birthday is April 10th, six months before his actual birthday. He maintains it half for privacy (if a client tracks him down they're likely to cause issues for Mei, too) and half because it's sort of nice to have a half-year birthday.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

[tigsbitties]

talk to me about karin

Okay I yapped WAYYY more than i meant to um

Sexuality Headcanon: Bisexual probably. I don’t have any super strong thoughts about this is just feel it in my heart. I’m not sure if that’s something she knows about herself or not though. no time for dat goku. I’ve seen the specific take before that Karin is bisexual with a preference for women but subconsciously likes daan bc he’s effeminate and that’s fun i think. i dont need some queer eyepatched foreigner getting my dick hard :/

Gender Headcanon: I’ve tossed around the idea of him having transmasc swag before— not in a “rude and assertive woman has to be a man” type way (something i see people swear up and down is both common and a problem? but i literally almost never see anyone headcanon canonically female characters as eggs so what’s the truth.) but more so as an extension of the “i know i’m right about this why doesn’t anyone believe me” theme going on with his character (tangent unrelated to this but i think a character who was constantly gaslit growing up who now can’t accept being told they’re wrong about anything bc of the fear of being put back in that situation to be super fucking interesting. Karin i love you.) like spending your childhood being talked down to and having things you know to be factually true about yourself and the world around you be repeatedly denied is a transgender experience i think. i’m not sure in mainline canon this is something he’d ever fully figure out or act upon but you never know.

I think in a modern day au he’d have a deeply cringey teenage truscum phase because stupid fucking Dalia doesn’t believe he’s trans bc “you were such a feminine little girl growing up 🥺 who’s making you do this why are you drifting away from me after all i do for you 🥺🥺” so he takes out that pent up rage on Daan (also a teenager on tumblr in this hypothetical scenario) who he sends anon hate to for triggering his “second hand dysphoria” and will not believe daan when he says he’s cis bc he “types in all lower case” and “has a carrd” . they meet in person years and years later for unrelated reasons with no memory of this. This is a lot of words for a headcanon I don’t even follow consistently I realize.

also jesus pocketcat can you fuck off? he’s wearing his dysphoria jacket.

A ship I have with said character: I am a huge daarin guy to like a HUMILIATING degree. i know that’s like. the most basic ass redditor wholesome chungus ship choice a person could have or whatever but it’s something that canonically has a lot going for it i think. You have to understand that first and foremost i live for banter— which they have in spades, their party talks are so fucking funny. I love having them both as party members when i play through termina— god especially the one about Daan’s soft hands? Why do you know they’re soft? did you feel them? are you susssing this out by just looking? i don’t know which is worse. jesus christ.

but besides that i think this little bit encapsulates a lot about what i find interesting about their dynamic. Karin’s insistence that Daan, because he is visibly wealthy, must be prissy and fragile to over compensate for insecurity at coming from a well off family— completely unaware of the fact Daan has spent large chunks of his childhood fending for himself in the woods. Daan’s complete disinterest i’m giving a serious response because this is such a bizarre thing to get caught up in. “just making small talk” you’re unwell.

The two of them def go beyond “characters i ship for fun”. i do think they’re two halves a whole in that you need one to fully understand the character of the other— like Karin is someone born into aristocracy who has rejected it both because of the ways it’s hurt her (created a scenario in which a malicious adult had unfiltered access to her bc her parents were too busy to care for her making paying someone else to do it more convenient) and more broadly the way it hurts those at the bottom of the class system (which is most people) and how Daan is someone born and horrifically abused at the bottom of that system who managed to weasel his way up the ladder and gain the necessary tools and education to survive at the cost of making a spectacle of, and by extension reliving, that abuse.

Likewise i think the two of them have more aligned goals than they realize. At the end of the day i think both them genuinely really do want to help people— regardless of what subconscious hang ups or insecurities are part of that want. For as stand offish as she is and her tendency to antagonize those who probably don’t deserve it, Karin is deeply passionate about the welling being of others and will do anything she thinks is necessary for a greater good— even if it may come across as exploitative or insensitive. Like there is definitely 100% an element of ego to it— the idea of “if i help others then that makes me a good person™️ and i should be praised for being a good person™️” is totally there— but it’s not all there is to it you know?

Likewise Daan being a doctor coexists as both a testament to his own lack of agency in his life and how his body can be used and discarded how anyone else sees fit if it’s for a greater good and as something he does because he cares about other people and wants to put good into the world. Like even if he comes to the conclusion that the people of prehevil are too far gone to be helped in a way that matters, he still makes the effort to figure out if something can be done about it. And i do think it’s a testament to his character that he mentions his primary clients he sees are prostitutes— people who are made to feel ashamed and dirty for their occupation, something he can empathize with and would want to help without judgement. I like the argument Daan and Karin have in the slums about why these people are sick and what they should be doing about it, because at the end of the day no matter how badly their personalities may clash they want the same thing. Alright buddy you got two options here. you can either have someone help you to affirm their ego or as a form of self harm. those are your choices. choose wisely.

I also really like that like. Karin’s an atheist in the actual sense of that word where she doesn’t believe in gods or magic in a world where that stuff is very tangibly real and Daan is an atheist in the way characters in christian movies are atheists where they do believe in god they just have personal beef with him. do you understand. i like this party talk a lot

In general i think they strike such a good balance with their clashing personalities of having very real issues with each other that are interesting to explore while also having banter that is genuinely really fun to read in a game so often as unpleasant as termina. I’ve seen people complain about people watering down Karin’s “genuine hatred for daan” for the sake of fluffy ship content— and i can see that broadly from the angle of “art and fics about on these two tend to focus on them arguing in a light hearted cutesy without exploring why they clash in the first place” but also like? idk i think “genuine hatred” is a bit strong for what in the game itself largely leads to comic banter. I think there can be emotional complexity intertwined with lighthearted scenarios. I don’t think anyone’s light hearted daarin post canon is hurting anyone or necessarily means they “didn’t understand” the source material.

In general the appeal to me from a romantic standpoint comes in the form of seeing how these characters who have already established strong feelings towards each other in an incredibly short amount of time could potentially develop if given the chance to. And i don’t even think i see them ever “dating” per say? I think their relationships with the concept of romance in a traditional sense would be very complicated and not something easily applied to each other— but i think in a post canon scenario where they’re both still alive there’s plenty of opportunity for an emotional intensity to form there— one that’s not entirely negative or positive. I think like it or not they have the best chance at understanding each other, even if it takes work to get there. Also their soul types match. if you evennnn care.

TLDR: they’re this image to me

A BROTP I have with said character: I don’t think i’d have a strong opinion on it if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of cute art of them, but i’ve become super endeared to Karin and Abella. less “BROTP” and more “thing i ship just less than the thing i mentioned above” . not something i have incredibly strong opinions on currently but i’d love to listen to someone who does speak about it. OH OH ALSO the post about Daan, Karina, Abella, and O’saa being in a polycule? Literal Peak. that is like the perfect cast of characters we have reached scooby doo levels of perfect character group.

A NOTP I have with said character: Not a fan of her and Pav but not something i care about or think about that much.

A random headcanon: I can totally see her being the type of person who doesn’t like cats and thinks they’re obnoxious and asocial and yadda yadda until a stray sort of worms it’s way into her apartment and she can’t get rid of it and now she has a cat forever. Its so annoying and she hates it sooo bad (it is the most spoiled animal on the planet). I can also def see her needing to get glasses at some point— mostly bc i think it would look nice on her. adds an extra layer of “old man who wants to sit on his chair read his newspaper and smoke his pipe”ness to her. I also crucially think she has OCD but that is a topic way better suited for another day I HAVE YAPPED ENOUGH. OH OH and i know her jacket was probably given to her by one of her brothers which if true makes me wanna eat sand and die but it would also be really funny if the unspecified “he” who gifted it to her was like. a scorned ex lover. Daan and Karin being each others rebound is an idea that makes me laugh way harder than it should.

General Opinion over said character: Karin is definitely one of the fear and hunger characters of all time to me and it makes me really sad to see her get reduced to “bitchy delusional woman” bc of her, very understandable given the everything, paranoia and stubbornness. Her backstory especially fucks me up so bad i feel a little insane that i never see anyone talk about it? like jesus christ. I think she’s a character who is both deeply entertaining and has a lot of emotional depth that makes her really fun to poke at.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Don never updated his emergency contact after the divorce. He didn't see the need; keeping it as her meant that his dad wouldn't be unnecessarily worried and even though he and Charlie were closer these days it's likely his kid brother would be absorbed in a math problem somewhere. So he just kept it as is, not that it ever got used, the only time he gets hurt is when he's with his team and they know not to bother calling for someone. So it doesn't change and it doesn't get used. No big deal.

But Journalist? She just forgot to change it. Honest to god actually forgot that he was listed. I mean, how often is a nosy journalist going to need their emergency contact dialled? It's a rarity and she's good at her job.

And the something happens, it might be work-related or just a wrong-place long-time scenario on a day off. But the number gets dialled.

And he's at work.

.....i may or may not have gone overboard with my response.

He's half-listening to both of them. Don's eyes are scanning the ground, the litter of bullet casings and the contents of a spilled purse as Charlie insists that this can help him narrow his parameters. Don's phone rings on his belt, interjecting. Don picks his phone up, eyes the contact—a number he doesn't know. He presses the red button before flipping it shut and replacing it on his belt as Charlie presses on,

"That being said, this instance may lend credence to your other theory—"

"The copycat," Don nods.

"But Charlie, I thought you said the chances of that were slim to none," Colby argues.

"Actually, I said the likelihood was 10,462 to 1, which is—"

The sound of Don's cell ringing punctures the conversation again. His brow furrows as he takes it up, spotting the same number and grudgingly answering, raising the phone to his ear.

"Eppes."

He's half-listening to both of them. Charlie is explaining the difference between slim to none and over ten thousand to one to Colby and Megan; the person on the other end of the phone is telling Don that there's been an incident. His brow furrows, his head tipping between Charlie and the phone before he finally holds his hand up, insisting, "Hold on, hold on," To both. He turns away from Charlie and Colby before they can ask and strides over to the edge of the crime scene.

His attention is still split. The edge of the crime scene has cops bustling, neighbors asking questions, reporters trying to muscle in on anything that they might overhear. But through the phone, Don's ears manage to hook on, accident, and bullet, and hospital—and his wife's name.

Ex-wife. His dad's voice practically leaps out in his mind as a cold panic runs over Don.

"I'll be right there."

His answer is automatic. He flips his phone, and for a moment, he can't move. His heart is thudding in his chest; his hands are sweating where they're gripping his phone; his ears are crowded with the scene around him. He has to move—

"Don?"

He jolts, turning to find Megan watching him, her brow furrowed. He clears his throat, looking down at his phone.

"I have to go."

"We've got it here."

Don nods, patting her on the shoulder before he ducks beneath the crime scene tape, walking over to his car. He can feel his team watching him. He'll explain later.

--

The drive there was good. It gave him some time to gather himself. But as he walks into the hospital, he feels that sense of calm that he's forced up begin to drop away. It falls even further when he's directed to her room and finds Walker outside.

"Lieutenant," He greets, drawing his attention.

"Eppes," The gruff man greets in turn as the two exchange a handshake, "This one of yours?" He asks, nodding toward his ex-wife's room. Don has to fight back a smart remark, his jaw going tight as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Way she tells it, she was interviewing a witness for a story, just happened to get caught in the crossfire of an unrelated drive-by. Wrong place, wrong time."

That's always what it is with her, isn't it. Don's not sure he can believe it anymore, not when it's landed her in the hospital.

"How bad was it?" It's a necessary question, though part of him doesn't want to know the answer. He's been imagining the worst possible scenarios on his way over.

"Through-and-through in her left side, pretty nasty graze on her thigh," Walker rattles off. "Wouldn't be surprised if they discharged her in a couple of days."

"You identify the shooter?"

"Not yet, but we have our suspicions."

Don nods, eyes straying toward the door as if she's going to fling it open; as if she's going to lean in the doorway, and grin, and ask him what the hell he's doing there.

"She was awake a few minutes ago," Walker prods when Don neither speaks nor moves. It's his cue, but Don isn't sure he wants to heed it.

"Thanks," he mutters, finally moving a few steps.

"You want me to keep you looped in on this one?"

"Uh..." Don's brow furrows. He's honestly not sure. Is knowing who did this going to help him sleep at night? Is it going to help her—?

"Yeah," He finally nods, meeting Walker's eyes once more before he turns the handle, pushing the door open.

The hospital room is bland and bright. The bed nearest to the door is empty, so Don walks further in, eyeing the closed curtain around her bed. As he's a step away, reaching up to draw the curtain back, he hears an annoyed groan, a tired, "Lieutenant Walker, I told you that I'd reach out if I remembered anything else."

Don draws the curtain back without a word, and watches as her eyes open, face twisted with annoyance before it falls at the sight of him. Her brow furrows, lips parting to question him—and then realization and mortification dawns. She groans again, raising her hand to hide her face from him. Don's eyes drift down, over the pulse oximeter on her finger, the IV in her arm, the hospital gown, the blanket drawn up around her middle.

"Fuck," Her mumble is muffled where her hands are still shielding her, "I'm sorry."

Don's brow furrows as he rounds the bed, sitting on the edge and gently grasping her wrists. He draws her hands down carefully, eyes searching her face.

"What are you sorry for?"

"They shouldn't have called you."

It's a gut-punch. Don swallows thickly, trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. She adds, "I meant to change that number, I just—It totally—I forgot." She turns a wary eye toward him. "What'd I pull you away from?"

"Don't worry about that," Don argues, shaking his head.

He wants to know what happened. He wants to drag it out of her, bit by bit. He wants to know where she was, why she was there, who the hell she was talking to, what she saw. But she looks so damn tired, and drawn—and as badly as he'd like to know, he's not sure either of them hjave it in them to have the conversation. So Don raises a hand, smoothing it gently over her cheek.

"Are you in any pain?"

She shakes her head, eyelids fluttering at the warmth of his hand.

"No," She mumbles, "They're giving me the good stuff."

His eyes drop to the IV again, and he forces a slight smile and a chuckle.

"That's good," He nods.

"...Don?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You don't wanna talk about it, we won't. That's for you and Walker to hash out."

"...You're going to get all the details from Walker, aren't you."

"You should get some rest."

It's as good as a yes, and they both know it. She smiles a little hazily, sliding down in the bed, wincing as the movement seems to discomfort something. Don's gaze sweeps her again, as if whatever caused the pain will jump out at him. His eyes freeze on the blanket when she takes his hand in both of hers.

"Don?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you're here."

It warms him through. He shifts closer, carefully maneuvering to cuddle up beside her, keeping his shoes off of the bed as he presses a kiss to her head.

"I am, too."

Her breathing is steady, and slow. The heart monitor's beeping is constant.

He's half-listening to both of them.

[tauforged]

What’s your favourite thing about fish

i really really love how many fishes can trans their gender, either due to environmental pressures or just as part of their life cycle. did you know all clownfish are born as males and will only transition into a female if there isn’t one already present in their current territory, as female clownfish are generally super aggressive and territorial? it’s really fascinating. they’re also very protective parents. one of the marine biology books i’ve been reading lately, the world beneath by dr. richard smith (really wonderful read btw, the photography is phenomenal) recounts an incident where a particularly aggressive female repeatedly attacked and chased a human diver who had stumbled onto her host anemone. they’re stubborn little bastards

we had a fancy clownfish at my old job - pretty sure she was an off-morph wyoming white, but came in as an ‘assorted fancy’ - who was an absolute menace. she was still very small but was the largest of the three she had shipped in with, so we assumed she might be a female and kept an eye out to make sure she didn’t bully anyone - within a few days she had killed all the other fish in her tank. i caught her in the act once - the other clown was minding its own business and she snuck up behind him, latched onto his underside right below the gills (basically went for the throat) and thrashed him like a rag doll. in the few seconds i’d ran to grab a net and opened the tank lid to try and separate them so i could move him somewhere else, he was already done. we called her michael myers and she was a mean little fucker. she used to bite my hands every time i cleaned her tank - not little curious nibbles like other fish did, either. she would open her little jaw as wide as she could and charge at me full speed and clamp down with all the muscle in her little body. she hated everyone so much and it was awesome.

we ended up selling her to a very chatty older man who came in one day looking for just one clownfish for his nano reef - we informed him that she had to be kept solo for the foreseeable future because she was a cold blooded killer and he grinned and was like “perfect! i love when they’ve got big personalities!” and proceeded to tell me stories about his previous clownfish, a big old ocellaris who taught herself how to spit water at him in order to beg for food. i quit not long after this happened for unrelated reasons, and a few months later i ran into him again during my stint working at trader joe’s and he was so happy to see me again. he’d been buying frozen shrimp “half for me, half for the fish”.

that’s my second favorite thing about fish is that the most fascinating kinds of people keep them. i had a lot of problem customers over the years at petco, but i met a lot of really cool people too. probably the only thing i miss about that job tbh

[marjaystuff]

What Harms You by Lisa Black

Locard Institute Book 2

Kensington Pub

July 25th, 2023

What Harms You by Lisa Black is the second in the Locard Institute series.  Readers will get to learn more about the forensics of a crime since there is a lot of references.  For those who want to focus more on the plot the author suggests “people can just skip the forensic parts.”

The Locard Institute is a state-of-the-art forensic research center where experts from around the world come together to confront and solve the world’s most challenging and perplexing crimes. “I wanted it to handle 1/3 research, 1/3 private cases, and 1/3 training law enforcement personnel.  I thought how interesting it would be for a serial killer to attend training here and find out how not to get caught. It was like ‘a fox in the hen house,’ since the killer betrays those running the Institute and stabs them in the back, because they have a job in CSI.”

Within hours a colleague, of Ellie Carr arriving for her first day of work at the Institute, Dr. Barbara Wright, is found dead on the floor of a supply closet. Her death appears to be an accident—but Ellie and her new supervisor, Dr. Rachael Davies, suspect a more sinister explanation. Then a young woman, from Saudi Arabia, attending a professional training program disappears, only to be found in a gruesome tableau. Other than their link to the Institute, there seems to be no connection between the student and Dr. Wright. Although forensic traces are elusive, Ellie and Rachael are determined to find the bizarre link between the violent and diverse deaths. 

“I put in the Saudi angle because we had a friend who was an oil engineer in Saudi Arabia.  It was in the news that women are finally allowed to drive.  There are big changes going on there.  I put in how husbands had to approve if their wives wanted to work as well as how Saudi women picked their husband according to how much freedom they wanted to have. I read some books to get this information. Contrast that with the ex-husband’s who left Rachel and Ellie.  Rachel’s husband left because she had a child, while Ellie’s left because she did not want a child. I changed it so it was only one problem for Ellie in the marriage.”

For those who need a humorous break they will get enjoyment from the Beauceron puppy, Kai.  “I came up with the breed from research.  I looked at a lot of pictures and found a cute puppy.  I am not a dog person but am a cat person.  I foster cats. I put in a quote, ‘A furry but noisy unrelenting inconsiderate friend with no appreciation for those who had to get up at zero dark thirty,’ after remembering being at my sister’s house when she had a puppy.”

Ellie’s searches old files and finds evidence of a crime that feels much too personal. But who, among those dedicated to justice, could be the threat? No matter how skilled she and Rachael may be in uncovering the truth, they may not be able to prevent a well-schooled killer from striking again. Both suspect that the killer is one of their own, someone in the CSI world.

Those who like to learn about forensics and how it helps to solve crimes will anxiously wait for the next book in the series, The Deepest Kill, out next March. “I describe it as Laci Peterson had as her dad Bill Gates. A mega zillionaire is proposing something like Reagan’s Star Wars Satellite Defense system.  His daughter disappears.  A week later her body is found with the realization she is pregnant.  The father is convinced the husband killed her and has hired the Locard Institute to investigate.”

[perpetual-fool]

So I realized, I can't imagine what a healthy relationship of any type would look like because virtually everything people do reads as 'lying' to me. Part of that is that I've caught people in a lie and learned 'when people do X, they're lying'. And part is that things just don't make sense. The former might be lack of empathy. Like, I can't tell the difference between fake approval and real approval, so all approval is fake. The latter is just my thing, being different, but that affects every issue. Like, I think the problem isn't even that I can't figure out what a 'friend' is or whatever, the problem is that the whole concept is incompatible with me.

I think it's like recipes. Far as I can tell, the way most people cook is to just follow rote scripts. The learn a repertoire of 'dishes' which they then 'know' how to make. And while having recipes on hand is useful for reference, that isn't how I think at all. I don't learn how to make chocolate chip cookies, I learn cookies as a concept and a formula by which I can make a range of different cookies. For instance, the other day I worked out ice cream should roughly be 1:2:3 parts sugar/milk/cream by weight. But the people around me can't understand that unless I give it to them in cups and pints and for exactly their size of ice cream maker. Which, really isn't understanding it at all.

So 'friend' I think is a recipe of a relationship. Like when people invoke that word there's a rote set of broad things to be done or not and in a certain way. Knowing people the specifics might be nebulous, and to some extent people might be doing the neurotypical thing of 'you're supposed to do this, but you have to do it in a normal way and not a weird way'. And I know from experience that a lot of relationship stuff seems totally fucked to me. For instance, people talking about partners using possessive language has always rubbed me the wrong way, kinks aside. So I think any sort of relationship that makes sense to me would have to be an agreement of doing or avoiding specific things with a person. So like, maybe someone only wants to cuddle and play video games, and they should be able to do that without being shackled with further expectations. Or maybe someone wants to infodump about philosophy while having gay sex, and you could do that, or you could compromise and maybe save the sex for later, or you could just not do that. And those are all valid relationships. Aside from the last one, which would be not a relationship.

Anyway, I think this has resolved my issue of feeling bad for finding people attractive. Ostensibly, if they're dressing in a revealing way in a public way then they've implicitly consented to people liking how that looks. Not that people should need consent when they aren't actually interacting. But really the issue is that I was taught feeling that way is evil and haven't had anything to supersede that before.

I should be able to start imagining what hanging out with someone would hypothetically be like. Although I guess I also need to figure out what sort of things I'd do by myself before I can figure out how I'd do things with others. And I wish I could be learning someone else's perspective, but that just doesn't work.

- I have actually been working on other things, I just don't have anything worth sharing yet.

Unrelated, I'm airing out the house because someone bumped the stove, leaking some gas. I'm feeling weirdly good, just sitting here with my window open. How much of my malaise is just lack of fresh air?

[ellysfir]

That no one knew who the real Ming Yi or had any relations with him meant that he hadn’t needed to act while posing as him, nor had he had to change his appearance too much – both for that and that he was just as elusive, hardly anyone knowing exactly how he looked as a Supreme either. In this matter it made everything easier, and here, like this, it would probably make things easier on them as well.

Some other things? Not so much.

He Xuan’s expression became unreadable for a moment, quickly moving on from the image of the spilled ashes that flashed through his mind. He didn’t catch on to what Shi Qingxuan was actually thinking, too preoccupied to consider there was more to him trying to go back.

Fanning oneself with their hand usually looked more natural, but not when it usually held a spiritual device. The discarded clothing was beyond saving between the blood stains and tatters, damage from the water, but the fan shouldn’t be.

That would have to be saved for later. He Xuan lifted a hand to lightly wrap his fingers around the side and back of Shi Qingxuan’s neck and met him for the kiss, then turned to look across the table prepared for them. At some point Shanyao had relocated itself and was currently in a bowl that was sitting on a tray a short distance behind the table with more food, floating around upside down in the broth. The only one minding the food was that perch and it flipped over dead when it thought it was going to get caught.

He Xuan moved, slipping backwards away from Shi Qingxuan and out of his lap, seemingly content with their exchange. Then, after settling back down off the divan, his movements stuttered and he twisted to eye him in realisation. “What are you asking me?”

It was irritating to remember the way the villagers had surrounded Xie Lian that day, arguing and hounding him. Despite his attempt at claiming he was ‘too young’ they knew better and immediately complained; the truth of the matter was that, were they really mortal, their family would in fact be working on marrying him off at the age he presented himself as in that form and the villagers weren’t convinced. Making the crowd disperse had been easier for him than the other, but come to find out they would just wait until he was gone to ask more questions.

No wonder he’d brought it back up later while they were poking around Black Water’s island. Those villagers truly were unrelenting.

The way he laughed was bitter, despite his amusement that even the hay cart’s driver was in on all of it his voice was still caught somewhere between disgust and annoyance. “Too bad,” he said, uncaring. “Unless gege plans to sell this one then the matter should be closed,” the addendum was quick, shifting to tease; the explanation they were using was that they were siblings and it was probably the sole reason they were bothering Xie Lian at all. “If they are harassing you then I will just have to go reject them again. It’s not a problem.”

Hua Cheng was more than happy to catch that arm, walking him back into the hall. “But to answer your question, yes.”

Turbulent Tides

Characters: Shi Qingxuan, He Xuan Secondary: Xie Lian, Hua Cheng Timeframe: Black Water arc, canon-divergent AU @windmasterreturns @ellysfir @puqiprayerservice @mothboxhuacheng

Mere moments ago there was so much clamour shaking the stiff air of Nether Water Manor – the eager cries of those madmen, the bickering between the brothers and his own rage. It was dissonant and loud, even they had to shout to be heard above skirl surrounding them. If not for the location of the domain even the stormy waters outside would not have kept them hidden.

It wasn’t the sudden swirl of rage not his own that silenced those madmen.

It was the sound of Shi Wudu’s head rolling across the floor.

He Xuan seemed startled in his absolute lack of reaction. He moved his head and eyes only enough to follow the path the falling body took as it collapsed to the floor, delayed, as if it still had the means to remain on its knees by itself. He watched for a long while in his own silence, unmoving, features blank and confused.

When He Xuan gathered enough wit about himself to move the steps he took were slow and heavy, the sharp click of his heel echoing through the still silent manor. It was nothing like the way he’d moved before as he approached Shi Qingxuan a last time, unconcerned that he dragged his long robes through the quickly spreading pool of blood. He came to crouch at the former Wind Master’s side, cold, slender fingers gathering one arm at a time to free him from the shackles with a feather-light touch.

The sound of metal scraping against stone seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he withdrew quickly, reality flooding back in, washing away the numbness. He swept backwards, drawing himself upright with an unsteady sway, thin, wispy fabric following each sharp movement light as fog. He stood there silently, partly twisted, his eyes elsewhere out in the emptiness of the room, unfocused and intense with his hands tightly curled into the fabric at his sides.

All at once there was so much going on in his head, a different sort of turmoil than the anger and anguish from earlier.

Most prominently, he was still here. The option had been presented as an impossible path, and the death of Shi Wudu hadn’t released him.

What was he supposed to do now?

His mind was silent save his own racing thoughts, and he knew that meant Hua Cheng expected the same outcome he had and he didn’t dare reach out to him first.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Is there somewhere - BTS royal / bodyguard au Drabble part 4

So after this I was thinking of writing some prequels to the Drabble series before moving ahead with time and the challenges these lovely characters would face ongoing. Same with the CEO drabbles, as always let me know what you think {angst and fluff ahead}

Prev | Next

————————————————————————————————————————

You hadn’t seen them for a month. You told yourself you were glad, that it didn’t hurt you that they gave up. You asked them to leave, you would stick by that, and this proved you right.

These things happened for a reason, you tell yourself, and while life was still a dense cloud hanging over you, it didn’t rain. Since that night trouble stopped following you, no one approached you in the clubs, the paparazzi stopped following you, you felt safe again, by yourself without any bodyguards.

“I haven’t seen you in so long Y/n,” your childhood friend sat across from you at a little quaint cafe in the town closest to your castle. You would have invited her to your place but the mess increased tenfold, that being said, you think your father must be sending people to clean while you were out. He hadn’t said anything about it, you were grateful he hadn’t, you weren’t ready to have that conversation with the King. He was always too busy for you, so this gesture came as a shock.

“I’ve missed you Y/n,” Sana says taking your hand in hers and squeezing it earnestly. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry I’m okay,” you say reassuringly.

“Y/n it’s a cloudy day and you’re wearing sunglasses,” you take by her sarcasm she doesn’t sound convinced.

“I’ve got a headache that’s all,” you bury your head behind the brunch menu, pretending to look over the options as she hums in response. It had been years but she still knew you well, and this was nothing like you were.

“Who hurt my friend?” She asks reading through your behaviour like she read the newspaper articles about it online, hence the impromptu visit from half a world away despite her own busy schedule.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s in the past,” and yet it’s still so present. The wound might be healing but it was leaving a red swollen scar in its place.

She lets the subject drop noticing how your shield goes up.

“Your bodyguard is really hot, if you wanted to invite him in to join us I wouldn’t mind,” she wiggles her eyebrows playfully, trying to lighten the mood but her words have the opposite effect on you.

“My what?” You breathe, you don’t have bodyguards. You turn to face where her eyes are set behind you and sure enough, outside the glass windows trying to look conspicuous is a man in a suit you’d recognise anywhere. You hate how your heart starts to ache as it beats faster, how there’s a hum of electricity starting to burn under your skin.

“Is that not your bodyguard? You used to talk about them so much, that’s....” she squints her eyes at the male, who bows his head in panic realising he’s been caught. “Jin! Right?”

Every time you FaceTimed Sana one of the boys would be with you, not on the screen unless it was Jin or Jimin but professionally standing out of the cameras range staying with you trying not to smile as you gushed about them with her, begging one of them to say hello. Yoongi and Taehyung were the only ones to ever give in. They would say hello shyly before standing at their post, Jin and Jimin on the other hand would sit on the bed or sofa with you. Jimin would make you blush and tease you while talking to Sana, Jin would tell her all your bad habits and complain about you playfully. Namjoon and Hobi never gave in, you were close to breaking Jungkook’s resolve before he left.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to her, rising from your seat to walk to the guilty looking male who’s ears have turned red. He says something in his sleeve and you realise the others must be close by or at least contactable. It all suddenly makes sense, you hadn’t seen them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The house, your father was far too busy to burden himself with your mess, the sudden calm around you where normally there’d be a bustle of cameras and people.

“Princess,” he greets you bashfully, embarrassed for getting caught and complicating things. “Funny seeing you here, I was just waiting for a friend...”

“Liar,” you whisper, but it’s loud enough to shut him up.

“I can explain,” his cheeks are going red like his ears, you don’t know what you feel. There’s an emptiness that presents its self in his presence, like your body is trying to protect itself by going numb, even though your heart is begging you not to.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you close your eyes at the wave of sadness that overwhelms you. “I think you need to leave.”

You repeat your words from a month ago and it still cuts through him the same as it did then.

“I can’t...” he shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Jin you’re not my bodyguard anymore, this is harassment,” your cold eyes pierce through him but he stands strong against your onslaught.

“Actually...” he tries to chuckle but it dies as soon as it leaves his mouth. “Well you see, w-we- no your father... the king,” there’s a pause as he clears his throat and his hesitation irritates you.

“We’ve been reinstated as your bodyguards by order of the King,” a new voice behind you saves the stuttering man in front. You can’t help the fists form at your side as your mouth sets itself in a line. You turn to face Namjoon with a stern expression.

“No.” He knew you’d be stubborn, he knew it was a little underhanded of them, but after that day they couldn’t leave you like this. They would give you space, hope they could redeem themselves slowly, but they also had to keep you safe. They didn’t care you were next in line for the throne, they didn’t care their feelings for you were inappropriate in their line of work, you meant the world to them, you were their friend, and they couldn’t leave you again.

“I’m really sorry Princess, but the decisions been made,” he answers you sincerely. “We won’t get in your way, you won’t know we’re here, bu-”

“I said no,” your lips are tight, eyes enraged as you clench your jaw. He sighs, but he knows it would take time to heal the rift between you and the seven men.

You were right when you thought the rest of them were close behind, Yoongi and Jimin walk into your field of vision behind Namjoon, blazers buttoned, Jimin’s hair jelled back, Yoongi’s hand in his pocket. The sight takes you back and it knocks your confidence a little.

“Well that’s treason Princess,” Yoongi reasons with a small smirk forming on his face. “I guess that would get rid of us for you, being beheaded by the King.”

You shake your head is disbelief, a big sigh leaving your lips as you close your eyes to gather strength.

“I can’t do this right now,” you walk away back to your friend who’s eyes haven’t left the interaction. “I’ll deal with this later.”

——————————————————————————

You wonder what happened to their promise to stay out of sight and out of mind the following Saturday.

Maybe you walked through the bad part of town on purpose, maybe you wanted to piss them off or put yourself in danger, maybe you just wanted some control. A man that looks like trouble wolf whistles as you walk in his direction, and you smile like he’s your salvation. You don’t make it another two steps as a hand grabs your arm forcefully. You turn to find an angry Hoseok glaring at the man now cat calling you before turning his glare to you, nostrils flared like a bull about to charge.

You physically have to stop yourself from gulping at his aura, you know if pushed Hobi would cause harm to anyone that disrespected you. His grip on your arm tightens as the man doesn’t stop yelling profanities at you, he’s obviously intoxicated not that it excused his behaviour. Hobi hadn’t spoken a word, you can see him trying to ground himself and his anger, starting to lose his control, trying to regain his cool.

The guilt washes over you at his gaze, your smirk long gone as you struggle to keep eye contact. He hasn’t seen your face soften like this in so long, a glimpse of the old you coming back with concern.

“Hobi I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Let’s just go.”

His eyes are shut and he’s shaking with fury, at the man, at you, at himself.

“Hobi please,” you cup his cheek with your palm, stroking your thumb against his skin, feeling panic rising in yourself. The man is in front of you both now and you feel shame for making such a stupid decision. You press your forehead against his jaw as he stares daggers at the man.

“Your boyfriend giving you problems sexy?” He wears a shit eating grin as he speaks. “You looking for a bit of fun?”

Your touch calms your bodyguard enough to clear the haze of anger that threatens to attack the man where he stands. He releases a big breath before taking your wrist and walking you both away, pace unforgiving.

He still doesn’t say a word as you both get to the car, he pulls open the backseat door aggressively, looking at you expectedly. You don’t argue, you don’t scoff, you don’t walk away. Your eyes are round, looking up at him, begging for forgiveness. How the tables turn.

You get in without complaint, flinching as he slams the door shut. He gets into the drivers seat, putting his seat belt on before staring at you through the rear view mirror, jaw still clenched. You look lost, he hasn’t started the car and he hasn’t stopped staring at you.

“The seatbelt Y/n,” it’s a low growl and you quickly move to lock yours in place at his tone. Your heart is beating so fast you think it’s trying to escape. You don’t blame it, your hands are curled on your knees like a child ready to be scolded and you can’t look ahead as he pulls off.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t say a word the whole journey, scared a single sound would set him off. His grip was unrelenting on the wheel, you don’t think he cooled down at all even though he made sure he wasn’t driving recklessly with you in the car.

He doesn’t take you back to the castle, he takes you to their place. They rarely used to be at home when they worked for you, the castle was large enough for them to stay and they had no reason not to. You hesitate to leave the vehicle when Hobi opens the door for you, he’s patient even through his fury. He holds a hand out for you to take like they used to.

You want to ask him what you’re doing here, why he’s brought you, but you decide to take his hand and let him lead you indoors.

“Princess?” It’s odd to see Jungkook in his normal clothes, to see any of them in their casual wear, it looks homely. They all stare between you and Hobi, looking confused as you both walked into the living room.

You were staring at the floor as he explained where you were when he was on duty, the others now looked at you in shock and disappointment. It was hard for you to hear too, like he was talking about someone else, another girl, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“Princess this really has to stop,” it’s Jimin that breaks the silence after Hobi’s speech. His usual sweet disposition was wiped away with worry. “I get it, we messed up, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself Y/n.”

You don’t raise your head to meet his words, you stay with your eyes down and feet cemented where you stood. There’s a finger under your chin but you move your head to the side to avoid it bringing your face up.

“We’re really sorry,” Taehyung whispers beside you.

They blamed themselves for everything you had been through since the moment they left, but how could they undo it, how could they make this okay? His words don’t comfort you, they hurt you, they bring up the night they left all over again. But you feel the sincerity in his words, how hoarse it sounds, filled with every desire to turn the clock back. It brings tears to your eyes, it makes you choke on the emotion rising in your throat. You want it to be okay too, but you couldn’t erase the abandonment they left you with.

There’s a hand rubbing your back soothingly as your bottom lip trembles and your shoulders shake trying to keep the sobs down.

“It’s okay,” the hand on your back moves to your hair, and Taehyung rests his lips on your temple as he speaks. “We hurt you Princess, shout at us, let it out, cry, just stop holding it in.”

If you did as he said it would make you vulnerable again, you’d be letting them in and you don’t know if you’re ready for that. But he wasn’t wrong, holding all the pain down without a healthy form of release was making that gaping hole in your chest erode the rest of you away.

“I’m-m s-so a-angry-” you struggle to get your words out, having to take a shallow breathe with each word as they came out in a sob and it physically hurt you to speak. “At all o-of you.”

Tae’s crying too, Jungkook’s behind you but you can hear him sniffle. You lean into the Taehyung, pushing your face into his neck as you close your eyes and break down, he doesn’t hesitate to bring his arms around you when you think you’re about to fall.

“You had each other,” you wail, not caring at how deranged you sounded. “I had no one, you left me when I was injured!” Your head drops to his chest as you bang your fist against Taehyung’s chest finally letting it all out, and he takes it without bracing himself for each hit. “I needed you and you guys broke me.

Who was I supposed to talk to? Do you know how ridiculous it sounds to the people of my world. My bodyguards abandoned me, so fucking what? Get new ones.”

You grip his top that’s stained with your tears, you’re so angry, so heartbroken and the only people that would listen and help where the ones to cause you this pain.

“But you weren’t just my guards, you were my friends and I thought you all felt the same.”

There’s a whisper of “we do” but you ignore it.

They’ve never seen you like this, not when Taeyeon revealed her true colours, not when Sana moved away, you had said goodbye to people before, it was a part of life but nothing compared to when they left you, and you knew why, you just didn’t want to admit to it out loud. You didn’t want their pity, the pathetic Princess who had no friends who fell in love with her knights in shining armour, the people who were employed to ensure your safety. Misplaced feelings because you had no one else, you could hear Namjoon’s lecture already. They had never see you that way, if they had they wouldn’t have left.

If only you knew the thoughts running through the rest of their brains, how could they tell you they were compromised, that they broke your trust by falling for you, that every protocol dictated to them in their training stated they couldn’t keep a charge safe if they had feelings for them, they had to resign. Looking back it was the worst decision they ever made, but at the time it seemed like the most appropriate.

You scoff through your tears, “if you felt the same you would’ve at least come to see me, but you didn’t, you would’ve at least called or texted but you blocked my number, I tried to contact you everyday for the first two weeks and it was like you all didn’t exist anymore.”

There’s a grasp softly pulling you out of Taehyung’s hold and he whines as you’re taken away. Namjoon’s eyes are red, he looks like he’s on the brink of tears himself, but he holds it together.

“We’re so sorry Y/n,” he could never stop saying it, even if he did earn your forgiveness it could never assuage the guilt that weighed on them. “We honestly thought it was the right thing to do, if we kne-”

“On what planet was that ever the right thing to do Joon?” You cut him off, you didn’t want excuses.

“We made a mistake, leaving you was a mistake but we made one before that,” you frown at his words, what mistake? He contemplates his words but there’s no way mince them, no way to make what he’s about to say any easier. He’s not trying to make excuses, he’s not trying to justify his behaviour he just wanted to be honest. “We fell in love with our charge, the biggest offence we could commit, the biggest threat to your safety was us.”

He watches your eyes go wide as tears streamed down your face, he waited for your disgust, your displeasure.

“We are so in love with you Princess, it killed us to leave you but you have to believe me when I say we thought it was for the best.”

You can’t breathe. He wants you to say something, he needs you to say something, anything. You just stare at him in disbelief until you find the words to speak.

“Are you so stupid?” You gasp, gaze flickering to all their faces, theyre holding their breaths. “Are you all so blind that you couldn’t see that I was in love with you too?”

It was Namjoon’s turn to stare at you in disbelief, their jaws dropped.

“How stupid could you be Namjoon! Did you even think for a seco-” your voice is muffled by his chest as he pulls you into him, and he finally lets himself cry. You were right he was so stupid, he always prided himself on his intellect but look at the mess he made. He holds you like he’d never let you go, tight like you’d disappear in his arms.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, I’m so sorry,” he whimpers and it breaks your heart, you’ve never heard the leader sound like this. You sigh deeply in his arms, warmth finally starting to fill the hole.

“It’ll be alright Joonie,” you hug him back and he’s so grateful for you in that moment. “We’ll work through it.”

You have to believe that you will. More arms wrap around you both, tears of relief, tears of hope mixed with apologetic whispers, words of comfort. You feel the warmest you have in months.

[redwinterroses]

A while back there were some requests for Xisuma angst or h/c that was unrelated to EX, so... I am attempting to fill this void. Heh.

Part 1 below the cut, Part 2 to be posted at a later date, and all to be put up on AO3 when finished. :D

__________________________________

In retrospect, deciding to build a mega honey farm the first time he’d built any kind of honey farm might have been… overambitious.

Xisuma finished hurriedly blocking off the door to his honey farm building—the random assortment of blocks he’d scrambled to grab might have been funny in any other circumstances; there were literally diamond and emerald blocks mixed in with podzol and three stray jungle planks—and let himself sag against the new wall with a sigh. Looking up, he could see dozens of buzzing bees drifting about in the high-ceilinged space, bumbling off the walls and curiously exploring all the nooks and crannies of the rafters and support beams. Fortunately, he didn’t think too many of them had escaped the building altogether, but it was going to take him hours to get them all corralled back into their hives.

One misplaced bit of redstone and a touch of lag. That’s all it took to undo days of work on this farm.

A new message pinged onto his HUD.

<Docm77> who is lagging out chunks in shopping district? <iskall85> not me but i feel it too at my base. server lag? <cubfan135> it was fine last night but this morning is a mess. rip my melon farm the timing’s all out of whack now <Grian> blame mumbo <MumboJumbo> hey! not me this time!

X lifted a hand and disconnected his helmet, the seal hissing as the pressure equalized. The jungle air was thick and humid, and as he pulled off the helmet and ran a hand through his sweaty hair (he needed a haircut; add that to the ever-growing list of things to do yesterday) it was difficult to fill his lungs with the heavy oxygen. But for just a minute, he needed to get the screens and data out of his vision. The bees he’d just released hummed with annoying contentment, and he glared up at them.

“Just my luck,” he muttered to himself. Or to the bees. Or to the universe. Who even knew at this point. “Okay. Right, then.” He reluctantly slipped the helmet back onto his head, taking a deep breath as it resealed and filled with purified, thinner air.

“Take it from the top.”

Three hours later, he had the last of the bees retrieved and in its proper hive, the redstone repaired, and a failsafe in place to hopefully keep it from happening again. His stomach rumbled, but a quick glance at the messages in his inbox showed that he really didn’t have time to stop for lunch. He’d grab something later.

For now—he needed to deal with the lag issue. It was being felt across the server and probably had something to do with one of the plugins he’d installed recently needing to update and that was going to take a while to track down, so he headed up to his office in the main base tower and settled down at the console. Hypno had already died to flying into a wall thanks to the lag, and chat was full of complaints about ghost blocks and broken redstone.

<Xisuma> sorry, had an issue with my bees. Working on the problem now.

He didn’t wait for a response, toggling off chat and settling in to review the server settings and files. Individually. One by one.

Admin work was… settling, in an odd way. It was a system that he could understand: predictable and ordered. His attention could hone in on the coding and the settings and the bits and bytes, fingers clacking away at the keyboard, pulling folders and files from one side of his control screen to the other, checking and rechecking each item as it crossed his exploratory path. X fell into a rhythm, the only sounds in his office the humming of his control panel, the tapping of his fingers against keys and screens, and the ever-present soft hiss of his air supply.

He didn’t even notice when it got dark.

“Aha—” his voice, a bit rough from disuse, broke the silence of the office. “There you are.”

The offending file—once he’d found it, buried in a zipped archive in a subfolder on a backup drive—was simple to deal with, and with an exhausted flourish, he saved the changes and sent the information to the server. He could feel the minute it took effect, the entire world seeming to give a little lurch and then spinning on with renewed vigor.

Satisfied, he pulled up chat once more and sent:

<Xisuma> that ought to do the trick!

There was no response, and when he checked the status tab, he gave a small, self-deprecating grimace. It was incredibly late; everyone was either asleep or afk.

That was fine, though. They’d see it in the morning.

In the meantime, with the server this quiet, it was the perfect opportunity to catch up on the half dozen other admin tasks he’d been putting off. No one would mind if certain things went offline while they were all asleep, and he could have it all done by the time anyone else woke up.

Stifling a yawn, he got up and headed into his storage room to grab some supplies, already pulling up a list in his HUD of what needed done. He’d take a nap after everyone else was up and about again. For now: work.

.

Time… time was a construct. And a rather pointless one at that.

Lost in the checks on his to-do list and the comforting monotony of moving items into chests and out of chests and realizing there was something he needed to do before he could complete this project, but in order to do that he needed an item from a farm, which turned out to be overflowing so something needed to be done with those items but now the sorter is full and it really would be more efficient if he reconfigured the input redstone and—

He didn’t even really notice the black specks creeping into the edges of his vision, or the way he was having to do the same tasks over again because he’d done them wrong the first time—wait this chest is for andesite and I’ve just gone and sorted in a bunch of gravel—

It really was only a matter of time—construct that it was—before it all caught up with him.

.

There were voices in the darkness.

“…found him! Over here—”

“…is he doing? Grab the…”

“X? Xisuma, can you hear me?”

Hm? His consciousness swam up through the velvet darkness just long enough to realize that he was lying on the chilly concrete floor of his storage room, half-draped over a shulker with the edges digging into his ribs. Oh. Must have… dozed off…

There were figures moving around him, and voices that sounded concerned. He furrowed his brow, trying to pry his eyes open the rest of the way—if there was a problem, he needed to fix it. He was the admin. It was his job.

“Help me get him…”

“…take off the helmet?”

“Better leave it on for now…”

And then he was being lifted, and he didn’t have the energy to really fight off the fog that rolled over him, pulling him back down into the gentle, silent Void.

[local-ground-apple]

Could i request headcanons on the process/how malleus & vil fall in love with their fem! s/o~ Would it be love and first sight or perhaps a slower process before the feeling and declaration arises?

yess, Vil request!!

also I have no clue why both are rather long

💚 rather than love at first sight, more likely it would be infatuation at first sight, For Malleus you’re quite an endearing and fascinating human,

💚 feelings develop rather slowly. You attracted his attention mainly because you weren’t intimidated by him, bah, you were fascinated and rather inquisitive and Malleus found that trait of yours exquisite,

💚 they say curiosity killed the cat, right? Maybe not in your case,

💚  you asked him a lot of questions, always making sure whether he’s comfortable with answering them and assuring him that he absolutely doesn’t need to if he doesn’t want to. You were just curious about his kind, land, magical abilities and mostly his horns,

💚 Lilia found it absolutely amusing how you were so eager to touch Malleus’s horns,

 ,,Can I touch them? Will you like feel something if I do that? Or are they hard just like a rock? OH, or are they scales? Can you hang upside down like Lilia too? Or no, no, CAN YOU USE YOUR HORNS TO HANG UPSIDE DOWN?” “Excuse-you, child of human, perhaps, if you could pick one question then maybe I would grant your wish of answering it”

💚 everyone notices his affection for you, well, except for him. From gentle pats on the head, night strolls, your frequent visits to Diasomnia’s dorm much to Sebek’s displeasure, gentle, brief touches and how his attention is always on you, literally whole school can see it,

💚 yet Malleus is oblivious. He didn’t realise how serious and deep were his feelings for you as he never really expected that he would develop feelings for human, yet alone one who’s not even from his word,

💚 eventually it was Lilia who pointed out his affection for you and then shamelessly told Malleus about your secret crush on him (pro-tip, never, EVER confide in Mr. Vanrouge),

💚 you would have to wait a bit for a declaration of Malleus’s feelings. Despite many assurances from Lilia, Silver and even Sebek who barely spit it out that your feelings were requited, you weren’t courageous enough to confess first. 

💚  Fear not children, Diasomnia’s old man and self-proclaimed father will take care of all your problems and bring those oblivious souls together,

💚  Lilia almost started war when he briefly mentioned in passing that Silver was madly in love and was going to confess. Ancient fae cooed how cute those two humans would look as a couple and how he could be a grandfather in the future, “Oh my, my, how kids grow up so soon, ufufufu~~~”

💚 of course, it was a wretched lie and Lilia certainly enjoyed watching Malleus’s confusion. If only dragon fae didn’t lost his nerves of steel, he would quickly deduced that there was no way that Silver could fall for you (mostly because you both spoke like three or four words to each other), 

💚  but yes, Malleus finally made a declaration of his love to you and then proceeded to ask your stunned but overjoyed self whether he was faster than Silver,

,,Sorry I beg you pardon?” “Let me rephrase it, dear. Was I perhaps faster than Silver with my declaration of affection for you?” “Silver has feelings for me??! We never really spoke to each other…” “Lilia Vanrouge, did you perhaps lie to your king?” “Well, a wrong name might have slipped through my lips, I’m not really sure”

💜 Vil is not sure whether he is capable of loving anyone beside himself, after all is it possible to find someone who’s worthy of Dorm Leader of Pomefiore? 

💜 definitely wasn’t enamored by the mere sight of you,

💜 you were just another potato, right? Vil would never guessed that soon you would level up to a “special potato”, just so eventually you could flourish into “precious apple”, with his invaluable help, of course,

💜 Vil didn’t even spend 5 minutes in your presence and he had already judged your whole appearance, pinpointed every tiniest imperfection, noted things that needed to be changed and made his own opinion concerning your character (it doesn’t matter that he hadn’t give himself the chance to meet your personality). In conclusion you were, well, a POTATO,

💜 hair? yikes. color of your nail polish? yikes. skin? yikes, clearly in need for his special products. your uniform? disheveled and covered in grimm’s fur, yikes. Well, maybe the only thing good about was your bright and endearing smile that wasn’t fake in the slightest. Great, one thing Vil wouldn’t have to change in you, 

💜 at first, Vil didn’t notice you at all, After all, he doesn’t have time for ordinary mortals, right? But you caught the eyes of Epel and you quickly became one of his closest friends. You weren’t from this world, so you kind of understood his feelings of not wanting to be in Pomefiore, you sympathized with him. You were extremely kind, always ready to listen to him ranting about Vil’s absurd beauty standards and you both were often seen running away from Rook,

💜 so naturally sooner or later you caught Vil’s attention. It was Rook who mentioned that you were that one person with whom Epel was sneaking out, so Vil suggested that he should fetch you too next time,

💜 let’s say that your disheveled appearance, small leaves in your tangled hair and creased uniform after a bold run through the forest didn’t please his eyes at all, but there was a potential in you, for sure

💜 Vil wouldn’t admit, but your unrelenting efforts to escape Rook, stubbornness to keep on meeting with Epel, that fire in your eyes who were burning with fierceness and passion made him interested, and they would soon doom you,

💜 when he was about to scold you both starting with Epel, you bluntly told him right in his face what you think about his treatment of your dear friend. Vil was taken aback, but soon composed himself

💜 his delicate fingers captured your chin, gently lifting it up, so you could see his violet eyes. Vil chuckled seeing how your confidence is slowly fading away. His height and closeness was enough to intimidate you,

💜 you didn’t return to Ramshackle Dorm that day. You spend whole night and next day in Vil’s chamber. With the assistance of Rook, they were tending to your beauty, rather forcefully. He intended on giving you the metamorphose you were worthy of.

💜 Vil covers your every imperfection and polishes your beauty, even though for most of the metamorphose you were immobilized with a rather harmless poison. Don’t worry when Vil is done with you, he will kindly give you cure, if you behaves like a lady,

💜 he will alter your appearance and shape you to his liking, Your opinion and will is generally irrelevant to him. Vil doesn’t care whether you reciprocate his feelings or not. 

💜 if not, one bite of an apple or few drops of love potion would be enough to do the trick, right?

💜 after all, the fairest of them all always get what they truly desire,

I really need to stop making him yandere each time I write for him🙃😶

[dirtyoatmeall]

Boys saying I love you (Part 2)

A/N: Part 2 because I'm soft!!! Let me know if there are any specific characters you want in Part 3, I'll probably eventually do everyone.

Pairing: Asahi, Aone, Kenma, Oikawa, Ushijima, Kita, Akaashi, Ennoshita x reader (seperate) (female pronouns specific to Kita's)

Warnings: Mentions of sex, Lev has a MILF, implications of drinking in Ushijima and Ennoshita's parts. All of these are time skip, only Oikawa's has spoilers.

-

Asahi

It was a warm Tuesday night, the open window letting a soft breeze flow into the bedroom. You were lying on your side, face smushed into the body pillow you were spooning; a top sheet pulled up to your chin. Asahi was next to you, forehead resting in between your shoulder blades as he spooned you, top sheet tucked under his chin to prevent suffocation. You both had been asleep for maybe a few hours when the heat became unbearable. The top sheet was kicked to the bottom of the bed as he sat up for a moment to take off his shirt, lying down on his back this time as he sighed, glancing at the clock.

You shivered slightly at the slight breeze combined with the loss of heat at your back. Still sleeping, you rolled over, ditching your body pillow in exchange for Asahi’s arm. Your face smushed against his bicep as your arms wrapped around his, clutching it to your chest as you curled around it, knees coming to rest against his thigh. Asahi smiled as he watched you, hand not captive coming to brush the hair out of your face, watching the way your nose scrunched up slightly from the feeling. He thought back on your relationship, you had just recently moved in together after being with each other for- His eyes widened as he realized tomorrow, no, today, as he recalled the time being 3 in the morning, today was your anniversary. 6 years together, he couldn’t believe it. He cupped your cheek lightly as his thumb ghosted over your cheekbone.

“Happy Anniversary (Y/N), I love you.” It was barely a whisper, but you stirred nonetheless, one of your hands trailing down his captive arm to lace your fingers together, squeezing as you kissed his bicep.

“ ‘appy ‘vers’ry, ‘m love you too.”

Though your mumble was slurred with sleep and slightly incoherent, Asahi smiled all the same, the warmth spreading in his chest unrelated to the summer night.

Aone

Despite being in your relationship for over 3 years, Aone still hesitated to initiate PDA. Not that it was a problem, you were more than happy to initiate it, relishing in the small blush that appeared whenever you leaned up to kiss him or even just holding his hand. But since you’re no mind-reader, you have developed little actions that speak for you.

You sighed as the train packed with more people, scooting closer to your boyfriend beside you, knee-knocking against his own. Leaning your head against his arm, you laced your fingers through his, resting them in your lap as the train started to move again. You closed your eyes, listening to the random chatter of other passengers around you. Aone shifted slightly, and you smiled when you felt him squeeze your hand 3 times. You repeated the action and brought your joined hands to your lips, kissing the second knuckle of his ring finger.

“ Love you too ‘nobu.”

Kenma

You peeked your head into the spare room, holding up a plate of food in silent question when Kenma met your gaze. He nodded before turning back to his monitors, squinting his eyes before speaking into his headset. You walked to the side, making sure to stay quiet and out of the frame of the webcam. Kenma raised an eyebrow at your behavior.

“ ‘m not streaming.”

You nodded and moved to walk directly to him instead of inching around the room, he smiled,

“Y’know you could have just walked in here, even if I was streaming.”

You shrugged your shoulders, placing the plate on the desk in front of him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“ I know, but I always feel like ‘m interrupting when I do.”

Your boyfriend lightly rolled his eyes at your reasoning, turning his head to meet your lips for a moment before turning back to his game. “You’d never be interrupting.”

Your cheeks burn slightly at his words, choosing to nuzzle into his neck instead of replying. As he’s waiting in the lobby for the next game to start he eats some of the dinner you brought him. He hums in approval. “Thanks babe, love you.” You kiss his shoulder and hum in response before you hear Lev through Kenma’s headset.

“Simp!”

You roll your eyes, pulling the mic close to your mouth, voice deadpan, “Lev keep it up and ‘m gonna fuck your total milf of a mom.”

Kenma snorts and you smile at the sounds of laughter from the others from the headphones, Lev’s whines being drowned out easily as Kuroo makes fun of him.

Ushijima

You smile when you feel arms wrap around your waist, and you relax into the hold. You feel lips briefly at the back of your head and you look up, your eyes meeting olive green ones.

“Hey love, how was practice?”

“It went as usual, I think we are on track for our next match. How was work?” You hummed and turned off the stove before turning in his arms to face him.

“No more tiring than usual. Dinner’s pretty much done, why don’t you pour us some wine and I’ll bring the plates out.” He nodded and leaned down for a brief kiss. You dished up two plates and brought them to the kitchen table, placing them down as Ushijima finished pouring the wine.

The two of you chat about the day, more about work and practice as well as your plans for tomorrow. After you finished you washed and dried the dishes before heading to the bathroom, drawing a bath for you to share.

You sigh in content, relaxing into the warm water against the chest of your boyfriend. Your head rests against his shoulder and you look up, eyes tracing the line of his jaw, following his cheekbone to the slope of his nose, and finally up to his eyes, finding them already on you. You grin dopily, feeling drunk off the wine and love. You turn slightly to face him more and lean up for a slow kiss. His large and comes up to rest on your neck, the other finding purchase on your hip as he kisses back, lips moving lazily against each other.

You break a few moments later, nuzzling his nose with your own.

“I love you ‘toshi.” He kisses your cheek sweetly before turning you back around, grabbing the body wash to lather your back, deep voice simultaneously sending shivers up your spine and spreading warmth through your chest.

“I love you too (Y/N).”

Oikawa

You hadn’t had a dry eye all day, even now, as you lay in bed late that night, your eyes are misty as you think of tomorrow. You felt the mattress dip as Oikawa crawls into bed next to you, bringing you to his chest when he caught sight of your tears. You sniffled as you traced random shapes into his chest.

“ ‘m gonna miss you.”

You felt him kiss your forehead as his fingers combed through your hair gently. You bit your lip, angry with yourself for being such a cry baby. You curled into his embrace more as he sighed.

“Come with me.” He said it so softly you thought you had misheard him, but you could feel his heartbeat pick up and he tensed slightly waiting for your reply.

You sat up, looking down at him with wide eyes. “What?” Still not believing yourself. He sat up against the headboard, gripping the sheets nervously.

“Come with me, to Argentina.” His eyes searched your face for a reaction, widening slightly when you surged forward, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck, nodding as tears escaped for what must be the hundredth time that day.

Oikawa exhaled, and you could feel the tension, the worry, leave his body. “Yeah?” he asks, making sure you weren’t just rubbing your eyes. You pull away and take his face in your hands, watery smile gracing your lips.

“Yeah” you breathed, and Oikawa smiled widely before tugging you to him, connecting his lips to yours. You pull away after a few moments, breathless not just from the kiss.

You’re both smiling now, giddiness replacing the dread that had settled in your bones earlier. “I love you, so much.”

You settled back under the covers, into your original positions, though the atmosphere was lighter, full of excitement for what lies ahead.

“I love you too, Tooru.”

Kita

“Goodnight baby, I love you”

You kissed his forehead, running your hand through his hair one more time before standing from your crouched position, quietly leaving and shutting the door to not wake your son.

You walked into your bedroom, stifling a yawn as you climbed into bed, into the waiting arms of your husband. “Asleep?” you responded to his question with a nod, snuggling into his embrace, head on his chest and your leg hitched over his. “Yeah, only took 2 books and an itinerary for tomorrow this time.” Kita chuckled as he squeezed the fat of your hip where his hand rested. You lazily drew shapes on the expanse of his bare chest as you sat in comfortable silence, relishing in the quiet moment of just the two of you.

“We’re doing good. We’ve got this.” He could tell you were saying it more to yourself from the whisper of your words, but he hummed and pulled you closer nonetheless. You’ve voiced your worries before, about parenting, and even at the start of your pregnancy, Kita has been there to comfort and reassure you. The hand not wrapped around you grasped your hand that was on his chest, intertwining your fingers.

“You’re a great mother (Y/N), Sōta and I are very lucky.”

You exhaled deeply, turning to curl closer to Kita, he turned onto his side, pulling you flush to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist as yours encircled his neck. You kissed the crook of his neck, closing your eyes, focusing on the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“I love you Shinsuke.”

He smiled as he kissed the side of your head, rubbing your back softly as you drifted off to sleep.

“I love you too.”

Akaashi

You stir slightly, turning to the side to bury your face into your pillow, only to be met with what was definitely not a pillow. Your brows furrow and you open your eyes, groggily following the torso up to the smiling face of your boyfriend, a hand that was carding through your hair moving to brush the hair out of your face.

“ Keji? What time is it?” You yawn and he moves his book aside so you can sit up, squinting slightly from the light from the lamp beside you. He chuckles at your disoriented state. He places a bookmark between pages and set his book aside, grasping your hand in his own.

“Hey love, it's about 10:30, you fell asleep on my lap, why don’t we head to bed?” You nod your head, still not fully awake, you follow him into your share bedroom, clumsily slipping into pyjamas before clambering under the sheets, snuggling back into your boyfriends embrace, sighing contently.

“Night, love you Keji.”

He kisses the crown of your head, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. He snorts softly at how quick you fell back asleep.

“Love you too (Y/N).”

Ennoshita

You giggle, stumbling, and rest a hand against the wall next to you to stabilize yourself. Except the wall was warm and breathing, and had arms that wrapped under your shoulders to support you. You gasped softly, looking up bewildered. Instead of the humanoid brick wall you expected, you were greeted with a familiar face, eyebrow raised. You grin dopily in response, arms coming to encircle his neck.

“Chika! When did you get here? I thought you were a wall.” You burst into another fit of giggles and Ennoshita playfully rolls his eyes as he leads you to his car. You let him buckle you into the passenger seat, watching his hands intently. When he closes the door and climbs in the driver’s seat, you immediately grab the hand closest to you, clutching it tightly in your own as you turn slightly in your own seat, looking at him intently.

“Chikara, I have to tell you something important.” Your voice was surprisingly serious, and Ennoshita nodded, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as he waited for you to elaborate. You took a deep breath and he internally panicked a little bit, mind running every scenario that could come up.

“I think, no, I know, I like you, like, like like you. One could even say I love you.” Your eyes searched his face for a reaction and it fell, a pout forming when he laughed. You whined and sunk back in your seat, but he tightened his grip on your hand, bringing the other to cup your face, your watery eyes meeting his. “Aww baby,” he cooed, “I’m sorry I laughed, it’s just- I’d hope you liked me, especially since we’ve been married for 5 years.” He fought the urge to laugh at the way your eyes widened into saucers, mouth opening slightly.

“What! You’re telling me- I put a ring on this?” You motioned to him and he did laugh this time, endearingly lifting both of your hands to show you the rings on each of your fingers. “You sure did”

You whistled lowly, turning back to face correctly in your seat, letting him get buckled and start the car, waiting until he pulled away from the curb to grab his hand again, bringing them to your lap. “Damn, I did good.” He smiled, bringing your joined hands to his lips, kissing right below your ring.

“You sure did, We both- wait! Roll down the window, don’t throw up-“ he sighed, “it’s okay we can clean your dress at home just hold on we’re almost there.”

[kayleezra]

Unseen Love // (Din Djarin x Blind!GN!Reader)

Word Count: 1067 Warnings: canon-typical violence

Summary: Established relationship between Din and the reader, who’s blind. They're returning to the readers old planet and Din is nervous.

A/N: HUGE shout out to @thelauraborealis for giving me the idea!

“We’re about to jump into hyperspace.”, Din says.

“Okay, how long do you think repairs are going to take?”

“Damage is pretty extensive, I’m hoping no more than 2 days.”

You and Din were returning to the planet you met, the planet you once called home, for some repairs. The crest had been through some major scuffles and needed quite a few large and costly repairs. Your old planet was the closest one that you knew could get the job done, plus you could probably get a discount.

You sit in comfortable silence for about 5 minutes before Din speaks up.

“How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“Returning to your planet.”

“Oh, fine. I mean I’m not nervous or anything. Just curious to see if things have stayed the same, well more so the people.”

Silence follows your response and you can feel the tension, Din is clearly deep in thought. Most people thought your lack of vision left you vulnerable but it gave you a gift no one else had. You sense things that were unseen, like the aura in the air. It’s difficult to explain, but you can feel things others can’t. Right now the air around you feels dense and cool yet damp, almost like the air was in a cold sweat. Generally, this meant an overwhelming feeling, it’s hard to pinpoint which emotion through the density but it almost feels like fear or guilt.

“What’s wrong, Din?”

“Nothing.”

“Right, that's why the air feels like it’s about to explode around me. C’mon, you know you can’t hide this stuff from me. If you don’t want to tell me, then say so but don’t lie to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

The air slightly lifts around you but it remains damp and cool.

“Do you miss your planet?”

You can tell he’s beating around the bush.

“No, not at all. That planet held me back and I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

“So you don’t regret joining me?”

Now the air is freezing, it’s so cold it feels sharp. You take a deep breath through your nose, which helps ground you to your surroundings. You extend your hand out to Din, you bump his armrest before he grabs hold of your hand. You give him a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re stuck with me. I’ve never ever had second thoughts about leaving that planet to come with you. And I never will regret it because it was the best decision I’ve ever made. Screw planets and galaxies because you’re my universe, Din”

Finally, the air drops its negative energy and fills with a light warmth. It makes you feel lighter and hugs you. You smile, stand and move to stand in front of Din. You grab hold of the sides of Din's helmet.

“I love when you do that.”, you say with a smile.

“Do what?”

“Trust me.”, you say before removing Din's helmet.

You sit his helmet on his lap and return your hands to his face before leaning in for a soft kiss. The kiss is slow and light, it expresses nothing but love and trust you have for each other.

Din’s unmodulated voice dances to your ears, “As much as I’d like to continue this, we’re exiting hyperspace soon.”

You rest your forehead against his, “maybe later then.”

You land without problem at the mechanic shop. You step outside and can feel the hot sun beating against your skin, you don’t miss the unrelenting heat.

“It’s bright out.”, Din's modulated voice states.

You shrug, “Not like I can see.”

In the beginning, your sarcastic and crude humour about your vision or lack thereof caught Din off guard. Now, he knows you mean it lightheartedly and want to make people laugh.

Once your feet land on the course yet loose ground, you do as you’ve done before, take a deep breath through your nose. You ground yourself and are able to sense objects around you and where you are in respect to the building. You can’t see anything or envision it, but that grounding breath connects you to the air and energy in it. Everything exudes energy so you can get a rough idea of the general shape of an item, its size and how close you are.

“No time like the present I suppose.”, you say before walking off.

Din is quick to follow, shocked at your ability to move around confidently without being able to see. You walk into the building and up to the desk just as you had regularly some time ago. You give a sharp whistle.

“Hey, Randal! You’re not sleeping on the job again, are you? You know I knew this shop would fall apart without me.”

The energy shifts and you can tell Randal is shocked to hear your voice before making his way to the front desk.

“Is that-. Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t think I’d see you again. What can I do for you kiddo?”

“We need some repairs. Some pretty big repairs.”

Randal was more than happy to fix up the crest. He said it’d be an overnight fix at the least so you had to find a place to stay for the night. You walked the streets, with your ears heightened to the sounds around you. The streets are busy, so you use the crunching of gravel by oncoming people to avoid crashing into people. You stop at the odd stand to say hi to those that called you over. Soon enough you made it to a hotel. You had let Din take charge as you were tired from the day's events.

The two of you were now sitting in your room. You were sitting on the bed playing with the sheets between your fingers. Din came out of the washroom and his unmodulated voice filled the room.

“You truly are amazing. Watching you navigate the streets by memory and senses other than sight, was astonishing.”

Din was always surprised at your ability to make it on your own without your vision. Maybe because he was so dependent on his.

“Well, when you are left visionless and on your own, you just kinda figure it out.”

“What can’t you do?”

“See.”

The two of you share a laugh and he leans down and kisses you.

“You’re stuck with me, Din Djarin.”

“And I couldn’t be happier.”

Taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Seven)

Chapter Seven: Sweet Fulfilment

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The silence that fell upon them in Rossi’s backyard was so heavy, no one dared to break it. Derek was brave enough to stand and follow Y/N into the house, most likely to drive her home. The rest received the message and began to dwindle away, until only Ashley and Spencer were left.

Spencer absentmindedly fiddled with the top of his cane, still stunned into silence from Y/N’s heavy confession. He could feel Ashley’s eyes on him, but didn’t bother looking at her. His mind was racing ten times faster than it ever had before.

Ashley breathed out a sigh and kept it simple and straightforward, “Do you love her?” She asked softly. 

He wished to hear some malice in her tone, thinking it might make him feel something other than shock, but all he heard was curiosity. He didn’t even have to think to find the answer, but which answer was he willing to give?

“Yes.” He said, not even having the audacity to see the reaction it brought upon her eyes. 

He should have felt horrible for hurting Ashley, but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to feel anything but relief as he replayed Y/N’s words in his head. He heard her move to stand up and remained motionless as she left him on the couch. She went inside and Spencer deduced that she’d probably already taken her car and returned home. He’d have to find a different ride home but that was the least of his problems right now.

No one knew what to tell him as he passed them in the spacious living room a half hour later. No one knew where to start with him, but their unrelated hushed conversations continued on. Y/N had stupefied them all, but him especially. His heart should have been soaring because of her confession, but he knew he’d have to give Ashley a proper goodbye. She deserved one, even though he had quite literally used her in the most ungentlemanly of ways. He hadn’t let themselves get too invested in the relationship, though. He’d always kept her at arm’s length for fear of getting too attached. 

The next day, he’d promptly gone to her apartment and given a heartfelt apology. She’d let him know how hurt she was and that she was not going to be returning to the BAU. He still felt bad, but once again, he felt like he could breathe. Like the air knew its way back to his lungs. 

The weekend came and went, silence on both ends. Both lovers just stewing in their own pots. Both pots teeming with unadulterated, unconditional love and affection for one another. It could barely be contained at this point. Time seemed to float by and before they knew it they were back in the office. A new month had just begun. She felt new, she felt like she’d peeled off a layer of her skin, one that had been holding her back, trapping her within the confines of herself.

With the new month, she was called in early to have the routine monthly meeting with Hotch where they went over the itinerary of the next month. They liked to plan whatever they could given that half of the BAU’s job was unpredictable.

“So, I have here the form that Strauss asked for. Also, the 6th floor’s printer is a literal piece of junk and I’ve typed up a formal proposal so that maybe we could get a new one? I coordinated with Penelope about the funds and she says there are sufficient funds for a new printer.” Y/N said, handing Hotch a typed document. 

Even after all these years, her dedication to this job continues to blow him away. He’d come to see her as a work-daughter. He has taught her so much over the past few years and he’ll always have a special place in her heart. He nodded, glancing over the document.

“Great, I trust you and Penelope will pick an adequate printer.” He paused, sending her a smile. He noticed the slight glimmer in her eye, “I know you’ve been having a rough few months, Y/N, and it’s not technically my place to get involved in your personal life, as your boss, but as your friend, I hope you know that I am available to help you in any way I possibly can.”

Her whole face formed into a fond smile, “Thanks, Hotch and yes, I know.” She chuckled slightly.

“You are a dedicated employee and a wonderful person. If you ask me--” He was interrupted by his office door slamming open, showcasing an absolutely beaming Dr. Spencer Reid in the doorway.

“Hotch, I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Spencer’s eyes flew from Hotch to Y/N, his attention now zeroed in on her. He leaned into the office, not fully entering, “are you free for dinner tonight?” he asked in a rushed manner, as if not getting a fast answer would somehow make him lose all the confidence he’d mustered up.

“M-me? Yes! I mean, yes, I’m free tonight.” Y/N answered, flustered at the interruption as well as the question. Spencer’s face split into a grin and he tapped the doorframe once awkwardly.

“Great, then...it’s a date.” He raised his brows and tried to lessen his grin as he snuck a glance at Hotch before gracelessly forming his lips into a line and scurrying out of the small office.

Y/N turned back to Hotch quickly with eyes widened with disbelief and a face totally failing to contain the utter joy she felt, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Hotch only responded with a knowing smile at the precious interaction he’d just witnessed firsthand.

First dates were supposed to be awkward, however, their first date was anything but. Spencer had showed up with a fresh haircut, his shoulder length hair cut into a dreamy, swoopy style that sat along his forehead comfortably. It was so much more attractive than Y/N could outwardly-or inwardly- admit. His knee was now fully healed and no longer needed his cane which allowed them to walk around the city freely.

They’d both realized how stupid and blind they’ve been over the years. Y/N confessed to feeling especially stupid for staying with Anderson for so long, even when she had realized her true feelings for Spencer. Time had passed them by like it was nothing. 

Spencer, like the true gentleman he is, insisted he’d walk her home. He’d feel more comfortable knowing she was safe, not to mention that he was extremely curious about her new apartment. He hadn’t expected Y/N to invite him in, but of course she did, because that was who she was. She was warm and inviting, and if she was being honest, she didn’t want the night to end yet.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I haven’t really been in the right headspace these past few weeks.” She said, walking him inside. He took a look around and noticed a few unpacked boxes out of place but he definitely wouldn’t characterize it as messy. 

He chuckled softly and shrugged, “Trust me, it’s fine.” Her shoulders dropped with relief slightly and she returned his lightheartedness by smiling and flopping onto the couch.

“It’s been so long since I’ve lived on my own. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the silence.” Y/N said, but only realized how sad it must have sounded after she said it. Spencer took a seat next to her on her small, but comfortable couch.

“I feel quite the opposite, I think I’ve been living on my own for--for a long time.” He said, thinking back to his days but pushing away the especially dark parts. 

She dared to glance at him, seeing him in her space was so...different. So refreshing. It’s like this apartment needed Spencer in it for it to feel complete. Or maybe that was her heart speaking. Maybe both the apartment and her heart needed Spencer to feel whole. Her glance had long been forgotten and had turned into a longing gaze instead.

“Spencer, I-” She gazed at him, feeling the words get caught up in her throat before she could have had the chance to voice them. Besides, what words would ever be able to convey the way she felt towards him? 

Words escaped her when he looked at her like that--all soft eyes and a fond, lopsided smile, despite his curiosity at her interrupted sentence. She made the mistake of glancing at his lips, the lips that were so appealing, practically calling her name. The ones she’d caught herself daydreaming about for years and years on end. His proximity was intoxicating and before she could doubt herself, she closed the gap between them, her hands attaching themselves to the lapels of his blazer to pull him ever so slightly closer.

His lips were just as warm and inviting as she’d remembered them, but this time the kiss tasted sweeter, it was no longer tainted with suppressed guilt and confusion. His lips tasted like certainty. It was clear that she’d finally found what she’d been missing all these years. The gentle push and pull of the kiss was invigorating to them both. His slightly calloused hands found her flushed cheeks, each thumb delicately caressing the delicate skin beneath the pads of his fingers. They’d savored the kiss so much that when they pulled away, two, three, four tender, short kisses followed the initial one.

Almost as if they’d never get enough of each other. Like if the world was ending, it wouldn’t matter, they’d go peacefully, knowing that this is what it was like. That this is what quenched thirst felt like.

“I love you.” She murmured against his lips, breath uneven. She’d known it for as long as she could remember and he’d known it too, but she was past the point of timidness to admit it now. There’s no use in prolonging it, not when she was this certain. 

The pad of his thumb traced a line across her jaw slowly as he heard the words. His face couldn’t contain his smile, teeth almost clashing into each other from their closeness. His warm, amber eyes flitted to hers, visible comfort and reassurance filling his irises. He was transported back to Rossi’s garden when he’d first told her he loved her. She knew, she knew he loved her too, which is why it was so easy.

“I love you, too.” He murmured back, pressing another passionate kiss to her lips, as a quiet admission of love. She could feel the tears gather underneath her closed lids almost as quickly as relief flooded her chest.

They’d decided to keep things under the radar for a while, neither of them too eager to showcase their relationship to the world just yet, excluding Hotch of course. They did their best anyway--or at least they thought they did. Their recent smiley faces and cheery attitudes were not invisible to America’s top profilers and well, Penelope, who was perhaps the sharpest of them all, despite not being trained to analyze behavior like the others.

Exactly two weeks after their first date, Penelope cornered Y/N at her desk around lunchtime, right before the two lovebirds took their daily lunch walk. 

“Spill.” Penelope demanded, her colorful teapot earrings swayed, contradicting the sternness in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N gazed up at her with genuine confusion.

“Uh-uh, don’t give me that. I know something fishy is going on. I can smell it.” Penelope leaned in closer and began pointing fingers. Y/N barked a laugh.

“Garcia, nothing is going on. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” She laughed, amused at the sight of her friend being so outwardly nosey.

“You think I haven’t noticed you and Boy Wonder--” She was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat noise from Spencer to announce his presence.

“Garcia, Derek said something about making hot chocolate in the kitchenette and you know how he dips the sugar spoon back into the chocolate mix? Yeah, you should probably--” Spencer lied through his teeth but Penelope wasted no time in rushing off to the kitchenette, groaning about how she hated finding extra sugar in the chocolate.

Spencer caught Y/N’s eye and they both burst out laughing. They quickly made their exit, whispering about how close of a call it was with Garcia. Little did they know, Rossi had caught every little bit of the very tender, intimate kiss they shared before the doors of the empty elevator had closed, leaving him shaking his head at the obliviousness of the two. 

The team decided to make a game out of it very quickly when they all realized. They wanted to see which of them could expose the couple the quickest.

 JJ found extreme joy in trying to set Y/N up with one of Will’s friends right in front of Spencer.

“Come on! This guy’s totally your type, Y/N.” JJ pushed, showing her a picture of a man on her phone, leaning towards her over the top of her desk. Y/N laughed uncomfortably and glanced with panic at Spencer who was watching curiously.

“I don’t know, I d-don’t think I have a type, JJ.” She tried to brush her off, continuing to laugh in discomfort. Emily and Derek almost split their lips as they bit them to try and keep from laughing. They watched Spencer shift nervously in his seat.

“I’m just not interested.” Y/N said, “Thanks, though.” JJ finally gave in and accepted that she’d lost the bet.

Emily tried her hand at “girl-talk”, hoping that maybe Y/N would slip up and tell her about Spencer, but to no avail. That woman’s lips were sealed shut.

Derek and Penelope both tried to follow them around but Spencer and Y/N were far too cautious at work now. Derek actually had to convince Penelope to take the moral high road and refrain from tracking their devices or hacking into their messages.

After trying and failing for so long, the team finally gave up on trying to rat them out and instead decided to respectfully wait for their announcement. 

Y/N realized that she hadn’t technically invited anyone over to her new apartment and decided to throw a somewhat delayed “welcoming party” for herself. She’d cooked dinner, which Spencer did his best to contribute to, decorated the place nicely, and invited the whole team over.

“Thank you all so much for being here. I know this has been a long time coming. I’ve missed our little get-togethers and thought it’d be fitting if I finally host one, given that I now have my own apartment.” Y/N spoke from her place at the head of the dinner table which had barely ever been used before this night. It was a tight squeeze, but her heart soared as she saw the faces of her caring coworkers and friends staring up at her. They all lifted their glasses and gave her a silent toast of appreciation.

Spencer stood from his seat that was to the right of Y/N’s and cleared his throat, “Also, we have an announcement to make.” He timidly began, catching the eager smiles. “Y/N and I are, finally, together.” He waited for the cheers of excitement but nothing but an eerie knowing silence befell the dinner table.

Something clicked in Y/N’s brain as she spotted Rossi handing Hotch something under the table not-so-discreetly, “You all knew?!” She gasped in disbelief. The team broke out into fits of laughter.

“The whole time!” Garcia guffawed. Spencer and Y/N shared a look of incredulity before breaking into laughter themselves. Y/N shyly hid her face in Spencer’s shoulder as he wrapped an affectionate arm around her back.

“You guys thought you were so sneaky.” Derek threw his head back, laughing.

“Wait, so what was all that about?” Y/N asked, referring to Rossi handing Hotch something, “You guys had a bet going?”

“Technically there were two bets going. Everyone else was determined to expose you, which they all failed at, thankfully, while Rossi and I had a separate bet. I said that you’d announce it first and Rossi apparently had more faith in the team.” Hotch explained, smirking triumphantly at Rossi, who appeared delighted despite having lost the bet.

“Bet or not, you two deserve each other. I’m glad you two are happy together. To the lovely couple.” Rossi raised his glass and everyone followed in pursuit.

Spencer turned to Y/N to place a sweet but chaste kiss on her lips, leading everyone to cheer in response.

There was little he could compare to the feeling he had then, but if he had to, he’d compare it to being whole.

previous chapter/epilogue

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thank you all for joining the ride, feedback is always appreciated!

[holly-fixation]

Tainted Child: Chapter 2

Summary: Claudia Strife's son is overly devoted to her. He only calls her 'Mother'. And when he speaks of 'The Great Mother', she has to worry, but now a girl in the village has caught her son's interest. Not by friendship or personality, because of the large black bruises growing on her skin. A gift from The Great Mother.

Based on this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Fever Dream

Cloud stirred softly as the light of the morning sun pierced straight through the window and onto his closed eyelids, always too early to wake this time of year. He let out a soft yawn rather than the usual bothered groan at the sooner than expected rouse. He felt…happier. He was no longer the only child in the village like him. Tifa… that’s right! His eyes went wide before he quietly slipped out of bed and adjusted the covers. 

He would absolutely make his mother upset when she finds out, but she wouldn’t be too angry when she finds out why. Hopefully. He carefully made his way to their medicine cabinets in the kitchen, delicately placing one foot in front of the other to prevent creaks from the wooden floor. He did not fully know what he was looking for, but this feeling has never led him astray before. Well, before yesterday, it never caused any problems. He grabbed purple syrup, a few red pills, then grabbed a clove of garlic from the fridge. She’ll understand, right? It was too dim for his mother to wake yet, but the possibility of being found in this cookie jar towered over his chances of success. 

But all Cloud had to do was get through the front door without too much noise. He attentively crossed the threshold of his home to the village and closed the door too quietly for a mouse to hear. Homefree. He ran over to the Lockhart house, carefully adjusting the ingredients in his hands. Mr. Lockhart did not like him. He needed another way to get inside, and suddenly an idea clicked in his mind as he noticed the many rocks on the side of the road. Mother won’t be happy if I do that, though. He huffed. How could he possibly keep both his mother and-

“Cloud?” The voice of a girl cut off his thoughts and he immediately followed the voice to the window above the door. It was open. Leaning against the windowsill, Tifa rested her head on her arms as she watched him with a confused look, but there was something else in her eyes.

“Hi, Tifa,” He spoke in his usual awkward tone. 

“What are you doing here so early…?” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, but the day had only just begun.

“I brought some medicine for you.” He held up what seemed to be completely unrelated medications. “It’ll really help with the pain.”

Her eyes widened desperately. “Are you serious? Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Hold on one second,” She pleaded before she left his view. A few moments later she opened the front door. Correction: her father opened the door, while she stood behind his leg, peeking her head out to watch the boy.

“Cloud, did Claudia send you?” Mr. Lockhart questioned. “If she didn’t, you need to leave right now.”

He hesitated. He would not lie about his mother, but could he spin this in a way an adult would understand? “I was really worried about Tifa last night,” He paused, not technically telling a lie as he continued, “and I think I know what it is, but this is a quick way to test it.”

“What is?” He inquired. 

“Elderberry syrup to strengthen the body, garlic to strengthen the immune system, and some ibuprofen to lower the fever.”

“Tifa doesn’t have a fever.”

Tifa did not speak, and, after the silence persisted, her father grew suspicious and stared at her. Without asking, he held his hand to her forehead. 

“When did it start?” He was worried yet kept his surprise and temper under control. 

She stared down. “Around midnight I think…” 

Cloud adjusted his body so he could see Mr. Lockhart’s reaction. 

“And you knew this was coming?” Okay, maybe not complete control of his temper as his voice seethed venom at Cloud.

He nodded. “This will help.”

“Can he come in, Daddy…?”

“Absolutely not,” He practically blocked the boy’s view of his daughter. “I’ll take the meds and we’ll take care of her.”

Cloud hung his head for a moment before looking the adult in the eyes. “I need to see if it works for myself. Mother won’t be happy if I leave her unattended and in pain.”

“You’ll get sick,” He spat.

“Cloud’s never sick…” Tifa defended, getting a slight glare in response. “Really, Daddy… Not even a cold… Please let him in…” She crossed her arms for comfort. I don't want to be alone.

Picking up on the unspoken part of her request, he squinted his gaze at the boy. “Fine. But I want that door open so I can hear what’s going on.” 

Cloud nodded. “Of course.”

Then the guard of a father let the little boy into his home. 

“Mr. Lockhart,” Cloud held out the clove of garlic. “Can you cut this up for Tifa? It’s easier to eat when it’s smaller and Mother says I’m too young to use the good knife.”

He sighed softly but took the ingredient. “How small?” He was already moving to the kitchen drawer, taking out a small knife and cutting board.

“As small as you can.”

Then the father began chopping.

“Do I have to eat it raw…?” The little girl asked in a small voice.

Cloud nodded and felt sorry when she grimaced. He gave a soft look of understanding as he spoke. “It’s a lot easier to eat small pieces. Then, with water, you can swallow them like pills. You get less of the taste that way.”

She nodded softly. “Thank you…”

The boy stretched up to see the progress on the cutting board, the pieces nearly the size of gravel. “That should be good.”

“Here, Sweetie,” The father spoke kindly, scraping the pieces into a pile and grabbing a glass of water for his daughter, who swallowed sadly as she took the cup. 

Her red eyes begged Cloud for a different option, but he shook his head. 

“Take it like pills,” He repeated.

Tifa took a deep breath before throwing the chopped garlic in her mouth and taking the largest gulp of water she could. Once it was down, she coughed and winced at the remaining, stinging taste. 

Cloud handed her the two small pills he brought with him. “These don’t have much of a taste.” Then he opened the bottle of purple syrup as he started filling the small medicine cup it came with. “And this tastes better than you’d think.”

She grabbed the pills without question and repeated the process. Then she took the syrup. She looked so tired. So desperate for anything to let her rest.

“Now we just give it time. It should be noticeable within the next two hours.”

Tifa hesitated to respond, her hands and fingers moving anxiously. “...can you stay until I fall asleep…? I couldn’t get any last night…” Poor Tifa couldn’t sound like herself, the stubborn yet kindhearted girl he knew. The initial stage of the gift must have taken that away. He hoped she would get it back.

The father had an annoyed and frustrated look on his face before Cloud nodded. “Go. Just keep the door open.”

“Yes, Mr. Lockhart.”

Both the children made their way upstairs, Tifa walking significantly slower while Cloud stayed behind her to help her if necessary. She practically fell on her bed when they finally made it to the room. Cloud took a seat nearby. Then they stayed in silence for a few moments, the only noise coming from the open window as the rest of the village stirred.

“...Why are you helping me…?” Tifa inevitably asked, and Cloud tilted his head in response. “You don’t hang out with us… So why did you come to help…?”

“Because I figured out how,” He answered simply. “Should I go?”

“No.” Her answer came quicker than both of them expected. 

Then more silence.

“...Can I ask you something?” Cloud adjusted his hands in his lap, leaning forward a bit. “A few things?”

“...sure…”

Why the hesitation? It couldn't just be from exhaustion. “Do you feel something different?”

“Soft pain…” She answered, her eyelids drooping but her headache too strong for rest to come.

“No pull?”

She shook her head softly, then winced at the movement.

“Did you see something different last night?”

Tifa froze, then curled in on herself. She didn’t answer.

“Like something watching you from inside the room?”

Now she fought her eyelids open. 

Cloud nodded at her soft confirmation. “It’s okay. She’s good, just lonely. She watches me sleep too.”

“That thing was real?” She questioned.

“Well…” He paused and looked up as he thought. “The feeling is, but if you walk up to her she vanishes. I don’t know why.”

“All I saw was red eyes. Glowing, red eyes.”

Cloud nodded again. “I see a little more, but that’s probably because I’ve seen her a lot.”

“Can you tell her to stop?”

He shook his head. 

“It scares me, Cloud… I’m not afraid of the dark, but that scares me…” 

He reached for her, but forced his hand back down.

Is he trying to comfort me?

“She won’t hurt you. She just watches.” He explained while looking away.

“What is it?”

The little boy hesitated. “Sorry, Mother says I’m not supposed to talk about her…” Was he��shy? Or embarrassed? He was adjusting his posture and crossing his arms while he looked away. “But I didn’t want you to think you were crazy…”

“What do I do…?” She carefully grabbed a pillow and placed her head on it as she spoke.

“Nothing.” She did not want to hear that. “She won’t bother you. I think she likes you.”

“Why me…?”

Cloud shook his head quickly. Too quickly. “I think she picked you but I don’t know why.”

“Who is she?” Tifa asked desperately. “Can I at least know her name, if she’s even real?”

His blue eyes turned away. “Sorry…”

“Cloud,” Her tone was accusatory now. “Were you spying on me last night?”

“No!” Why did I say that so loud? “She’s real. I didn’t make this up to hide.” Why was he so nervous? “I’m just not supposed to talk about her.”

“Then who is she?”

He hesitated, anxious, nervous, terrified of how his mother would react. But Tifa was asking, right? Surely it would be okay if she asked to know, right? He took a breath, then sighed. “The Great Mother.” He watched Tifa’s brow rise. “She lives on the mountain. She’s real. She just…can’t move much. That’s why she watches us like dreams. I don’t know why-”

Then they both hear a yell from outside that was absolutely his own name. Cloud ran to the window in response. “I’m here!”

“Cloud, what is wrong with you?!” Claudia yelled as she marched over. “You can’t just leave the house in the middle of the night!”

“I didn’t leave last night. I came to help Tifa ten minutes ago,” He explained calmly. 

“You don’t know what she has, and she was supposed to wait two days before taking anything!”

“But I do know, Mother.” He sounded childish and caught the tone immediately. “She got a fever, and I came over with some medicine.”

“You went into my medicine cabinet?!”

Uh oh.

He shied away. Other villagers were definitely staring now. “I’m sorry, Mother…”

“Get out here right now!”

“Don’t make him leave!” Tifa begged, her headache be damned, as she stumbled to the window, and Cloud immediately put his hands on her shoulders to help her balance as well as approach. “Please don’t make him leave, Miss Strife!”

She calmed herself slightly at the sight of the little girl. “Tifa, I know it sucks right now, but no. He’s coming home Right Now.”

Then the door slammed open. 

“Claudia, get inside if you want to yell at your son.”

Now they were out of time. Cloud had so much more to explain. That would have to be a later problem. For now, after closing the window, he helped Tifa back to her bed, but she refused to let him go, his little arm trapped in her little hands.

“Cloud! Get down here right now!”

“I can’t!”

“Please stay…” Tifa begged.

“Cloud Strife! You have until the count of three! Get! Down here!”

She had never said that to him before. What would happen if she made it to three?! 

“Tifa,” Now he turned to her fearfully, but she did not move. “Tifa, please let go.”

“One!”

“Tifa won’t let go!” He tried to explain, turning toward the open door. “I don’t want to hurt her!” 

Then they heard marching up the stairs. Both parents glared down at them in no time. 

“Tifa, Sweetie. Let Cloud go,” Her father demanded. “He is not a stuffed animal, he needs to go back with his mom.”

“...Please…” Tifa sounded so desperate. “Can we just finish talking first…?”

“Cloud, what were you talking about?” His mother questioned.

But he froze, his blue eyes wide in apprehension. Then there was more deafening silence. 

“Cloud.”

He looked down to his feet. “You won’t like it…”

“What did you tell her?”

Tifa opened her mouth to explain, “‘The Great Mo-’”

Cloud squeezed the hand on his arm to silence her in mild panic. 

His mother’s eyes burned into his soul when he tried to return his gaze. “Cloud. Home. Right now.”

“Tifa, we need to change your bandages too,” Her father added.

The little girl tightened her grip. “Can he come back later…?” Tifa asked.

Claudia did not visibly react. “I’ll think about it,” was all she growled.

Finally, the little girl let go, and the boy with dandelion hair quickly went to his mother’s side and grabbed her hand. Neither one of them spoke as they left the Lockhart home.

* * *

“Cloud, what is wrong with you?! Why did you tell her about That?” 

He was sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes down, but they came up to glare at her comment. “She saw her too.”

She crossed her arms. “Explain. Right now.”

“Didn’t you see red eyes when you tried to sleep as a kid?”

Her anger fell, replaced by surprise, a memory she tried to repress. How could he possibly know that?

“Always in a corner. Never speaking. Maybe just for a few minutes a night?”

“That. That was just a nightmare,” She denied, even to herself. “And it only happened once. Just a nightmare. A fever dream. The only day I got sick?”

He tilted his head. “You got sick? Why would you get sick? Why would she only watch you once?”

“How often is this happening to you?”

“Almost every night.” His mother’s eyes widened as he continued to explain, “And now Tifa has her gift so she checked on her last night instead of me.”

I will stab that thing if it goes near any of these children again.

Cloud shook his head worriedly. “She’s not really there. You can’t touch her, she only watches.”

Did she respond visibly? She had not meant to and took a breath to regain control of her nonverbal cues.  

“And now Tifa is like us. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“... ‘like us’?” 

He nodded. “We were born bound. Tifa only just bonded, that’s why she’s sick. She still has to get used to it.”

“Cloud,” Gods she didn’t want to ask this question, “you think this ‘great mother’ did this to Tifa?”

“Why don’t you know that already?” He wasn’t upset, he was legitimately confused. “You were born first. You should have a stronger bond than me, but you don’t.”

“She isn’t real!” She yelled at the little boy, severely losing control of her thoughts through her mouth. “You think you know things because of this creature? You gave Tifa the most standard, basic medicines that don’t change anything! Hell, you basically gave her vitamins! But you snuck out of our house and stole them. Do you know how dangerous that is?!” She spat with far too much venom, and her son silenced. 

He closed his mouth and clasped his hands in front of him as his bright blue eyes fell, locked onto the table in front of him. A wave of dread flowed from himself to his mother, the whole room tainting with his cold aura. He did not look up. 

“Cloud?” Now she was concerned.

He did not move. He barely seemed to breathe.

“Cloud, look at me.”

But he didn’t move.

Claudia sat across from him and leaned down in order to see his eyes, attempting to read his thoughts. “Cloud, what happened? Why are you denying me all of a sudden?”

“She’s lonely.” His voice was ice cold. “Both of them are lonely. And you won’t even let me see her.”

Claudia honestly could not tell if he spoke of that creature he claims to see or the little girl across the village. But he was so sad. So sad. She could not keep him here to continue suffering like this. He did try to help Tifa. And none of them would know the results until the medicine took hold. She sighed, and, after their first meal of the day, hesitantly let Cloud return to the Lockhart home, if only to stop him from running up the mountain to find their shared nightmare.

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Thanks for reading!