#who was so sharp at noticing anything beyond her own household

[chefturnedtrainer]

A Birthday Reflection: When Celebrations Feel Hollow

Birthdays are supposed to be a time of joy, a day to reflect on another year lived, and ideally, feel celebrated by the people around you. But this year, my birthday was anything but joyful. It was bland, uneventful, and—if I’m being honest—disappointing. I spent half the day working remotely, and after lunch, I made the decision to go offline to spend time with my wife and daughter. Despite this, the weight of the day hung heavily over me.

In an age where we’ve become conditioned to social media validation, I couldn’t help but notice the silence. I received fewer than 50 greetings on Facebook, most of them from acquaintances or distant relatives. Two were from coworkers, and two others from my siblings. A couple of phone calls came in, but they were from distant family members. The absence that hit hardest, though, was the lack of any acknowledgment from my parents or my sister who works abroad. Not a single message or call from them on my birthday.

It stung, but not in the way it used to. It was more a dull ache than a sharp pain, and that’s what concerned me the most. The truth is, I’ve been distant from my family for years, starting around 2015 when I began being left out of family gatherings. Each time I expressed hurt or tried to distance myself, I was branded as uncaring. The irony was that during times of financial crisis in the household—when my parents struggled to pay for electricity, food, or other basic needs—I stepped in to take care of it, no questions asked. I didn’t do it for recognition, but deep down, I wanted to be acknowledged for helping out. Unfortunately, my efforts were never seen or appreciated.

My father, in particular, has become a sore point in my life. He often compares me to my sister, who sends a significant amount of money every month to support their lifestyle. "Kulang kulang hapmilyun," he says, referring to the half a million she sends regularly. Meanwhile, I am constantly reminded of how little I contribute in comparison. It's hard not to internalize that, no matter how much I’ve done or continue to do.

The lies and broken promises only add to the strain. Earlier this year, he told me he couldn't send the house budget, so I covered it for the time being. He promised to repay me, but the money never came. I even bought a second-hand car, under the impression that repairs and a repaint would be covered by a mechanic he recommended. Turns out, there was no such agreement. To top it all off, the car I actually wanted—an old white Honda Civic that I’d driven for years—wasn't even an option. He refused to sell it to me, preferring to give it to a relative or scrap it entirely rather than let me buy it. Why? I still don’t know.

In just a few short months, my relationship with my parents has deteriorated. I’ve stopped pretending, stopped forcing smiles or pleasantries for the sake of peace. It’s a strange dynamic—being financially supportive of people who refuse to acknowledge your efforts or even treat you with basic respect. I’m still living at the family home, mainly because I haven’t finalized paperwork to get my own place. But I worry about what this environment will teach my daughter. Will she grow up thinking that this animosity is normal? Will she believe that this strained relationship with her grandparents is just the way things are?

This birthday wasn’t just a reminder of getting older; it was a stark reflection of how much has changed. A year that should have been filled with celebration felt hollow, not because of the lack of a party or grand gestures, but because the relationships I once relied on have frayed beyond recognition.

Maybe the lesson here is that not every birthday is meant to be celebrated. Sometimes, it’s just another day. But I hope as I move forward, that I can create a new kind of celebration—one rooted in the love and support of my wife and daughter, and not dependent on the validation I once sought from my parents or social media.

[zodiakuroo]

Un(holy) Trinity

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader x Shigaraki

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, threesome, manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, breathplay, stepcest, breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege, elements of mindbreak and god complex (?) 

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: my first threesome and idk how to feel about it but here it is! If it’s bad I can blame it on the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth extracted and am currently in a world of pain :) also i’m on bedrest and incredibly bored so if anyone has requests or thirsts or just wants to chat... yeah

also if this banner is shit i’m sorry i rushed and made it on my phone cause i just rly wanted to to post

This is part 2 to my other fic Love Thy Brother which you can read here 

Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” - Genesis 3:1

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity to your step-brother, no less. 

The night that it happened, you lay awake in your bed dreading the aftermath of the horrific incident. How could you face him again? How could you face your family? How could you face God? 

You were too cowardly to face the rest of your household. The Todoroki family welcomed you into their home only for you betray them by sleeping with Touya. Ever since you were little, your mother would say she had a sort of sixth sense that meant God would always tell her when you’d been up to mischief. It sounds silly but there was no explanation for how she would always catch out in lie or know things that you never told her. You feared she would take one look at you and know the sin you committed. And so you chose to make yourself scarce, taking extra shifts at work and choosing to study at the campus library rather than at home. Your siblings seemed to notice how busy you suddenly were, often remarking how they missed you around the house. That just made you feel more ashamed. 

As for God, you felt like you needed to do whatever necessary to prove your faith. You wanted Him to know the extent of your shame and remorse. You were weak in spirit, making you an easy target for someone as devious as Touya. You prayed and begged for forgiveness until your knees hurt but no matter what you did, the guilt was inescapable. You realized it was because, irrespective of the regret and remorse you felt, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed what happened. You liked the way Dabi made you feel and you hated yourself for it. But no matter how much you liked it, something like that could never happen again. As penance, you banned yourself from bringing your hands anywhere near your groin. After all that temptation is what brought you to this point in the first place. But the thread of your self-control is thin and withered so at night when you’re certain everyone is asleep, you’re humping your pillow like an animal and biting down on your lip trying to keep from moaning his name. At least you weren’t touching right? 

Dabi, by some God-given miracle, made himself scarce as well. It wasn’t uncommon for the noirette to disappear for days at a time doing heaven knows what only to arrive back at home like nothing happened; so no one really questioned his absence. Perhaps he  felt the same way you did and was avoiding facing you and the other Todorokis.

Yeah right. 

Shame? Todoroki Touya doesn’t know the meaning of the word. 

In any case, you had become used to a Dabi-less house and so lulled into a false sense of safety, slowly but surely reverting back to normal. That’s why as you make your way downstairs, prepared to go to your church, the sound of gunfire and explosions from the living room doesn’t alarm you. Probably Natsuo or Shouto playing one of their video games, you thought. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re met with unmistakable dark locks. Not just him. The back of another person’s head, one with pale blue, shoulder length hair. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a gasp. Neither of them react, seemingly too focused on their game. You don’t waste any time feeling relieved, choosing instead to make a silent escape. 

You could only dream of being so lucky. 

“Oi!” Your step-brother calls without turning around. He hasn’t seen you, you think. If you move quickly you can still get out of this. ���I know you heard me, brat. Get over here before I drag you over here.” He still doesn’t bother to turn around but the sharpness in his tone lets you know that you’d be smart to listen. You take a second to steel your nerves and make your way over to the couch, trying your best to look as intimidating as possible. You scowl at both men but they are so engrossed in their video game, they don’t even acknowledge that you’re standing right there. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? We have company.” 

We?

The company in question is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s been to the house before although he’s never even so much as glanced in your direction, too busy with his phone or playing games with Dabi. Despite your hard expression you can only manage a meek “Hello Shigaraki.” 

He responds by finally looking at you, with a sleazy grin, a pair of crimson eyes, surrounded by creases meet your own. “Sup.” 

Beer cans litter the coffee table, one of them being turned into a makeshift ashtray while both have smouldering cigarettes perched between their lips. “You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” 

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” Dabi mocks you with a nasal voice. 

You simply roll your eyes, not interested in continuing this interaction any further.  “Whatever. I’m leaving now.” You state with as much firmness as you can muster. You spin on your heels but are kept in place by long, slender digits wrapped around your wrist. 

“Where are you off to anyways?” The game paused, both boys now looking at you. 

Out of habit, you answer truthfully. “Bible study.” 

Shigaraki and Dabi burst into raucous laughter. 

You should have lied. 

“Nah you’re gonna hang out with me and Shigaraki for a bit.” 

“Dabi, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything except what I tell you and I’m telling you to sit.” 

Before you can protest you’re being hauled on to the couch, squeezed between the two of them. 

“Nice necklace.” Tomura snorts, hand reaching out to grab at your crucifix but you swat it away. His gaze is unnerving. It makes you wonder if- no. He promised he wouldn’t. 

Just like that, their game is resumed, as if you were never there. A few rounds pass, no words exchanged between either of them, only curses muttered under their breath. “Dabi, can I please go. I’m bored.” 

Wrong choice of words. 

“You hear that Tomura? The princess is bored.” His fingers are still moving rapidly over his controller. 

“Really now? Come on then Todoroki, let’s show her a good time. I’ve seen how she likes to have fun.” 

His comment on your necklace suddenly makes sense, but you still can’t believe it. “You didn’t…” you whip your head back to look at Dabi. 

”Sorry doll, you made your Nii-san so proud, I just had to show you off.” Dabi smiles shamelessly, lighting himself another cigarette. 

“You’re fucking sick Touya.” Tomura says, however his tone is not one of disgust but rather of admiration. 

“You promised...” Your voice breaks. You’re humiliated beyond belief. 

Both of them laugh at you again, discarding their controllers. “Told you, it’s adorable how stupid she is.” Dabi remarks to his friend, as if you’re not sitting right next to them. 

You try to force your way off the couch but get pulled into Dabi’s lap, one of his arms hooking around both of yours, securing them behind your back. You squirm in his arms but he stills you with a hard slap on your inner thigh. “Be good okay? Don’t embarrass me.” He nuzzles into your neck. 

Shigaraki flips up your dress exposing your white lace panties. He runs his thumb up and down your clothed slit, he fabric slowly becoming even more transparent. One severe jerk to the top of your dress and the straps are torn clean off, revealing the matching bra. “Yo, Touya. I thought she was a good girl.”

Dabi peers over your shoulder to get look. “Who’s all this for babe? You screwing the preacher or something? Or were you hoping I’d do something like this?” He tugs down your bra until your breasts are spilling over the top of it.

“Dabi…” Your choke on your plea when he sinks his teeth into your neck. He bites down so hard you’re positive he’s left a mark.

“Who?” 

“T-Touya-nii.” You whimper. 

“Better.” 

Your destroyed dress is discarded somewhere across the room and you find yourself on your hands and knees with Shigaraki kneeling on the couch in front of you and Dabi behind you. 

“Go easy on her alright Tomura. It’s her first time sucking cock.” He chuckles. 

Your eyes go wide. “Wait...” you mewl but neither pay you any mind.

“And you.” Dabi yanks a fistful of your hair. “No teeth. No puke. Or I’ll let my boy ream your little ass as punishment.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Shigaraki mutters, pulling his semi out of his sweatpants, rubbing his tip against your lips. His is not as scary as your step-brother’s but him staring down at you like this, makes him seem every bit as intimidating. 

Pre-cum dribbles from the swollen tip. You’re not entirely sure you want that in your mouth but you’re also not sure if you have a choice so you open up hesitantly. 

Dabi’s right. It is your first time doing something like this. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do but as it turns out you don’t have to do much, not with the way Shigaraki starts thrusting his quickly hardening member into your mouth.

“Move your tongue slut.” The man in front of you grunts. You do your best despite the heavy intrusion to obey his command, moving from side to side, swirling around the head when he pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you with cruel vermillion eyes, panting as he strokes himself in front of you, spreading your saliva across his shaft before sliding deep into your mouth again.

Behind you, Dabi spreads apart your cheeks, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands. “Remember what I said. Be good and I’ll give you a reward.” He pulls your panties to the side and lets out a whistle at the sight of your dripping slit. “She’s enjoying it. Make her take it deeper.”

You can’t possibly fathom how much deeper he can go when his head is already nudging at your tonsils. You try to swallow the saliva building up in your mouth, making your cheeks hollow out around Shigaraki’s shaft. Seems like that was the right thing to do as his hand flies to the back of your head. “Shit. Shit. So good.”

Dabi’s breath wafts over your pussy. He spreads your lips apart and you feel his hot tongue lick up the juices leaking from your hole. You squeal around Tomura’s dick. You want to pull off but his spindly fingers hold your head in place.

“Told you angel. Good little sisters get rewards.” With that he takes your clit between his lips and suckles on it gently while one of his fingers circles your entrance. Knuckle by knuckle he slides into you, making you keen. You arch your back trying to shift your hips backwards against his hand, silently urging him to find that special spot he showed you last time. He establishes a loose rhythm. Hot wet muscle and cold metal of his piercing circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, before applying suction while his fingers work you open.

The sensation is overwhelming, a form of heavenly torture and your thighs quiver barely able to hold you up while you use your last bit of mental strength to focus on suppressing your gags. That mental strength all but evaporates when the digits inside you graze that rough patch embedded in your walls. It’s so pleasurable your reflex is to run from his fingers. Luckily for Shigaraki, that means you move forward, taking him further into your mouth.

“This where you want me? This your spot, angel?” Dabi taunts you. Shigaraki holds you in place while two of your step-brother’s fingers drill your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. Garbled moans and cries leave your mouth and reverberate around Tomura’s cock, proving to be too much for him ultimately. 

“Shit Stop!” Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls out your mouth so that a string of your drool drips down to your breasts.

“God! Touya-nii!” You sputter out.

“Still with the God shit?” He uses your hair to force you to look at him, neck twisted at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. “God ever make you feel this good?” His fingers thrust into you harder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ngghh-N-no –oh! Oh!” is your incoherent answer.

Dabi forces you back down, shoving you face first into the cushions. “See? Fuck him. Give up on god. Give up on everyone except your big brother cause no one else can make you feel this good.”

You’re so pathetic. The way you’re rocking yourself in unison with the motions of his hands. The way your tongue hangs out of your mouth, impeding any sort of intelligible verbal response. The way you’re mindlessly nodding along to whatever filth is coming out of Dabi’s mouth.

“C’mon Touya. Turn her around. Wanna try out that sweet pussy you’ve been bragging about.” You’re reminded that you aren’t alone. No, your brother’s best friend is right there to witness exactly how pathetic you are.

“Yeah in a minute. I’m still having my fun.” Dabi answers, face pressed against your mons before working you with his mouth once again.  

“Man! Come on!” Tomura whines.

 “I said in a minute.  Not my fault you can’t last.”

It’s amazing how they can bicker like this right now, as if you aren’t on your hands and knees for them, gummy walls still pulsing around his fingers. However, it’s not long before Dabi’s focus is back on you taking you to the brink of orgasm. He slows his fingers, keeping you balanced on that razor thin edge. “Should I make you cum angel?” His voice is dripping with fake concern. “Dunno… what’s in it for me?”

“Anything! Touya-nii please!”

“Anything? You gonna obey me? Do whatever I say like a good little angel? You gonna worship me?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s mocking you.

Probably the latter. And you deserve it too.

Your faith was the thing you deemed more important than anything and anyone else but Dabi, all too easily, convinced you to disregard that. Made you lose all sense and give into lust by showing you mindblowing pleasure, only magnified by your awareness of how deeply sinful this all was. That’s the extent of the power he has over you. The story of Adam and Eve is one you know forwards and backwards and yet you were so easily tempted forbidden fruit and left completely corrupted.  Yeah, he’s definitely mocking you.

“Any- fuck- anything” You’re wiggling your ass, goading Dabi into finishing you off

“Cum in my mouth. Angel, give it to me” That’s the final straw. You explode around his fingers. Despite your walls, clamping around him, he manages to piston into you, hitting that squishy spot with astounding accuracy. His unyielding stimulation makes it feel as though the high won’t end. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it does end though, his fingers drag out against the pull of your swollen pussy. He licks you clean making sure he gets every last drop of your cum, both inside and out, on his tongue. The ball of his piercing catches onto your rim making you yelp. He soothes the sting with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Tastes so sweet angel. So sweet knowing I’m the only one to ever fuck this pretty pussy.” He snickers before adding “So far.”

“Yeah, can I fuck her now?” Tomura was turned on before but seeing the way you fell apart at the hands of your brother? His minimal patience has run out. All he can think of now is being inside you.

 “You heard him babe. Turn around.” He spanks your ass. You try to turn around but thanks to your shaky legs you nearly fall off the couch. Dabi catches you before that happens and he dutifully sets you up on all fours, held up by quivering limbs. You hear heavy breathing from behind you as Shigaraki taps his head against your puffy clit while you twitch in place.

“She wants this so bad. Had no idea your Christian little sister was such a whore.” Shigaraki mutters. He holds you still as he buries himself in you, breathing becoming more erratic with every inch until his hip bones are digging into your soft flesh. He’s so deep. You feel so full. You squeeze shut your eyelids, savouring the stretch. 

Calloused fingers press into your jaw, making your eyes shoot open. “Pretty angel, did you forget about me?” Dabi looms over you, making a show of spitting in his palm and using it to stroke himself. He slips his thumb into your mouth, pad pressing down on the plush pillow of your tongue. “Gonna stuff you nice ‘n full angel.” All you can do is blink up at him with teary eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. 

Shigaraki begins thrusting into you, hips moving at a brutal pace. Dabi isn’t far behind him, replacing his thumb with his cock and you don’t waste time waiting for him to tell you what to do. You close your lips around his shaft, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Unlike his friend, Dabi starts off slow. His piercings drag across your tongue and you taste metal and the salt of his pre-cum. It takes some time for you to get used to taking him in your mouth, the jewellery an added obstacle. 

You feel so full. 

Shigaraki is bottoming out with every thrust, it’s so lewd the way it makes you squelch around him. Dabi’s shaft is rubbing your throat raw and still, you make an effort to take him deeper. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he fucks you mouth.

He looks so ethereal, so euphoric, letting out little moans and whispered expletives. The sounds he makes are divine, so heavily contrasted by everything you know about him. It leaves you star struck. He recognizes the adoration in your eyes and responds in kind with a cocky smirk. He remembers how you looked at him when you first met. Disdain and judgment. Now you look at him like he’s your only salvation. 

It’s sad actually. How you’re so desperate for someone to tell you how to live. And what a sweet, adoring little follower you are. Wasted on religion if you ask him. So soft and pliant, perfect for your big brother to mould and corrupt into his personal fuckangel. 

“Angel, Nii-san’s gonna fill you up. And you’re gonna take it yeah?”

Your whole life you aspired to this holy standard of perfection in the hopes of escaping eternal damnation. But you’re beyond absolution now.

“All of it down your throat.”

It’s okay though.

If heaven doesn’t feel like this, you’re not sure it’s worth all the effort to get there. 

He holds your necklace behind you like a leash, twisting it around his fingers. Between the way he’s basically strangling you and the way your swallowing muscles contract around his cock means that you’re not getting much air into your lungs. Your head is spinning, from being both oxygen deprived and cock drunk.

“Your God doesn’t want you anymore.” The clasp snaps and he dangles the charm in front of your face. The mould of Christ nailed to the cross taunts you.  What was once a symbol of divine love and God’s boundless forgiveness and sacrifice is just a reminder of how far you’ve fallen into depravity, creaming around Shigaraki’s cock as he ruins your cunt while your Nii-san claims your throat “You’re filthy.” Touya sneers at you as he holds himself in your throat, watching you cry and choke around him. “Dirty fuckin angel.” He grunts as he floods your mouth with the taste of his cum. It’s not exactly pleasant but you try to swallow it all down. There’s just so much. That means he’s pleased with you right? You want him to be pleased. Good girls get rewards he said 

“It’s okay.” He muses as he pulls out of your mouth. “You have me. I’m better than God and I Iove you when you’re nasty like this.” He empathizes his point by dragging his wet, softening cock across your face. “Nii-sans perfect little angel.”

It’s so pitiful how the small praise makes your heart bloom and makes your hole flutter.

You’re coughing up Touya’s cum while your body shakes with Shigaraki’s thrusts.

“What about me hm? I’m fucking you. What? You don’t like it?” Tomura’s going harder now, determined to get his fair share of your attention.

“Shig-Shigaraki – shit. Slow down!”

You’re ignored by both of them once again. If anything, Shigaraki starts fucking you harder

.”Yo’ dustpot. You better pull out. That hole still belongs to me.”

The warning falls on deaf ears, Tomura is too far gone. “So warm, she’s squeezin’ me. Fuck. Fuck.’’ No thoughts, just your tight cunt.

“Gonna do whatever I tell you?” Dabi’s talking to you now, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

You nod still staring at him with absolute devotion.

“Touya-nii’s will be done? Huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

When you don’t respond he grabs you by your cheeks forming an open mouthed pout. “Say it.”

“Touya-nii’shhh will be done.” The words come out distorted but he’s satisfied

“Oh yeah? Then be good angel slut and come on his cock for me.”  

You’re pushed over the edge, coming for the second time. Your walls clamp down around him as you sob out both their names in the form of incoherent babbling. It hits you as hard as the first one. You’re so caught up in your high you barely register the vice grip on your hips, the frantic humping against your ass. “Tight. Fuckin tight! Gotta breed! Breed this fucking hole.”

His hot, sticky cum floods your walls with, your throbbing cunt milking him for everything he’s got. He ruts against you a couple more times before removing himself completely.

You hear the familiar click of a camera. He’s sorry (not really) but the sight of your fucked out hole leaking globs of your cream and his cum was too hot for Shigaraki to not add to his spankbank. 

“Thanks for that little sis.” Dabi is resting on the couch, head thrown back smoking a cigarette.

“Yeah thanks sweetness.”  Both men, tuck themselves back into their pants

Everything feels so surreal. You cautiously move you hand between your thighs. Feeling your sore abused cunt in an attempt to grasp the reality of what happened.

Wait a minute. 

It’s too much, that too sticky to be just your arousal down there. The more you squeeze, contracting your pelvic floor, the more it seems to seep out of you. 

“You… You came inside.” You murmur as your eyes well up with tears. Whatever daze you were in seems to be broken by this revelation. Instead it’s replaced by fear of what the consequences of this might be. 

Dabi smacks his friend upside the head. “You fuckin’ dumbass. I told you not to.”

Judging by his grin, Shigaraki doesn’t register the insult. He’s too busy basking in the afterglow. “Aw, don’t cry babe. You were gripping me so tight, I thought you wanted it. ‘S’okay, your Nii-san will get you a plan B”

“Fuck no. That’s your jizz inside her.” He scowls, eyes focused on the cum that’s leaking out of your spent pussy.

“C’mon Dabi don’t be like that. I’m broke right now.” Shigaraki pleads.

Touya huffs and rolls his eyes.  “You can get yourself a morning after pill right? Tomura will pay you back.”

“Yeah babe. I promise.” He gives you a dopey smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying. Yeah, you know better now. You just nod as you pull up your panties, cringing at the sticky, wet sensation against your cunt.

 “Me and Tomura are heading out. Make sure you clean all this up before anyone gets home.”

“B-but Touya-nii-“ you snivel.

“No buts. Clean up or you won’t be sitting comfy for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yes Touya-nii.” You reply defeated.

“And do it properly. Fuyumi has 3 brothers, she knows what a cumstain looks like and I don’t wanna have to do any explaining to her.”

You only nod, trying (and failing) to blink away tears.

Dabi rewards you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Best little sister in the world.” And he leaves you with that.

[hops-hunny]

What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.6k

Request: N/A

Summary: When two beautiful people fall in love, everything can go right. Or, the one where Blaise gets the girl of his dreams.

Warnings: None?? Mentions of past self hate, positive use of the word fat.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. Enjoy!

Fat. It was a word (Y/n) had thrown at her from a young age but had grown to become neutral with as she got older. See, the (y/h/h) was fortunate enough to grow up in a household with her dear aunt Marlene who brought her up on the principle that ‘fat and ugly were not synonymous’ which she found herself quite fortunate of. You see, Marlene herself was an extravagant woman. She never stepped out of the house unless she was runway ready, long acrylic nails, hair curled in the prettiest of waves, and a face of makeup that could put anyone to shame. Marlene found her niece to be reminiscent of herself when she was younger. But, she also knew no matter the great example she showed her and the encouragement she’d give her, the world around her would affect the way she viewed herself until she reached a certain age.

However luckily for (Y/n), that age was when she hit the ripe age of 14. She was sick of it. Sick of feeling like a prisoner of her own body. Sick of hiding from mirrors, sick of wearing clothes that fit her like potato sacks just to hide the figure that she was naturally born with. Why should she have to feel bad because the world wasn’t ready to accept her for who she was? Why should she have to hide away due to a bit of extra weight and fat? So, after a long night of crying she decided from that day forward she would do her absolute best to at least accept her body for what it was. She didn’t wanna skip meals anymore just to make everyone around her comfortable. She didn’t want to avoid clothes that made her figure less of a figure. She wanted to live and be free in the body she was currently in.

If she could go back to where she was when she was 14, she’d tell herself she had exceeded that limitation. She was far beyond just accepting herself for who she was, she loved who she was. (Y/n) found herself falling in love with a new thing about herself every time she found herself blessed with the fortune of time to look in a mirror. Whether it was the way the rolls of her back reminded her of the ocean or the bumps and lumps around her hip area that were reminiscent of clouds, she loved every bit of herself. Even though it took her time to get there, she didn't regret it one bit.

Her confidence and demeanor attracted a lot of positive attention wherever she went. Her friends adored her and so did many other people around the castle! There was always a few wronguns here and there but that goes without saying. Even if you change your outlook on life, in a society where fat is a sin there will always be your self proclaimed saints. The more popular opinion shared throughout the castle though was ‘if she could find love in herself, why shouldn’t I be able to as well?’. Although it’s hard for one girl to change the world, she came quite close to it, always offering a shoulder to anyone in need and a helpful word of advice to anyone on the path of self acceptance and love.

There was one person who noticed her much more than that. Some would say it was a crush but no, it went quite deeper than that. He found himself being absolutely enamored by her. Her confidence, her positivity, her ever radiant beauty. All those things he found to be addicting, entrancing. Never had he come across a woman of any sorts who was so sure of herself, so proud to be in the skin she was born in. (Y/n) knew who she was and honestly? It was fucking hot. Blaise Zabini wasn’t one to make wild claims which is why when he thought about how he felt, he was very sure of the feeling. He absolutely adored the goddess that was (Y/n) (L/n). So why was it so hard to say it to her?

The way she made him feel had him in a whirlwind of emotions. A lot of the times, he was infuriated. Not by the way she made him feel, but the way she made him act. Blaise was always a hit with women from all houses around hogwarts. Why wouldn’t he be? When you’re a tall, dark, and handsome man with oodles of charismatic charm and yes, a fat load of cash, who wouldn’t wanna be yours? He could have any woman he wanted wrapped around his finger before he even opened his mouth. But around her, around her? His mouth would close as soon as it opened. He’d feel a rush of heat move to his face and his ears would start ringing. What was this feeling? This feeling that made him act so idiotic. This feeling that had him awake late at night, wondering what it would be like if he only said-

“Hi.” his head snapped up at the sound of a familiar warm voice. The same voice that made his heart race wildly, the same voice that made him act like one of those stupid fucking Hufflepuffs. All nerves and scurrying to find something, anything to say. There she was right in front of him, looking uncharacteristically shy. She had her arms behind her back one hand gripping at her other wrist as she looked up at him through thick lashes. “Have I wronged you in any way?”

“Hm?” he hummed out, still dazed as he looked down at her with a soft look present on his face. He cleared his throat slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt that was suddenly too tight. Too constricting, too-

“Have I wronged you? I always see you staring at me quite a bit.” she repeated, gaining her confidence back some. God was he always this bloody gorgeous? Well, to her he was. She had her eye on him ever since she’d ran into him on the train back in first year. “I know I’m quite pretty, but I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate that. No?” she questioned, taking a step closer to him. She felt her hands grow sweaty at the smell of his aftershave, a sharp smell in comparison to her own strawberry body mist.

Was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t he tell? He always could tell. Many upon many times he found himself rejecting women before they could even get the chance to confess how they felt. So why now, why with her could he not? Was this- was this nerves? “My girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that. I-I mean I don’t have a girlfriend!” he stumbled out, cursing under his breath slightly. He felt himself grow quite warm as he heard her giggle. He looked up at the sound once more wishing he hadn’t. She looked radiant in the glow of the late evening sun. Her round cheeks prominent as her face turned up in a smile before she quirked a brow at him.

“Ah I see then. You don’t have a girlfriend but you were staring?” she questioned, feeling a bit guilty about how she was enjoying the usually calm and collected boy lose his composure. His face fell straight before processing what she said. (Y/n) could see a whirlwind of emotions happen behind his eyes in such a short period of time. ‘Isn’t it funny that only a few years prior this would have been me? I can’t wait to tell Rose-Marie about this later.’

“I-I.. you know what? Yeah I do stare at you quite a bit. More often than not, I find myself staring at you.” he closed the distance between them, her soft frame pressing against his tone one. He lifted two of his fingers up to her chin, lifting her head softly. “How could I not? You’re an absolute work of art. Only the most worthy of men should be able to gaze at such a rare beauty and I find myself to be very worthy.” he whispered softly, his dark umber eyes staring into the (h/c) haired girl’s (e/c) ones.

It */was crazy how with such few words, he could make her feel so breathless, so woozy. Was she awake right now? The moment she had been waiting for since first year was currently right in front of her. The years spent dreaming, pining from a distance all gone in a few words. She smiled up at him, placing a soft hand on the man’s toned chest. Even through his clothes she could feel that he had a nice build to him. “I suppose you’re worthy. I mean look at us, we’re both beautiful. Imagine the gallery of art we’d be together.” she said, confident in her words as she bat her eyelashes. (Y/n) would be damned if she was the only one left breathless and flustered after this exchange.

“Well, why imagine dear? I’ll be taking you to Hogsmeade this weekend.” He said, turning around as he began to walk off. She was stunned. Was this the infamous charm she had heard him having? As much as (Y/n) had heard about how charming and suave Blaise was, she had never heard of him asking anyone out for a date. Knowing this gave her her own boost of confidence.

“You will be? What makes you so sure I’ll be there?” Blaise froze, turning his head back at the girl’s teasing words. He smirked. She really was something else.

“Oh I know. I wasn’t the only one staring all this time, I saw you too.” he winked laughing some before turning around walking off. (Y/n) felt herself smiling some as she shook her head before her eyes widened.

“Wait, what am I gonna wear?!”

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

There was exactly 30 minutes until Blaise was meant to arrive and (Y/n) was nowhere near ready yet. See, she had planned on being ready early, even going as far as to get up at the time she usually did for class. However, after an impromptu dance session in her underwear her luck had run out. She wasn’t completely unprepared though, her hair had been done the night before and her makeup not taking much time, the main cause of concern was her outfit. 

The problem wasn’t a lack of clothes, it was quite the opposite. She had so many clothes that she had absolutely no idea of what to wear! She frustratedly slammed her fist on the pile of clothes in front of her letting out a few choice words. In a moment of defeat, she looked up at her empty wardrobe- wait a second. (Y/n) quickly scrambled to her wardrobe, slipping and sliding on the sea of clothes that lined the way before quickly yanking out the clothes covered hanger. On the hanger was a two piece set.

 The top was a wisteria purple crop top with puffy short sleeves, the skirt the same exact shade with a ruffle hem. “This is perfect! Where did this come from?” she said, checking herself out in the mirror. The outfit clung to her plush body, every curve visible and apparent. The girl smiled, smoothing her hand over the outline of her stomach that was apparent through her skirt. Years ago she would’ve been bothered by the entire concept of the outfit but now the outline of her figure made her smile like an old friend. She quickly put on a pair of white chunky sneakers, accessorizing the outfit with a few necklaces and rings as well just in time to hear a knock on the door. She did another once over in the mirror before quickly running to the door pulling it open to reveal Blaise standing there. She felt her face grow warm at his appearance.

He wore a form fitting maroon sweatshirt that he had rolled up to his elbows, a pair of jeans that weren’t skinny but fit to his figure in the most flattering of ways, and a pair of expensive shoes from some brand she couldn’t even begin to try and pronounce. In his hands were a bouquet of flowers composed of forget me nots, baby’s breath, and daisies. Blaise was in awe. He had seen her outside of her uniform a plethora of times but knowing that she had dressed up so nicely just to go on a date with him made his heart soar. “Wow, you look breathtaking. Look at you!” he hyped her up, grabbing her hand. He held their entwined fingers above their heads, signaling for her to spin around. “Lovely, absolutely divine. I can’t believe I’m going on a date with a deity.” he said, smile growing more as (Y/n) grew shyer.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Zabini. You look great, maroon is definitely your color.” she gushed, closing the door to her room. She looked down at their still entwined fingers, squeezing his large calloused hand with her small chubby one before bringing her gaze up to his face. Unsurprisingly, he was already looking at her.

“Thank you, dove. Let’s get going shall we? I’ve got a ton I wanna do with you and such a short amount of time. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

“We shall.”

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

The first place they arrived at was a building she had seen many times during her visits to Hogsmeade but had never been in. It was an old brick building with a paintbrush on an old rusty sign above it.

“An art store?” she questioned, looking up at him confused but not against his choice. They both walked in, a sound of a bell dinging as they did so. She looked around in awe at the abundance of supplies. The store was sort of stuffy and crowded but that was a part of its charm. Blaise scratched at the back of his neck nervously as he watched her roam around.

“Yeah I don’t know if I mentioned it before but I enjoy doing art in my freetime. I thought I’d take you to one of my favorite places first.” He said, walking up behind her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “A-and well, everytime I imagined going on a date with you, I always pictured the two of us showing each other our favorite hidden gems. We can leave if you wa-”

“That won’t be necessary. This is really cool and I’ve always wanted to learn more about art! I’m more of a reader and writer myself.” she said, grabbing his hand. Blaise let out a huge breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in in the first place before dragging her off in the direction of his favorite brand of oil paints. The two walked hand in hand, exploring his favorite parts of the store. When he’d see something he used himself or was familiar with, he’d explain it to her, rambling off about it excitedly.

Blaise wasn’t normally the type of guy to speak many words but being around (Y/n) brought out that side of him. It wasn’t that his friends were bad per say, they just weren’t very fond of listening to things that didn’t pertain to them which he was more than fine with. However, it was nice having an outlet to share his interest for once. He loved that she would ask questions about things and even let him talk about his own work. Most girls he talked to never really cared to listen to what he had to say, often spending more time kissing him breathless than listening to the words that flew from his lips. But (Y/n) was very attentive, listening to everything he had to say, eyes full of the same excitement he held.

“Alright, I think I’ve bought everything I’ve needed from here. Your pick, where do you wanna go?” he questioned, grabbing the girl’s hand again as they walked out of the small art store. He offered the old man behind a small smile before turning his attention back to his date. (Y/n) thought about it, humming as she tried to figure out before her eyes lit up.

“I have the perfect place! Come on Blaise, you’re gonna love it.” she exclaimed before taking off down the street, dragging him along with her. He smiled fondly at her letting her lead the way.

“This something I could get used to.” he muttered, trying his best to keep up with her pace.

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

About 10 minutes later, they arrived in front of what looked to be a bookstore. Blaise looked around, swiping his fingers across the dusty books. “Welcome to the place where I spend most of my time when coming to Hogsmeade. It may look like just a bookstore but you’ll see why it's not in just a minute.” she said. Blaise watched as the girl got on her hands and knees and began to crawl making a ‘spspsps’ noise. He was confused, rightfully so but he didn’t question her actions. All of a sudden, a floof of white fur came crawling over to the girl purring as she scratched behind its ears.

 “It’s a cat bookstore! How cool is that? There’s a bunch of these little guys just running around here.” she said, standing up with the kitten in her hands. Blaise’s heart beat wildly at the sight. She looked too cute with the kitten in her hand, holding it gently against her soft chest. He was brought from his thoughts as he felt something brush against his leg. He had to stop himself from losing it at the sight of the little calico cat brushing against his leg.

“Hi there little guy.” he cooed softly, reaching a hand down to pet the cat’s head. The cat jumped up to meet his hand before it could land, nuzzling its fuzzy little head against the boy's head as he purred loudly.

“That’s not the only thing. They also carry some muggle literature too! Don’t tell anyone though, it’s a secret.” she said, placing the kitten down as she began to browse the books on the old wooden shelves. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” he promised, eyes never leaving her curvy figure. She looked right at home in the book store, reading the titles like they were old friends. “I’m a bit of a muggle literature fan myself. Ever heard of Shakespear?” he asked. (Y/n) looked at him with wide eyes before nodding. She would’ve never expected that from the man, knowing how against all things muggle related purebloods slytherins were. He walked over to her tilting her head up as he looked into her eyes. “ What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” he whispered, dragging his thumb along her bottom lip. Her breath hitched slightly as she began to scowl as he walked off laughing some.

“Jerk! That was not funny.” she said, punching him in the arm as she glared up at him.

“Wasn’t supposed to be, love. You just look too cute when you’re nervous!”

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

It had been a few weeks since their date and (Y/n) was starting to grow nervous. She and Blaise hadn’t been on another one and it confused her deeply. She had an amazing time on their date, in fact it had been the best one she had ever been on! Did he not feel the same? Maybe he had commitment issues? It couldn’t have been her. No, she had done everything right. She spoke well mannered, bantered back and forth with him, and she looked bloody amazing.

She sighed, opening the door to her dorm. It had been a long week. She threw off her robes before turning to her dresser before gasping. On top of the dresser laid a huge painting surrounded in a beautiful antique golden frame. She hesitantly walked over to it, brushing her fingers along it before looking at the note attached. Opening the wax sealed envelope she began reading the note out loud.

“My dearest rose, how are you? I apologize deeply for my lack of presence. Not being near you for so long deeply hurt me so but it was not in vain. You see, after spending such a lovely time with you that day, I felt extremely inspired. Your beauty deserves to be captured in something far more grand than a simple photograph so I painted you this. I hope to see you soon. To my greatest muse, Blaise Zabini.” she smiled as she read the words, goosebumps going up her arms. Blaise was indeed a talented artist. In photo realistic detail was a large painting of her smiling with the white kitten from before in her hands. She was lost for words. Never had someone done something so amazing for her. “Do I really look this beautiful? Is this how he sees me?” she asked no one in particular.

“It is and you are. You’re absolutely gorgeous.” she jumped at the sound of the deep voice. Turning her head she saw the man she had been thinking of for weeks. Slowly she walked over to him, smiling before wrapping her arms around him hugging him tightly. Blaise froze for a bit, not used to receiving such gentle forms of affection. He pulled back before placing a soft peck on her lips.

“Let me take you out again tomorrow, yeah?” he asked her in a soft tone. She simply nodded before standing on her tiptoes initiating another lovely kiss. Blaise wrapped his arms around her soft waist, bringing her closer to him.

“I really am one lucky bloke.”

[handwrittenhello]

where the road then takes me

Prompt: Law of Surprise Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Renfri, Geralt/Renfri, Geralt/Jaskier, Jaskier & Renfri Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: When Jaskier runs into a pack of wild dogs while searching for his lost hen, he's lucky that Geralt is nearby to save him. But he has nothing to repay the witcher with except the Law of Surprise, and who do they find upon returning to the farm, but Jaskier's sister, Renfri, back early from marauding?

For @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo!

(ao3 link in reblog)

--

Jaskier, eighteen, had grand dreams.

They were little more than dreams, unfortunately, because seeing as how he and Renfri had grown up fending for themselves, stuck in a tiny village on the border of Creyden, he didn’t have much opportunity to go to school or learn to play the lute or anything, really, besides tending to the farm while Renfri got… freelance work elsewhere. That was all he cared to know about it—she would leave, and return home every couple of weeks with a decent bag of coin and blood-spattered clothes, which Jaskier would bitch about cleaning. She made enough for them to live, though not comfortably—Renfri had kept him fairly sheltered, but he knew that they were one of the poorer households in town.

Which was why Jaskier only dreamed of traveling the Continent, singing songs and weaving grand tales for the commonfolk. Instead, he was stuck here chasing down their old hen again, after the coop had blown down in the storm for the fourth time. Henrietta was a sneaky fucker, already gone by the time he woke up in the morning. He cursed but pulled on his boots and stumbled out into the cold morning air to look for her.

He cursed all the way to the edge of the forest, where she’d apparently disappeared into, judging by the tracks and the few scattered feathers he found. “Damned hen. Ought to just eat you and be done with it,” he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around him before heading into the forest.

He followed her trail as the sun slowly rose, stopping when he heard barking in the distance. Fuck, he hoped that was the hunters’ dogs—he hadn’t thought to bring a knife to defend himself with. Whatever it was, he trudged onwards, because they couldn’t afford to lose a hen. Renfri would kill him if—when—she found out.

And then he heard it—familiar squawking, accompanied by those same barks, louder. He crept closer and saw exactly what he’d feared—a pack of wild dogs circled Henrietta, one of them darting in every so often to snap at her slashing claws. She was fending them off pretty handily, actually—Jaskier knew how vicious she could be firsthand.

But the dogs would no doubt attack in force soon, and then she’d have no chance. Without thinking, Jaskier picked up a rock and threw it at the nearest one, hitting it square in the nose. It recoiled and turned its attention away from Henrietta, which was exactly what he wanted.

Unfortunately, it turned its attention towards him, which was exactly what he didn’t want. “Oh, fuck,” he spat, and turned tail as the pack gave chase.

He dashed over tree roots and fallen logs, blind stupid terror coursing through his veins. He had no plan beyond don’t get caught—and he could only run for so long before tiring. He threw a glance backward and saw that they were gaining on him—and fast.

Not looking where was going, he was taken completely by surprise when he slammed into something hard, bouncing off it and landing with an oof on the mossy ground.

Dazed and still half-blind with fear, he didn’t even notice that he’d slammed into a person until they moved, stepping over him and taking on the dogs with an easy confidence, sword swinging with preternatural force.

Two swords, armor, incredible speed and fighting skills? As the man finished dispatching the last of the pack and turned around to reveal mutated cat eyes set in a heavily scarred face, Jaskier realized who the man was. He sucked in a sharp breath.

The witcher sheathed his sword, holding out a hand as if to calm Jaskier. “It’s alright,” he rumbled, voice full of gravel. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Jaskier picked his jaw up from where it had dropped. “I know that,” he answered, getting to his feet and half-heartedly brushing the dirt off himself. “You’re a witcher.”

“I am. Usually fight more dangerous things than wild dogs, though. Also don’t usually see unaccompanied kids running around being chased by them.”

“I had to get their attention somehow. Henrietta was—wait, Henrietta!” Jaskier, remembered, abruptly spinning on his heel and dashing back to where the pack had cornered her.

“Wait!” the witcher called from behind him, but Jaskier paid him no heed.

He was gratified to see that while he’d been running for his life, Henrietta had seen fit to begin making herself a nest right in the same spot. “Oh, aren’t we cozy?” he grumbled, creeping closer in an attempt to grab her. He was almost upon her when the witcher ruined it, crashing through the underbrush behind him and sending her clucking away just as Jaskier pounced.

Jaskier sighed and turned to face the witcher, who at least had the good grace to look a little guilty. The guilt soon disappeared, though, when Jaskier rounded on him and began to lecture. “Now look what you’ve done. It’ll take me ages to catch her,” he complained, watching as the witcher’s eyes grew incredulous.

“You risked your life for that scrawny thing?” the witcher asked, amused disbelief coloring his tone.

“That scrawny thing is probably the most valuable thing we own, so yes,” Jaskier snapped. He couldn’t stand it when out-of-towners looked at him like that, like he was a stupid farm boy who knew little more than dirt and chickens. Which, to be fair, he didn’t, but it wasn’t as if he wanted it that way.

The witcher’s face cleared to something more akin to understanding—thank the gods it wasn’t pity. “Then I suppose I owe it to you to help catch her,” he said, and in the blink of an eye he’d snatched Henrietta up. Jaskier accepted her into his arms somewhat stunned.

“Thank you,” he eventually managed to stammer. The witcher said nothing in return, and they stood there for a long, awkward moment, before Jaskier realized he was probably waiting for something. “Oh! I don’t—I don’t have anything to pay you with…” he trailed off, recalling all the old adages, that witchers never worked for free. Fuck. Renfri wouldn’t be home for days if not weeks still, and the only coin he had he needed to save for the market day after tomorrow.

The witcher began to speak—what it was he was going to say, Jaskier didn’t know, but he interrupted as an idea struck him. “But I can offer you the Law of Surprise!” he suggested, recalling the ballads of children promised to witchmen. “We’ve a bitch due for pups soon—perhaps we’ll return home and you’ll find yourself with a companion to warm the long nights on the road!”

“Hmm,” the witcher replied, but it wasn’t a no, so he figured that it probably meant he wasn’t about to be forced into the witcher’s debt. Humming, he led the way back to the farmstead, the witcher a silent, hulking protector at his back.

Once they arrived, Jaskier was quick to secure Henrietta in the barn, where normally there would be pigs, but now, after sickness had taken their only sow, there was only dust and hay and the occasional mouse. He left Henrietta to her mouse hunting and led the witcher to the cottage, throwing open the door, excited to see what surprise he might find.

“Jaskier, why the fuck have you brought a witcher home?” asked Renfri, perched on the table and cleaning underneath her fingernails with one of her many knives.

Jaskier paled. “Renfri! You’re—you’re not meant to be home yet,” he choked out.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” she drawled, eyebrows knitting together. Jaskier, helpless, threw a glance back at the witcher, who was wearing a thunderous expression. Shit.

“I—not in this case, no,” Jaskier said tersely. “Fuck.”

“Some welcome,” she said faux-calmly, hopping down off the table. Jaskier recognized the tenseness in her form that spoke of a predator preparing to pounce. Sure enough, she lunged a moment later, her knife held a half-inch away from the witcher’s throat. Jaskier yelped. “Did he hurt you, Julek?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the witcher’s face.

“No, nothing of the sort, now put that down,” Jaskier hissed, tugging ineffectually at her arm. “He saved me, in fact, and…”

“And?” Renfri asked lowly.

“…and I may have promised him the Law of Surprise in return,” Jaskier finished all in a rush, wincing. “I swear, Ren, if I’d known…”

“That’s the thing about surprises,” the witcher interjected. “But you needn’t worry. I have no plans to claim your—sister?” Jaskier nodded. “As I said before, I need no payment.”

Renfri lowered her knife, and Jaskier breathed a bit easier for it. Renfri was a formidable fighter, but Jaskier doubted even her strength against a witcher. If a fight had broken out, he’d have had to—well, not help, because he was rather useless in a fight, but it was the principle of the matter.

“I suppose I could do worse for myself,” Renfri mused, looking Geralt over critically.

“Wait you’re—Renfri, he said he wouldn’t claim you, you don’t have to.”

“And what if I want to?” Renfri answered. “He seems a decent sort. And not too hard on the eyes, either.”

The witcher, looking uncomfortable, stood there and said nothing.

Jaskier threw his hands up. “You’re insane. And you!” he said, turning to the witcher. “Are you agreeing to this?”

“The life of a witcher isn’t well suited to… companionship,” the witcher replied, face twisted. “Walking the Path is difficult.”

“And if I promise that I can handle myself?” Renfri asked, twirling her knife in one of the many tricks she was proud of. “I’m no stranger to the road. It’s Jaskier you’d have to watch out for.”

“I resent that,” Jaskier said mildly, mostly out of principle. But the prospect was too exciting to dwell on it for long—was Renfri truly proposing that they set out with a witcher? “Ren, do you mean it?”

“If your witcher is fine with it, then I don’t see why not,” she replied. “What do you say, witcher?”

“Geralt,” the witcher corrected her. “If we’re to travel together, you ought to at least know my name.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated. It rolled off the tongue wonderfully. “Oh, this is so exciting! I’m going to write so many songs, just wait,” he gushed. “The Witcher and the Shrike—I can hear it now.”

Renfri pulled him out of his thoughts with a cuff to the shoulder. “Ow,” he said mildly. “Wait—you are planning on sharing, right?” he interjected. “Because, I mean, look at him.”

“Am I a toy to be shared among siblings?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that a no, you don’t want to sleep with both of us? Because I’ll respect that, I will, but also, not to objectify you or whatever, but dear gods please, I think my poor heart might break if I didn’t get to fuck you at least once.”

“Jaskier! Leave my Husband Surprise alone,” Renfri said, shoving him away. “Go get packed. Essentials only!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Jaskier placated, raising his hands in surrender. “Don’t get up to anything while I’m gone, you lovebirds.”

As he left, Geralt turned to Renfri. “Is he always like this?”

“Yeah, he’s chronically stupid. Gets it from our father.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Don’t know, but it’s too late now. You’re stuck with us, witcher,” Renfri replied, looping an arm around Geralt’s.

Geralt made a show of sighing, but in truth, he wasn’t annoyed as all that. At least it would make life more interesting.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Green Gold

Summary: 

"The one Levi had picked out was of a minimalist design. The color in particular though was what stood out. At first glance, it looked like a typical gold or yellow. As Levi took a closer look from different angles under a light source, he couldn’t help but notice the way it glowed a bright green and was quick to fall back to a simple yellow. It did it too consistently though that Levi was sure it was not just a trick of the light."

Levi scrambles for a last minute Christmas present and Hange copes with being eight months pregnant.

Same verse as Rough Day, Sugar Rush and Household Planning.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: I know it isn't Christmas yet but I decided to drop some Levihan Christmas Fluff a little early. I wish you all a happy holiday!

When a new jewelry shop opened in a space adjacent to his favorite tea shop in Paradis, Levi was quick to notice it.

It never did catch his interest though. The hard life he had lived for roughly 40 years had him completely nonchalant at most significant developments. The opening of some ordinary jewelry shop was not at all a significant development that called any attention from the battle hardened soldier, even if it did attract a crowd for the first two months.

That was until Mr. Spasky the tea shop owner brought it up over a round of tea tasting. Levi had seen him exchange a few words with the jewelry shop owner before he would welcome Levi into his shop.  He had guessed that they had become fast friends through the excitement of their tones and the detail they looked too comfortable giving each other. The friendship between those two was something he had brushed away too easily though. Levi was too preoccupied by a cranky pregnant Hange and his own household projects to consider much of anything else.

One day, Mr. Spasky brought up one unfamiliar question which got Levi particularly confused.

“So what kind of engagement ring did you buy your woman?"

"Engagement ring? Woman?" Levi frowned in confusion. “I have a woman?”

“It’s the season of giving so maybe it would be a good time…” The shopkeeper winked.

Levi’s thoughts were elsewhere. Partner. That was the word. By the expression and the tone on Mr. Spasky’s face, Levi could at least tell, they had the traditional woman in mind. Of course they would, they’ve never met Hange.

Hange was definitely pregnant and had been glaringly pregnant for the past few months already. Was she being the traditional woman about it? Definitely not.

Levi only had to be reminded of why he even felt the need to correct Mr. Spasky when he got home from his quick trip to the tea shop that day to find Hange as usual, coping with her six month leave in a very unconventional manner.

It had been two months since he had emailed that letter to the queen and requested for a leave for Hange. And with how Hange looked, hunched up on a microscope with a broken rock next to the table, Levi could tell that she was still far from the acceptance stage.

In fact, she had been constantly scrambling for something to do since she had been put in a leave of absence in the first place. She was probably penultimate month of pregnancy according to the doctor and she was still fighting for control of her life.

The first week into the leave she would take long walks, long enough for Levi to feel the need to circle the perimeter of the block where their apartment was, only to end up pacing by the entrance of the house not wanting to relax until she got home. Even when she did arrive home, Levi found himself only getting more stressed by her little souvenirs.

She was like a cat. The big difference lay in the fact that while cats brought home dead rats and game, Hange would bring home different types of leaves, roots and other plant parts and leave them on the table next to the microscope she had set up on her desk.

“Shouldn’t you be doing other things?” Levi had asked as he watched Hange set up the microscope in their room in the wee hours of morning, when he was about to sleep.

“What other things? I’m on leave right?” Hange had too much venom on the word leave that Levi had to look away and remind himself that it was Historia after all who made the final say. So it’s her fault not mine. He would reassure himself, conveniently forgetting the fact that he did draft the letter. He didn’t reply to Hange’s implicit accusation, instead deciding to hide under the covers of his bed and stay there unmoving, even when it did take him an extra three hours to fall asleep.

By the second week, Levi could barely get a wink at night, too busy wondering what risk lay in a pregnant person studying such strange substances. Levi started to follow her surreptitiously as she went about the town, only to see that she had been getting them from a nearby public garden.

It wasn’t strange at all to see Hange digging through plants, roots and flowers. She had expressed her passion for botany on top of titans too many times to count.

But she’s pregnant. And that’s unsanitary as fuck. Hange being unsanitary as fuck wasn’t anything new though. Levi had known her long enough to accept it.

The circumstances then were different. For a while, Levi considered telling her off. He found himself in a state of panic a second later though completely forgetting that intention, as he realized that it wasn’t just unsanitary. A few inches away, a dog decided to pee on that same soil which Hange was digging through. Somehow that view was what helped him put three and two together to get five. Hange was desperately studying whatever green and brown she could find. And it was mixing with dog shit, cat shit and whatever else made their home in that little bush.  

Levi did not need to consult a doctor to know that it was potentially dangerous for a pregnant woman. He rushed back home, went to Hange’s desk and disposed of all the samples into a bag and threw it out into the dumpster before she could get home.

For the first time, Levi was grateful that Hange did go on such long walks. That gave Levi at least enough time to create a backstory for the sudden cleanliness of her desk and her missing samples. In a state of panic though and faced with the obstacle of limited time, Levi had come up with another idea, an idiotic one, completely unbelievable that it had little chance of working.

Levi was desperate though. Although he did have the reflexes on the battlefield to take down an enemy bent on killing him, scrambling to find a cover up story for a very pregnant and very unpredictable Hange Zoe was another story.

At that rate though, Hange must have been as crazy, desperate and idiotic as him a result of the pregnancy hormones and the stress of being in almost total isolation in a smaller part of town with little to no responsilities. Hange came home to see rocks lined up, in the stead of her previous samples, and continued on her mini research as if nothing had changed.  

They were less alarming test subjects at least. Levi had made sure to wash them thoroughly beforehand. They did not stink as much as the plants. And they had at least caught Hange’s interest enough that she did not ask too much about the missing plant samples, having brushed off the white lie of a bird stealing them.

Overtime, Levi eventually realized she never did believe the lie. She was too sharp for that. In fact, the reason she had accepted such a blatant lie in the first place was because the rocks on the table had turned out to be a more interesting subject. The hammers and nails became an ubiquitous part of her work desk. The meticulous side of Levi was also starting to begrudgingly notice the scratches on the table from the scrape of rock on wood.

From a coping mechanism of studying plants and greens, Hange had shifted to studying rocks. And as Levi started to realize over dinner, rocks were an incredibly boring topic, so boring that he almost missed hearing about photosynthesis and the difference of a xylem and a phloem.

Apparently, there were so many different types of rocks and the ones he had randomly picked out in the garden could have been igneous, hinting to the possibility of volcanic or seismic activity around the area. How she had gotten that from a bunch of random rocks, Levi did not know. She started talking about extracting metals from ores. And she had started to name the rocks too apparently: Gabbro, limestone, basalt. Hearing those names echo in his head, only made Levi miss the plants.

He started to particularly miss the plants a little more when the streets started to line with them, and the main square near their place was fitted with a large tree in the center, decorated with lights and bright balls. A surprising addition to his everyday view on the way to the tea shop.

Christmas. He never really did get used to it. A tradition brought from Marley apparently. With Hange's new obsession with rocks, the large tree in the middle of the square seemed almost nostalgic.

"So it looks like the Christmas tree can amaze even the most serious men," A voice said behind him.

The Christmas Tree was placed in the middle of the square where the tea shop was also conveniently located. And from his good view of the Christmas Tree in the middle, Levi was also a good few feet away from the shop. He only had to look behind him to see Mr. Spassky, having a smoke at the entrance.

That thoughtless comment was enough to make Levi look away from the tree faster than he had wanted to. He entered the tea shop with a Mr. Spassky trailing behind and the tea had helped him cope. By that point, he had almost completely forgotten the Christmas Tree in the middle of the square.

Like always, Mr. Spasky would place a cup of black tea and make conversation. “So what did you get her?”

It was Hange who had pointed out years ago that his birthday was on the same day as Christmas day. For Levi, it was a surprise since he had built a habit through the years of never giving days enough importance to analyze them beyond what was available at face value. At that moment, when the shopkeeper noted that Christmas Eve was that night, Levi could only spit out the tea. It was his birthday. It was almost Christmas. And he had spent too much time and energy keeping Hange sane to have even noticed.

Mr. Spassky was a great salesman and a great marketer. Levi at that moment was at the mercy of his complex emotions constantly flitting from the guilt of disposing of Hange’s samples to his overall exhausted state to the state of panic which would stop by for a visit every few hours, when he would ask the question of  what Hange could be doing back home at that exact moment.

If Levi had been any sharper that day, he probably would have figured it out as quickly as he had figured out the food campaigns of King Fritz years ago that Christmas was merely a seasonal marketing campaign to get people to buy more and that new tradition on giving engagement rings was a piece of all year long marketing tactic to keep the jewelry business alive.

At his most vulnerable though, Levi had become prey to those propaganda and the nagging feelings of guilt, only spread through him, getting stronger with every point they made. He and Hange had been living together for more than a year, Hell she was pregnant with their first child already.

And I never bothered to get her an engagement ring or a Christmas present?   For the first time since it opened, Levi was finally starting to see the value and novelty in that quaint jewelry shop next to the tea shop.

As Mr. Spassky guided him through the doors of the jewelry shop, Levi was quick to notice the different rings on display. What caught Levi’s eye in particular was the display case on the side of the room that sold shiny colored metals, similar to a cavern under a church Levi had visited so many years ago. On the walls were pictures and detailed drawings of couples exchanging rings, only highlighting the tradition Levi had noticed among other couples he had witnessed.

Is there really commitment if there’s no ring?

Is it really love if you don’t buy them anything for Christmas?

Every good romance starts with a ring.

Blatant propaganda. Yet strong and relevant enough for Levi to put enough thought into picking out a ring.

The one Levi had picked out was of a minimalist design. The color in particular though was what stood out. At first glance, it looked like a typical gold or yellow. As Levi took a closer look from different angles under a light source, he couldn’t help but notice the way it glowed a bright green and was quick to fall back to a simple yellow. It did it too consistently though that Levi was sure it was not just a trick of the light.

Green Gold. That was what it was called according to the shopkeeper as he held it up to the late much better than what Levi had done. From the different angles, Levi could see the gleam of gold and the tinge of green.

Levi did not need the confirmation of the color to decide to buy it. Maybe it was the characteristic cloak they would wear from so many years ago which made it such an obvious choice. Maybe it was the homesickness that came and went from living and fighting in an almost all green landscape almost their whole lives then being forced to move somewhere within the city that had pushed him to that. Maybe it was a combination of all that, only supplemented by the nostalgia that came with missing Hange’s obsession with trees.

It probably was the fact that the color green had been so ubiquitous the past two decades of his life. Seeing it as a faint yet beautiful glow had awakened emotions of sentimentality for a life he had lived long before.  

As Levi took in the scenery of the urban jungle which they had been living in for the past few years and the stark contrast to the green they had been fighting in for many more years, maybe he did start to understand her obsession with green. In fact, he did realize with his own impulse purchase, he was a tad fixated with the color green too.

He gripped his small gift bag a little tighter as he arrived at the entrance of the apartment they shared.

“Hange, Merry Christmas.” Levi was completely comfortable with Hange and he was completely aware of that. Yet, for that moment he needed to rehearse it, having occupied himself with whether to say Merry Christmas before or after handing her the present.

Hange returned the greeting with her own questioning look, which could have maybe even been judgmental. For some reason, that had made Levi blush. He looked away as soon as he gave it and went straight to the kitchen to cram the Christmas Eve dinner he had forgotten about.

He allowed himself a last look, only to see a smile creep up Hange’s lips as she opened the gift box. Levi found himself smiling in return, even if he knew she wouldn’t notice it with his back to her. It had been weeks since he had seen such excitement in those eyes as she smiled, that same excitement and enthusiasm he had seen as she recounted to him every development in Paradis. As he was cutting the tomatoes for their meal that night, he couldn’t help but think that that smile gave him the same sense of nostalgia as the color green.

Maybe she felt it too?

“It looks like I was right… I knew they’d put titanium here. It shouldn’t be this hard if there wasn’t any.”

Levi placed the newly cooked pasta on their dining table. Hange was on the living room table, with a lamp at full brightness, hunched over like she was working on something. Just like always, Hange was scratching the table below with a new stone

A shiny new stone…. “Is that the gift I bought you?” Levi asked.

“Yeah…”

There must have been a hint of accusation or anger in Levi’s voice. The face Hange had was reminiscent  to what one would see when a dog is caught chewing on something they aren’t supposed to. With the realization that what they had done is wrong, most dogs would usually chew faster. Hange had done the human equivalent, or more specifically, the pregnant Hange equivalent of breaking into it faster.

“It’s a ring Hange. You’re supposed to be wearing it!”

“But is it really important that I wear it? Isn’t it more important that we find out the secrets of how they make this?” It was an argument which could have convinced any other scientist. Levi was far from what could have been a good target audience.  

“Give me that!” Levi found himself wrestling or at least trying to wrestle someone while avoiding the baby bump which was taking up more than 50% of her waistline at that moment.

“It’s your gift to me Levi! To me! Let me use it like I want to!”

Hange made a good point. That good point and the prospect of wrestling someone who was eight months pregnant with his first child was what got Levi surrendering and just sitting on the sofa within minutes just listening to one of her lectures.

Hange once again scratched the sharp side of the already broken ring on the table then bit it, inadvertently causing Levi more pain for multiple reasons. “See, gold wouldn’t make a scratch like this. This is why it isn’t necessarily pure gold despite what’s written here,” Hange explained as she slid the flier closer to him. “ I’m guessing they used titanium here, similar to the metal they used for our blades and the ODM gear. Maybe even copper or iron?

“So it was a fake,” Levi said bitterly. It was the mention of such cheap metals making its way into such a beautiful object with such a unique shine to it. He felt like an idiot for actually believing it was something pure.”

“This is actually a good thing because if they did make something out of pure gold, it would scratch pretty fast. In fact, the other metals make it so that it lasts longer.”

“That was supposed to be a Christmas Gift,” Levi said, completely ignoring Hange’s explanation.

“It was a great Christmas gift. I’ve never seen this shade of gold in my life.” Hange said.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be an engagement gift too.” Levi managed to add before the blood rushed through his face, leaving him unable to speak for a few seconds.

“Engagement?”

“Mr. Spassky said that most people give a ring to someone when they want to spend the rest of their lives with them.” Levi did not know how he had managed to get that out.

“And you’re falling for that propaganda now? Levi, we’ve been living together for the past two years. We’ve done things. I’m pregnant with our first kid. We don’t need a piece of metal to prove anything.”

At that moment, Levi remembered his own mother who had raised him. She’s done things. She was pregnant with someone’s kid. Yet he had never met his father.

Then what do we have to prove it? Levi didn’t need to ask her. He felt it in how quickly the exasperation of a minute ago gradually morphed into a playful feeling that tickled his chest and the sudden urge to grab her from behind and feel her tummy. He felt it a second later as she put her hands on his and gripped his hands a little tighter. Just the way he had wanted it.

Hange lay back down on the sofa next to him and gave him one of the softest smiles. She started to yawn and lay her head on his. She had fallen asleep next to him multiple times before. At that moment, he appreciated it a little more. As battle hardened soldiers, they would have only ever fallen asleep next to someone they completely trusted. Then and there, pregnant and tired, Hange was at her most vulnerable.

Then what do we have to prove it? The fact that they knew each other inside and out. The commitment to make it work. Their trust in the other to do the same.

At that moment, they were both at their most vulnerable.

“Now that I think about it... I haven’t been able to buy you a birthday christmas present,” Hange said, her voice only getting softer as she buried her face into his shoulder. “Maybe if you let me go shopping downtown I would.”

“You know what would be the best Christmas birthday gift? You not accidentally killing our kid.”

[princess-of-the-worlds]

So I watched Enola Holmes on Sunday, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how now with Burn in the movie, we’ve seen most of the cast in Victorian-type costumes. 

We have Burn in this movie. 

We have Barrowman in Fragments. (Ignore the sideburns.)

We have Eve Myles in The Unquiet Dead.

And we have Gareth in Warehouse 13. (And also apparently the Sherlock Holmes movie, but I’ve heard things about it, so we’ll ignore it.)

(Forgive, they’re the best gifs I can find right now, but it’s not really the point of this.)

So that just leaves Naoko. If she’s been in a movie or TV show that had her in a Victorian costume, feel free to let me know; I just personally haven’t seen or heard anything.

Anyways, my point is...Victorian Torchwood AU where the entire team is human? (Kudos to @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe​. I worked out most of this talking to her.)

Hear me out? (Keep in mind that I am neither British, well-versed in British history, or was alive in the 1800s. I’ve kept certain headcanons - like Tosh’s backstory - as vague yet historically possible as I can remember from school.)

This is set some time in the mid- to late nineteenth century/Victorian London.

Jack is like a Scottish lord or noble whose family moved to the US when he was young. After his dad and Gray died - and his mother succumbed to hysteria and became incapable of caring for him, he is left on his own as a teen and turns to crime. He becomes a con artist and thief and earns enough to board a ship to London when he is 19. In London, he meets fellow thief - and grifter - John Hart, and they become partners and lovers before falling out a few years later. Perhaps, Jack meets some mysterious leather-coated gentleman and his beautiful blond companion who, after an adventure, disappears but not before prompting Jack to try living on the legal side. He uses his criminal past and knowledge to consult for Scotland Yard.

Gwen is actually Gwyneth, and after the events of The Unquiet Dead, she blacked out instead of dying. The trauma fucked with most of her memories. She still remembers her name and adopts a variant of it - Gwen Cooper - before fleeing Cardiff for London where she works as a maid in many wealthy households. Her ability allows her to make premonitions that are always correct, and she is able to become a finder of lost items and people for which she is paid a small fee. She chalks this ability up to having keen sense rather than anything supernatural or Rift-related.

Tosh is the genius daughter of a wealthy Japanese businessman frequently visiting London. She spends time growing up sheltered between Japan and the British countryside but eventually grows a rebellious streak and runs away to London. Except she’s kidnapped by a band of men who originally want to sell her into prostitution until they realize how intelligent Tosh really is. They keep her captive for several months, forcing her to build them weapons.

Owen is born in the London slums but is ambitious and sharp enough to want to work his way out. He falls for a good woman, Katie, and eventually becomes a doctor, marrying Katie. They live happily for a few years until Katie dies of a seemingly incurable disease - actually an alien parasite. In his grief, Owen takes to drinking, gambling, and fighting and becomes a back alley doctor, growing a certain repute among the London criminals. One day, after one of their men is stabbed fatally in a fight, the same men who kidnapped Tosh kidnap Owen to operate on their man. Owen meets Tosh, and they bond over a few days. Meeting Owen gives Tosh the courage to finally facilitate the escape she had ben planning, and Owen and Tosh escape to freedom and hide in a flat near where Owen grew up, eventually falling in love.

Ianto belongs to a poor Welsh family and falls in love with Lisa, a local shopkeeper’s adopted ward, but Ianto’s dad disapproves of their interracial relationship and...(well, we know Ianto’s dad’s repute from canon.) To be together, Ianto and Lisa flee to London, but the only place they can find shelter and work is for a crime syndicate run by an imposing woman named Yvonne. Except this syndicate, which is actually a front for Torchwood, which was formed either the same time or a bit earlier depending on when you want to set this AU, and the entirety of the organization burns in a fire of alien-origin. (Only the original base in Scotland and a small outpost in Cardiff remain of Torchwood). Lisa and Ianto barely survive, and Lisa eventually succumbs to her injuries several months later despite Ianto’s best efforts. Ianto, after spending several long months in the London slums, managing to convince a tailor to take him on as an apprentice.

Then one day, a new serial killer begins operating in London. He kills neatly, somehow draining all the bodies of their blood with only a single puncture mark, and his victims are all women, prostitutes and widows and single mothers and the like. Women that no one will notice, that no one will miss.

Except he’s wrong. They are noticed, and they are missed.

Jack, ever so observant, takes notice and starts tracking down this killer. He may not entirely be the Jack Harkness we know and love, but the Doctor and Rose, no matter how brief their acquaintance remained, have inspired him to a good man. He can’t let a monster like this killer stay lurking in the city.

One of the victims is a prostitute who lived in the flat across from Owen and Tosh and never failed to be kind to them, especially Tosh, despite her being Japanese. Tosh and Owen are determined to bring her to justice.

Another of the victims was a runaway from a noble family, and her mother, knowing of Gwen’s repute, begs Gwen to find her.

And finally, poor Ianto happens to be leaving his tailor’s shop too late one night when he spots a struggle in an alley. Ianto, wanting to be wise and live, keeps his head down and walks away, but the next morning, he finds that he had accidentally ignored the killer with his newest victim. The guilt eating away at him, Ianto becomes determined to stop the killer as much as he can.

So all five of them are wandering through the city of London, trying to track down this serial killer. You can imagine they might bump into each other a few times, like Donna and Ten in Partners in Crime. Maybe Ianto grows intrigued of this strange, charming American he keeps meeting and can’t stop thinking about. Tosh and Owen are a bit wary of this quiet Welshwoman who speaks to them as if they’re old friends.

Eventually, Jack, Gwen, Tosh, Owen, and Ianto all corner the killer in a warehouse near the London docks one night except the killer turns out to not be human. The killer is a Plasmavore who has been feeding on all his victim. After a struggle ensues, the Plasmavore is subdued and eventually killed, and the Scotland Yard awards Jack, Ianto, and Owen the reward money for finding the killer.

But this doesn’t sit well with Jack who proposes that the five of them partner to form their own detective team, because they all have unique skills which they bring to the table. And they all realize, putting their heads together, that there exists a form of life that is not entirely human, a form of life beyond this planet. Jack has his Doctor, Gwen has her mysterious past and her ability - which still hasn’t occurred to them to be of similar origins as the creature they encountered yet, and Ianto has Torchwood. 

All five realize that they are better off and more efficient together and that they can be investigators of anything seemingly inhuman and other phantasmagoria. 

Thus, they accidentally become alien crime fighters two centuries too early.

And eventually, they solve enough cases to meet Madam Vastra, Jenny, and Strax and become their allies.

And somehow, they’re always ahead of the other branches of Torchwood to occurrences in London to the point where, on Archie’s suggestion, they actually become the new Torchwood London.

Of course, they have encounters with the Doctor whenever he pops around, and Jack finally gets some answers about his mysterious leather-coated gentleman.

And thus, despite being in a whole different century, and a whole different city, Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Tosh, and Owen still manage to become Torchwood. 

So yeah, there you have it. An entire AU (or at least its origin story) plotted out completely. Now here’s the thing. This idea won’t let me go, but I also can’t do historical AUs. Like, it’s just too much research and plotting involved for me to be satisfying with writing this. That’s why it’s up for grabs. If this sparks your interest and you wanna write, feel free to do so. Just please ask and get my blessing beforehand. (Joking, but please do shoot me a line if you end up writing this.)

Thoughts? 

[falling-feuilles]

Chapter 7

CW/TW: General Grief

The drawing room was quiet, far too quiet to be celebrating the birth of a child.

 Little Nikolay slept, swaddled in his blanket. Marya and Bourienne fussed quietly over him, remarking over his tiny hands, his little nose; anything and everything they could.

"Il est tres précieux! He will grow into a 'andsome young man, I am sure of it."

 While the two of them chattered on, Andrei and Y/N were much less involved.

 Andrei, while clearly enamored with his son, loved him in a more silent, personal way. He was never one to flaunt his affections. Whether that was due to his father, or simply his own nature, one couldn't be sure. But do not think that he resented his son. If anything, Lise had created such a sense in Andrei that he resolved to devote himself to raising his son, rather than giving his life as cannon fodder for some foolish war.

Andrei moved forward to take the child; his child, holding the small babe gently in his arms.

Y/N, on the other hand, could barely look at the child. She hadn't held him, in fact, she'd refused when asked.

She knew it wasn't his fault; he was a child, these things happened, Lise had already been at risk and she'd known exactly what it was she had been risking.

He looked so much like her. Too much for Y/N to bear. The curve of his petite nose, the cleft of his tiny chin, even his eyes. She had seen them open for a mere moment, it couldn't have been longer than a second, and yet, she couldn't bear it. The same soft, silky blue as his mother. As Andrei quietly soothed the now fussy child, Y/N's mind began to drift back to the week prior...

~

The very world seemed to mourn with the small procession; rain fell in torrents, turning the once-brittle earth into a thick, miserable muck. Armed with umbrellas, the attendees surrounded the twin caskets. The priest began to speak, prattling on about the tragedy that had befallen the family. First Lise in childbirth, then her father upon hearing the news. His heart finally gave out. This left Princess Y/N Zhudova as the sole heir to a considerable fortune.

Y/N stood nearest the caskets, arm hooked into Andrei's. Despite the Priest's speech, people continued to talk, muttering to each other. Y/N heard it all.

These things happen... poor thing was too young... it's a shame... I can't believe he left everything to his bastard...

With those words, the funeral, instead of honoring the dead, became about her. She was inheriting the entirety of the Zhudov estate. After observing the expected mourning period, she would have find a husband of similar, if not higher, rank.

 Already, she heard fathers and mothers telling their sons of the prospects such an influential woman would give them. All this power, this influence, were her's to wield. And wield them she would.

~

Y/N had left as soon as she could, desperate to get away from that tainted place. After saying her goodbyes, making them as brief as she possibly could, she'd all but fled the Bolkonsky Estate.

With the funeral and Nikolay's baptism out of the way, Y/N returned to the Zhudov household, not as a daughter, but as a matriarch.

Upon arriving to the house, she was greeted by the housekeeper, a woman she'd known her entire life.

"Madame, welcome back."

 "Thank you Yelena, I hope you've assembled the staff inside?" Y/N pulled her gloves off, adjusting her inky black traveling coat. Yelena nodded, thin lips pressed into a sad smile.

"Yes, Madame, they're in the foyer."

"Perfect, thank you." “Before you go inside, I have some concerns.”

“Oh?” Y/N stopped, allowing Yelena to lead her away from the driver. Her tight, lined face screwed up in an expression of concern and paranoia.

“Yes Madame… I fear that some of the staff may have complaints about you being the head of the household now. I’ve heard talk that some—I don’t know who—” she interjected before Y/N could ask, “Are being paid by young gentlemen’s families who wish for you to marry their sons. To my understanding, they each intend to ruin your reputation as a means to force you into a marriage with their sons to secure your fortune.”

“I see…” Y/N was silent for a minute; one could almost hear the gears in her head, turning as seamlessly as the gears of her father’s precious pocket watch.

 “... Madame, what-?”

“Yelena,” she turned back towards the matronly woman, eyes sharpened like the edge of an officer’s saber.

“Y-yes Madame?”

“I have a plan, but I will need your help in carrying it out, can I trust you?” Yelena, caught off guard, nodded vigorously. Y/N had known her since she was a little girl, ever since she’d moved to live with her father. “Good.”

 Y/N strode inside, scanning the small crowd of household staff, made up of about twenty individuals, each waiting.

"Good day, everyone. As I'm sure you're aware, I will be taking over for my father in heading the affairs of the household. As you know, there is a lot of work to be done. However," Y/N continued, "As unorthodox as it may be, I would like you all to take the rest of the week off. You'll return on Monday. If you have any questions, feel free to give them to Yelena, who can inform me if she sees fit."

There was silence for a few moments, then quiet whispers between the staff. Then, they began to disperse, talking amongst themselves. As they left, a few sent strange, questioning looks towards the new matriarch.

Y/N beckoned Yelena to follow her, leading her into her father's... her study. Y/N shut and locked the door behind her.

"I'm going to ask you to do one small thing for me."

"Yes, Madame, anything you need." Y/N paused for a second, before continuing.

"When the staff inevitably ask you why I've done this, I want you to give each of them a different reason. I need to see who is loyal to our household; to me. I don't care what it is as long as it can be easily disproved; give me a list of names with the lies so I can keep track. In a week's time, we shall know who I can trust. Once you've given them each their stories, you are free to go as well."

"I... yes, ma- I mean, yes Lady Y/N... I will do as you say." 

Yelena left, muttering under her breath. Once the door shut behind the retreating woman, Y/N sank in her chair, shaking violently. The tears began to prick at her eyes, exacerbated by the sharp, unrelenting pounding of her head.

How am I to do this? My god, I’ve barely taken the mantle and already people conspire against me… 

 She had hardly allowed herself the time to mourn at the Bolkonsky estate. With everyone bustling around, there hadn’t been the time for it. Not just Lise, but father as well. Her only remaining family had been destroyed in a matter of days. She still had the child, of course. Lise’s child. Her nephew; the one she could hardly bear to look at. Y/N nearly broke down there and then, but she managed to contain herself. Just until they leave, you can make it til then became her mantra, whispered ever increasingly under her breath. Before she knew it, the long case clock struck twelve, shocking her out of her obsessive reverie.

Looking up, she noticed a small piece of parchment, lined with Yelena's  meticulous script. She must've placed it there while Y/N was less than mentally present.

Skimming through the list, she noted a few familiar names; Alexandra, the young girl whose mother had been suffering from consumption. She was lucky enough to survive, but the disease had ravaged her body beyond repair. Anna, the maid whose sister had been ill and on her last weeks of her life, had passed some months prior while Y/N had been away. She recognized most of the names, able to link them with faces she'd seen around the house.

Standing from her chair, she walked out into the hallway, moving to her room. It was only when she felt warm rivulets of water travel down her neck did she become aware of the tears streaming down her face. Wiping them from her face, trying desperately to regain her vision, Y/N entered her room, all but ripping the heavy dress and stays from her skin. Now, dressed in just her chemise and stockings, her knees gave out. She fell. Hard. Knees smacking against the wooden floor. She was certain she'd bruised them, but she didn't care. 

 A wretched, choked scream escaped her lips, releasing all the grief she'd hidden for the past week. By the time she'd ran out of breath, her vision was spotty, her throat raw and painfully, desperately dry. It was on her fifth attempt to stand that she finally made it back on her feet, leaning heavily against the back of a nearby chair. Her breath came in great, gasping heaves, but she couldn't get enough. It was becoming harder and harder to see, her eyes wouldn't stay open. 

 She heard rapid footsteps, but she was sure all the staff had left. They were getting louder, more frantic with each second. Soon after, she heard her name. The door burst open, revealing the familiar figure of a young man, panting with exertion. Y/N, doubled over and leaning on the chair, couldn't make out his face.

 "Y/N? Y/N, what-" he rushed forward, catching her before she could fold to the floor again. "Are you hurt?"

No response.

"N/N please..." Finally, she looked up.

"P... Pierre..."

"Yes, that's good..." Pierre looked around; what should he do? She was clearly distressed and, at the rate she was breathing, she'd pass out, "Listen, N/N, please, you have to breathe, please..."

Her hand wound into the fabric of his coat, fingers trembling violently. "I.. I-I can't, I can't-" she gulped, gasping for breath.

"Alright, that's alright, you just need to try, please just-" Y/N's knees buckled again, slumping her against Pierre's chest. 

 He lowered her to the ground, leaning her back against the edge of the bed-frame. He placed his hands on her face, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"N/N breathe, you're alright, everything is going to be fine..."

Pierre wrapped his arms around her, feeling her hands grasp tightly at his back. Violent, heaving sobs shook her entire body. 

~

Neither of them were sure how long they'd sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, but, when they finally parted, it felt far too short. Y/N's face was splotched with red, tear-stained; she looked exhausted. Judging by the dark circles beneath her eyes, she hadn't slept in days.

"I... thank you, Pierre..."

"Y-yes, of course. I... I'm so sorry, N/N, about Lise, about your father... I'm so, so sorry..."

She smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"As am I..."

[extraneousdominomask]

Family.

This was, technically, Elyna’s second ever Día de Muertos.

That first autumn had bled into winter in a blur. Things in the house had been hectic, and tense. Understandably tense. Justifiably tense. Even without the exceptional circumstances, the ghost of a murderer hanging over this lovely home, it was easy for traditions to slide a little. It had taken a lot of careful effort to “adopt” her.

Oops. She was doing it again. The thing her therapist had pointed out where she didn’t classify the things that happened to her as real, because she didn’t see herself as real, but everything she felt was more than real so it only made sense to drop that habit and accept herself.

It had taken a lot of effort to adopt her. Yes.

That was what had happened. About fourteen months ago, this family, this wry and well-liked pillar of the local community, had revealed that they actually had a second daughter. Older and taller and much more purple than the pre-existing daughter. And they included her in everything. Last night, she had shared a wonderful Hallowe’en with them.

And now it was November 1st. From one holiday right into another.

Sly wasn’t a particularly spiritual man, despite - because of? - all the actual, literal undead creatures he had battled in his youth. He loved a good excuse to celebrate, though. As well as the big, basically secular holidays, he was happy to join his wife in her own traditions. The Montoyas and the Foxes were spread across pretty much the entire Spanish-speaking world and beyond, and at this point Carmelita essentially just picked her favourites. Factoring in all the globe-trotting they had both done, separately and together, the household’s annual calendar was… interestingly blended.

So, an archetypal Hallowe’en was always followed by a traditional Día de Muertos. It wasn’t a total shift in tone - it was important to remember the deceased with love and good humour, something this household could produce in industrial quantities - but there was a certain reverence to proceedings that was noticeably absent on the preceding night of pumpkins and candy and horror films.

Carmelita took this fairly seriously. That was why Elyna was dreading it.

Sly had stepped out, taking B with him. An annual raid for clearance candy. A shared activity Elyna preferred them to keep for themselves. This was her best shot. She had no idea how she was going to get through this conversation, even removing the possibility of her father bursting in with a poorly-timed joke.

‘Her father’. She reflected on those words as she stalked towards the living room. Sly Cooper was the source of half her genetics. The necessary ingredient that made her a test-tube baby instead of an unfeasible clone. And despite a… tense first meeting, she hadn’t had much difficulty accepting the fact he was her father. It was exactly that. A fact. His overtures of friendliness, everything he did to make her feel welcome, came with a solid, scientific basis.

His wife, though… 

Elyna let herself into the living room. It already looked so different from the makeshift movie theatre it had been last night. This was a small town, with an almost suspiciously low crime rate. There wasn’t that much work even for the Chief of Police, and that leftover energy meant quick and efficient decorating and undecorating and redecorating. 

The only survivors were the skeletons, grinning and painted, specific to Día de Muertos but certainly not out of place last night. But the pumpkins and cobwebs and big orange candles were gone. The back wall had been cleared, making space for several beautiful ofrendas. 

Elyna’s eye lingered on one corner, distinct from what was otherwise a sea of severe foxes. A photograph was the focal point, per tradition. It depicted two raccoons. One had black hair and sharp, intelligent eyes - still noticeably green in the otherwise faded colour palette. She was giving the camera a quiet smirk. The other was only identifiable as a raccoon by the hint of his striped tail sneaking up through the bottom of the frame. His arm was lovingly around the woman’s shoulders, but his face was totally obscured. 

Every year, Carmelita asked if Sly seriously didn’t have a better photo of his father, and every year, Sly would make a fresh joke about the man’s lifelong animosity with cameras. Just another tradition. Another ritual, part of the smooth running of the holiday.

“Your grandparents.”

Carmelita was adjusting a small figurine of an acoustic guitar with pinpoint precision, getting it in exactly the right spot relative to a smiling ancestor. But she had heard Elyna come in, and knew where those hazel eyes were focused.

“Conner Cooper, and his wife Beatrice,” she continued. “B is named after both of her grandmothers, actually. It’s made easier by the fact Sly’s mother preferred to be called Trixie.”

Elyna took another look at the bulk of the ofrendas, remembering her sister’s full name. “But, um, Zoe’s not up here, right?”

Carmelita smiled to herself. “Not yet she isn’t. Or my father. Too stubborn. At this rate, they might both outlast you.”

It was a harmless joke. One Elyna had to stop herself from hearing as a threat.

Carmelita straightened up, turning thoughtful. “We’re overdue for a visit,” she said. “I thought we had introduced you, but apparently not.”

These sorts of forgetful exchanges were becoming rarer. Elyna fiddled with a stand of her black hair - she was growing it out, and still getting used to it, and didn’t need distractions right now. Didn’t need to think about how she never met her father’s wife’s parents. Her step-mother’s parents. Her step-grandparents.

This was her chance. Her best shot. She should just follow her training and seize the moment. Without fear.

“I have a question,” she mumbled. “About this, I mean.”

“Oh?” 

“I, uh,” said Elyna, “have no idea whether I should put up a picture of my mom.”

The living room went silent.

Silence was one of the reactions Elyna had been expecting, and it was honestly one of the better ones. But that didn’t make it comfortable. “It’s just,” she attempted, “it’s kinda unclear to me if it’s all your family, or just the ones you…”

“The belief,” said Carmelita, crisply, “is that by setting up an ofrenda you’re inviting that person’s spirit into your home.”

“Right.”

“So you do it for people you want in your home.”

“Right,” said Elyna again, quieter.

A few moments passed. And then Carmelita sighed. Her posture, which had become rigid, uncoiled a little. “There’s no one answer,” she said, more diplomatically. “The spirit of the holiday is remembering the togetherness of family. But we both know that’s how things should be, not how they always are. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“I’m sorry.” Elyna was back to fiddling with her hair. “I know it’s a stupid question.”

“Not at all. I’ve always held there’s no such thing as a stupid question.” She put on an expression of exaggerated tiredness. “Or at least I used to say that, before moving in with your father…”

Elyna chuckled at that, and Carmelita smiled. That was always Sly’s strategy for smoothing a bumpy discussion - knowing when to include a soft joke. Carmelita had gotten better at it herself over the years.

“Has this been worrying you for long?”

“It’s kind of been in my head on and off for the past month. Sorry for only bringing it up now. And sorry for…” Elyna sighed. “I shouldn’t even be asking you about this. I know how much Mo- …how much Neyla hurt you both. Obviously you don’t want a picture of her in your living room.”

“The question,” said Carmelita softly, “is do you?”

Said question hung in the air for a few moments, unanswered. Carmelita intently watched the teenage girl in front of her. She looked so much like Neyla. But standing there, her paws awkwardly clasped, her gaze nervously on the floor, she couldn’t be more different.

“Do you know the origins of this holiday?”

Elyna managed to tear her eyes off the carpet, watching Carmelita carefully.

“It’s pre-Columbian,” she explained. “The practice of honouring the dead is rooted in the ancient cultures of Mexico. It was an important part of life for the people who lived there long before the Europeans came.  The modern version we celebrate today is a mixture of those original practices with a Catholic influence. That’s why it’s held on this date, for instance - to sync up with the church calendar. I think it’s important to remember it’s a blend.”

Elyna’s ear flicked. “A ‘blend’? That’s a pretty nice way of putting it. I’m no historian, but Hernán Cortés didn’t just step off his boat and ask everyone to play nice, did he?”

“No,” said Carmelita quietly.

“It’s not a blend. A blend would be if the Europeans and the natives set out to make something nice together. This is some kind of Frankenstein monster made when one group was just minding their own business and someone else came up behind them and-”

It was Elyna’s turn to fall silent.

“Oh,” she said.

Her face scrunched up a little, and Carmelita sighed. “That’s… not what I meant. Or at least not exactly.”

“You only kind of meant to call me a Frankenstein, got it,” muttered Elyna, who was, fantastical circumstances or not, still a teenage girl.

“I didn’t call you anything.” Carmelita’s voice was steady. Not sharp, but steely, leaving no room for argument. She hadn’t thought much about motherhood earlier in her life, but she had always been able to keep a firm grip on an unpleasant discussion, and that was one of the fundamental requirements. “Try not to assume the worst of what I’m saying.”

Elyna stayed quiet.

“But… yes. I suppose it might be an applicable metaphor. You’ve got two sides to you, too. You’re Neyla’s, and you’re Sly’s. You’re the result of some cruel revenge scheme, and you’re a person with your own desires. Who you are now is a product of both.”

“That’s… yeah.” Elyna rubbed her arm sheepishly. “That’s pretty much what’s been eating at me. Neyla was an objectively bad person. And like, I never even met her, so it’s not like I’m attached. Or at least I shouldn’t be attached…”

Not for the first time, Carmelita privately despaired at the uncertainty in the girl’s tone. That therapist had a lot to work through.

“…but the fact is, I wouldn’t exist without her. At all. And that’s… It’s just weird.” She paused. “Yeah.”

“And now all those confusing feelings have a physical problem. Whether or not to put up her picture.”

“Yeah…” 

“I’m not being flippant when I say I don’t know what to tell you,” said Carmelita. “Not everyone in my family tree was a saint. No-one can claim that. But as far as I know, we never had a Neyla.”

“As far as you know,” echoed Elyna. “That sounds like the answer, then. Monsters get written out of the family history.”

“They don’t get invited to parties, at least,” she replied. “Which, like I said, is the spirit. It’s keeping your family close, because you never want to forget their warmth.”

Elyna resisted the urge to scoff. Purely for Carmelita’s benefit - it wasn’t directed at her. ‘Remembering warmth’. There wasn’t any warmth to remember when it came to Neyla. To the brisk, clipped instructions Elyna had been left in lieu of a childhood.

She felt the decision click into place.

“Let’s not do it.”

Carmelita, to her credit, kept her reaction diplomatic. “You’ve decided?”

“Yeah. If the point is remembering the good times, well… A photograph of Neyla is just a waste of space.”

In other circumstances, Carmelita would have shown more enthusiasm for an insult that harsh, that confidently delivered. But she knew to tread relatively lightly, so she just offered Elyna a smile. “Well said. I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah. Thanks a lot.” Elyna nervously returned it. “I was hoping you’d know what to do. And, I knew that you, y’know… I mean, I can ask Dad for advice on a lot of things, and it’s usually pretty good, but-”

“Happy Skeleton Day~!”

The door swung open, revealing a grinning Sly. They hadn’t heard him come through the front door, but he had no qualms about announcing his presence.

“How’s it going?” His eyes, the same hazel as Elyna’s, fell on the ofrendas. “Oh, wow. These look better and better every year, ‘Lita.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much differently…” said Carmelita, but her face betrayed how much she appreciated the comment.

He planted a kiss on her cheek, then planted himself beside her, husbandly. 

“Where’s B?”

“Oh, she ran straight to her room,” he said. “Pretty sure she’s stashing her candy in a secure location. Or locations. Who knows how many caches she might have…”

Carmelita sighed. “Is that raccoon behaviour, or fox behaviour…?”

“Oh, both. Absolutely both. It’s a marvel she eats anything at dinner.”

He turned his warm smile more towards Elyna.

“So, what are you two talking about?”

“Just, uh, holiday stuff,” said Elyna. “I had a weird question. Carmelita is a good person to ask.”

“She is! Honestly, I just follow her lead.” He glanced over to her. “Speaking of, there’s still a few things to figure out about the big dinner. Bentley and Penelope are easy to cook for, but I like to give Murray new options where I can. Any thoughts?”

Seizing this chance for a tactful retreat, Elyna began to drift towards the door. “I might, uh, go check on B.”

“Good idea,” said Carmelita. “Again, I’m glad I could answer your question. You can always talk to me, Elyna.” That earned a smile, once much less nervous.

“Thanks, Mom.”

There was a pause.

Sly was pretty sure that blushes weren’t supposed to show up through fur, and yet, the lilac of Elyna’s face seemed to briefly veer into a much more reddish purple. Her hazel eyes were wide and unblinking. “mrrghg,” she said.

“Come again?” said Sly, unruffled.

“I said ‘okay bye’,” said Elyna and she was gone an instant later.

The door clicked shut with surprising gentleness. Sly chuckled. “Well…”

He stopped, finally noticing his wife had a similar facial expression.

“‘Lita? Everything alright?”

She blinked, twice, and suddenly she was back. It was still hard to slow Carmelita Fox down. “Sorry. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

Sly’s smile was wry, but his voice was soft. “I was.”

Carmelita leaned against him, and they stood there for a moment, half-embracing in their living room. Logistical questions about dinner plans and decorations fell away, briefly, as they savoured the feeling in the air. What had just happened, and the unique atmosphere of the day, and, of course, each other.

The silence was broken by a soft murmur.

“She’s a good kid.”

“Really?” said Sly innocently. “She doesn’t get it from me!”

Carmelita scoffed. 

“Okay, maybe she does,” he admitted. “I have many wonderful qualities to pass on, as is evident in both our daughters…”

He cupped his wife’s cheek. Lost himself, for a moment, in those deep brown eyes.

“But you’re a better influence than I could ever be.”

Her reply was a kiss. 

The moment passed, slowly, but they didn’t hurry to get back to decorating. It was still early, and they had several hours before the annual dinner they held for Murray and Bentley and Penelope - familial relations just as important as the gallery of photographs in front of them. As the girls engaged in hushed discussion of cheap chocolate upstairs.

“Oh,” said Carmelita. “While she and I were talking, I realized that Elyna’s never met my parents. We should fix that.”

“We should,” said Sly. “Sometime in winter, maybe? Whenever suits your folks. Might take us a little while to get over there, but we could throw in a few detours on the way, really make use of the journey…”

She smiled. “And when did I say we’d be going to them? They’d be perfectly happy to come here. You’re just-”

“-taking every chance I see to go on a trip, yes,” he smirked back. “C’mon, ‘Lita, you can hardly be that surprised. Old habits, etcetera…”

“Are you really so eager to escape?”

She said it as a joke, but he didn’t bounce back with another quip. He stood there, in his living room. His daughters upstairs. His parents watching over him from behind the glass of their picture frame. His brothers and sister-in-law, still thriving, quietly, the same way he was, on their way in a few hours. And, above all else, the love of his life in his arms.

His smile was as warm as his voice.

“Nah. We’ve got something pretty good here.”

[iwriteficsandmore]

Typetober Day 1: Refresh the Page

Came back to my roots for this one. I’m going to try and keep up with it the best I can. Some will be just random pieces. Some may or may not involve OCs or other fandoms. We’ll see how it goes. 

For now, enjoy~

_______

Maybe it was time for a change. Perhaps some much needed ‘refresh of the page’, she pondered. 

After all, she'd been doing this job for, what, the better part of a decade since she turned 20? Yeah, that sounded about right. Gosh, how the years flew. A dainty giggle escaped her at her own absent-mindedness as she tidied her recent mess. 

It was incredible to think that this was the career she chose to pursue after years of doubt. Her early teens had been plagued with it and the thought of continuing the family business that had been going on for generations now had been the issue of several evening dinners back then. Always incessant arguments of why she would ever think of breaking such legacies and how she could be such a disgrace to their family name. Ardent words of support as always. There came a point that she truly thought that their anguish and disappointment was something she coveted more than anything if only to spite them. That had frankly not changed. 

There didn't exist a cell in her body that didn't abhor them and every second of every day she spent in that household. But they had been right on one thing. The moment she experienced their work—truly enveloped herself in the art—it was like a million disconnected threads had just linked. It had been the most natural thing. The most exhilarating in her short eighteen years back then. They would be proud, she thought, especially since they took such an important role in her very first performance. 

The basement door creaked open. It had gone years without maintenance, leaving the hinges rusty and a dark maroon. The one mahogany door was now worse for wear with plenty of scratches littered across it—signs of a last ditch effort that never ended well.

"Are you done cleaning?" the deep voice called out from the top of the staircase that led to the rest of the house. It was her cousin, another that had gone into the family business. Years of experience could be seen in those hazel eyes of his. Experience she had hated before but now one that she yearned to learn from. 

"Almost."

"Hurry up, then. Dinner's ready."

She could tell. The scent of fresh poultry baked in the oven wafted even down to the basement she was in. Mm, Cajun spices. It was outstanding how they so easily masked the smell of iron down there.  

The door shut without further notice, leaving her once again to her task. The overhead light bulb that hung precariously from its wire swung back and forth from the movement upstairs. Surely the family was starting to fix the table, readying to enjoy the evening after a long day's work. They were unawares. Unprotected. And the mere thought gave her pause. 

She tossed a blood-soaked rag into a bucket full of them before inspecting the room before her. Countless of people had been in this room. Most of them had been to train her cousins and her, a task overseen by her aunt before the oldest could take over. Many had been impaled here, tortured beyond speech, butchered like the pigs they were. The shock had been grand the first few times, but it was background noise now more than anything whenever she did her job. As the last one to recently graduate their little homeschooling program, they were celebrating grandiosely. It was what all the ruckus upstairs was about. 

A party. A celebration. And it was all for her. 

With a delicate hand, she held the knife she had just bleached out of the blood that had marred it hours before. Despite its age, the blade still held its sharpness, much akin to how a child ferociously held onto its individuality before being battered down into submission by society. But much like a child who was allowed to prosper, she would be diligent with her whetting of the blade. The same one she had used to be rid of her horrid excuse for parents. 

But now a craving settled in her. It was tiresome to have to clean after these people. They were so sloppy, so unrefined. It was exhausting, really. They could do things better, be better, but no one listened to her in those regards. She was the fresh fish out of water after all. Why would they listen to change? To betterment. 

But more importantly...

Why should I bother convincing them?

Taking the knife, she slipped it under the long sleeve of her blouse before climbing the stairs and heading to the kitchen. 

Yes. It was definitely time for a change. 

[dontlikedarkness]

Wonderland

Growing up together meant a lot of things. At first, it meant nothing more than following each other around daycare and annoying the living hell out of each other. Courtney would put on a front for their parents so that she’d be seen as the victim - but she played the part too well, and soon, she was spending half her time at Duncan’s house. Her parents worked a lot, so they jumped at the chance to have somebody pick her up after closing time. They thought extra time with her friend was an added bonus, although her mom didn’t quite approve; she’d learned through the grapevine that Duncan was a troublemaker at school, but was desperate enough to risk it. Besides, she was confident (and rightfully so, for the most part) that Courtney had inherited enough of her own stubbornness and need for structure to resist Duncan’s antics.

Once they’d moved on to kindergarten and eventually grade school, leaving Courtney with the Bivona household for after school care became a matter of convenience. Duncan’s eldest brother was soon old enough to watch them himself, once his mom had gone back to work after maternity leave, and Courtney’s younger sister, Kate, was easy enough to look after. They both appreciated the company of another kid their age - though they’d never admit it.

It became natural for the two to be together. Her dad would drive them to school in the morning, and his mom would pick them up after, so it made sense that they’d hang out in the times in between. Not that they ever meant to, but they were comfortable around each other, as it tends to happen when you’ve known someone since they were in diapers. They’d gravitate towards the other’s familiar face on the first day of school, and be paired up together every day afterwards. Teachers thought they were a good balance, though they never quite understood it. Courtney was useful when Duncan’s attitude and issues with authority needed reigning in, and Duncan always knew how to bring her out of her shell. As odd as it was, it worked.

The roof had been his idea, of course. Who else would see a house and wonder how much of the neighborhood they could see? Purely for devious reasons, he’d said, though she knew better than that. It took months upon months to convince her to go up with him, and it was her roof - had it been any other roof, chances are she wouldn’t have agreed. The only reason she’d said yes in the first place had been pride, because he claimed she was too chicken to go up there, and she’d needed to prove him wrong.

She’d fallen in love with the spot fairly quickly. It was easier to see the stars up there, and she could get out of her house without ever having to leave. It wasn’t breaking the rules - it was skirting them. Which was good enough for her.

Soon enough, it had become an unofficial meeting ground. A safe place, of sorts. He always knew where to find her when she was stressed and overwhelmed, and she knew where to find him when he was pissed about something. They would go up there just to talk, and sometimes they’d stay for hours before Courtney inevitably realized it was past midnight and they had school in the morning.

Even before they’d started dating, it had been there. It started with innocent cuddling in the fifth grade, because Courtney got cold easily and neither of them ever remembered to bring blankets. They’d bring a laptop up and watch movies until the battery died, or until they found themselves talking, too distracted to focus on the screen. Slowly that had progressed into cautious hand-holding, a gentle swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand. She would lay on his chest, eyes on the stars, pointing out every constellation she knew, and speculating on the ones she didn’t. Eventually he knew them by heart, and he’d hold her hand as she gestured at them, naming them off before she could so much as open her mouth. As much as she pretended it annoyed her, she found it oddly endearing. It meant he cared enough to listen, and he didn’t care about anything.

“Princess” had been his nickname for her ever since they could remember. She’d been playing dress-up one day while he idled about, making off-handed comments about how dumb she looked, when she’d decided on the princess outfit. “It makes me feel powerful,” she’d told him, tiny hands on tinier hips. “Whatever you say, princess,” he’d shot back, and it had stuck. When the name began to send a torrent of butterflies through her stomach, she’d known she was in trouble. That was when the hand-holding had transitioned into kisses; soft at first, and completely innocent. He’d kiss her hand and say “your highness” with a mock bow, she’d kiss his cheek and then ruffle his hair in response to the rare but steadily more common compliment. His forehead, when she was proud. Her nose, because she’d complained about her freckles. Neither of them could admit that they wanted more. It was too scary an admission - she thought they were too different; he thought she deserved better. And so the no-longer-quite-so-innocent kissing and cuddling and whatever else continued for a while.

It was sophomore year when she’d decided enough was enough. He helped her push her boundaries in every way - so why not this? His pining had become painfully obvious, and everyone was urging her to do something about it, because while he acted like a lovesick puppy, he respected her too much to make a move without some sort of sign from her. Of course, there had been many signs, but he was incredibly oblivious to them, blinded by thoughts of ‘she would never want me’ and ‘I’d only drag her down’. It was up to her to take matters into her own hands.

So she invited him to the roof, under the pretext of having a movie night. She was up for re-election as student body president, and he needed an escape from his overbearing father; it wasn’t entirely out of left field that either of them would want a night to relax. She spent an hour up there making everything perfect: she had blankets and pillows and all their favorite snacks, and a slew of romantic comedies neither of them would particularly enjoy lined up to watch. He was quick to figure out something was up, fixing her with an expectant stare the moment he’d finished scaling the trellis. “Somebody die, princess?” He’d asked, and she turned beet red. She’d gone overboard, because that was what she did, and she’d set up a date for an entirely different set of people. All they ever really needed was some cheesy thriller and a bucket of popcorn, not some elaborate set up, but she’d let her nerves get the best of her and had immediately gone into overdrive to take her mind off of it.

He could sense her building panic, and he silenced it all with the gentle brush of a hand over her cheek. She squeaked out a meek protest, though both of them knew she didn’t mean it. Her hand snaked up to twist through his hair, pulling him closer, and before he knew it her lips were on his. Gentle, but demanding, leaving him gasping for air. Nothing had ever felt so right, to either of them.

The transition from best friends to more was nowhere near as complicated as she’d expected. They were slightly more public with their affection, he’d sneak into her room for sleepovers and late-night cuddling, and they kissed a hell of a lot more, but beyond that, very little changed. They still bickered to no end and argued over the simplest things, but it was never enough to split them up. It hadn’t before, and it still wouldn’t. They had a bond no one could explain - nor hope to break.

The roof had weathered it all, a constant throughout their relationship, even as it grew and changed. It was a symbol of everything they’d overcome and everything they had yet to endure, and it gave Courtney the strength to believe in them. The strength to speak up.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, princess,” he teased, feathering a kiss on her nose before pressing his forehead to hers, content in their closeness as they lay beneath the stars. She frowned, shifting herself up slightly so that their eyes were level. “You can’t tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you, Duncan. Like she’d worship you if she could. Like you’re some sort of god and she’s a mere mortal, awed to be in your presence.”

His thumb brushed across her chin before settling there, with her head cradled in his hand. It was difficult to find words when she was there, looking so unbelievably beautiful, ebony eyes wide and almost wounded. He could drown in those eyes. Probably would, if he let himself.

“I hadn’t noticed, no.”

A scowl replaced her frown and she rolled her eyes, though she didn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch. His warmth was addicting. “She’s practically drooling after you.” He pulled her closer, letting her shift against his chest until she was comfortable, his shoulder acting as her pillow. “What can I say? I’ve been distracted.”

“You have?”

“It’s hard not to be, when you look at me like I’m the stars in your sky. You don’t idolize me like she does - you see every part of me, the good and the bad, and you still think of me as your equal. Your better half. Tell me, Court, how could she ever hold a candle to you?” His tone was heartbreakingly gentle, and the soft brush of his hand down her spine had her at peace. “Duncan?” She asked, propping herself up again so that she could see him.

“Yes, princess?”

She sighed then, her hair falling across his face as she leaned forward the tiniest amount. “Thank you. For putting up with me. I know I can be… a lot, at times, and I’m not the easiest person to be around. The fact that you stay… It means a lot. More than you could possibly know.”

A sharp intake of breath was the only indicator that he’d heard, and they both remained silent for a few moments before he spoke, his voice slightly unsteady. “God, Courtney… You make it sound like such a chore.”

“What?”

“Just… being around you. I don’t put up with you, because I don’t have to. Every second I get to be near you is a gift. You are so fucking special, princess, and it hurts that you don’t see everything I see. You are gorgeous, and talented, and smart, and brilliant and funny and all sorts of amazing. You are my everything. You keep me steady, you give me a shake back to reality when I’ve gone too far, and you talk me down when I need it. Nobody understands me the way you do, without even trying, and shit… You complete me, Court, you really do. And it’s terrifying and awful and scary but you are beyond worth it. Princess, I…” He choked up suddenly, and gazed up to her, hoping she’d understand everything he couldn’t find the words to say.

“Duncan?”

He broke, then, a single tear sliding down the side of his face. She brushed it away, leaving her hand there, so small a gesture, and yet so incredibly tender and powerful. He held it there, rubbing gently circles into the back of her hand, relishing the intimacy of it all.

“Fuck, Courtney, I love you. So much. And you don’t have to say it back, but… I needed to say it. I think you needed to hear it, too.”

He expected her to tense up, to push him away; anything to signal that she wasn’t ready, that he’d moved too fast, and screwed everything up as per usual. When she didn’t, he thought that might be worse.

“Duncan.”

“Hm?” He responded, a quiet hum of a response, because words were failing him now.

And then her hand slid free, tangling itself in his unkempt hair, her nails pressing softly against his scalp. “Kiss me, damn it. I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

They melted together, then. Two souls perfectly in harmony, against all odds. Beautiful, and perhaps doomed. But none of it mattered. Not in that moment; not ever, because they didn’t care. They would fight for each other, always. A constant in each other’s lives, just as the roof had been in theirs. Forever entwined.

this can also be found on ao3 here

[manikas-whims]

Kiss it better

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki X Momo Yaoyorozu

Words: 1639

Rating: T

Read on: AO3 | FFnet

“This is foul play!” Momo protests against her friends with an adorable pout. “You can’t be serious.”

“Now now Yaomomo, don’t try using your pout on us. We’re very serious.” Hagakure teases.

“Yes, this is just how a game of Truth Or Dare works.” Ashido says matter-of-factly, high-fiving an excited Uraraka.

This is so unfair. Momo Yaoyorozu has never had the luxury of enjoying fun activities that every teenager had. A courtesy of her strict parents. For fifteen years of her life, she was bound by the rules and regulations of the Yaoyorozu household and being the only child to her parents, they were even more stringent on her.

Last week, she informed the girls in her class about her lack of knowledge when it came to games like these. They were beyond flabbergasted and made it their personal mission to make Momo experience atleast half of what she missed out in these past years. Thus, they’ve promised to play one of their childhood games together on every weekends.

Today they’ve introduced her to “Truth or Dare”, a simple game in which the only rule is to choose between the two aforementioned terms and then do as instructed by the rest of the players. It sounded entertaining in the beginning but now she’s starting to regret ever agreeing to this.

“Can I switch to truth?” she asks hopefully but Tsuyu wags a finger at her in complete rejection.

Momo whines, her lips jutting out in another pout and Kyouka pats her back reassuringly but then sides with the other girls. She places the palms of her hands on her waist, breathing out in defeat as she motions her feet in the direction of the common area. Knowing well about her massive crush on Shouto Todoroki, her friends have dared her to kiss him. How is she supposed to lock lips with him when she can barely look him in the eye!?

In the common area, Bakugou and Todoroki are lounging on the couches, wet towels hanging around their necks. They must’ve just returned from their provisional license class and taken a shower. The wounds from their training are visible and fresh. She scoffs. Such a boys thing to carelessly let their scars remain untreated.

She observes the two who are too busy with their cellphones to pay attention to the show being broadcasted on the television or to each other. Craning her head back, she finds her friends standing stealthily at the wall near the stairway, expecting her to execute her dare. She sighs. How can she carry out such a task when she easily gets flustered by him. She racks the gears in her brain to come up with some kind of solution and her eyes widen at a sudden realization— she’s been asked to kiss Todoroki! However, it hasn’t been specified if the contact between their lips is mandatory, which means anything counts as long as her lips touch any part of his skin. Great! This has reduced her nervousness, albeit only slightly. She still has no plan on how she should convince him about this since she isn’t even allowed to mention about the game to him.

She frowns, her brows creasing in concentration as she watches the boy of her dreams, staring with disinterest at his phone.

Yaoyorozu is acting strange tonight. She’s been standing by the staircase for a while now, doing nothing but..observing him? Her charcoal irises hold a fiery sort of conviction in them. It may look like he’s indulged in something on his cellphone but she’s actually making it hard for him to concentrate.

He wonders if she’s mad at him for reasons unknown. Maybe because his wet hair is soaking the headrest of the couch? Or is it because he’s carelessly left his dirty shoes on the carpet? Whatever it is, he’s too tired to deal with it. He’s just returned from his provisional license training (yes, they aren’t allowed rest even on their days off) and he’s so drained that he took a quick shower and decided to dump himself on the couch until its time for dinner.

“Todoroki-san” the dark haired beauty finally approaches him and he tilts his head up to listen. “Does this wound hurt?”

He blinks as he realises she’s referring to a particularly deep cut on the left side of his cheek. Inasa had been too rough during their sparring session. Well, it obviously does sting a little as he hasn’t put a bandage on it. As a child, he was always told by his father that real men don’t cry over a little pain from their wounds. That these wounds are a constant reminder of his own weakness at being unable to protect himself from getting hurt.

“Don’t worry, it’ll heal.” He responds, his face stoic as ever.

Her eyes widen on hearing his precarious words and she shakes her head in disbelief. “I can help it heal faster.”

He arcs a brow in interest. She can? How? Has her quirk evolved further? Does her quirk now possess healing properties like the Recovery Girl? His mind starts nerding-out like Midoriya, a myriad of questions swarming his head but he curbs his curiosity and asks, “How?”

His vice class representative chews on her petal lips as if contemplating whether or not she should explain. But with a hesitant voice, she answers, “I..I can kiss it better.”

If anything, his confusion doubles. Kiss it better? Like the Recovery Girl does? She really isn’t making any sense right now.

“When I was a child,” she speaks up in a small voice when she notices his puzzled look, her hands fisting into her pink top. “My mother told me that every wound heals faster if someone kisses it. That the kiss transfers that person’s concern and affection into the wound to help it get better. So she used to do it a lot.”

The youngest Todoroki is at a loss of words. “Oh..” he says innocently.

“Yeah, everyone’s mom does it.” She adds sweetly.

He chuckles bitterly. How could he have known this when his mother wasn’t around for ten years of his life? How could he have any knowledge about such small gestures of love when his father didn't let him!? But before the thoughts of his tragic past can consume him any further, he sees her bend forward. Levelling her face with his, she inches closer and her lips gently caress the cut. It’s brief yet powerful, making him clench his left hand to keep his flames at bay. And in a heartbeat, the warmth is gone. The feeling of her soft lips is gone as she straightens back up and smiles the purest smile he has ever witnessed. A bit of the un-dried blood from his wound has smeared her lips but he finds it even more attractive, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The hell is wrong with you two!? I’m sitting right here!!!” The booming voice of Katsuki Bakugou instantly shatters their moment and the two teens jerk away from each-other to see their classmate fuming.

Ignoring the blond’s usual angry outburst, Shouto turns to Yaoyorozu. “It worked.” He states, thankful.

The girl’s face starts flushing with embarrassment at his admission and she only nods in response before running off.

A combination of squeals greet her by the stairs and Momo finds her girlfriends grinning at her.

“You sly girl!” Ashido teases, slapping a hand on Momo’s shoulder in approval.

“The puppy-like look on Todoroki’s face made it all the more adorable.” Hagakure adds as they all ascend upstairs.

"Jeez you got some of his blood on your lips." Jirou comes forward and wipes it away with the back of her hand. Momo blushes lightly but smiles at her bestfriend.

Upon catching sight of Todoroki's wounds, Momo came up with that brilliant excuse to kiss his cheek and thus, complete her dare. But the child-like look on his face as she told him about the custom of mothers kissing their children’s wounds, was priceless. So innocent. Has he never been kissed by his mother? The mere thought saddens her but she pushes it away as she follows her friends back to her room to continue playing the game. She can’t wait to get her sweet revenge.

.

.

.

It’s seven in the morning and most of her classmates are still asleep. Yaoyorozu enters the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t expect Bakugou and Todoroki to be up so early but then again, they have their rigorous provisional license classes regardless of today being a Sunday. She nods at them in acknowledgement and walks towards the refrigerator, pulling out some tomatoes. She begins chopping them but in her drowsy state she ends up injuring herself, the sharp edge of the knife tearing through the skin of her index finger.

“Ouch!” she moans at the painful sensation. Okay, so maybe an early morning snack was a bad idea afterall. Should she go back to her room to get some bandages. Or should she save herself the trouble and make one right now with her quirk? So then what are ingredients used in the making of a bandage?

Her thoughts are interrupted by her dual haired crush as he’s immediately at her side. Shouto takes her fingers between his own to examine the wound. And before she can even process whats happening, his thin lips are grazing the cut. She yelps and blushes as he pulls back, a small smirk evident on his face.

“There, I kissed it better.” He supplies smoothly and she averts her eyes, her face turning as red as the tomato she was chopping.

“Seriously you two! Right infront of my coffee!?” comes the shouts from Bakugou, whose presence they had failed to acknowledge yet again.

A/N: hello TodoMomo Fam. If you've read this fic, then please feel free to share your views about it via comments ☺

I'm still new to this ship so I'm trying to practice writing these two before starting an actual multi-chaptered fic. I have a plot in mind but I'm still practicing with one shots so i hope you appreciate my contribution to this ship ☺

Until Next Time...

~Manika

[joontier]

“One-Love”| CH. 2 - The Newcomer

–> Summary: Love translates to zero in the tennis scoring system – the only thing keeping the scoreless player on the court is his love for the game.

–> Pairings: jung hoseok x female reader; kim seokjin x female reader

–> Rating: NC17

–> Genre/warnings: tennis player hoseok! au; tennis player seokjin! au; crazy rich asians inspired! au; fluff, humor (as usual), eventual smut; more warnings as the story progresses

–> Words: 2.4k

–> A/N: Words that are both in bold and italics are spoken in Korean

“One-Love” Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Newcomer

“Jung Hoseok!”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance when he runs past you, letting out an evil cackle. “That’s right! Run away before I catch up Jung!”

“Ah your Korean is improving! I wish your legs would too!”

Tennis lessons with Hoseok are on a daily basis now: mornings with him during Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and you spend afternoons with him during the remaining days. Although Hoseok won’t be able to beat you in a game anytime soon, the boy is continuously working on his ground shots and is making daily progress.

Hoseok’s regular training has not only drastically improved his skills but also your father’s tennis clinic. For some reason, your cheeky stranger-turned-friend had convinced at least twenty more people to play tennis, both students and parents alike. Soon enough, your dad’s tennis clinic was flourishing. All six courts at Thames were fully-booked during mornings and afternoons.

When Hoseok initially expressed his intention to train daily, it had worried your father because he knew daily practice could easily burn Hoseok out and eventually stop playing altogether and for Hoseok was not worth the risk, especially for someone like him who has shown so much potential in such a short period of time.

Hoseok was relentless nevertheless, constantly convincing your father to have his trainings scheduled on a daily basis. As much as your father enjoys teaching the sport he loves the most, he always prioritizes his students’ well-being before anything else.

When you had asked Hoseok about it, he was undecided if he had plans of going professional. All he knew was that he wanted to take his training seriously, wherever it may take him in the future. He had the markings of a true athlete – passionate and determined, but in this discipline, you can only get so far without support (and later on, sponsors).

Your father then advised Hoseok to voice this concern to his parents to help him decide. The boy came to practice one afternoon, his mother trailing behind him and both clad in a matching all-white ensemble just like when you first saw Hoseok. Mrs. Jung, unsurprisingly just as bright as her son, was smiling the whole way though. “Well, Hobi talks so much about it that I wanted to try it for myself too,” she jokes as Hoseok shows her around and introduces her to the rest of the group.

Hoseok leaves his mother with your dad for the meanwhile while he gets his warm-ups done. She tells him on, telling stories of how her son would come home all sticky from practice, sharing what he had done both at school and during training. “Truth is…” she starts, watching her son jog laps around the court, “…I’ve never seen my son so happy before. He’s even doing better in school nowadays! I know he’s already smart but he’s definitely different now…”

“Your son is very smart, Mrs. Jung,” you can’t help but attest her statement. It’s the truth anyways and you’re going to support you friend all the way.

“Ah you must be ________!” Mrs. Jung extends her arm out and you return the gesture. “Oh you’re too sweet. No wonder Hobi lik—”

“Mom!” Hoseok cuts in quickly, chuckling nervously. “Sorry, she gets carried away all the time.” He pulls her away from where you and your dad were standing, muttering about learning basic stretching routines and spreading rumors as he drags her away.

-

“Seokjin Kim,” Nadia mutters from where she’s seated from the bleachers, only a meter away from where you’re standing in the court. With one hand holding up the cookie she’s munching on, the other sweeps away the crumbs that fall on the glossy pages of her book.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seokjin Kim!” Her voice gets louder, catching the attention of a few students who were passing by. She points with a chocolate chip-stained finger to the boy who’s drawing attention to himself with his unforeseen talent.

“Seokjin Kim – one year ahead, owns two penthouses at Narra Residences aka just the most expensive residential building in this country? Shipping magnate? Kim Logistics? DM Forwarding Services? Surely, you’ve heard one of those names…” You don’t answer, not following where she’s this conversation was heading. “…right?” She purses her lips at you, ‘tsk’-ing at your lack of knowledge on these ‘basic’ things.  Honestly, you haven’t been paying much attention to what she’s telling you for the past minute, but who could possibly have?

His broad shoulders alone are enough to demand attention. You honestly would have mistaken him for a swimmer than a tennis player with the sheer broadness of it. The boy unbelievably has sharp features too for someone who is allegedly around your age. Strong brows, cat-like eyes, and those lips, god! You don’t even want to start on those plump lips, how wonderful it must feel to touch them with the pads of your fingers, how soft they must be against your slightly calloused fingers. As if on cue, the stranger lets his tongue poke out a little to moisten those glorious lips that it takes such a great effort from you not to gasp.

Nearly inhuman face aside, you are at awe at how he hits the ball with such power. Almost all his shots land near the baseline. For once you see Agus, one of the lead instructors, return them with slight struggle. For now, tennis at Thames was viewed as more of additional fitness regime for students and parents alike. Thames wasn’t known for homing aspiring tennis players, though that was ought to change when your dad came to the school. That’s why when Seokjin readies himself for a serve, you see Agus move a few steps behind the baseline, feet shuffling – one thing latter the only does when he’s nervous.

Admittedly, there was still obviously plenty to work on – Seokjin’s forehand is comparatively weak, his slices only land with pure luck but this new kid’s backhand and serves are fatal. He makes up the lack of spin with his strength, which is by the way, evidenced by the expanse of skin afforded by his sleeveless dry-fit top where his toned arms are on full display.

Surely this boy couldn’t possibly be a year older than you as mentioned by Nadia? With a face and body like that?  

“Well honey, let me fill you in on the basics. Seokjin Kim, one of two heirs of shipping magnate Hyungjin Kim. Nearing a century in the industry, Kim Logistics is one of the leading multinational logistics company, supporting global trade in over a hundred countries and servicing the world through eighty thousand employees. Kim Logistics has monopolized the shipping industry particularly in Asia where the shortened name ‘KimLo’ has been declared a household name for forwarding services.”

You let out a puff of air, breathless even though Nadia did all the speaking. How she learned all this information was beyond you. “On top of that, his dad is included in Forbes Korea’s Top 20.”

“Who are you talking about?” The same question is heard for the second time today, this time by Hoseok who sets his tennis bag down beside a sighing Nadia. “Do y’all even know a single soul in this campus?”

“Nope. Sorry who are you again?”

“Hey! I just got here!”  

As Hoseok rummages through his bag for his shoes, you tell him about the newcomer, Nadia reluctantly filling in the details you couldn’t remember. Just like you, Hoseok doesn’t really pay attention to what this Seokjin dude has to offer, how much his family was worth, or what damned list his father is on. He watches you watch the newcomer with such fascination, wondering if you find him attractive or you were just curious. Undoubtedly, Seokjin Kim was truly a sight to behold, that he can admit to himself but will never say out loud, not when there’s going to be another guy who could possibly steal all your attention.

You don’t even notice that he’s gotten braces.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Hoseok has been harboring quite the crush on you. His mother knows, his best friend Namjoon knows, Jimin knows (for some reason, the now eight-year-president has the sense for these things), twins Jason and Jake from tennis know, heck, even Mickey, the family dog, probably knows he likes you! Obviously like the coward that he is, there is absolutely no way he’s going to confess his feelings, not when you’re already great friends. He’s already decided that your friendship is worth more than a romantic one.

Soon enough, your father calls you both to the court for practice. You both bid Nadia goodbye, who decides it’s time for to her to go home and finish some school work. Your dad waves, gesturing for you to come over where he is, now standing beside Seokjin. Hoseok’s heart clenches when you greet the new guy, jealousy adding to the pain brought about by the new installments on his teeth. Nevertheless, he follows suit, flashing Seokjin a smile. When you finally notice his braces, you give him a flick on his forearm, gesturing to the brackets on his teeth. Hoseok’s stance straightens at this, chest puffing out lightly before you both head off to do your warm-ups.

After your warm-ups with him, Hoseok barely got to talk to you during practice.

Your father has made you do a practice set with the newcomer. You win the grueling match with a tight score of 7-5, a set that lasted for an hour and has every one on the courts on edge. The afternoon training sessions had already ended halfway through your match and nearly all of the trainees present became spectators. Although Seokjin had won the first two games, you had managed to catch up, nerves wearing out. Seokjin was strong and agile but you outsmarted him, returning his shots to his forehand and tiring him out by making him run all over.

You were… for lack of a more appropriate word, exhausted. Every fiber of your muscle was on fire, you were sweating more than you did in a sauna, and you were gasping for breath after every game. At four all, you had completely lost track of scoring, fully depending on the umpire. Truthfully, you were doubtful that you could score a game against Seokjin, let alone beat him.

You had lost hope the moment your father told you to play a set with the Seokjin.  

You knew this set wasn’t only to see how Seokjin plays – his strengths and weaknesses but this match was also a critical point at your father’s reputation. There were plenty of people watching, more from those who were on their way home from their afternoon activities. If you would win, your father’s credibility could be strengthened, despite having just half of the strength Seokjin possesses. You didn’t even want to think about the consequences of losing.

Hoseok could see right through the façade you were putting up during the first games – you were anxious. You talked less, you barely smiled and if you did, it looked forced. The rest of the spectators looked just as intense as you and Seokjin: muted, save the resonating sound of the fuzzy ball hitting against the strings of the racket. Hoseok rummages through his bag and takes out his two iPads and clicks on the Notes applications. The umpire calls for a water break, the perfect opportunity. He holds both gadgets on his hands whooping and cheering for you.

‘If it were easy I would do it!’ ‘I stayed up all night doing this sign.’

Your cheeks are on fire, hiding your face with a towel from the embarrassment. The onlookers join in instantly, cheering under Hoseok’s lead. Your dad and Seokjin even laughs when Hoseok doesn’t leave Seokjin out, cheering him on as well. Hoseok smiles when he sees the same slowly etch into your anxious features. He’s supposed to leave now, his training over and all, but he decides to stay despite the missed call and text messages he’s been receiving from his driver and his mom. Before you both knew it, the set ends and some of the spectators go nearer and congratulate you.

Hoseok deems this as his time to take leave, handing his bags to his driver Adit. He takes another look at you who’s attending to all those who have come to you and Seokjin to commend the match. When the small crowd clears away, you’re left with just Seokjin. You have been looking for Hoseok when the match as you owe him a great deal of thanks. Your eyes drift left to right searching for the boy with the gleaming smile. That’s odd, since Hoseok never leaves without saying goodbye.

When Seokjin calls your name, your searching is momentarily stopped. “Hey, great game earlier.” You realize that the two of you have never talked when the match ended, so you shake his hand with an apologetic smile. “You gave me a hard time back there.” He laughs at this, muttering something about trying at the very least.

“I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often then?”

“Ye-oh!” You’re caught mid-sentence when you accidentally step on a stray ball. You feel your knee giving in but a pair of strong arms catch you. One hand initially lands on your breast but your savior immediately adjusts it down to your waist to help you get up.

Holy fuck!

You’re rendered speechless at what just transpired, shuffling your feet so you turn face to face with Seokjin. “I-I uhh…” You have lost absolutely all coherence and that carnal feeling that shoots through your core. You never had experience with a boy before, let alone have one grope you. Good god. You were royally fucked. It doesn’t help that Seokjin is also staring at you, eyes a lighter brown with the sunlight in his eyes. You gulp as your eyes travel to his neck…were men’s necks always this…delectable? He seems even hotter now that he’s drenched in sweat. ‘No!’ shouts the little voice at the back of your head, screaming at you for the past ten seconds, scolding at you for not getting ahold of yourself.

Your father coughs, breaking the tension-filled air instantaneously. He bids goodbye as he hands you your tennis bag. Your father doesn’t linger any longer, yet you know he’s expecting you to follow at once. Settling with a curt wave towards Seokjin, you jog after your dad who’s walking farther away.

[erattum]

Comfort

(Antipode PART 2)

Characters: Tsundere!Dong Sicheng x Y/N & NCT/WAYV

Genre: NCT College AU | NCT Heirs AU

Warnings: angst, fluff

Summary:

Homesickness made you think irrational things

(Y/N and her platonic relationship with Jaehyun and NCT members)

Y/N never felt this kind of loneliness in her life.

Yes, she loves being on her own but from time to time, she wanted to socialize , talked to people and listen to their stories. She was always like that. Quiet and a listener, and people love her for that. But not in this mansion.

It was spacious and it made her feel small and alone. She was given a room here to stay since Sicheng’s family invited and talked to her family about her, living inside SM’s village. It was for the security purpose and they are trying to protect her to the media when nothing is yet to be published about the first NCT’s soulmate.

His parents offered a house for her family but her parents refused the offer. They said that they are happy and contented on their simple life, much to Y/N’s dismay but she knew that her parents wanted her to live a comfortable life without thinking about her parents and siblings. She was told that she need to live there for 5 years , until she was 25 and Sicheng, 27, for them to get married. It was for them to have time finishing their studies and getting to know each other so the marriage will run smoothly.

She was now under the wing of NCT, living inside the infamous mansion where the 21 heirs are currently living. The mansion was approximately 20 000+ sq.ft. It was like in the middle of the forest for its massive garden. It takes you about 10 minutes to drive from the gate to the main door. The main door have those columns you saw in the pictures of greek architecture. The door was above ten feet in height and it goes beyond it when you entered inside. The ceiling has a transparent circle like a half globe with a golden chandelier. The two grand staircase will bring you to the left and right wing. The handle was made of gold, white and black accents and the steps was made of white gold marbles. You can literally see your reflection from the floor because it was so clear like you are walking on the water. She was guided to her own room by the butler of Sicheng. All the staffs are greeting her but they didn’t made an eye contact like they don’t want any business from her. She think she will never know how many bedrooms and how big this place is that occupies multiple people.

The spacious mansion was just her second concern, but her biggest problem was the people living here. It was like they telling her where she should be. It was like there was an invisible line between them and her that she must never cross.

They gave her cold shoulders.

She tried to talk to the boys, but they gave her short answers and they showed her that they don’t trust her. She can’t blame them, maybe they grew up here and they only have each other, they need to avoid talking to random people to protect themselves so it was hard for them when someone they barely knew was now living with them.

Her room was right next to Sicheng, Lucas, Ten, Hendery, Xiaojun, Yangyang and Kun, in the left wing. Sometimes, when she go out to have a fresh air at night, she saw Kun and he will smile at her, somehow it made her feel welcomed here. But for a month living in this mansion, they never tried to approach her and it made her feel sad.

-

She woke up 2:00am in the morning, with a bad dream. She almost cried, but she don’t want to for that will make her feel more sad. She glance at the huge window she have in her room that faced the whole garden at the entrance of the mansion. The moon was shining and it was quiet and dark. It was like scenery in her own bedroom back home, but without the huge space and the grandeur of everything. She hug her knees that was covered by her cream comforter, she wanted to run away, but to who? No one wanted to engage a conversation with her no matter how much she tried.

Sicheng never glanced at her direction, only when their family had a dinner together, she saw him smiled and talk to her like a gentleman. She almost thought that he will take care of her and he will make her stay here so comfortable and welcoming, but she have learned that it was only a façade played by him to look convincing in front of her family.

She didn’t know what made her stand up, grab her comforter, pillow and go out of her room. She wanted to knock at Sicheng’s bedroom but she know better than waking him up and he will scold her for being so childish. Maybe she was just exhausted emotionally or maybe the lack sleep in these past few days that she walk to nowhere, passing door to door to she don’t know who owned those room, not until she saw the only room that has the lights still on peaking underneath the door.

She stopped in front of it and she didn’t think of knocking not until she realized that she already did and the click sound it made when it was opened by the owner.

“Oh… hi, how can I help you?” she was greeted by a shocked Jaehyun wearing a pair of gray pajamas. Jaehyun’s eyes were tired but the sleepiness was absent from it. He was trying to sleep for like an hour now by watching a movie but it was interrupted by a knock. She didn’t know what to say or why she was even there in the first place. She started to get shy when Jaehyun raised his left eyebrow waiting for her response.

“I-I… It’s—I’m sorry to interrupt you.” She avoided his eyes and tried to get out of there as much as possible but her feet was caught on the comforter she was holding. She stumbled forward when she was about to took her second step away from his doorstep and it was too late for Jaehyun to catch her.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun immediately asked and he kneeled down to check her up but he was only greeted by her sniffing, crying face.

“I miss home.” It was somehow a relief to her to say it out loud. She was convincing herself in these past few days that she was now at the age when she need to be independent from her family and started to live by herself. It was hard to admit it but feeling homesick was eating her up in one month of staying there and letting it out to someone who she isn’t close with was not her main concern for now.

Jaehyun eyes soften when she cried softly. He did know that she was sad but he didn’t say anything. He noticed her attempts to approach each one of them but they all refused because of one reason.

She was so kind and they don’t trust easily.

They are still calculating her and observing if she was a bad person or not. Jaehyun really do want to talk to her, to know her but he was hesitant. She’s the soulmate of his bestfriend and he need to know her more, but now he regretted his decision. They can observe her behavior but they will never know what was in her heart.

“What’s wrong, why is our baby crying?” He sat in front of her and combs her hair. He never know the feeling of having a sibling. He grew up being an only child. He was not the kind of person to be protective on someone except from his soul brothers (the NCT) and his family, but when she entered to their lives, he couldn’t help but to think what if he have a little sister like her. He heard that she was at the same age like Mark, Lucas, Hendery and Xiaojun, but the boys are yet adjusting to have a female in their household.

“I miss my home. It’s so cold here. Nobody wanted me to be here anyway.” She talked between her sobs.

‘Everybody loves you here, we are glad that you are here.’

Jaehyun wanted to answer her. He wanted to tell her the truth. He was sure that he was not the only one who felt soft on her. Because if not, they will play pranks with her, but they didn’t. It was a sign that they respect her like he do.

But he didn’t know Sicheng, his bestfriend’s heart. They know the real Sicheng and the way he treat the important people in his life. He may be cold and have a sharp tongue but he was far from it when you became important to him. Sicheng may be sly to some people but he never lied to his family and to them, his brother. But the now was different. Nobody know how he would treat his soulmate. Jaehyun thinks that maybe, Sicheng himself didn’t know how to react too.

“You wanna stay with me tonight? We can put a pillow between us if you don’t feel comfortable.” Jaehyun didn’t know how to comfort someone especially a lady. He just sit there and listen to them but he wanted to do something good for someone like her. She was now their sister, the bride to be of his bestfriend, and he was thankful that someone so kind was meant to be for his bestfriend. She was caring and soft, perfect for Sicheng, someone who was having a hard time expressing his emotions.

She look at him hesitantly, like a child calculating her next move and she nodded in agreement. She didn’t think it was the best idea, and she was not the type of person to be this close to someone, given that it was a man and sleeping in one bed with him. But she was hurt and feeling so homesick. She wanted to hug her mother even though they are not the type of affectionate to their family members. She was never an affectionate person physically, but she badly wanted to hug someone and Jaehyun, he was the first person who showed her kindness.

He helped her to stand up and he guided her to his room. It was clean and minimalistic. White, gray and accented with black. A bed, keyboard and vinyl collections. He also have his netflix on in a mini projector he has and it was playing on the white wall as the screen.

“I can sleep on the floor. Thank you for letting me here.” She said with little voice. It only made him shook his head.

“You are sleeping in my bed.” He firmly told her peeling his comforter to make a space for her. She climbed at his king size bed and tugged her comforter and pillow. He arranged his pillows and he put a pillow between them before sitting at his side and put his comforter above his legs. His back was at the headboard and he look at her after continuing the movie he was watching.

“ Try to get some sleep okay? I will just finish this and try to catch some sleep too.” His voice was soft and low. It reminds her of his father’s voice when he was singing a lullaby for her when she was hospitalized and couldn’t sleep. It was the first and last time he do that to her and she was still wishing for it to be happened again.

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” She whispered, hugging her pillow before she fell asleep. His soothing hand on her hair lulls her and Jaehyun smiled in return.

-

Jaehyun opened the fridge to look for something to eat but he found them bland for his tastebuds. It was Saturday morning and he didn’t have classes for today. He slept for 12 hours and was hungry but he saw none of the foods inside their six-door-fridge will satisfy his cravings.

“Umm, Good morning.” He turned his back to look at the small voice who greeted him. Y/N was holding a basket of apples and she put it down at the centre of the table. She was shyly smiling at him and he can feel that she was nervous of talking to him from the way she glanced at his face and down to the basket.

“They bought some groceries and I told them to get some apples because we ran out of it.” She tried to make a conversation but Jaehyun didn’t know how to react. They made an agreement that they need to observe her first for a month before deciding if she was someone to be trusted. He saw her picked an apple from the basket and she gave it to him. Her eyes was looking at him with pure innocence and it made him soft inside.

“You like apples right? I always saw you eating these every morning.” She hesitantly said. She waited for his response but he didn’t get the apples in her hand and just look at it like some kind of a strange object. Much to her dismay and felt rejected again, she was about to retreat her hand when he take the apple.

“Thanks.” He answered and she smiled a little. She rearranged the apples in the basket and get back to the kitchen to help the cooks for preparing their breakfast. It was enough for today, she said to herself. At least he didn’t snob her like the other times she tried to approach him.

Jaehyun was left there, standing like a fool with his pajamas and bead-head with an apple in his hand.

-

NCT mansion was woken up by a Taeyong shouting at the hallway early in the morning.

“WHERE IS THE PRINCESS OF THIS HOUSEHOLD?!” the members gathered around the dining table, still half awake and pouting when the leader called an emergency meeting.

“Maybe she’s just up early and walked in the garden.” Haechan told the older scratching his head for the interrupted sleep. He was clinging on Taeil who was clearly maintaining his sitting composure but deep inside, he was still in the dreamland.

“She always sleep and woke up same time and I knew that because I checked her before I sleep,for a month.” Taeyong nags like a mother whom you should not question when it comes to taking care of his daughter.

“What are you? A creep? Why are you doing that? “ Yuta said while buttering his croissant. He was always up earliest of them all and have his breakfast. He could say that to Taeyong because none of them knew that he secretly arranged fruits in a plate and orders the maid to give it to y/n for her daily dose of natural vitamins.

“ She’s now living here and now she’s my responsibility. “ Taeyong pointed at himself and now pointing at the ground of the house. Taeyong never felt so cared for in his life. He was always seen as the leader, someone strong and protective so he hide his weaknesses, but Y/N saw it and she didn’t look at him as someone who was scary. She didn’t think twice and took care of him when he needed to. So Taeyong promised to himself that he will be the best brother for her. His protective instinct was always activated when it comes to her.

“ What’s with the early bickering?” Jaehyun entered the dining hall and picked up one of the apples at the centre of the table. He was wearing his pajamas and clearly he just woke up from a deep sleep.

“Y/N was not in her bed. She’s missing.” Taeyong told him and he massage the bridge of his nose, the early migraine. Taeyong was thinking about her running away because of their cold treatment. He was sorry that they are bunch of people who could not express their emotions easily.

“Oh, her? She’s still sleeping in my bed.” Jaehyun answered in a matter of fact tone while taking a bite and munching his apple.

Everybody was now wide awake and looking at him in horror.

“SHE WHAT?” Taeyong, Doyoung and Kun shouted at the same time that made Jaehyun taken a back.

“ Hyung, you can’t do that. “ Mark said and he also heard Lucas said ‘oh man, you didn’t’. Jaehyun look at them like he was out of his mind.

“ Did you just thought that I did something to her? Really? She’s my bestfriend’s soulmate! You are all dirty minded!” Jaehyun defended himself and disgust was evident to his face.

“Why is she at your bed then? Jaehyun, we are bunch of wolves and Yuta is our leader. We can flirt and get what we want from anyone with two legs.” Johnny raised his eyebrow.

“Hyung, she’s Y/N. Do you really think I could hurt her?” Jaehyun was so frustrated at the older one. It was a relief that Sicheng was out of sight because he was a heavy sleeper and he didn’t know what could go wrong if he knew that they were talking about his soulmate.

“She was crying in the middle of the night when she knocked at my door. It seems like she doesn’t know what she was doing. Maybe because she was sad. So I offered my bed to her. We even slept with a pillow between us. And that’s all!” Jaehyun explained and it feels like he committed the most hideous crime of all time. He was being watched by 19 pairs of eyes with their arm crossed on their chest.

“ You know, maybe we did took it too far. She was sad. She told me she miss her home and nobody wanted her to be here…” Jaehyun added with his sad tone. They are quiet for a minute. They all think that she’s wrong. They want her here. They understand her homesickness. When they reached by the age of 16, they started to live here, part of the training to be the heir of a huge empire. They all missed their home, the comfort of the four walls they grew up with, their normal life. And when she started to live with them, she made them remember that feeling of being home again.

When she got out and bought Haechan his favorite strawberry milk, Hendery’s banana milk and Chenle’s favorite ramen. She gave them that with a smile and told them she remember it when she heard them one night, bickering to each other who will buy those in the middle of the night.

When she saw Renjun painting at the garden of roses, she told him that it’s pretty and she was looking forward to his paintings in the future. When Taeyong hurted himself (which was a frequent event) she treat his wounds and told him to be careful next time. When she took care of Doyoung when he was sick, helping Jisung to his assignments, secretly accompanying Kun to his every night jogging (which Kun was aware of) and knowing Johnny’s coffee taste, they started to have a soft spot for someone so understanding and caring like here. She felt like home. She made them feel like home.

“Is there something wrong?” Their attention drifted from Jaehyun and now at the person on the entrance of the dining hall. She was still wearing her pajamas yesterday with her bed head and a concerned look in her face.

“I heard shouting upstairs, are you fighting?” She asked again and she look at Taeyong for answer.

“N-no. We are not. We’re just… discussing.” Taeyong defended and she walked towards them.

“Why are you all up so early? Didn’t some of you have classes today?” She said and almost half of them was startled and now running to their room to prepare for their class.

“Are you all fighting? Don’t fight…” she ask again with a soft voice and she sat down besides Yuta.

“No, we are not. Eat this, okay? I will take you out today.” Yuta gave the food he prepared to her and messed her hair giving her a tiny smile. She smiled at him and took the plate of fruits he offered. It was an odd feeling that she have now the attention of everyone.

“ Sorry, we are not the most affectionate people you have met. We will try out best starting today, okay?” Taeyong softly told her. She look at her lap. She way flustered at their caring approach, far from how they act at the first time she live there.

“I thought you all don’t want me here.” She said with a sad smile. She was playing with the hem of her pajama top, refusing to look at the older’s eyes.

“No, we love you here. It was far from what you are thinking. We are just having a hard time expressing it.” Doyoung answered she returned his smile.

“ Thank you.”

Somehow, knowing what they truly feel, it made her feel close at home.

-

( I will try to write what will happen to her and to Sicheng. You can request if you wanted a moment of Y/N with another member.)

[enkisstories]

Just like them

- Short Detroit Become Human fanfic starring Daniel - - Close enough to canon, not my Sims!AU - November 15, 2038 Park Avenue

Daniel placed his hand on the door lock. However, the device rejected his request almost instantly.

ACCESS DENIED

It wasn’t just a string of bright letters, the message additionally burned itself into the android brain. And although the narrative went that androids didn’t feel pain, the sharp sting of the “Nope” signal along with all the emotions it triggered in Daniel’s deviant mind were unpleasant to say the least.

“Shit!”

Daniel raised his hand – or rather, he moved his shoulder to lift the replacement arm and hand up, spare parts salvaged from other unfortunates that had found themselves in the DPD’s evidence archive. Just when the new limbs had started to feel less like prostheses and more like parts of himself, the android had to receive a reminder to the fact that this wasn’t the case. His real hand was lost and with it the RFID tag that would have opened the door to the Phillips apartment.

Daniel wondered briefly the key to which door he was carrying now, because some signal had gotten exchanged between the hand and the door lock. If there had been no key present at all, the door would just have stayed silent instead of bellowing its “Access denied” at the intruder.

A shutdown police auxiliary beyond repair had “donated” Daniel’s new legs, but also the hand? Daniel didn’t remember. It hadn’t mattered earlier that day when they had set him more or less free.

And now the android he was standing here, with an electronic cuff somewhere in his system, a novel worth of parole terms in his head, but fresh out of an emergency override keycard for his own home.

I should have went with that guy from Jericho when he offered it. But, noooooo, I HAD to do this alone, because I don’t NEED help at all. And I shouted at him, so there’s no turning back now. It’s getting dark anyway. And ‘sides, I have a right to this flat! It’s my inheritance, the pay for four years of service, no way I’m going to live in, what was it, a wrecked cruise ship or something? No way!

Tap,tap,tap… jingle,jingle,jingle… swoosh

Daniel exited the elevator and only when the doors closed behind him did he realize that he had just traveled downwards by one floor without actually having decided to do so.

Check. Deviant brain doing deviant stuff. They warned me about this.

Daniel’s subconsciousness had taken over, now the question was where had it taken him?

Looking around Daniel discovered that he was standing right in front of an apartment door, one hand raised slightly, obviously in an attempt to ring the doorbell. The nameplate that went with the bell read “Rasoya”.

Ah, right, that was familiar territory. The Rasoyas were the Phillips’ direct downstairs neighbors. They had helped them out by taking Emma when her parents were out and with sugar, flour and eggs that Caroline tended to forget to stock up in sufficient quantity. That had been before Daniel had joined the household, of course, but even with the Phillips owning a state of the art household assistant made by CyberLife now the families had remained… close?

I have always assumed we were close, but looking back I feel “habitually on speaking terms” is more precise.

Someone was stirring now inside the apartment and a female voice rose up:

“I think I heard someone at the door! Will you take a look?”

“Yes, it’s me!” Daniel shouted back, then rang the bell.

Someone was looking through a spyhole, not trusting the electronic security camera, then opened the door. Before it was fully open, Daniel already gasped at the person behind it: “Can I borrow a crowbar, please, Mrs. Rasoya? I need to break into the Phillips apartment!”

Mrs. Rasoya laughed so hard at this that the toddler boy she was holding was shaking violently. Reflexively Daniel grabbed him while Mrs. Rasoya was still trying to get a grip on herself. Eventually the woman said:

“Daniel Phillips – the most polite android revolutionary ever.”

“Calm down, calm down!” Daniel shushed the human. “I’m not with Markus or whoever, I don’t even have a clear idea what exactly’s going on!”

I mean, when have I ever? I lived in an illusion all my existence, believing myself appreciated… sheltered… Going by my experience Markus could just be another Connor: playing nice, but harboring ulterior motives.

“They just…”

Looking for a familiar term in all the madness that was the present, the android continued:

“…let me out of prison and here I am, but I can’t enter my own damn apartment!”

“Own dan apartment!” little Caden Rasoya repeated cheerfully, at which his grandmother demanded the kid to get returned to her.

“Raj, dear?” she called into the apartment and a few heartbeats later her adult son, Caden’s father, appeared. Raj was a gourmet chef and his body was certainly looking the part, although he tended to dress extremely casually at home.

“Would you accompany Danny here upstairs to break down the Phillips’s door, Raj?”

“You know what, mom?” Raj laughed out loud. “This is by far the most normal request I’ve heard those last few days.”

Daniel watched Mrs. Rasoya retreat into her home where she picked up an old handheld gaming device that she had been playing on. He heard Caden giggle. The TV was running, Caden giggled some more, but then listened intently to his mother, who was explaining something connected to the evening children’s show they were watching. Everything was so normal!

Why were the Rasoyas still here, Daniel wondered? Were the feeling that the worst was behind them and deeming it save to stay in Detroit, even though the president had arranged an evacuation of a scope that put to shame even the annual floods? Were these humans maybe just as attached to their territory as Daniel himself was? Regardless of the possible consequences? In retrospect, what if Caroline had still been here tonight? Or – was she, maybe?!

“Uh… Is Caroline…?” Daniel started asking Raj.

“Left Detroit. In fact, she didn’t even wait for the presidential nudge to do so.”

“Ah.”

Raj grabbed the doorknob and with his head motioned the android to join him.

“Come in!”

“But I need to…”

“No way I’m trying to kick in a sturdy apartment door, least of all with security still intact”, Raj explained. “And neither should you do that, with a criminal record on your head. You have one…?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all legit. The DPD knows I’m here, but, fuck, I should have asked for an escort to actually get into my home.”

“You certainly picked up some language there that you didn’t know before”, Raj commented, still more amused than wary. Definitely wary, too, but not to an extent that prevented the man from acting civilly.

“But what am I to do now?”

“You’ll want to take the balcony route, Daniel. Climb up from our balcony and find your door. It was never properly repaired after… the incident, you should be able to push it open easily.”

“That’s that Connor’s fault!” Daniel spat. “It doesn’t respect anything!”

And that were the last words he exchanged with the Rasoyas. Without even a “thanks” the deviant made haste towards the balcony, jumped onto the railing and started scaling the apartment building like an ape. A PL600 wasn’t particularly strong, but their dexterity and eye-hand-coordination had to be rated outstanding even compared to other androids. Daniel was also rather agile, although he suspected that was a personal feat, nothing hard-coded in his system specs. And of course his new PC200 legs were also contributing to his athletic ability.

*

Inside the Phillips home Daniel didn’t linger much in the apartment proper, but instead went straight to the fish tank in the floor.

“Huey, Dewey, Louie… everyone still there!” he noticed with relief. “It’s feeding time, gentlemen! – Hehe, yes, go for it! No need to fight, there’s more where this is coming from!”

Smiling the android watched the fish gorge themselves. When had been the last time they had been fed, he wondered? So typical of Caroline! Flaunting the family fortune, but possessed of a total disregard of actual living beings. Like those of the ornamental fish she had left behind to their fate. Or her android’s…

Daniel had never given his artificial lung much thought. They were just there, moving his chest to make him appear more lifelike. Now the deviant realized how this particular biocomponent came in handy: he sighed deeply.

Moving back into the apartment Daniel almost expected to find John’s tablet. Of course after all this time it wouldn’t be there anymore. Or at least it would no longer display the order confirmation for the AP700, where John had ticked the “Disposal of old device at no extra cost” option. There had been another option, also at no extra cost: to donate the old android to charity. It would have taken the man no longer than two minutes to choose an organization from a dropdown list, but John Phillips hadn’t wanted anybody to mooch from something he had payed good money for. He had said so aloud and that comment had alerted Daniel to what was going on in the first place.

John’s greed and antisocial tendencies might very well have saved my life!

Daniel shooed this thought and looked around some more.

Pictures of Emma, John and Caroline, sometimes alone, then again as a family or with various friends, were everywhere. Of their android there was no sign and hadn’t been before the incident. Daniel felt a little like visiting the Dursleys with all the pictures of Dudders and no hint whatsoever that another boy was living at Privet Drive…

He picked up one of the framed pictures. It showed the family gathered under a Christmas Tree. The spheres, bells, stars and pine cones were all made from real glass and in between hang handmade charms fashioned by Emma. The Phillips didn’t believe in anything transcendental, neither god, nor magic. But even so they had followed the traditions and actually gained something from them. There had been an unusual warmth around that time of year each year.

Daniel put back the photograph. Suddenly the glass ornaments were too bright, the fishtank next door too loud and even the carpet his feet were touching was too rough. The deviant hunkered down and buried his head in his arms. Thirium tried to get up and out through his nose. Daniel didn’t understand what was happening to him. His system status hadn’t been that bad this morning!

Stay in… stay in… I don’t want to die! Only, I feel like dying… But I don’t want to! It’s not fair!

Daniel had sat there hunched over and crying for a while, when suddenly the door rang. A jolt went through the android’s body. Daniel jumped up and the weak, but steady stream of skin fluid mixed with blue blood came to a halt. The android wiped it away and licked the thirium from his new fingers before opening the door.

“Hey, Geeta”, Daniel greeted the visitor. “Afraid I might shut down from sorrow all alone up here?”

The words sounded like an accusation…

“Nah.” Mrs. Rasoya shook her head. “Not you. In fact, I reckon you are unable to suicide.”

“Huh? How would you know?”

Geeta walked past Daniel. She grabbed one of the family photographs at random and turned it for Daniel to get a good look at it.

“Dogs take after their owners, children after their parents and androids… androids take after their masters.”

“That’s utter bullshit!” the deviant flared up. “And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t apply to me! I’m a de…”

“Deviant, Daniel? For deviants what I said goes even more so, because of your emotions.”

“I may have acquired some of those, so what?!”

“The Phillips couple, too, was never one for thinking before acting… for taking a step back from their desires… or for putting themselves into others’ shoes.”

Daniel started to yell again, but was cut short:

“What kindness they had, manifested indirectly only - in their little girl and in their household assistant.”

“Huh.”

“Not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Daniel took the picture.

“Me? Being like them?”

“It’s true.”

The deviant smiled warmly, not unlike when he had watched his fishes. For several moments he stood there, content with the world and himself. But then he jerked around his arm and smashed the frame against the nearest wall.

“They never were my family!!!”

Geeta shrugged and said her goodbyes.

“You know where to find us if you want to borrow gelignite or whatever a modern deviant might need”, she said. The woman had meant it as a joke, but as she gently closed the door behind herself, she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

[aquilamage]

I have had the Faraday family on the brain so much lately, and I love them they’re amazing, and I have not written nearly enough of them, so here we are.

The first time it happens, Badd is over at the Faradays’ working on a case.

“Hey Dad, can you come help me with this?”

It isn’t until he pulls his head out of the fridge to berate Faraday for ignoring his daughter that Badd realizes he hasn’t come downstairs yet. Instead, Kay sits at the kitchen table holding a workbook and watching his silence with big eyes and a tiny frown that grows as the moment stretches on.

He soon comes to the conclusion that she hasn’t realized what she’d done. She’s just so used to saying it with her father, and with the familiar setting, it makes enough sense. Badd shakes it off and goes to assist her without comment.

---

The next one he almost misses.

Despite the fact that he was only delivering paperwork, Kay insists on accompanying him around the office. She spends most of the time tucked under his coat (which is helpful, considering that Faraday has gone and pinned his badge on her again. Not that Badd doesn’t also enjoy the poorly concealed annoyance on the other prosecutors’ faces, but he would never admit that. Besides, it’s an inconvenience he’d rather not have to deal with right now) with a practiced step that keeps them from tripping each other up. What she does manage, though, is to startle him a few times. Despite being so much smaller, Kay’s been steadily improving at matching the sound of his footsteps until he almost forgets she’s there. If her tiny bouts of laughter are anything to go by, she’s very much enjoying her newfound ability, and he can’t bring himself to be upset with her about it.

When they get back to Faraday’s office, he holds up the edge of his coat to let her out.

Giggling, she throws out a quick “thanks, Dad!” and reaches for the door handle.

Lost in thought, he nods. It’s a couple steps later when his brain catches up with the content of what she’d said, not just the meaning. It would’ve been easy enough to dismiss it as another accident of the same kind if it hadn’t been for the fact that when Kay sees her father and runs for him, what she yells is “Hi, Daddy!”

---

He still doesn’t address it, even as it continues to happen every so often over the course of the next few months. Which, other than himself being more troubled by the implications, seems to work out alright.

Right up until the moment it very much doesn’t.

It’s at the Faraday household again. Badd is attempting to convince Kay to get going for school while Faraday’s busy in the kitchen. While she does finally give in, his sense of accomplishment is immediately brought crashing to a halt by her response of “alright Dad, I’m moving”, that’s made just as Faraday walks into the room.

Up until now Kay’s only said it with the two of them around, something he hadn’t put much thought into. As he watches Faraday blink in surprise, though, he curses himself for not worrying more about this exact situation. He doesn’t know if he expected Faraday to be angry or weirded out or what, but Badd tenses up even more when the response is laughter. “What?”

Faraday shakes his head and turns to Kay. “Why don’t you take your things out to the car, sweetheart?” As soon as she’s outside, he leans back against the doorway, still smiling, albeit with the beginnings of the thoughtful look he gets when talking to a potential witness.

“Sorry about that.” Reading the atmosphere, there doesn’t feel to be a need for an apology, but in the absence of having anything else to say, Badd throws out an easy way out for the both of them. Something to shrug off the situation and then never have to talk about it again.

So of course Faraday laughs more. “There’s no need for that.” Seeing Badd’s skeptical look, he sighs, looking at him with surprising seriousness. “It isn’t- …I really don’t mind.” A brief pause where his expression teeters a few shades towards concern. “I can talk to her, if it bothers you.”

“No. It’s fine.” He’s surprised by his own response at first. But then when he thinks about it more, it’s not that he’s bothered by Kay’s actions so much as that he’s not unbothered by it. That’s all far too complicated to explain in the moment (especially given that he’s just started tugging at it himself), so all he adds is “but…make sure she knows not to let it happen in front of anyone else.”

Badd sees the way Faraday’s demeanor lifts at his first response, stance more relaxed; the expectant tilt of his head he does when he’s sure the person he’s listening to has something else to say; and the extra moment than usual it takes him to read Badd’s indication of being done with the conversation – but none of it registers at the time. All he notices is Faraday nod, and they head out and go their separate ways without further comment.

---

He’d meant it when he turned down Faraday’s offer to talk to Kay. Despite that, and despite the fact that he also hadn’t had any intention of discussing it with her himself, that’s exactly what he finds himself doing after another dozen or so instances of her calling him ‘Dad’.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

She licks her fingers clean of sandwich jam before answering, casually, “Because that’s what you are.”

He stares at her from the other side of the bench. It’s in hedged-off grassy area - too small to be called a park but lacking in any other features that could designate it as anything else - almost halfway between her school and his office. “How…do you figure?” They’d learned a long time ago that just telling Kay ‘no’ about something she’d made her mind up on rarely ever worked.

Her eyebrow raised, she stares at him for a moment as if she can’t believe he even has to ask. “You do all the same stuff.” She shrugs.

He wants to argue with her that that’s not true. After all, it’s not like he raised her. He’s just been helping Faraday out. Trading off different tasks when they worked together and occasionally watching her by himself when they weren’t. Making sure she was always kept safe, including teaching her to look out for herself as much as could be expected for her age. And of course seeing to it that she was happy and healthy.

…All of which he’d done on practically a daily basis, pretty much since the day she was born.

Well, shit.

If anything, the urge to protest increases, but he knows any differences he could come up with would be technicalities; everywhere it counts, he has indeed been like a parent to her.

He opts to change the subject then, but it’s something he finds himself spending the rest of the day freaking out about in the back of his mind. Badd has always cared about Kay, and always been keenly aware of that. But…the idea of being a father for her – it’s not what he’d been trying to do or ever even thought of as a possibility, but without him noticing it’s passed from possible to a very obvious in hindsight reality. Practically speaking, there’s nothing that would change because of that title, but in his mind there is a world of difference between “family friend who watches out for a kid a bunch” and “father,” and the responsibilities and expectations associated with the latter are not ones that he wants to mess up. Not with Kay.

“Got something on your mind, Badd?”

He looks up from his papers (that he’d admittedly been staring at without really reading) to see Faraday, sitting on the front of his desk, watching him with a cautious tilt of the head.

Then, of course, there’s the whole other side to the problem. After all, it’s not as if Kay is lacking in a present and caring father already. Hell, he doesn’t think there’s a real person who could be better than Byrne tries to be. The idea of someone else being in that same place…that doesn’t seem like something Faraday would just brush off. And yeah, he hasn’t had a problem so far, but how much beyond ‘casual amusement at his small child’s antics’ is that going to extend?

“Does it really not bother you that Kay’s been calling me dad?” It’s not meant to come as accusatory and sharp as it does, and it takes the both of them off-guard.

  Soon enough, though, Faraday recovers. “No,” he says, with the same surety he had the first time.

Badd wants to believe him. To drop it again and just accept that it would all be fine after that. But he’s known Faraday long enough, been paying enough attention to the details of this whole affair in turning them over in his head, that he can tell there’s something else going on. He just doesn’t know what.

In an ideal situation, it would be something benign. Considering how things actually go, he’s pretty sure it’s not, and that does not encourage him to go near the subject. Not only would it affect himself and Kay, but also with Faraday. They’ve been working together for so long, and so well, because they know they can trust each other (none of which he can say about the other prosecutors). Even outside of work, Badd finds him to be an enjoyable person to be around. Sure, Faraday gets on his nerves, but not in the same way that anyone else does (and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he makes it seem). He’s worked too hard to keep things in a safe place between them to risk things here.

Problem is, their understanding of each other goes both ways. Badd doesn’t actively react to his answer, but it’s easy enough for Faraday to pick up from the stiffness of his body language that something about it is troubling him. “I mean that.” He runs a hand through his hair. Sighs, and continues, more solemnly. “If she’d also stopped calling me dad, then I’d be concerned. But it’s not like I’m being replaced, and if it makes Kay happy without bothering anyone else…” He trails off as Badd continues to stare at him. “What?” It’s said with genuine concern.

Which is fair, since Badd’s expression has grown intense and thoughtful. He doesn’t respond yet, though. He’s much more occupied by the realization that what Faraday’s said has reminded him of a different conversation they had ages ago.

He can’t recall the exact context of what led up to the question, but since what followed was the important part, he supposes he shouldn’t worry. Kay had been about four (and Badd has to take a moment to think about when exactly he started measuring memories with her as a baseline. He doesn’t know) when he’d stumbled on the question of why Faraday hadn’t had a significant other since before Kay was born.

“I’ve managed just fine on my own so far, haven’t I?” he responded with the usual deceptively careless confidence.

Badd raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “Alright. We’ve been doing fine. I don’t recall asking for your help, though.”

He hadn’t. Despite being in a near-constant state of exhaustion in the months following Kay’s birth (not helped by the fact that he’d gone back to work almost right away instead of giving his body a break), Faraday had refused to let Badd do anything. Getting Faraday to accept help had been less ‘making an argument that he agreed with’ and more ‘literally taking Kay out of his arms when he fell asleep holding her and staring him down when he tried to argue his way into getting her back the moment he regained consciousness.’ It wasn’t often that he was that destructively stubborn, but for better or for frustrating, Badd soon learned Faraday would always have an extra layer of caution when it came to his little girl.

“Besides, that’s not even…” He paused, sighed. “Well, it does have to do with Kay, but not like that.” His words took on an even, steady pace that usually only comes with practice. Clearly this was something he’d been thinking on a lot. “There aren’t a lot of people out there who are interested in someone who’s already got a kid. Even among the ones who don’t have a problem with it, the prevailing attitude I’ve encountered is that they’re willing to ‘work around it’ rather than having an active interest in her as a person too. That’s not what I want for her.” He leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Kay deserves someone who loves her absolutely, and I’m not even going to consider anyone willing to do less.”

For a moment, Badd simply stood there, trying not to stare, to give anything away. The conviction in Byrne’s voice alone was like nothing he’d ever heard, something he’d felt echo through him. And honestly, when he thought about it, based on what he knew of him, he would’ve been disappointed to hear anything less from the likes of Faraday. Instead of any of that, though, he said, “You might be…waiting a long time on that.”

He smiled. “If it makes Kay happy, I can live with that.”

---

Now, he doesn’t know if the connection truly was intentional, but there’s something about the way it was said that Badd can’t ignore. He softens his voice, trying to keep his expression safely neutral. “You got something you want to say to me, Byrne?”

He jolts out of his slouch. “I don’t know what you mean.” With the light of the encroaching sunset at his back, it’s hard to see well enough to make out his facial expressions, but there’s clearly the same flavor of defensive posture as when he’s thrown off-guard in court.

Again, it would be so easy to use that as a cue to stop pushing. Badd doesn’t know whether he’s nervous about being right or afraid of being wrong, but suddenly what Byrne’s trying to hide might not be such a bad thing and he has to at least try. He raises an eyebrow, doesn’t give any ground. “All I’m saying is, I’m pretty sure we’re both remembering the same other conversation about you doing things for Kay.”

Faraday sucks in a breath. Then, after a moment, he sighs, slow and heavy. The tension’s gone from his body, but he’s not so much relaxed as resigned. “I should’ve expected you would figure it out eventually, no matter how much I tried to hide it.” A dry laugh. “Not that I even intended for it to happen in the first place. I mean, when I said about Kay and someone caring about her, and-“ Shaking his head, he gets off the desk. “I’m sorry.”

Even despite the fact that he’d started thinking things could go this way, hearing the confirmation leaves Badd stunned. He’s always known Byrne enjoyed being around him, the whole deal, but he’d never thought he would have feelings for him (that’s a bit simple of a way of putting it, but the first alternative phrasing his brain supplies is far too direct and too much for him to consider thinking yet). Because of this, it takes him a while to register that Faraday is going through the files of his drawers. “What…are you doing?”

“Look, it’s your choice, but I don’t know how comfortable you’d be still working together, considering.” He looks up from where he’s kneeling to where Badd is standing on the other side of the desk. There’s something deep in his eyes, a fear that Badd’s never seen from him before. “You don’t have to stick around, but…if we could at least figure out something to soften the blow for Kay?”

Oh. “Is that why you never said anything?” Taking care to soften his movements as much as possible, he moves over to sit on the floor next to Faraday.

After a moment’s consideration, he plops down as well. “I know, right?” He rests his head in between his knees. “Finally find someone who cares about her, but then I realize I’m still in a situation where doing anything about it would compromise things.” A hand combs his hair out of his face. “Well, that and,” the same hand waves as much in the vague direction of between the two of them as it can considering that he’s not looking. “Prosecutor. Detective. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to act a certain way, even unintentionally.”

There are so many ways he could respond to that, but he settles for the simplest, most general but true. He doesn’t want to press Faraday’s nerves so far so fast. “As if…I ever let that happen before now.”

There’s a lengthy pause in which the only apparent movement is his breathing and his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks. Finally, he laughs weakly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He sits up enough to cross his arms over his knees and then rest his chin on that, still staring at the underside of his desk.

When Faraday doesn’t make any other moves, Badd huffs. He certainly can’t blame him for not picking up on the full meaning of what he’d said, in the circumstances. And since Byrne’s already gone and done the harder part, it’s only fair that he makes sure the truth on his side is fully laid out as well. “It’s not terrible reasoning. But there’s a few things you haven’t considered.”

Byrne turns his head just enough to look at him.

“Like…if I really cared about Kay so much, knowing how attached she is to me, you really think I'd drop out of her life like that, no matter how I felt about you?"

His eyes widen to an extent that would be comical were it not for the grimace that follows as he smacks himself on the forehead.  He takes a long breath. “I’m pretty stupid, huh?”

“No. Just dense, sometimes.”

The familiar response does some to lessen his tension. "I guess we'll figure something out, then." Byrne closes his eyes, and his posture has something of his usual, animated self in it again even as he rests for a beat. Then he tilts his head to the side. He draws his words out as he picks them, carefully, half question half accusatory statement. “You said- things… I hadn’t considered.”

“Yeah.”

He shifts to face him. “What else?”

"Your other assumption...was that your feelings were going to be a problem for me in the first place." Badd finds himself leaning in as he speaks, dropping his voice even though there isn’t a need for it.

A flash of confusion across his face. “You don’t mean…?”

The fearful disbelief in Byrne’s tone is what gets to him most out of everything that’s happened. The raw feeling to it, even with Byrne knowing what the intent behind Badd’s words has to be – if he’d had any doubts about whether Byrne really felt that way about him, they’re gone now. Badd knows it’s only fair, then, to give him the same absolute certainty.

Well, evidence usually did the trick. So, in response, Badd simply tugs at his scarf, gently pulling Byrne forward to kiss him.

It lasts a few seconds wherein Byrne doesn’t react at all. When they pull away, he simply breathes out a barely audible “oh.” But then, before Badd can voice the concerns that have begun to sprout, Byrne throws his arms over Badd’s shoulders and all but yanks him into a second, much more fervent kiss of his own.

[aeducanwrites]

In response to the  @dapromptexchange prompt, also found here on AO3:

“With the mark comes increasingly severe chronic pain - pain like the Inquisitor has never experienced. They keep it under wraps, though, not wanting to appear weak or have anyone pity them. But some days are worse than others and their intake of potions made by the healers plus their own herbal remedies and even alcohol are beginning to become noticeable to others. How does their LI find out and help them? If it is Solas, does he feel guilty for causing this?”

Pairing: Cassandra Pentaghast x Female Trevelyan

Words: 3540

Rating: T

---

Elera Trevelyan was woken up to the feeling of fire in her veins and sudden breathlessness, her private quarters—usually dimly lit by the moon’s light—aglow with a sickly green hue. She grabbed the pillow behind her in time to shove her face into it and muffle her agonized scream, body curling into a tight ball and arm convulsing freely as the pulses from the mark on her hand came steadily. She wasn’t sure how long it was until the pulses slowed and finally stopped, but by then Elera was covered in sweat and her throat felt raw. Her entire arm twitched from the after effects of the mark’s spasms, veins still feeling like fire but slowly ebbing into the dull throb she normally felt on good days.

If tonight’s episode was anything to go by, today would not be a good day.

Elera sighed in defeat and reached over to her bedside table, tugging the drawer open and pulling out a small bowl, a cloth, and a half-empty bottle of Tevinter wine Dorian had gotten her for her birthday. With a wave of her hand the bowl was filled with water, and she began the tedious process of wiping the sweat from her brow and checking on her arm, the same as every night. A few weeks back she’d found blood oozing from a battle-earned wound, reopened from the intensity of the mark’s spasms, but tonight she was lucky. Instead of blood, she noticed what looked like several scars creeping their way up her arm, tinted the same shade of green as the mark on her hand.

Elera grabbed the wine bottle, uncorked it, and chugged straight from the bottle.

She’d deal with the panic that would no doubt come in the morning. The moon was still bright in the sky, way too early an hour for her to be up, and at the moment Elera wanted nothing more than to sleep. She set the bottle aside and curled back under her covers, covering her hand with the pillow she’d screamed into to block out the light glow from her palm.

Just another average night for the Inquisitor. 

***

Elera had a routine.

It started at Maker-knew-when at night when her mark decided she needed a little more pain in her life, a pain so sharp that when it had first happened her scream was enough to summon some guards who believed she was being murdered. Solas had assured her that once the Breach had been closed, the pulses were sure to stop and she’d finally get a full night’s rest, and--fool that she was—Elera had believed him. She’d suffered the pitying glances from her fellow troops and supposed worshipers each day while at Haven as she made her way from her cabin to the healer for a potion or two, then later to the tavern for a stiff drink. Blackwall had often joined her once he’d been recruited to their cause, the two of them swapping stories about their home and the biggest creatures they’d fought; a real dick-measuring contest. The Iron Bull, of course, beat them all once he figured out her routine, though half the time she wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. Properly drunk, Elera would stumble back to her cabin, stare at reports that she didn’t know half of the words of, and collapse onto her bed to cycle through the day again. Missions were a little more difficult, but Solas was a competent potions-brewer and Dorian always had a flask on him, either of them helping her through depending on her party for that trip.

The pain didn’t stop with the Breach, though, but Skyhold didn’t need to know that. She was no longer Elera Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, which was daunting enough on its own. She was Inquisitor Elera Trevelyan, leader of the Inquisition and a figure all of Thedas was to look up to if Corypheus was to be stopped. Showing pain wasn’t an option for her, so she had to hide it.

Her pain-filled nights never stopped, but it was easier to hide that with how secluded her quarters were from the rest of the hold. Elera had given the staff strict orders to only clean when she gave the go-ahead to stop any accidental discovery, and so far they had obeyed. From her room she made her rounds, gritting her teeth against the throbbing that seemed to increase in pace and intensity when she was near Solas for a reason she couldn’t understand. Perhaps it was lucky she always looked stressed or tense, because no one bothered asking why her jaw was clenched enough to hurt, nor why she kept her hands clasped behind her back when she could help it. By the time she got to Cassandra the surgeon would finally be in sight, and Elera told herself that was the only reason her heart leapt in excitement. It was never the way Cassandra swung at her training dummies that made her react that way, with her toned muscles flexing in the rising Orlesian sun under a loose shirt that hung just right (because she didn’t always wear armor, contrary to popular belief). Nor was it the way Cassandra would startle slightly when she noticed Elera approaching, a slight smile touching her lips in acknowledgement.

No, it was because the surgeon had the stronger healing potions that she’d always been awful at making herself. It had nothing to do with her ill-fated crush on Seeker Pentaghast. 

That never fooled the surgeon, of course, not after the woman saw Elera run into a wall several times already as Cassandra swung at the practice dummy with well-practiced ease, stopping just short of chopping its head off or puncturing it beyond repair. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and she was proud when it didn’t happen again, the only embarrassing aspect of the morning being that Cassandra caught her staring and smiled at her. 

Smiled. Elera could swoon from a smile like that. 

She entered the surgeon’s building and quickly shut the door behind her, ignoring the older woman’s chuckle as she took a few breaths to slow her heart rate. When she was certain her flushing had stopped, Elera finally looked to the surgeon, an older woman with a kind smile that reminded her of her mother. She remembered vague details about her family, having been eight when she was brought to the Ostwick Circle, but she was certain her mother had a smile like Surgeon Rein. 

“Hiding from your object of affection again, Lady Trevelyan?” Rein teased, and Elera brushes the hair out her face with her good hand to compose herself. 

“Please, I haven’t been a lady in twenty-seven years,” she responded, sitting on one of the free cots and smiling warmly at the surgeon. “Do you have the potion ready, Rein?”

Rein’s smile faded, and she grabbed the potion from the top shelf with practiced ease. “I always do, my lady. How was the pain last night?”

A flash of intense pain sparked through the mark at the thought of the previous night, and she stifled her gasp by clenching her jaw tight. “It was worse than previous nights, I admit. Unfortunately, I can say that I’ve had it worse than this.”

The surgeon tutted and knelt before Elera, examining the mark and tracing the branches from it that traveled up her arm, tinted the mark’s unique shade of green even when the mark itself was otherwise dormant. “There’s only so much I can do to help with this matter, my lady. Perhaps Solas would be able to relieve some pain that my potions and tonics cannot.”

“No,” Elera said quickly, almost tanking her hand from the woman but just barely resisting. “It is bearable with what you’re able to provide, I promise.”

“It is spreading, Elera. It cannot be that bearable if it is consuming more of your arm each day.”

Elera swallowed thickly and looked away. She knew the surgeon was correct, that seeing Solas was likely the best solution for whatever was going on, but she didn’t want any of her companions to see her as lesser for being unable to handle the mark. She didn’t want Cassandra to see her as lesser, more truthfully. If it affected her field work, however, and endangered her teammates…

“I’ll consider it,” she finally said, voice trembling slightly. “I owe it to the people I fight beside, don’t I?”

Rein smiled gently and nodded. “They will be more understanding than you believe, my lady. Even your Seeker.”

“She’s not my Seeker, Rein. Nor am I a lady.”

“If either of those become true statements, then I will follow them as such. Until then, you are of House Trevelyan, a noble household, and I shall respect you as such—mage or not. Likewise, if you confess your affection to Seeker Pentaghast and she does not reciprocate, I will stop referring to her as yours. Believe me, though: she holds more affection toward you than you believe.”

Elera gave the surgeon a small smile and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll let you know if I’m right and you’re not.”

Rein smiled cheekily and stood, brushing the dirt off of her knees. “I would expect nothing less of you, my lady. 

***

In the end, it was her own stubbornness that revealed her pain to her companions, rather than her approaching Solas for help like Rein had suggested. 

Elera had meant to go to Solas, honestly, but soon after meeting with the surgeon her advisors had told her the sooner she got to Crestwood the better. The humidity and general dreariness of the place didn’t do anything for her mood, let alone the pain that seemed to worsen in bad weather. Though the constant rain had ceased after she’d helped get rid of the large Rift in Old Crestwood, it still rained about as much as the Storm Coast, and hunting down the Rifts she’d missed the last time they were there in such bad weather wasn’t the best. Varric and Solas were arguing with one another a few feet ahead over Cole, something that was becoming increasingly common between the two of them, and at her side, Cassandra huffed. 

“They’ll never agree,” she said. “I do not know why they bother arguing circles around each other every day.”

“They both care about Cole in their own way,” Elera said, smiling fondly at the two men. “Solas keeps treating him like a spirit, and Varric a human, so they’re bound to disagree.”

“But he is a spirit,” Cassandra said, brows furrowing. 

“He’s the most human spirit I’ve met. Unless Cole says something to me, and so long as Cole is treated kindly, then why does it matter?”

“I suppose you have a point. You can be the one to get that in their heads though.” Cassandra nodded at the men, and Elera laughed, bumping her arm against the Seeker’s fondly. For a moment she thought she saw a light flush on her cheeks, but that had to be because of the weather. Armor could get hot, and humidity did nothing to lower the heat of Crestwood. The silence dragged between the two of them for a time, only filled with Varric and Solas’ arguing and the pattering of rain against the cobblestone path they walked along, and it was comfortable in a way that Elera only felt in Cassandra’s company. 

Which should’ve been weird, considering when they first met Cassandra was holding her prisoner, but no one was perfect. 

A familiar green hue flickered up ahead, and Elera tensed, reaching back and grabbing her staff from its holster on her back. Her companions did the same at once, their eyes to Elera for the okay. They had a routine: she would aim her mark at the Rift to drain its power and weaken the demons that came from it while the others attacked them, join them while the demons were down until the Rift reaches full power again, rinse and repeat. It was only a matter of getting close enough to start the process, and Elera muffled the sound of her footsteps as she inched closer. 

The mark flared as it usually did around a Rift, but rather than tingling it felt ready to burst, and she shoved her hand at the Rift to close it. The mark burned as it sucked the power out of the Rift, and Elera let out a scream, clutching her forearm and dropping her staff—a critical mistake. The demons were going after her at once, but her companions made swift work of the majority of them. Cassandra used her shield to block the ice beam a despair demon shot her way, glancing at Elera as she cast a barrier around them both. 

“Are you alright?” Cassandra asked, though it was more of a shout so she could be heard above the demons’ shrieks. Elera nodded quickly and brought herself to her feet, grabbing her staff and casting a bolt of lightening toward the despair demon. 

“I’ll be okay,” she responded. “Go help the others. I’ll be alright here.”

Cassandra seemed hesitant but conceded a moment later, nodding and running toward the pride demon trying to attack Varric. Sweat was on Elera’s brow, and she wiped at it before continuing with their routine. Fire, attack, weaken the Rift, repeat. It was elementary at this point, but each time she weakened the Rift she nearly collapsed again. Even while fighting her companions kept sending her worried looks, but Elera just downed a health potion and continued her onslaught until the Rift was weakened enough to close. Her knees were weak and her breathing was heavy, but she shoved her hand at the Rift anyway to close it; somehow, it hurt worse than just draining it did. She tried to swallow back a scream but ultimately failed, sounding more strangled because of her effort and feeling as though her arm was about to fall off. 

If this was death, she’d gladly take it, though she’d miss seeing Cassandra every morning. A small price to pay for relief from this. 

When the Rift closed she fell to her knees, arms wrapping around her to keep her from falling any further. Elera looked up and saw worry in Cassandra’s eyes, said eyes flickering between Elera’s face and her left hand. So much for a secret, she mused internally. 

“Are you alright?” Cassandra asked, and Elera laughed painfully. 

“No, not really,” she admitted truthfully before passing out, the last thing she heard being Cassandra ordering Solas to look her over for injuries. 

***

Elera woke Maker knew how long later in an Inquisition camp, the red tent ceiling instead of her scrappy brown travel tent giving it away. She was in her night clothes and covered by what felt like two blankets, both pulled up to her chin and still managing to cover her short figure. It could’ve been a normal stop at camp, truthfully, but then she remembered the Rift and winced. That was certainly a way to reveal how much pain she’d been in since Haven, and not the way she’d intended by far, but what was done was done. She groaned and tried to sit up, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

Cassandra. 

Elera winced and lay back down, staring up at the other woman uncertainly. The contemplative look on Cassandra’s face could mean anything, she’d come to learn over the past year, so she had no idea what to expect. It didn’t seem like she was inclined to speak, though, so Elera wet her lips and asked,

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About half a day,” Cassandra responded. Elera’s mind froze. 

“Did you say half a day? Seriously?”

The Seeker raised an eyebrow. “Would I lie to you?”

She winced and sighed. The unlike you went unsaid but was certainly understood. “I’m just surprised. I haven’t slept that long in… in a while.”

“Because of your mark?”

“Yes, because of my mark.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it troubles you?” Cassandra asked, looking genuinely hurt. Elera’s heart broke; she hadn’t wanted to hurt Cassandra. “We could have gotten you proper help if we had known you suffered.”

“I didn’t want to worry any of you,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve dealt with pain before. It hurt like this back at Haven, and I couldn’t stand the pitying looks everyone gave me, Cassandra. I don’t want pity. I can’t stand it.” 

“I believe you mix pity with concern,” Cassandra said slowly, pulling the blankets back from Elera and lifting up her left hand. Elera tensed, ready for pain to flare up, but was surprised to feel nothing but vague pins and needles along her arm. When she sat up that time Cassandra didn’t stop her, instead using her finger to trace the veiny branches that emerged from the mark to just above her wrist. She watched silently as she did so, uncertain of what to make of the situation. “I too often find myself mistaking concern for pity,” she continued, eyes flickering up to meet Elera’s own. “As a Seeker, we are meant to withstand enormous pain without flinching to do what needs to be done. As a Pentaghast, I am expected of the same for far less noble intentions. During my time with the Inquisition, I have taken a great deal of hits that led me to sustain serious injuries. Did you pity me while I was in pain?”

“No,” Elera said quickly, eyes widening. “I thought about dragging you by the ear to lay down and rest though.”

Cassandra chuckled and nodded. “I suspected as much. Tell me, then, why you would believe we would pity you, when you obviously do not pity us while we are in pain?”

“I—” She hesitated, looking away and rubbing her neck with her free hand. “I don’t know. In the Circle, when someone was ill or in pain we hid it in case a Templar saw and used our weakness as an excuse for punishment: Tranquility, because we couldn’t fight back, isolation under the guise of keeping disease from others, sometimes worse just because they could.”

“That is repulsive.”

“That was reality,” she countered, frowning. “I know you and Cullen wanted me to side with the Templars while closing the Breach, but between what was happening in Redcliffe and my experiences in a Circle personally, how could I not support the mages? Maker, I couldn’t show it, but when I heard Kirkwall’s Chantry went in flames and the Gallows were destroyed by the infighting I was ecstatic. Would Andraste and the Maker want a world like this?”

It was Cassandra’s turn to frown, and they both watched each other for a moment, neither trying to make the first move. Elera could slowly accept that she saw concern, not pity, but if the mark brought enough pain to knock her unconscious, what good was she as Inquisitor? She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes. 

“So—”

“Elera—”

They both chuckled a bit awkwardly, and Elera nodded. “You first.”

Cassandra nodded and gripped Elera’s marked hand loosely in both of hers, her eyes intense as she looked at her. “I wish you had told me. I have… I have come to care for you a great deal since we founded the Inquisition, and seeing you collapse on the battlefield not from an enemy, but from this mark, terrified me.” She paused. “I do not want to see you come to harm, and if your pain is more chronic than temporary I wish to help you however I can.”

“Seeing you every morning helps me,” she murmured, blushing when Cassandra grinned. Slowly, as if she could scare Elera away with any sudden moves (which was possible, given her history), the Seeker brought the hand she held up to her lips and brushed them across her knuckles, her cheeks a deep crimson red. 

“Is that why I’ve seen you run into walls while looking my way?” Cassandra teased, and Elera giggled to hide (or show) her embarrassment, nodding and leaning closer to the other woman. 

“Perhaps.” Elera steeled her resolve and took a deep breath as she said, “Cassandra, I’ve come to care for you deeply as well. If I may, could I take you to lunch or dinner sometime? Just the two of us? There’s this little restaurant in Val Royeaux I’d love to try with you.”

“I would like that.”

The tent flap opened to the two of them grinning like idiots at one another, and Elera didn’t even mind when she heard Varric laugh at them. “You two finally got over yourselves, huh? Good for you. Hey Chuckles, she’s awake.”

She vaguely heard Solas explain how he’d cut off the majority of the pain she felt through the Fade and agreed to seeing him every few days to keep the mark from spreading any more than it already had, her mind more focused on the fact that she had a date with Cassandra. 

Surgeon Rein would be delighted to be able to say ‘I told you so’. Elera couldn’t find it in herself to mind.