#with mud all over her boots cause it's always rainy in fall

[nat-seal-well]

Nat would LOVE pumpkin patch dates

[corner-stories]

jk 35

Rainy Day Dialogue Prompts 🌧

35. "Let's play in the rain!" have some post-canon domestic jeankasa, as a treat Also I keep going back and forth on what I want Jean and Mikasa to name their first kid. I'm sorry.

Despite being soaked to the bone, three-year-old Mathilde is still a ball of energy in the walls of the cottage. Excitement runs through her veins as she stomps her boots against the floor, droplets falling off her rain-soaked clothes as she practically prances in the main area.

In contrast, Jean is slightly more dour as he enters the home. He closes the door behind him, the walls immediately muffling the sounds of the storm. With water weighing down every fibre of his jacket, his steps feel much heavier.

As to be expected, Mathilde's little happy dance rouses her mother awake, interrupting what would have been a peaceful nap on a rainy day. But against all odds, the look on Mikasa's face is utterly fond as she watches her daughter run amok with muddy boots.

Gently, Mikasa catches Mathilde by the shoulder, causing the little one to stop running. She is quick to remove her daughter's soaking wet coat and ask —

"Mattie, what'd you do to Papa now?"

As she continues to remove her daughter's damp clothing, she eyes Jean by the door. He's sitting on a conveniently placed stool, having removed his coat before getting to his boots. His ashy hair is as wet as he is, some strands are still slicked back while others collect into clumps on his handsome face.

"Well, it started pouring once we left the market," Jean starts, pulling one boot off and pouring out the dribbles of water inside. "Then it turned into that once we got here, then Mattie said 'Let's play in the rain!' and then..." He lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. "...then I caved."

Mikasa is already removing Mathilde's wet hat and shoes when she rolls her eyes.

"Well, it's not the first time," she remarks, the slightest bit of sarcasm tinging her words.

The little one had always been fond of nature, often enjoying afternoons playing in the fields of the homestead or fishing for salamanders in the nearby stream. There are even days where Mathilde probably thinks she's an animal, though Mikasa isn't sure what kind of creature enjoys stomping around in the mud and torturing their Papa in the rain.

At least Mathilde is calm by the time Mikasa picks her up, not minding the water sticking to her clothes as she does so.

The little one places her head on her mother's shoulder as Mikasa looks to Jean. He is now standing up, his fingers working the buttons of his waistcoat. The fibres of his white shirt are still decidedly wet, sticking to his shoulders and chest as he walks through the cabin's main living space.

For a second too long Mikasa finds her eyes lingering, then quickly pulls herself away once she remembers the blob resting in her arms.

"I'll run her a bath," she quickly says, and to that Jean lets out a sigh of relief.

He walks over and presses a kiss to her temple. "You're the best."

The two head towards the hallway, Mikasa holding her daughter safe in her arms. As they walk Mikasa finds herself glancing to Jean more than once. He shakes more droplets out of his hair as his shirt remains undone. By the time they cross their bedroom and Jean steps inside, Mikasa spares him another look, catching the sight of him removing his garment entirely just before he closes the door.

[jimlingss]

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck. 

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes. 

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest. 

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars. 

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!” 

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken. 

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt. 

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain. 

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!” 

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes. 

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features. 

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!” 

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast. 

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time. 

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long. 

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get. 

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power. 

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe. 

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him! 

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

[the-twi-light-zone]

The Sun and The Moon Chapter 4

Anger flares through Anna, chest exploding with pain and anguish at the sound of Bella’s voice. Though Bella is not the reason for her anger, their mother has now called Bella every night to gossip, exchange I miss you’s, and worst of all I love you. Not once has her mother even tried to reach out to her. Thoughts sprint through her head about why, why was she not good enough? Why was she always the odd one out? Why didn’t the people who created her love her as much as her twin?

Sadness seeps into her, a darkness spreading across her features and causing her to feel helpless. Annabelle looks out of her window, seeing her reflection in the glass the stream of tears that rain down on her shirt. Cheeks red with heat, her body begins to feel numb, numb with an underlying bitter tone. Riffling through her closet she throws on warmer clothes sweats, sweatshirt, scarf, gloves, hat, carhartt, and her boots. 

Throwing her wallet in her pocket, she collects her keys and begins her trek out of the house. Charlie sitting on the sofa watching the television, and as she stomps her way downstairs he doesn’t even bother to look. A fresh wave of tears seep out of her eyes, she slams the front door closed and runs her way to the woods surrounding the back of her house. Anna stumbles through the dark out farther and farther from any and all light.

The moon barely lighting the way through the thick foliage, her feet slip slightly in the fresh mud. Her fast breathing turn to hiccupping sobs, ugly wails leave her lips and turn to fast fading fog around her. Anna cries her heart out not understanding why she’s alone, why her sister receives all of the love from everyone around them. Her sadness again turns to anger a scalding rage burns in her, tingles run through her arms and into her palms. 

She eventually makes her way across a river shoes slipping and causing her fall forward. Her hands catch her, scrapes across her hands start to ooze blood pooling in her palms. She quiets her cries, opting to use her now ruined gloves to help put pressure on her palms. Anna stands slowly shins and knees damp from hitting the wet and muddy edge of the river. Continuing on Anna’s emotions have heightened, causing her to let out a howl of rage. Her anger searing in her body, blood boiling and finally she screams so loud and as she drops to her knees it stops.

Her energy drained, she slumps into her knees, sobs building up again her cries forming a red haze that she doesn’t see with her eyes squeezed shut. She suddenly opens them when she hears a cracking, trees around her scorched alongside the grass. forming a circle on the ground around her. A few trees around her collapse with a shaking thud scaring her back onto her feet. Hands shaking she looks down at them only to find light scars in place of the gashed up skin. 

Anna turns slowly and stumbles into the ground, trying to stand again black spots dance in her vision. A haze forms over her, head tilting as she falls onto her side, the energy that she expelled when it surged out of her drained her. Leaving little to no way for her to make her way home this evening. Eye’s fluttering she see’s yellow eyes watch her carefully. Slowly blinking she sees a man next, again her eyes close and open to see him kneeling down next to her. Swaying, her body is finally set on a soft surface warm air seeps into her cold bones as her vision again goes black.

____________________________________

Eyes opening and adjusting to the bright light that fills her room, Anna sits up slowly her head pounding like she had a hangover like never before. Groaning she can’t remember much of last night after the man had knelt next to her. Somehow she had made it home safe and sound, although she was still wearing her clothes from the night. Shaking her head she got ready for school prepared to go through her first five periods and be able to go home to complete her online AP classes. 

Nothing exiting happened at school, she wasn’t noticed like always. Which made it easier for her to disappear after lunch to go home to complete the rest of her schooling. Pulling her laptop off of her desk she grabs her charger and school supplies, heading back out of the door and to her truck. Pulling off only to drive in a haze towards the Black’s residence. Hoping out she shuts the door and makes her way into the home enjoying the warmth that flows into her chilled bones on the rainy day. 

“Ahh I thought you would show up earlier than the other heathens.” Billy’s voice rings out from the kitchen where he wheels over to Anna extending a small bowl in her direction. “Yeah I get off after lunch for my AP classes, so I figured it would be best to miss the heavy traffic from the schools getting out.” Anna replies taking the offered bowl to find half an apple sliced with some cubes of cheese and what looks to be some turkey jerky. Smiling she thanks Billy and gives him a hug. He reciprocates and tells her that she is welcome to go set up in Jacob’s room. Nodding Anna makes her way in and sets up, grabbing her bowl she lays against Jacob’s pillows.

Munching on the nice after school snack she sighs and opens her laptop and begins to solve problems for all of the college courses she has. A couple hours go by with her finishing up homework for two of the three, the third being nearly done to where she can then work ahead and complete assignments for the next few days. Laughter breaks her train of thought as three rambunctious boys enter the bedroom joking and snaking on the same she had earlier.

“Hey Anna! How’d your first day go?” Quil asks throwing himself on the bed next to Anna. Tilting her head back she groans, “I’m ready for it to be over already!” Anna says looking back at the boys, seeing them nodding in agreement. “Well we don’t have much longer if you think about it, prom is what six weeks away?” Jacob says pulling out textbooks and folders at the end of his bed.

Nodding her head she mutters an agreement, “are you going to prom Anna?” Emery asks his eyebrows raised as he looks at Quil for a fleeting moment. Anna’s face is blank as she looks at Embry, “why, did you get rejected by Quil’s cousin again.” Embry’s smirk disappears while the other three burst out laughing at his expense. Embry eventually joining in giving Anna a fist bump.

As the afternoon passes into the evening the four teens eat dinner together after completing the grueling task of homework. “Alright kids it is a school night, so let’s finish up soon and start headed home.” Billy breaks in wheeling his chair into the living room to do who knows what. Sighing the teens getting out of their seats after seeing the time is 9p.m.

The teens all exit the house with the promise of seeing them tomorrow at Quil’s house. Hugging them goodbye, Anna is slow to make her way home. Not welcoming the feeling a dread that sits in her chest and sieges her stomach down. “My god is an iron.” Escapes past her lips as her truck slowly disappears into the crisp night.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

[eugenesmorphine]

Hi, could you write something about ack ack? Anything but fluff

Yours Truly // Andrew “Ack-Ack” Haldane Imagine

AN: I want to let you know that this is angst. It talks about death and some blood so this is your warning. I worked hard on this Imagine so I hope you all enjoy :)

Words: 5,149

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @punkgeekchic @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

Y/N hummed as she walked throughout the rainy, muddy land of Peleliu. She managed to snag a spare apple from chow. A rare occurrence and a new luxury amongst them all. And she managed to not only snag one, but one for her fellow officers. Maybe it wasn’t the best of her as a Lieutenant. Snagging some extra food beside giving it to her men. But she had gone without eating for a bit. Giving her meals to some privates who were less fortunate. So grabbing three apples for her and her two fellow officers in command wouldn’t be all too bad.

   Crunching down on her apple as she approached Captain Haldane and Hillbilly Jones. Smiling at the men as she chewed down on the fruit. It didn’t taste like the ones she ate back in the states. But compared to the maggot filled rice they had been eating, it was a little slice of Heaven. “What is up, boys?” she asked softly. Pulling her weapon off from her shoulder and setting it onto her lap as she sat on a rock. Jones and Haldane turned and smiled softly at the girl. The two always viewed the female as a little sister almost. But, to Haldane, she seemed to mean a bit more than that.

   When Lieutenant L/N first showed up as the first female Marine officer to see combat like no other, she was viewed immediately as a weaker target. In that time, women weren't viewed as strong supports for much. But Y/N was so different. She walked with her head held high. Her weapon tightly in her grasp. She took no shit from anyone. Y/N L/N was a woman of class, yet she knew how to lead these men. She was able to earn the Marine’s respect. It attracted Andrew Haldane. He respected her from the moment her boots hit the mud of Peleliu. He yearned to know more. And of course as they were in command. Like how Haldane and Jones grew close, the two accepted Y/N into the group. And that is where Haldane and Y/N blossomed.

   “Hey, Lieutenant. What you got for us this time?” Andrew asked. Leaning against some sort of oil drum. Smiling at the female as his trusty Lieutenant Jones approached his side. Smiling at the female. Grinning back, she took her helmet off for a moment and set it to the side. Digging her hand into her Marine issued trousers and pulled out the two apples. They were just a normal green, Granny Smith apple. Slightly bruised, and not the biggest. Haldane’s and Jones’ eyes narrowed at the apples. They were sure they wouldn’t get one because they let the other have them. Their men came first. Always.

   “I know rations and food has been more and more scarce recently. But I snagged these for us. Actually, the cook saved them for me. Said that we deserved them since he noticed we hadn’t been in line for chow yesterday or the day before. Nice boy, really. Said we needed to get our strength up for fighting the Japs!” she explained. Hopping off the rock she sat on. Slinging her weapon back over her shoulder. She never went anywhere without her rifle. Approaching the boys and placing the apples in each of their hands. Grabbing her partially eaten apple and taking a nice bite out of it. The juices dripped down her chin messily as she wiped them away with her sleeve. Causing a chuckle to be released from both her fellow officer’s lips.

   “Thanks, L/N. I’d swear I’d die of starvation without you,” Hillbilly said softly as he rustled the woman’s hair. Sometimes a break from the war to just sit and joke was needed. It gave a sense of clarity. That maybe the war would end sometime. It was just a thought but man could they dream of it. Y/N grunted and pulled away.

   “Aye, Hillbilly! I already look a mess enough with this mop of hair on my head. What I would do to wash it just once,” she chuckled. Giving the Lieutenant a playful punch on the shoulder. Andrew just watched. A small smile danced across his lips as he did so. She was gorgeous in his eyes.

   The Captain had grown fond of the woman but just kept it to himself. Not even bringing it up to Jones. He knew war wasn’t a time for love and passion. No distractions were needed of him. But no matter what, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for the female Marine within combat. Needing to know she was safe. And when he realized his own doings he cursed to himself. He fell for a woman in the worst time ever. And the worst part was, he knew she felt the same.

   The two had shared smokes. Had deep conversations on watch. And it wasn’t until she had kissed him once night when no one was around, that is when he knew. He remembered that shit eating grin on her face as she pulled away. Taking the smoke right out of his lips and placing it between hers. And when he asked why she did it, she just shrugged. “When you work in a field such as this, surrounded by men who always think down on you. You learn to take what you want. Be assertive, Show you are in charge,” her face steadied as she looked down for a moment. Looking back up at Andrew with a soft smile on her face. “And I guess I wanted you, sir,” she said. Not a day went by where Haldane didn’t think of that night. It was a night he’d never forget, nor ever share. That was their moment, and their moment only. It was going to stay that way.

   “As much as I’d love to stay and eat apples all day with you two, we got a briefing for the next attack for tomorrow. We better get going if we want to make it on time,” Haldane said to the two. Biting into his apple and chewing slightly. The two other officers nodded and began to make their way to the briefing area. Andrew watched Y/N joked around with Hillbilly. The same smile rested on his lips. He hated the thoughts and future he wanted of that woman. She was like venom that flowed throughout his veins. An addiction. Haldane had a taste of her, and now he was left chasing after more. He kicked himself for it. But he just couldn’t help himself almost.

///

   It was early in the morning when the Japanese’s mortars boomed and exploded throughout the muddy fields of battle. Y/N and Haldane sat in a small foxhole, their backs pressed up against the dry dirt and rocks of the airfield. Pinging a few Japanese when she could, strings of curses left her lips as she looked at her Captain. That same shit eating grin came to her lips. “Hey, sir! How about if we do survive this shithole, why don’t we get married back in the states?” she yelled over the sounds of bursting mortar shells and the gunshots of the Japanese Army whizzing right past them. Ack-Ack wanted to turn and yell at her. Tell her to think of the mission at hand. He turned sharply to look at her, his eyes falling onto hers. He couldn’t help but smile. Why was he smiling? He had no idea. It was like she had taken him into a trance. The war seemed to fade out of his ears as he gave her a nod.

   “Of course, Lieutenant. You got yourself a deal,” he told her. His voice was smooth and calm. Little did he know, Y/N said it because she knew she wouldn’t make it all that long. In that moment they shared, Y/N turned to Ack-Ack, a look of calm spread across her face. She had her head on straight. Another quality that many didn’t have in an active war zone. It was almost like the screams of comrades being blown to pieces and shot to bits weren’t even there. Andrew needed to stand. Needed to lead his men. But yet he was nailed down by her smile. Her eyes darted and danced with traces of love.

   “Andrew Haldane, I can happily say I am more than in love with you. If I am to die during this war and not be able to make it home to truly be yours. Just know, my heart stays with you. As it is where it wants to belong,” she said to him. Grabbing at the sides of his face and pressing her lips against his. The sweat and mud that dripped down their faces collided as she sat there like that for less than ten seconds. But it felt like an eternity that they never wanted to end.

  When Y/N pulled away she straightened her back and stood up. Her head dipped won to avoid fire. With one last soft smile given towards the man she just admitted her love to. Andrew sat there for a second, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched Y/N called out to her Marines and led the charge. She was a goddess that walked amongst the combat field. He stood and peered over the edge of the dune. It was almost like the bullets and the mortar blasts were afraid of her as she ran through the air field.

   Grabbing his weapon. Andrew ran. His eyes stayed on Y/N the entire time. God he wanted to stop searching for her. Keeping his mind on the mission and the rest of the men. But he just couldn’t stop his feelings from taking over his mind. He hadn’t even realized Hillbilly running about three feet to the right of him. Dodging and weaving through the consistent fire from the enemy.

   “Captain Haldane! The Japs are already being pushed back! We’ll take this place over no time, our armor is almost here and we’ll have it in the bag!” he yelled over the blasts. He took his eyes off of Y/N for a split second to turn and give a nod towards his second in command. But he wished he never did. His head turned back towards the female officer. And his eyes widened.

  “Y/N!” he yelled. But there wasn’t anything else he could do. A mortar strike had hit the ground about two feet from her left leg. And with a loud percussion and the ground around her exploding, her body was thrown. And he watched in her horror as her left leg was torn completely from her upper thigh. “Holy shit.. Y/N!” his voice broke. He saw her body hit the ground. She landed flat on her back. Even from about twenty feet away, he could tell it just wasn’t good. Turning around to look at Hillbilly as he just saw one of his best friends and blown away by a damn mortar strike. The Lieutenant’s features were mortified. Sure men died every day and you couldn’t always expect that the next day was guaranteed. But when you create and share bonds with people, the pain is all too real. 

   Andrew froze at first to actually go and retrieve her. He would go to tell people that the reason for why he froze was because he needed to see if she was alive before he risked his life. To make sure it was even worth risking his life. But the real reason made him hang his head in shame almost. He was just too scared that he wouldn’t be prepared to see how she actually looked after a blow like that. From his years in the service, he knew after a strike like that, no one looked good. And Y/N wasn’t any exception sadly.

   When Ack-Ack came to, all of the silenced sound of the battlefield came back as well. His ears rang as he made his way to Y/N. Hillbilly was tailing behind him briskly. Their boots hit the dry dirt roughly as they ran. Andrew of course reached the fallen woman first. Her helmet was god knows where, face splattered in her own blood. Her left leg was completely gone, nowhere in sight around them. Pieces of shrapnel digging in all over her body. It wasn’t a good sight. And Andrew knew deep down there probably wasn’t going to be a positive ending for her. War wasn’t about happy endings. It wasn’t some fairytale with princesses. It was real life. With real death. And real consequences from real problems. But Andrew knew he had to at least try? When in reality, he would curse to himself later as he realized he had wasted supplies. But he only did that to try to ignore the real pain he felt. 

   He stared down at the female. She was still breathing, but her chest rose only slightly and slowly.  He knew she wasn’t doing too hot. Dipping down to scoop her up in the bridal style carry he tapped the sides of her face. “Come on, come on,” he mumbled. Turning towards Hillbilly, who was squatted down behind cover just watching them. Pressing his lips together he grunted as he tightened his grip on the woman’s arms. She was bleeding out, but he had nothing to even attempt to stop the bleeding from her leg, or the wounds that now show from her stomach. A piece of shrapnel had sliced deep into her skin. Blood seeping from her stomach and staining the cloth of her Marine uniform. “Jones! Make your way towards the front line. I need to find a Corpsman!” He yelled. Hillbilly just nodded and took off. 

   Andrew wasted no time. He ran. Screaming out for a Corpsman as loud as he could. Glancing down at Y/N every so often while he ran cover to cover. Her skin grew paler and paler as her eyes fluttered open for a moment. Then closed once again. Her breathing seemed to slow each and every second that flew by. Holding onto her tightly. The Captain muttered prayers beneath his breath, he never usually did as an adult. He would do it as a child when he was most worried or scared. But as he ran, and between calls for a Corpsman, he prayed.

   After a while of moving cover to cover, a Corpsman jumped next to him. “Sir, set her down and I’ll take good care of her. You need to move forward with the rest of the men!” he yelled. His hand on his helmet as he kept his head below any of the gunshots. Andrew stared at him for a few moments before setting her down gently. Staring down at her as she grunted in pain. Running a hand through her hair softly before pressing his lips to her forehead. He didn’t know why he even did it. In front of the Corpsman too. His body just made him do it.

  “Take care of her,” he told the young man. Who was already tying off the wound on her stomach. While placing a tourniquet onto her upper thigh in attempts to cut the bleeding off from her missing leg. Taking one final glance at the woman, he swore he saw her lips turn up into a smile just for a second. But he played it off as he was just imagining it. Giving the man a final nod before standing and making his way to the rallying point. Gulping slightly as he ran. Using all of his power to put into his legs for running. The images of Y/N flashing in his mind. He didn’t know why, but it wouldn’t stop. Her smile. Her laugh. Just yesterday when she was biting into her apple. It was crazy what could happen in such a short time. The feeling of her lips on his came back to his lips. Like a phantom feeling. His fingers coming to his own lips to graze over them. Huffing as he placed his hand back onto his weapon. Narrowing his eyes as he kept running. Knowing the faster they all moved forward. The more of the airfield they were taking. And that meant he could see Y/N and see if she was okay. But deep down. He already knew the answer. Yet he just ignored it and played in a false reality of hope and future dreams. The same false reality he told himself he would never get in. But yet, emotions are the devil and Andrew Haldane learned this first hand. 

///

   After what seemed for hours of constant fighting, the airfield was taken over by our Marines. Haldane panted as he jogged towards Hillbilly. Looking up at the tall Lieutenant. Wiping the sweat off his brow as he looked around. “Jones, where are the wounded. Have you seen Y/N?” he asked. Hillbilly Jones sat quiet. Pressing his lips into a thin line as he turned to look away.

   “Ack-Ack, I..” he started. Haldane knew. But he just needed to see her. He gave a hard stare at Hillbilly and chewed on the skin of his bottom lip. To which Jones just nodded. “I’ll show you where she is. I just don’t think I can stay there with you. I can’t see her like that no more,” he said softly as he turned and began to make his way where groups of bodies lay. He didn’t blame his second hand man.. Y/N grew to be one of his best friends. Two peas in a pod. He just kept quiet as he made his way along behind Jones. His mind knew well enough that Y/N wasn’t going to be there to smile at him. But god, in his mind she was going to just be there. Looking over the bodies. 

   When the two officers in charge reached the bodies that were all in a line and laying on cots. A Chaplain and Corpsman walked amongst them. Removing the blankets that covered their faces and removed their dog tags. Yet when the Chaplain saw the officers, his face narrowed. He already knew why they were actually there and who they were there to see. Giving them a nod and standing. “Right this way,” was all he said as he made his way to a lone cot with a body that had the same dark green blanket that was the same as the others. See that's the problem Andrew Haldane had. She was just another Marine. So many died every single day, so this shouldn’t have meant as much as it did. But yet, he felt this ache within his chest that seemed to be the same one he felt when he was alone most nights while the rest of the men were asleep in their foxholes. The nights where he thought about the men he had lost under his lead. But, when Y/N began to talk to him when she showed up, it just seemed to melt away. He didn’t even notice it. And as the world seemed to move in slow motion as he approached that lone cot, that same feeling returned after all this time. His feet felt heavy as his final steps reached the point in which he stood besides the blanket. He looked down and saw the familiar sticky, red substance that had soaked into the blanket right above where the left knee began, and traces of where the midsection was. He knew. Andrew knew right then and there. He knew all this time. Just his mind wouldn’t accept it. 

   The Chaplain stood behind the Captain and Lieutenant. Watching as they stared down at the body. “Here,” he said, slipping one of the dog tags he had removed from her set into the Captain’s hand. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said, turning to leave them be. Haldane and Jones stayed silent. Waiting to find the courage to pull back the blanket. They knew they needed to. But they just couldn’t. 

   Andrew’s hand tightened around the dog tag within hand. His thumb running of the engravings of her name. Beneath the pad of his thumb he could feel each letter that wrote out her name. Over and over his thumb ran over the letters. The image of her smiling stayed within his brain as he looked at where her head would be beneath the sheet. Taking a deep breath, he felt the dark feeling in his chest grow more. It felt more as a sharp pain within his lungs and his heart. But he didn’t feel tears within his eyes though. Just a strange empty feeling. 

   Gathering his bearings and thoughts, he squatted down and slowly grabbed onto the edge of the sheet. Gently and slowly pulling it back. First it was her hair. Her H/C hair that rested there. A mess like when she would wake up after sleeping. It was rare for her to do so, but when she woke up with a serious case of bedhead, Hillbilly was always there to tease her. And Andrew was always there to chuckle. And she always smiled.

  Pausing for a short moment, he just pulled the sheet down to at least her lower stomach. He heard Edward take a sharp inhale. His eyes narrowed as he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. It looked as if Y/N was sleeping. Her face was as peaceful and as gentle as ever. It struck him in a cord he never thought he would have. Gulping as he took a moment to look down and stare at his boots and the mud. Taking a deep breath as he looked back at her.

   “I.. I can’t do this sir, I’ve seen enough,” was all Ed Jones said as he turned and began to briskly walk away. Ack-Ack could hear his boots squish against some of the wet and also dry dirt. Leaving him alone.

   His eyes rested on her closed lids. Then looking at her lips. The ends curled up into a soft smile. She went peacefully. That’s all he could think about. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, Y/N.. I know you said you wanted to live out this war and get married,” he paused to let out a sad chuckle. The tears now began to prick at his eyes as he pressed his lips together. “I wish we could’ve gone against this war together.. I knew this was war, and I told myself in the beginning that I wouldn’t have fallen for you. Enough of the younger men had done that enough themselves. But.. not everything goes as planned clearly,” after those words, he noticed one of her hands was draped over her chest. Noticing a piece of paper crammed into the holdings of her fingers. He looked a little closer and he noticed ‘Ack’ on one the creased folds. He looked across both sides and looked back down at her. Gently picking her hand up and slipping the paper out of her grasp and placing the paper into his pocket while placing her hand down back down. He shut his eyes for a moment as he grabbed the end of the sheet and gave her one last look. A tear slipping down his cheek as he found himself smiling. Leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead and then pulling away. “I’ll see you again one day, Y/N,” he said. One hand holding her dog tag and the other using the sheet to gently pull over her face once more. At first he almost sat there longer. No reason to. But deep down he just didn’t want to leave her. But pushing his feelings aside he stood up. Taking one last glance down to her before standing to begin his trek back to his sleeping quarters. Turning to take the final look and then turning back, wiping his eye with the back of his finger as he trudged along. Continuing to run his thumb over the one dog tag. Feeling the eyes of the Marines on him as he walked. Though he just looked onward as he only focused on getting to his sleeping quarters.

   Finally, Andrew reached his sleeping quarters. Dropping himself onto his little and uncomfortable cot. He thought back to the times where the female Lieutenant would knock and walk in. And they would spend the night talking about god-knows-what and anything that would pop into their minds. Andrew chuckled to himself at the memory as he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled at the note. It felt like another quick and shallow jab when he saw the small finger prints of blood that had been stained on the note. But he shook his head slightly and kept going. Biting his bottom lip slightly as he unfolded the letter and began to look at the writing. His fingers grazing over the letters before even reading them over. Shutting his eyes for a moment and taking another deep breath. Opening his eyes, he began to read:

   “My Dearest Ack-Ack,

   You’re probably reading this letter because I met my unfortunate end on the battlefield. I wrote this letter a while back when I decided that you would probably see this. It was written and placed in my pocket where it stayed everyday. And the reason you are reading this, if this isn’t Captain Andrew Haldane, give this letter to him. Please. He needs to see these words.

   The reason you probably found this in my hand is because I got the strength to pull it out of my head and rested finally with it within my grasp. But enough of that. Andrew from the first day I met you, I found you so handsome. It started off like a teenage girl crush. It sounds stupid as hell, I know. But watching you put yourself before these men alongside Hillbilly, or Edward I should say. I looked up to you. And I will forever. But after our late night talks and that night I kissed you, I didn’t know what came over me. I had fallen head over heels for you, Sir. Man was it stupid to fall in love during a war. Especially when an outcome like this. But I am sorry, Andrew. I fell for you and I couldn’t live with you after this shithole. I would’ve followed you anywhere and I still will, please know that. Live for me. I will see you again, I know I will. Like I told you that night way back when: I get what I want. And I want you and you to come back to me. I will love you forever. I know in life I was too scared to tell you those three words, but I can say it here. I love you and I always will. My heart belonged to you the moment I first shook hands with you and I felt my name fall out of your mouth. My heart is yours, it will stay that way for the rest of the eternity. I will see you again. And we will be surrounded by love. But live for me. Don’t stop and be that amazing leader you are. Fight this war for me. Make it end. I love you Andrew Haldane. Forever and always.

   Yours always,

   Y/N L/N”

  Tears dripped down his face as Andrew had to set down the paper onto the side of the cot. A few sobs climbed up his throat and fell out of his lips. Ack-Ack never thought he would see himself crying over a woman like this. Let alone just a Marine. But Y/N wasn’t just a Marine. She was his heart. She was his soul. And he was more than pissed at himself for realizing this only now. Placing his face in his hands as he cried. War left no room for love. Just hate and sadness. Yet he found love. And he definitely found the hate and the sadness.

///

  It had been about a week since Y/N’s death. Her letter stayed within his pocket at all times. Almost like one would keep prayer beads or a cross. He reread her letter each and every night. The pad of Andrew’s thumb grazing over the engraving of her name, date of birth, and blood type as he read. And now he was running through the muddy lands of Peleliu, pinned down by a sniper. Deep down he knew what was going to happen to him in order to protect his men. Smiling at Edward one last time and turning his back. Digging his hand in his pocket and grabbing a new note he had written himself. A personal one that he held close to his heart as he began to run. It wasn’t long when the deafening shots of the sniper’s trigger finger sounded off and the bullets digging through his chest. 

   Andrew fell. Gasping out for air as he knew his date was to come. But his mind was clear and the pain had numbed. A few tears slipped down the sides of his face as a small smile came to his lips as he gripped the letter he wrote to his chest. He would leave his men, but he would die from bravery. As a leader. He lived. He lived his life proudly and bravely. His eyes shut as he succumbed to the tired feeling that grew over him. His smile was soft and his head was clear. The letter on his chest remained protected from the rain from his hand that covered it. It read:

   “My dearest Y/N L/N,

   This letter is to you. I made this shortly after I read the letter you wrote for me. I know you’ll never read this. Or maybe you will. But I did it. I led these men to the best I could. I kept my word as I always did. I’m sorry I couldn’t live as long as you probably wanted me too. But I get to see you soon. In whatever Heaven there is. We will see each other again. And like you always said and what I believed from you. You wanted to see me again after all of this, and you wanted that. I know I will see you again. There I can tell you those three words we couldn’t tell each other. I love you. I didn’t know what it was till you were gone and I didn’t want to believe the feelings while you were alive. But now I can. I love you. My heart is yours. Forever and always. I’ll see you again, my dear.

   Yours truly,

   Andrew Haldane”

[doctors-star]

writing challenge prompt: apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter. (Pairing Peter/Alex/Ruth if you fancy it)

prompt list

apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter

The farmyard looks like it’s on fire. Great coiling, curling masses of steam are rising off it and ascending heavenward, for all the world as if a large dragon had set up shop beneath the chickens’ feet and is now puffing away to itself. The steam is solid silver and grey in the midmorning light, swirling on invisible thermals like Degas’ ballerinas, and edged with sunlight that is altogether too bright to look at.

He is looking anyway.

His eyes are scrunched up with an intensity usually reserved for awkward texts and inscrutable hill forts, brow furrowed and creased over heavy, dark brows. He’s got one hand on his hip, the other wrapped thoughtfully around his chin; his feet are planted squarely in boots coated in solid, cloying mud. He looks immovable as an oak tree, there in the farmyard. The world around them could end, he thinks, and Peter would still be standing.

Peter shifts, hand moving from chin to forehead to form a slight shield against the vivid wall of brightness. His sleeves are rolled up and it is possible to watch his muscles shift under his skin, as has been impossible for the past few weeks of seemingly endless rain. It has been cold and wet and miserable for all of January, feels like, and the dawn of February has not given them much cause for hope; but now, the rain has stopped, the clouds cleared, the mercury in the thermometer made the effort and risen above five degrees, and Peter has his jacket off and sleeves rolled back right away, as if this is the only sunshine he expects this year and he had better appreciate it.

In fairness, it is Britain. Stranger things have happened.

And anyway, Alex can understand the idea. He is, after all, watching Peter as though the man might disappear; as if this is his only opportunity to lean propped up on the cart in the sunlight and see him, sleeves pushed back and squinting and lit up by light and steam. How very long the winter has seemed.

Alex leans back a little and folds his arms, glaring into the east a little more himself, to look the same way as Peter. Ruth - of course, of course they are watching Ruth - is talking with great animation to their flock of chickens, hands on her hips as she chides them. They keep ducking about around her feet rather indignantly, dipping their heads with their strange stop-motion movements to tap their beaks unenthusiastically against the frozen ground as if to say why aren’t you feeding us? we cannot possibly be expected to feed ourselves in this weather! And Ruth is laughing at them, with the sun behind her head and behind the trees so that the rays are oddly defined; segmented spikes, like a great art deco sunburst. 

“I will not feed you,” she is telling the birds with stern amusement. “You do not need it. It is a glorious day, at last, and you can go and enjoy it. And eat all the other things who are out enjoying it, too. It’ll be good for you. Lazy sods.” One of the chickens, the buff-coloured, famously bad-tempered one, darts forward and then struts nonchalantly away towards the pig sty. Ruth sputters an indignant laugh, jaw dropped in surprise. “Did you just peck my shoe?” she cries after the retreating bird, who puts on a burst of speed. “The audacity!”

Alex can feel the grin that’s lodged on his face; Peter, face still screwed up against the light, snorts inelegantly and she looks his way and beams. “Are you no longer a chicken authority?” he asks her very solemnly and sympathetically.

“My shoe has been pecked!” she informs him, rather redundantly, but it makes them both grin all the same. “They’ve lost all respect for me.” She watches the other chickens follow the vicious ringleader towards the patch of grass by the pigs where they peck morosely at the grass and dirt as if they don’t expect to find anything and reckon they’ll have starved by lunchtime. The various worms and insects which have ventured to the surface to enjoy the rare sunlight and which are now being snapped up by the sharp, aggressive movements of the chickens appear to do little to make them feel better.

“Get free-range chickens, they said,” Peter sighs, not unhappily. “It’ll be so rewarding to watch them hunt for themselves, they said.”

Ruth turns back to him, hand dropping from over her eyes, to laugh. Then she tilts her head on one side, offering him a lop-sided smile. “Are you alright?” she says. “I’m sure the camera crew would lend you some sunglasses until we film, if we haven’t got any thirties specs - face all screwed up, you look like a gargoyle.”

“I’m feeling great, thanks,” Peter says, voice all level and dry to make her laugh. “Really complimented and supported too. Have we actually got any proper shades, though? Alex’ll love them - he likes pretending he’s in Top Gun.”

“I do not,” Alex protests automatically and without a great deal of conviction.

Peter and Ruth turn to the sound of his voice, faces open with pleasure and slight surprise. “Oh, hello lurker,” Peter says cheerfully. “Was wondering where you’d got to.”

“I do not pretend I’m Tom Cruise,” Alex tells Ruth firmly, ignoring the lurker comment. She raises her eyebrows, one finger pressing against her mouth in futile prevention of a smile, and waits with interest for him to elaborate. “That - that bloke in The Mummy,” he finds himself saying, snapping his fingers as the name escapes him. “He’s got to wear sunglasses at some point, hasn’t he? I’ll be him.”

“Who, John Hannah?” Peter says, chirpy and obtuse with a grin from ear to ear and his hand cupped around his eye to shade against the February sun. Alex sends him a mock-withering glare and his smile somehow widens; Ruth laughs, bright and affectionately evil. “You do kind of look like John Hannah, you know,” Peter says, very deliberately reasonable.

Alex points at him warningly. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he tells Peter’s smirk, “but you know I was talking about the other one. O’Connell,” he says, snapping his fingers again in triumph.

Peter tuts and shakes his head sadly. “Nope, the hairstyle will out - you’ll have to be Hannah and I-” he places his hand on his heart like an old-timey Shakespearian actor about to monologue his way through a half-hour death scene, “-shall be O’Connell.”

Alex spreads his arms in indignation, appealing to Ruth in supplication for aid; as expected, she laughs at him.

“Ruth can be whatsherface. Evie,” Peter adds happily.

“No, no, I’m being Lara Croft,” Ruth corrects. “I want to run about in temples and have a mansion and a butler.”

Alex nods, conceding this point. Peter wanders over and places one large, sun-warmed palm on Alex’s shoulder, gesturing at him with the other and squinting towards Ruth. Heat leeches from the sun to the air to Peter, and he presses it into Alex’s joints like a balm. It soothes and steadies, even as Peter says “Do you want Alex for your butler?”

“Oh, yes please,” Ruth says cheerfully and Alex sighs, as deliberately and falsely put-upon as the chickens. Peter snorts and hauls him closer, half hug half headlock; he goes willingly, even as he makes an effort to look hard-done-by for Ruth.

“Why aren’t there any more cool archaeologists?” he says.

“Well,” Peter says, sounding rather apologetic, “there is always…”

“Indiana Jones is a terrible archaeologist,” Alex says firmly. “Great jumped-up cowboy.”

Ruth huffs a laugh at the tired old argument and tips her face up into the sun rather than engage with its well-trodden lines. She breathes deeply, inhaling great lungfuls of warmed, clear air; against his back, Alex can feel Peter breathe slow and steady and perfectly in-time. There’s something soothing about it, in the same way that there was something soothing about watching Peter watch Ruth: it is nice to know, sometimes, that other people operate the same way he does. For a moment, there, in their long-awaited sunlight, the whole thing had been as mana from heaven, all warmth and brightness and that peculiar kind of beauty that cannot be looked at head-on. He’s not sure he had really noticed, before, how much the interminable, rainy January had worn on him, until he had been confronted by the sunshine; by Ruth’s art deco halo, and Peter’s scrunched-up gargoyle face; by truculent chickens for the laws of farm and man. And intensity of emotion can be isolating, if the moment is not shared - but it is. Ruth is breathing it; Peter is holding him a little too tight; they are all together under a sun a little too warm for the season.

“There should be more films about historians,” Ruth declares to the sky, eyes resting closed. “What’s not cool about this?”

“Right,” Alex says. “We haven’t been rained on for, ooh, must be twelve hours now. Hours of action and entertainment in this line of work.”

“What’s it mean for Candlemas weather predicting,” Peter says, shaking Alex’s shoulders slightly but letting him stand fully and lean into his side, “if Candlemas itself is disgustingly wet and rainy but the day following is worryingly sunny?”

“Worryingly?” Ruth snaps, cracking an eye open to frown at them.

Alex ignores this and sucks his teeth. “Oh, nothing good, I’m sure. We’re being lulled into a false sense of security, mark my words.

Peter frowns with deep and false concern. “Snowed in by the morning?”

“If we even last the night.”

Ruth works one glove off her hands and throws it at them, nailing Peter in the chest; he scrambles to catch it. “Worse than the chickens, you two are,” she says, fighting a smile. Peter holds out the glove and she presses her lips together and crosses the yard. Her fingers fold around the leather in his palm; his thumb falls gently to rest over her knuckles. Ruth looks up at them, all amused reproach. “Can’t you just enjoy it?”

Alex and Peter share a look, and then Peter shrugs. Alex looks back at her, and the sunlight, and the chickens and the pigs and the way her hair shines copper and Peter’s scrunched-up face and the warming, thawing ground - like spring is coming. He shrugs too. “We’ll give it a go,” he says.

[derireo]

sylvain - a little help

im being pressured to apply for scholarships ,,, didn’t want to go to post secondary in the first place .. + ive been napping a lot during the day. not good.

sylvain x f!byleth

“ it was difficult. even though her heart didn't beat, it was still heavy with grief and loss. she couldn't bear to remember the people she had killed to get to this point with her comrades, but images of caspar's face as he accepted the fatal strike of her sword and the tears that fell from dorothea's eyes as she thanked byleth for being the last person she saw – it was all too much. it wasn't supposed to be like this. “

It was a rainy day in Garreg Mach as fat water droplets pounded against the windows of the dorms and the monastery. The sky was gloomy with splotches of black and grey, and the angry pitter patter of rain against the pavement was deafening to the ears.

As much as Byleth loved the rain, her mood tonight definitely matched the weather.

There was a storm brewing in her head. From her father dying and fighting in a war against her former students, only to wake up 5 years later, frozen cold from the river she was pulled out of, it was difficult for Byleth to cope with all the things that had happened when almost everybody already found the strength to move on.

She willingly became the commander for the Church of Seiros, to fight for the liberation of the people who were caught in the tyranny of Edelgard; a former student that Byleth was fond of back then. Byleth found herself re-thinking her choices up until now, as the Church of Seiros neared the end of this war.

It was difficult. even though her heart didn't beat, it was still heavy with grief and loss. She couldn't bear to remember the people she had killed to get to this point with her comrades, but images of Caspar's face as he accepted the fatal strike of her sword and the tears that fell from Dorothea's eyes as she thanked Byleth for being the last person she saw – it was all too much. it wasn't supposed to be like this.

And Byleth loathed the thought of having to face Edelgard; hated the thought that her former student wouldn't accept the compromise of ending this war peacefully as Dimitri had suggested. Byleth didn't want to kill another one of her friends.

But it's impossible to change fate, just as it is impossible to create a new path that lets everyone live.

Byleth was sitting outside on the pavement, under the roof truss. She was wrapped in the duvet that used to lay on her bed and she had her knees hugged to her chest as she stared  at the rain drops that splattered into puddles.

Looking at the weather, everyone unanimously decided to use this day as a break from preparing for battle, so many people were gathered in the dining hall or were cooped up in another warm area, so it was understandable why Byleth wasn't seen roaming around the monastery grounds.

Byleth didn't feel like doing anything anyways.

She let out a deep breath of air from her lungs and rested her chin on her knees, her mouth formed into a lazy pout as she stared into nothing, the loud crashing of rain becoming white noise to her.

She didn't notice the few people who were quietly approaching her while she let the soft duvet fall from her shoulders. She then stood up from her sitting position, and as if on autopilot, walked out from under the truss and into the pelting rain that immediately left her body and clothes soaking wet.

She sighed again and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to bask in the rainstorm that fell from the heavens. Byleth couldn't remember clearly, but remembered that on the day of Jeralt's passing, it was raining like this as well.

But then again, she couldn't remember many things.

It could be her imagination, but the sight of dark crimson flowing through the cracks of her fingers and staining her clothes was much too vivid for her to forget.

The growing stain of blood that dirtied her father's coat was something she could never remove from her memory.

She would never be able to forget having to watch her father be stabbed through the back twice. Once when it initially happened, and twice when she turned back time with the divine pulse Sothis had gifted her

How could she forget anyways?

The rain continued to beat down on Byleth, but the pain wasn't enough to distract her from her thoughts. Her bare feet was wet with mud, thin clothes clinging to scarred skin, and mint green hair stuck to her forehead.

"You're going to get sick if you stay like that." someone called out from the walkway of the dorms with a voice so soft that Byleth couldn't help but turn her head in their direction. Her nose twitched when she noticed that it was Sylvain speaking to her. The man was leaning against the pillar nearest to her room door with his arms crossed, and the clothes he was wearing was suited for the winter in Faerghus.

Good enough for Garreg Mach weather, Byleth mused to herself and ignored the way the redhead looked at her expectantly; waiting for her to come back and stand under the shelter with him.

Sylvain sighed, "It wouldn't do you any good if you caught the flu." he tried once more, and held his hand out with the palm facing up as he patiently waited for Byleth to make a move. as much as he hated to force people to do things they didn't want to, he couldn't bear to let his friend stay miserable in the rain like that.

But Byleth didn't look miserable. She seemed the slightest bit distraught, but she looked so comfortable in the rain. Her clothes were now heavy with water, and her hair clung to her face and neck, and although it should've been uncomfortable for her to be in this state, she was receiving the rain with open arms.

Before Byleth could even realize it, Sylvain was already in her personal space, out with her in the pouring rain as he smiled down at her. "Gonna have to tell Seteth to scold you for still being a terrible listener." Sylvain joked as the rain began to beat down on him as well, but paid it no mind, and removed his warm Faerghus coat to put over Byleth's head. The rain only seemed to worsen, not that either person minded, but quietly, Byleth fretted for Sylvain's own health.

His teal button up was already clinging onto him like a second skin while his slicked back hair was a sad, flat mess atop his head. That stupidly kind smile was still on his face too and Byleth couldn't help but feel sorry for making him reach out to her like this in the rain.

Silently, her frigid hand went out to reach for his own, and she dragged the both of them out of the squelching mud and rain to under the roof. Her unoccupied hand still held onto the coat that was laid atop her head, and she decided to keep it there while she watched Sylvain shake the water from his hair.

As always, her eyes held no hint of emotion while owlishly blinking at the man before turning around, heading down the hallway. Sylvain had slicked his hair back while she turned, and with a hop to his step, followed after her when his hand fell from her grip.

"As much as I love the rain," she started when they continued to walk towards the dining hall, the roof above them ending and the raindrops replacing them again, "I can't let you guys get sick. It's hard for me to take care of the Knights of Seiros as it is." she mused, Sylvain striding beside her casually with his hands in his pockets, the rain dampening his hair again.

They walked up the cobblestone steps that led up to the dining hall and quietly shuffled in, the sound of Byleth's wet footsteps apparent in the warm room while the squelching of Sylvain's boots had people turning their heads.

"Oh dear." Mercedes gasped when she saw the pair, "Byleth! Sylvain! What were you two doing out in the rain?" she scolded halfheartedly and stood up from her seat beside Annette who was busy slurping at her soup.

Byleth was sheepish when the gremory walked up to her and wiped away the water that was dripping from her face, her eyebrows furrowed in worry. A few of the others took a quick glance at the small commotion while some had taken the initiative and handed dinner towels to both Byleth and Sylvain for them to dry off. Not the most ideal fabric, but it was definitely better than nothing.

"Just chilling." Byleth answered casually while struggling to shove her hands into wet pockets.

Sylvain couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Yeah. Literally just chilling." he mused and grabbed the dinner towel that lay neglected in Byleth's hands, immediately plopping it on the top of her head to manually dry her hair. Although it was a casual thing for Sylvain to do for his friends; taking care of them even when they don't think much of it, the red head couldn't help but stare down at Byleth with a loving fondness in his eyes. With the way she looked up at him with her own curious gaze from below the towel and the hair that stay stuck to her face; he couldn't prevent the erratic beating of his heart.

Mercedes sighed as Byleth and Sylvain continued to drip rain water onto the floorboards, and kindly asked a passing soldier to go fetch some more towels along with Annette.

"I'll go and get her some Onion Gratin Soup," the pale haired woman offered to the dark knight who was still messing around with Byleth's hair, "It'll warm her up, no doubt. Would you like anything, Sylvain?" Mercedes smiled kindly when the man averted his gaze from the former mercenary to her, his hands moving around to lift the soaked mint hair from Byleth's neck to dry the wet strands at her nape.

"Cheesy Verona Stew. Thanks, Mercie." he winked out of habit, causing Mercedes to let out an uncharacteristic gag from the back of her throat before briefly turning around to fetch the food that would help Byleth and Sylvain to warm up.

"Hey, hey!" Annette bounced into the dining hall with towels in her arms and headed straight for the pair. "I've got towels and clothes for you guys! One of the students told me you two came in soaking wet and so I took it upon myself to help out." she declared and happily handed Sylvain and Byleth a fluffier, much larger towel as well as some warm clothes for them to change into.

Byleth pursed her lips once the folded clothes were set in her arms, and she looked under the mock turtleneck to see that Annette had done a little snooping in her room. A fresh pair of underwear was hiding underneath the shirt she was given.

She raised her eyebrows at Annette, silently asking for the explanation.

The little gremory trembled at the blank stare, but she still answered, "Well, the soldier was male and.. well – ugh! look, it's important that it was me who decided to help." she grumbled childishly, "Can't really up and ask Dedue to go and retrieve those scandalous things you call underwear, Byleth!" Annette whispered with wide eyes.

Sylvain whistled to himself, earning an elbow to the gut by Byleth.

Annette wasn't a very good whisperer.

"And how did you go there and back without getting wet?" Byleth inquired, already knowing the answer when she saw Lysithea at a nearby table, eyeing the three curiously. "Nevermind."

"Ferdinand helped with getting Sylvain's clothing " Annette added on hastily when she noticed the redhead check his own folded clothes.

"Carrot Top, huh?" Sylvain chuckled to himself, to which Byleth snickered and smacked the back of his head. "You don't get to say that."

"Aw," Sylvain pouted, rubbing the spot where he got hit. "You can't be saying that I am also a carrot top?"

"I am." she smiled slightly and tilted her head to the side as Sylvain began to dry his own wet hair with the new towel he just received, his skin clinging button up making it difficult for him to raise his arms comfortably.

Silently, Byleth let her gaze roam over the length of Sylvain's rain drenched body before consciously hugging her clothes and towel to her chest to help her snap out of it. "I'm going to go change." she announced and started to head towards the exit of the dinner hall, with Sylvain immediately trailing behind her after he said his thank yous and goodbyes to Annette.

Sylvain peeked over Byleth's shoulder to take a look at what clothes Annette picked for her and hummed, prying apart a few buttons from his shirt in an attempt to get the fabric to stop sticking to his skin. "Wanna show me the scandalous things Annette was talking about earlier?" he offered playfully and bumped his arm into Byleth's to tease her, his grin lazy when the mint haired woman only scoffed and shook her head.

"In your dreams, kiddo." she fired back and pushed Sylvain away from her with a powerful hand before slipping into one of the washrooms that was near the mess hall.

Sylvain could only bite his lip in bashfulness as he stumbled backwards over his feet, the corners of his mouth quirking into a little smile. She's not wrong. He thought to himself and sighed, bumbling around to get into a separate washroom to change into his new clothes.

As much as Sylvain loved the moment where he stood under the rain with Byleth, he hated how his clothes felt against his skin, and the cold air in the washroom only made his body spasm as a reaction. He wrinkled his nose when he shed the articles of clothing and immediately wiped at his bare chest and arms with his new towel to dry off.

"Gross." the man had groaned in annoyance once he had to peel off his pants. The sound of wet clothing thumped against the floor along with the clatter of his belt, and he sighed, rubbing his forehead as he put the towel back to use.

Once he was finished putting on the pieces of clothing Dedue and Annette had retrieved for him, Sylvain threw his large towel into a nearby hamper and kept the dinner towel on his head to help his hair dry.

The air in the dinner hall was pleasantly warm, and it definitely helped bring back the feeling of his fingers. The room was less packed than it was before, save for Mercedes, Byleth, and a few soldiers spread out here and there.

Mercedes perked up when she saw Sylvain enter in with a teal, long sleeved turtleneck, a mahogany long coat, and charcoal sweatpants. "A bit dolled up, aren't you, Sylvie?" she teased the redhead with the nickname and shot an expectant glance towards Byleth who was still sipping at her soup.

Sylvain didn't seem to bristle at the comment, but he looked at his own clothes with a pleased quirk to his lips then looked back up at the two women seated at the table. "Annette did say that Ferdinand picked the clothes for me." he shrugged his shoulders lazily then jutted his chin in Byleth's direction, his mouth slowly curving into a smile when said woman looked up from her soup to look back at him.

"Don't you think our Darling Byleth is dressed up a bit too pretty for such a casual occasion?" he drawled while sitting across from Byleth and welcoming the stew that Mercedes was pushing towards him.

Byleth was dressed in a fitted black mock turtleneck and an open, light grey cardigan that was falling down her shoulders as she ate, exposing that the shirt she was wearing was also a short sleeve. Despite the calm look on his face, his heart was racing at how the clothes accentuated her shape, but also softened her look.

Sylvain broke through the cheese on his soup with his spoon to keep him from staring.

"Hm." Byleth hummed into her spoon of soup with a hint of mirth flashing in her eyes, "I don't know." she mocked him while cleaning up her spoon with her tongue, her eyes showing off an uncharacteristic smile. "What do you think, Sylvie?" she batted her eyelashes prettily at her target and tapped her spoon against her tongue.

The nickname coming out from Byleth's mouth left him a sputtering mess, and he winced when a hot splash of his soup landed on his thigh. He grumbled childishly as he wiped at the wet spot on his sweatpants with a separate dinner towel, and Mercedes and Byleth giggled to each other when they noticed how red his ears were when they poked out from under the towel on his head.

Mercedes smiled knowingly at Sylvain when he finished cleaning up the small mess on his pants, and gave a motherly kiss to Byleth's wet hair as she stood up from the bench, "I'll be going now. Don't go out into the rain until it settles." she reprimanded the both of them as she squeezed Byleth's hand before putting it back on the table.

When the gremory walked out of ear shot, Sylvain cupped a hand around his mouth with a sparkle in his eyes and a grin playing on his lips, "I think Mercie's got a crush on ya." he winked suggestively at the mint haired woman across from him then shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth, visibly slouching as the salty sweet warmth coursed throughout his body.

Byleth scoffed playfully and dropped her spoon into her now empty bowl, crossing her arms over her chest to challenge Sylvain with a raise of her eyebrows. "Mercie is too preoccupied with Lil' Annette, Sylvain." she laughed and subconsciously played with the hair that Mercedes had kissed a little while ago, smiling fondly at how motherly Mercedes has become over the few years she's known her for.

And then her face turned serious, and something in Sylvain's stomach didn't sit right with him when he watched her fold her hands on the table.

"I just wanted to thank you." she whispered between them with a crooked smile, her doe eyes slightly sad as she looked at Sylvain, "You didn't have to reach out for me today, but you did, and I think it's going to help me get through this week." she admitted shyly, and a small twinge of pink dusted her cheeks as she glanced up at the man who had pushed his bowl of soup to the side, all of his attention now concentrated on her. The silence that fell between them was comfortable, and Sylvain took it as the chance to reach across the table for Byleth's hand, gently prying it from the other one she was clutching onto so that he could hold her hand in his palm.

"I'm -- we're.. All of us are here for you." Sylvain stumbled over his words when Byleth curled her fingers in his palm, her fingertips tickling his skin as he spoke to her with genuine concern. His smile was kind while he waited for Byleth's answer, and she only nodded, with a private smile shared only between him and her.

"I am so grateful." she sighed wistfully as she began to stand up from her bench. Sylvain could only watch and follow her movement curiously as she walked around the end of the bench with her hand still held in his, pleasantly surprised when she stopped to stand in front of him. His legs were spread on either side of the bench and she had coincidentally stepped between them. Despite her not stepping any closer, Sylvain was getting nervous at the barely close proximity.

His heart was racing again.

His throat bobbed nervously as he tilted his head up to look at Byleth who was snickering at him in amusement, knowing all too well that he was getting nervous for a silly reason.

"Calm down," she laughed happily and squeezed his hand before using the same hand to wrap his arm around her hips, shuffling closer until she was able to wrap her own arms around his neck to pull him into a cosy hug, her body a snug fit against him as he let himself hug her back in earnest, his arms a tight chain above her hips.

"Thank you, Sylvie." she murmured sweetly into his ear once she noticed he was getting comfortable with her in his arms, and let out a gentle laugh when she felt his face heat up, one of her hands coming up to curl around his strong jaw. She brushed the pad of her thumb against the sharp bone and hummed a small melody that Jeralt used to murmur to her when he tried to coaxed her to sleep, sighing softly at how perfect his arms felt around her body

"And stop trying to hide your feelings. I'm not as dense you guys make me out to be." she admonished him with a smile on her face, grinning when Sylvain's arms loosened in shock. Quickly, she pulled the towel from his head off and printed a gentle kiss to his temple where the hair was almost dry before stepping out from between his legs, but before she could move far enough, Sylvain curled his hand around her wrist and pulled her back in between his legs, his lips already grazing along her forearm.

His arm wrapped around her waist once more, and with how tightly he coiled around her, Byleth's cardigan had slipped down her arms. "Okay, By." he mumbled sweetly into her pale skin, his soft lips trailing up her arm until they brushed over the dip between her collarbones. Happily, he nuzzled his nose into the centre of her throat when she didn't push him away, and planted a small butterfly kiss onto her neck.

The scent of her skin smelled so sweet to Sylvain, and when he inhaled, his mind nearly went dizzy with pleasure. Silently, as his body buzzed with excitement, he bared his teeth and grazed the sharp tips along her unmarked skin, and just as he was about to sink his teeth into the sweet flesh, Byleth had tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his head and tugged him back with a teasing smile on her face.

"But at least show some restraint." she scolded him then proceeded to kiss his forehead, her hand still buried in his hair. "Okay?"

Sylvain's throat bobbed, his gaze filtered through thick eyelashes.

"Okay."

Byleth then let out a playful coo and pat his cheek with her free hand, "Good boy." she praised, combing her fingers through his messy hair one last time before reaching back to pry his clingy arms from her waist. "Thank you for today." she smiled again, and left Sylvain on the bench with his cold bowl of stew to head for the mess hall where Mercedes and Annette probably are.

"I'll see you tomorrow." the redhead had called out breathlessly, and watched at how her lovely figure walked away with a slight skip to her step.

When she was out of sight, Sylvain turned back to the table and held his head in his hands, his body straining with how much adrenaline was running through his body. He reminded himself of how her fingers tangled themselves in his hair and how her body felt so warm against his chest when he held her for a brief minutes and groaned into the wood that trembled beneath his elbows.

"She is so hot." he sobbed into his hands.

[foxesandferrets]

Under an Umbrella

This is a collab piece for @ainudraws’ 31 Day Art Challenge Day #6! You can go see her lovely lovely art here! (And check out her other inktober pieces!)

I had a lot of fun writing this (when I saw the sketch I was like GWAAAH!) so I hope you like it!

(p.s. you guys should keep an eye out for more collab pieces coming soon ;))

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The sound of the rain hitting the classroom window rings out like an assault rifle, a militarized attack on Hinata’s fun. He frowns at the wavering view of the schoolyard through the water streaming down the glass, everything soaked and gloomy in the gray darkness, washed of all color and happiness. Nothing fun ever happens on rainy days, at least not at school. At home he can wrap himself and Natsu in thick plastic yellow coats and rubber boots and head outside to splash in the mud until she starts to shiver and they head in and argue over who gets the first warm bath. He always lets her win, but the arguing is the fun part. At school, though, everyone is forced to stay inside, keeping safe, dry, and bored out of their minds.

“At least volleyball practice won’t be cancelled,” Hinata sighs, turning to Yachi sitting across the desk from him.

Yachi looks up from her manga and smiles, nodding. “See? The rain isn’t all that bad. And in the few days everything will be so green and pretty outside.”

“And muddy, so we’ll have to run in the gym.” Hinata slumps down, dropping his chin onto the desktop.

“It’s not so bad. Cheer up, everything will be back to normal soon.”

Hinata sighs, unhappy with how much of a damper the weather has put on his usually cheery mood. He feels like a plant, growing weaker and crankier by the second from the lack of sunlight.

Yachi turns back to her manga, and Hinata squints at the pink cover littered with sparkles and cherry blossom petals. He wrinkles his nose at the boy and girl on the cover. He’s never understood what girls found so interesting about shoujo; there’s no action, no volleyball, and the girls are uninteresting. Though, Hinata has never been particularly interested in girls in general.

“Oooooh, does Yachi have a cruuuush?” Hinata asks, lifting his head and wiggling his eyebrows. Yachi immediately goes scarlet, shoving the manga under the table.

“What? No! Of course not, this is just a really good series,” she tells him, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Let me see!”

“Shouyou!” She yells, but she’s not quick enough to stop him from reaching under the desk and snatching the manga.

He flips it open to a random page, squinting at the boy and girl fro the front cover standing beneath in front of their school. The girl is small and blonde, just like Yachi, and the boy is tall with dark hair and glasses, a mole near his mouth making him almost look like a boy version of Kiyoko. Yachi reaches to take it back but Hinata easily keeps it away from her, one of the only people he knows with shorter arms than his. He flips forward a few more pages, where the girl steps out into the rain without her umbrella, and the boy rushes to share his so she won’t get wet.

Hinata frowns again, he can’t even escape the rain in the fake shoujo world. The girl stands close to the boy, commenting on how warm he is, and Hinata suddenly remembers a time at the training camp when he woke up late at night closer to Kageyama than either would have voluntarily been when awake, but all his sleepy brain could make sense of was how warm the other boy was. Suddenly blushing, Hinata shoves the manga back towards Yachi, folding his arms and looking away.

“Whatever, take it. It’s boring anyway.”

Yachi takes it and puts it in her bag, dropping her burning face into her hands.

“That’s not real, is it?” Hinata asks, and Yachi shoots him a quizzical look. “I mean, people don’t really act like that, do they?” “Hm, I’m not sure,” Yachi replies, shrugging. “One time Kiyoko let me borrow her jacket to walk home when I forgot mine. I’ve seen things like that in manga before.”

A brief image flashes in Hinata’s mind, of Kageyama standing close, that same feeling of warmth pressed to his side, heavy raindrops falling all around them but not touching them. He shakes his head, forcing the thought away. What is he? A lovesick sitcom protagonist? He has other things to worry about than dumb tall boys with pretty blue eyes, like volleyball and meat buns. Things that matter.

The image sticks, though, no matter how hard Hinata tries to force it away, lasting all through practice and causing him to stumble a few times and miss tosses when he looks at Kageyama. He even contemplates taking a volleyball to the face to clear his thoughts, though he’s tried that before and it never managed to work.

“Hinata! Watch out!”

Hinata turns towards Daichi’s voice, but the words don’t register fast enough, and a volleyball lands hard on the top of his head, knocking him down. There’s a flurry of footsteps and shoes squeaking on the gym floor, the team appearing around him.

“I’m sorry! I misjudged my serve!” Yamaguchi apologizes, while Suga presses softly on the tender spot on Hinata’s head.

“Is your vision blurry?” He asks, while Daichi lifts Hinata into a sitting position.

“No, I’m fine. It wasn't that hard, really.”

“How many fingers am I holding up!” Noya calls out, holding up all ten fingers while Tanaka adds another handful to the side.

“You know, if he has a concussion and falls asleep he’ll die,” Tsukishima says bluntly.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi gasps, glaring at him.

“Shut up, he won’t die,” Kageyama says, finally wandering over to the rest of the group.

“You never know.”

“Tsukkiiiii!”

“I don’t think you have a concussion, but you should sit out for the rest of practice,” Suga tells Hinata, smiling gently in that way only moms should be allowed to do.

“Awww, but I-,”

“Suga’s right, rest for a while,” Daichi interjects, voice stern but caring. “Why don’t you head to the clubroom and change?”

“Yeah, fine,” Hinata grumbles, thankful to have a team that cares about him but feeling as if this day is just getting worse and worse. Volleyball practice was the one thing he was looking forward to, and now he can’t even finish that.

It’s all because of this rain, he tells himself as he makes his way to the clubroom, sticking his tongue out at the dark gray clouds hovering over him so close it's suffocating. If it weren’t for the rain he wouldn’t have seen Yachi’s manga, and he wouldn’t be having dumb thoughts about Kageyama acting like a proper shoujo boy, and right now he’d still be playing volleyball and everything would be fine.

Hinata changes quickly, grimacing at the way that everything in his bag seems to be slightly damp and cold, the rain water that found it on his way to the gym sinking in and pressing wet fingers to everything inside. He shivers as he slips a shirt on, his jeans snagging against his skin as he forces his legs in. At least his hoodie survived, adding a fraction of warmth and comfort, though not as much as the Kageyama daydream.

He shakes his head again, groaning loudly. “C’mon, Shouyou, pull it together!”

He fishes his umbrella from his bag, making to leave and get home early to spend the evening moping on his bed, when an idea strikes him. The only real way to combat a problem is to face it head on. Tanaka and Noya taught him that, and they haven’t failed him yet. If it’s a shoujo scene he wants, then it's a shoujo scene he’s going to get, and hopefully then things can return to normal.

Practice should be ending soon, so Hinata acts quickly. He steps outside, looking around to make sure no one is watching, and flings his umbrella with all of his strength, watching it glide through the rain and land heavily with a splash on the roof of the club room. Well, that’s one way to get rid of it, though he’s sure he’ll regret it next time it rains.

The gym doors open, laughter reaching Hinata’s ears through the sound of rain, and he quickly retreats back inside, positioning himself nonchalantly on the floor. When the rest of the team files in he pretends to dig through his bag, painting a concerned look on his face.

“Everything okay, Hinata? Are you feeling better?” Suga asks, kneeling beside him.

“Yeah, I’m fine Suga, I just can’t find my umbrella,” he says, speaking loudly on purpose to make sure everyone hears him. “I must have left it at home this morning.”

“I saw you with it earlier. The cute green one with the froggy eyes,” Yamaguchi pipes up from his other side, and Hinata’s cheeks flare red.

“No, I was just holding that for a friend! Besides, my umbrella is way cooler than that,” he laughs nervously. Yamaguchi knits his eyebrows together, confused, but doesn’t comment further.

“Well, maybe someone can share with you for part of the walk home,” Suga suggests. “We don’t want you getting sick after all.”

Yes, this is all going according to plan! “Yeah, sure, I’ll ask someone.”

After everyone is dressed the team leaves together, walking the familiar path towards Ukai’s store. Hinata hangs back, walking close to Kageyama but trying to seem casual.

“Where’s your umbrella?” Kageyama asks him, as if he hadn’t heard the conversation in the club room at all. Though, knowing Kageyama, he probably hadn’t.

“I forgot it this morning,” Hinata sighs, trying to look cute and pathetic. His mother always said he had good sad puppy dogs, so he might as well use them to his advantage.

“Dumbass. Didn’t you see the forecast?”

“Yeah, but I was in a hurry and left it by the door.” He shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, kicking at a puddle of water.

“Don’t get sick. I need someone to hit my tosses.” And with that, Kageyama keeps walking, his long strides leaving Hinata behind. His jaw drops open, starting to shiver as the rain water soaks through his hoodie and touches his skin. He was so sure that would work, but now he’s cold and wet and even more upset at the rain than before.

“I am a dumbass,” he mumbles, ducking his head and continuing on his path. The rest of the team is far ahead of him now, but he doesn’t care, he wants to be alone to wallow in his failure. He hopes he catches a cold, he deserves it.

By the time he passes the store the rest of the team is already gone, and he doesn’t bother going in, knowing they bought all of the meat buns. He keeps walking, when a flash of blue to his side stops him.

Suddenly the rain stops, or at least it stops just over his head, and a warm arm slinks around his side.

“You’re soaked, dumbass. What were you thinking?” Kageyama’s voice is in his ear, and Hinata doesn’t know what to do or say, frozen as his mental image comes true, though not quite in the way he’d pictured it. Kageyama must have been waiting for him here. The thought makes Hinata’s heart flutter. “Here. I got you this.”

Kageyama holds out a bag with a meat bun, and Hinata silently takes it. There’s a bite taken out of it, but he can’t formulate the words to comment on it. He’s almost too shocked to even eat. Almost.

“I...I forgot my umbrella,” he mumbles around his stuffed cheeks, the food restoring his ability to speak.

“I saw it on the club room roof. The green frog one,” Kageyama says, starting to walk again and pulling Hinata along with him.

“No, that’s not-,”

“Yes it is.”

There’s a pause as Hinata’s brain frantically searches for an excuse, but he can’t think clearly enough, his entire mind focuses on Kageyama’s chest pressed against his shoulder and the hand resting on his hip.

“Alright fine, yes it is.” He looks up, meeting Kageyama’s eyes that seem to shine a brighter blue in the gray of the rainstorm, and he swears he sees a hint of a smile pull at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t question him further, and Hinata is grateful, finishing his meat bun in the silence.

“You’re a dumbass,” Kageyama says, pulling Hinata a fraction closer, the wetness of his hoodie seeping into his jacket. “You’re going to get sick.

“You could’ve offered to share with me earlier,” Hinata replies, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“It’s not my fault you ‘forgot’ your umbrella. What is this, a shoujo manga?”

Hinata’s face burns, warmer than Kageyama’s touch. “No, of course not. Who reads those anyway?”

Before Hinata knows it they’ve reached his front door. He was so engrossed in the scene, in Kageyama’s warmth, that he hadn’t realized how long they’d been walking or where.

“You didn’t have to bring me all the way home,” Hinata says, feeling immediately cold as he steps up to the door, fishing his keys from his bag.

“Like I said, if you get sick I won’t have anyone to hit my tosses,” Kageyama shrugs, starting to turn away.

“Hey!” Hinata calls after him, not sure why or what to say. “Uh..thanks. For coming to my rescue.”

Kageyama doesn’t reply, just waves goodbye before continuing on his way home. Hinata watches him go, growing smaller and smaller on the horizon before turning and disappearing completely.

The raindrops seem different somehow, lighter and less assaulting as they patter against Hinata’s window that night. He lays awake listening to them like music, the walk home replaying over and over in his head like a happy movie. Maybe if he’s lucky, the rain will last a few more days, and Kageyama’s warmth will last even longer.

[joannabethharvelle]

☔

[[ I thought I’d give you the prequel to your heart breaker Dissolve Me that you wrote me the other day. Its a bit of a detour from the original meme prompt that you sent me, but… I’m the worst and you know this, so… Enjoy. ]]

Jo’s gaze followed the droplets of water as they ran down the window pane of her cabin, a bumpy race of broken movement and intersecting paths. Her windows were slightly fogged around their edges from the heat and moisture inside contrasting the cold glass, and it only added to the ‘rainy day’ aesthetic. It was beautiful, Jo thought, and on any other day she would have wished that it would go on for days. Now? It wasn’t something she wanted to see now. Of all the days that rain could fall, for the first time in months, the day before one of the biggest runs they’d gone on all year was when they sky finally decided to break. It didn’t have a choice, of course; weather was weather, but Jo couldn’t help feeling a bit of disdain toward those dark grey clouds covering the sky. 

Going out on runs wasn’t easy in mud, much less sludge.

She was laying on top of the comforter, naked and slightly chilled from the now dried sweat on her skin. The gentle noise of the rain combined with the post-sex bliss had caused her to tune out most of reality, mind wandering with no real destination in mind. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she’d rolled onto her side, panting and spent, pressed up against the warm body beside her. 

Seconds ticked by, as did the minutes, and with each passing one Jo started to feel an odd, rising feeling of dread. Something felt wrong; unsettling and off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It wasn’t anything to do with her current situation; things in this department were going – well wasn’t a good enough word. Her vision adjusted, the rain going blurry, focusing instead on the three small sunflowers planted in the dirt outside her window. Their bright petals quivered and bounced in the rain, and Jo thought that this would probably be good for them. They were alive, but small and fairly weak, as far as plants go; the only ones that had managed to make it past a sprout out of the little package of seeds that her boyfriend had somehow gotten her for her birthday.

Her eyelids slid closed, lips pulling up into a faint smile, the thought of him enough to push back that unknown anxiety for a few moments, that warmth that the thought of him always brought with it flooding in and blanketing the unpleasantness.

“Did you, uh, did you fall asleep?” Cas’s voice shook her out of her little trance, and Jo turned her head slightly to the side, looking up at the ex angel that had propped himself up next to her, all glassy blue eyes and wild hair. With a smile, she shifted to roll onto her back in order to look up at him fully, moving one leg up and over to hook her knee over his thigh.

She didn’t answer right away, lifting one hand to drag down his cheek, enjoying the way his scruff felt under her palm; familiar and foreign all at once. Her eyes searched his face, gentle and loving, mapping out the lines of his features – the wrinkles beside his eyes, the dark circles underneath them. Jo moved her thumb to drag over those gently, knowing for a fact that they were more prominent now because he had stopped almost all of his – extracurricular activities. She hadn’t asked him to, but the fact that he had was touching in a way she didn’t quite know how to express.

Cas was staring down at her, looking a bit bemused but not upset by her affections. Slightly concerned, maybe.  His hand came up to rest on hers, much longer fingers wrapping around her wrist to bring her knuckles to his lips, pressing kisses across them. 

“Are you okay?”

Jo smiled at him, ignoring that dread trying to claw its way back to the surface again deep inside her chest, and used her free arm to push herself up to close the distance between them, moving her fingers from his mouth and replacing them with her own lips. His features were relaxed, face content again when she finally pulled away. “Hmm. I’ll uh, take that as a yes.” 

She wrinkled her nose at him affectionately and patted his cheek, pushing herself up to a sitting position, awkwardly crawling over him to stand, walking over to her makeshift dresser to search for a piece of elastic she’d fashioned into a hair tie. Fingers worked quickly and habitually to tie up her messy hair, piling it up on the crown of her head. She heard the bed creak, and when she turned to look, Cas was getting up as well, reaching for his pants.

“Hey,” Jo said, quickly, brows furrowing in displeasure. “Where are you going?”

“I have to help load up supplies. I told you this morning,” Cas was standing, stretching slowly, shaking his worn jeans out and tucking his boxers into them in preparation to step into them both at the same time. “Or were you too, uh, distracted to listen to what I was saying?”

The phrase was meant as a tease; referencing the way she’d dropped part of breakfast onto her lap, enthralled with that thing he was doing with his tongue on his lips…

Normally, she would have shot him a flirty look and a ‘your fault’, but right now things felt different. She didn’t have that in her.

“Do you have to go now?” Bare feet crossed the room to stand next to him, arms crossed over her chest as goosebumps formed on her upper arms, a chill from the outside weather starting to seep in through the old walls. 

Cas glanced at her sidelong, obviously put off by her failure to react in the way that was expected, one brow raised slightly; curious. “The rain’s coming down hard, Jo. If I don’t go now, our uh, leader, won’t be ha –”

“Fuck Dean.” Her tone was sharp; something of a mix of anger and… fear? In any case, it surprised even her. She’d reached for his pants without even realizing, making an attempt to pull them out of his hands. He hadn’t let go, though, and the room fell silent around them. They stood there, both holding his pants, and staring at each other almost dumbstruck, for several long beats. It was Cas that finally broke the awkwardness, lips twitching up in the corner, a playful sort of light sparking behind his eyes. “I don’t think you’d like it if I actually did that, baby.” 

The way he said it, the faux seriousness, the rasp of his voice; that was enough to make Jo falter, a little chuckle breaking the tense atmosphere. She gave another tug on his jeans, gentler, more pleading; and this time he let her take them, not objecting when she tossed them over the back of a chair. She was sure that he could sense that something was wrong. She wasn’t making it subtle, even though she didn’t know what it was. 

“I’m serious, Cas. Its the least he can do, right? I’m not even supposed to be going on this run – If Bryant hadn’t been such a goddamn idiot and – what did he do?”

“Uh, he broke his –”

“Dick, yeah. Because the asshole doesn’t know what the word ‘no’ means, and Cindy has a grip stronger than a vice.” She huffed out a heavy breath, dropping onto the edge of the bed and resting her forehead on the heels of her hands.

Silence fell; heavy and cold, blanketing the room. She could feel her boyfriend’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up to meet them. “I know it’s stupid, Cas. I’m next in line to go on a run anyway. If it isn’t this one, it’ll be the next one. I don’t usually care about going – I know it’ll be fine, it always is. But I haven’t gone on one since we – .” She looked up, expression softening as she met his gaze. “I never feel like this… felt like this before I’d go out. I – I think its because of you. Because of us. I have something to come back to, now. Someone I love –”

She hadn’t even finished speaking when Cas was in front of her, firm arms wrapping around her scarred middle, lifting her up and laying her back on her bed, using his own body to pin her there. The action was quick and unexpected, and as she bounced back on the mattress, it took a moment of confused blinking up at him before she smiled, an expression promptly covered by Cas’s mouth.

Her lids were heavy when he finally pulled back, the deepness of his kiss enough to sidetrack her from what she was saying; pleasantly tingling lips pulled into a lazy smile. Habitually, she lifted her hands to drag up his sides and over his shoulders, resting them there as she peered up at him.

“Does this mean you’re going to stay?”

“Well it, uh, it is raining pretty hard. And I only brought along my new boots.”

“Oh, no. It’d be a damn shame to ruin those.”

Cas chuckled, not moving off of her. His expression slowly melted into one of seriousness as the seconds of silence passed, and Jo’s soon mirrored his.

“What do you want, Jo?”

“I just want you to hold me.”

Her voice came out smaller than she’d expected, than she’d wanted, and the look on Cas’s face was one that she didn’t want to see. Worry, or something like it, caused by her. He simply nodded, rolling off of her and pulling her close, letting her slot her body against his in a way that was now so comfortingly familiar.

Jo’s throat tightened, and she had to breathe deeply to keep herself from trembling. It was all so out of nowhere, this feeling of dread and what was now threatening to be a rising panic. Through it all, though, he cut through. Cas’s soft voice; his gentle hands and light kisses to her hair worked like a medicine, and eventually she was relaxed in his arms; warm and pliable against him. 

Time passed and they didn’t move, her head resting on his chest and tucked against his neck, fingers tracing nameless shapes over his ribs. She did feel a little guilty, pulling him away from what he was supposed to be doing. He’d get a tongue lashing for sure – maybe even be given double tasks in punishment.

“Hey,” she started, pulling back in order to look up at him. “I think I’m calmed down now. I’m sorry… I really don’t know what that was. If you wanted to go, you can.”

Cas’s blue eyes flashed in that mischievous way that Jo loved so much, and she felt his arms tighten briefly around her.

“Fuck ‘em.”

It was her turn to smile, one brow lifting a little in a teasing, coy expression. 

“All of them? Well, now… I don’t think you’d like it if I actually did that either.” 

Cas’s playful growl and his lips buzzing on her neck drew out a peal of laughter and she squirmed against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled the blanket up over the both of them, drowning out the pattering of rain.