#you just look like a child trying to participate in a grown up discussion

[anotherpapercut]

it's kind of scary and disgusting the way people are responding to the fact that Joe Biden is enthusiastically participating in genocide with "no candidate is morally pure" dude this isn't about whether or not he shoplifted in his 20s. thousands of people are being murdered and he is going out of his way to make sure that doesn't stop

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Bella and Beauford (your version of Beau) are twins, similar features (brown eyes), similar chip on their shoulder, similar flowery language, and Ed can't read either of their minds and both smell like grade A beefcakes. Both move to Forks. What kind of mess do you think will go down? 030 Does Eddie boi get the harem he's never wanted? How much can we destroy the B&B team self esteem? Find out on today's episode of the What if Muffin chronicles~! - Sw

Beauford is a reoccurring guest star on this blog.

Think Bella directly plastered onto a boy: absurdly pretty, still clumsy, still terribly introverted and awful socially, and smells like heroin to one Edward Cullen.

With that, onto your question

The Rules

To set some ground rules that are set in the post, I'm presuming both, somehow, are Edward's singer. Now, given that it's Bella and Beauford (fraternal twins), I'd say this is highly unlikely. Singers are rare, and Charlie and Renee don't notably smell like high quality heroin to Edward. More likely, Bella would be the singer, and Beauford would just smell generally nice (but not murder all of Biology nice).

It's also unlikely they'd have the same exact gift, or a gift that expresses itself in the same manner, blocking Edward out of their minds.

But the rules are set, both are Edward's singer, and both have Bella's absurdly powerful gift.

They're for all intents and purposes the same fucking person that somehow got stuffed in two different gendered bodies. The real genesis of this AU: Renee was abducted by aliens while pregnant and her unborn child experimented on. Beauford is, in fact, Bella's identical twin. Beauford is actually Bella's male clone grown in the womb.

After Bella and Beauford reach sexual maturity they'll be beamed back up into space and put into a zoo on Traflamador. (Except not because that would derail this post... The test pilot on Traflamador blew up their planet before Bella and Beauford could phone home. It's not important.)

Bella, Beauford, and the Time Before Forks

Bella and Beauford are probably frightfully codependent for a few reasons that go by the name of Renee. Renee's still out to lunch parenting, and it falls to Bella and Beauford to take care of adult responsibilities from a very young age.

Bella and Beauford come home from school to an empty house, are the ones to go grocery shopping, pay the bills, pay the taxes, do the laundry, pretty much anything that has "adult responsibility" stamped on it.

As a result, they don't really have time to make friends with kids out of school, and they quickly realize that they're the only ones they can depend on in their lives. More, they're the only ones who get each other on any level.

They're both social outcasts, both not what their mother wanted, both have to deal with their mother, and if they ever get in trouble then it's their sibling that they're going to call. Because no one else will ever be there.

I imagine both Bella and Beauford cling to each other tightly with both hands.

Which, of course, makes things weird.

There's getting along with your twin sibling then there's... only getting along with your twin sibling.

Bella and Beauford have lunch together, by themselves, every day in Phoenix. They partner together on everything and are very displeased if they're forced into a group project with anyone else. They participate in all the same activities and if one isn't allowed to do it then the other quits (yes, Beauford tried to get into ballet class, when Renee put her foot down Bella quit right then and there). They wear each other's clothes, if they can't, then those clothes never get worn (Bella never wears the few dresses in her closet). They actually remember their made up secret twin language and lapse into it accidentally from time to time. They're anxious when they're not in the same classes and meet up after every single class to walk down the hallways together. Rather than have any friends, most of their free time is spent at home reading the same books in the same room. They don't even talk about how amazing Heathcliff is, because they know the other knows.

I imagine they channel such the twins from The Shining. Absurdly good looking, beautiful, kids but good god what is wrong with them?

The Decision to Move

When Phil enters the picture seriously, he's not just a new boyfriend, Bella and Beauford sit down to discuss their options. Neither is quite sure how they feel about Phil.

He's awfully young, but he seems to be good for Renee, and is actually capable of paying his taxes (unlike Renee). He can probably be depended upon not to run off and to make sure Renee is taken care of.

However what about Bella and Beau?

With Bella and Beau going to school, they can't travel across the country every few weeks following Phil. Now, in theory, Renee could abandon them to follow Phil. This wouldn't make much of a difference in their daily lives (might, in fact, make things easier in a way as then Beau/Bella can just handle all the cooking rather than Renee even attempting to). However, Renee would never want to admit she's been leaving her kids to their own devices for years, and would feel horribly guilty to leave them behind.

As it is, they've already told Renee she can go on and travel with Phil and she refused, stating she had to be there for her kids.

There's also that Phil keeps trying to bond with Beau especially. As if he thinks it will be easier to bond with the teenage stepson vs. the stepdaughter. That hasn't been going well, Beau would like to avoid that if at all possible.

On the other hand... Forks, wet, cold, and being the children of the police chief's runaway bride.

Ultimately, the pair come to the same decision Bella came to in canon. They want their mother to be happy, feel desperately like third wheels, and if making Renee happy necessitates going to Forks then to Forks they shall go.

At least they'll have each other, and in the end, that's all that really matters.

Arriving in Forks

Bella and Beau arrive in Forks and receive the same reception they would otherwise. But more so. Holy god, the high school population says, it's the Cullens 2.0.

Eerily pale, beautiful, siblings, who are both sensitive intellectuals (and are also weirdly incestuous acting). All the guys want to date Bella and all the girls want to date Beau (some vice versa but they're not admitting that in a public high school in 2005).

The guys (Mike, Tylor, Eric, etc.) aren't all that thrilled by Beau's presence, he's major competition and day one is attracting all the attention. However, they see him as a way to get an in with Bella, he can set them up on a date and put in a good word. If they become his best friend, they have an excuse to go to his house, where Bella will be.

The girls (even Lauren who was initially very pissed off about Bella's sudden popularity) are much the same. Bella's overrated, but good god, that beautiful brother of hers. If they become Bella's best friend, they can have sleep overs, and might be able to see Beau without a shirt on. No matter Bella's stuffy personality, that hot brother is worth it.

Lunch that first day, as a result, is even more awful than it was in canon. Bella and Beauford, while generally oblivious about themselves, are very observant when it becomes to the behavior of others regarding their sibling.

They have an emergency meeting in the truck after school and come to the same conclusion: Bella/Beau, this entire school of hicks wants in your pants. Dump them all.

Both Bella and Beauford end the day supremely annoyed but reconfirm their commitment to this Forks plan. Beau predicts than in six months they'll be losers again and they'll go back to having lunch by themselves.

But what about the Cullens?

Edward, The Cullens, and Biology

As in canon, both Beauford and Bella notice the entrance of the alien procession into the cafeteria and ask "what the fuck?"

Nobody's thrilled about answering, because no one wants to lose Bella/Beauford to the Cullens of all people (the girls sigh with relief as, at least for them, all the lady Cullens seem to be dating one of the other guys. Beau is safe. The possibility of Edward/Beau is one they dare not contemplate in those five seconds.)

Still, Jessica reluctantly gives the run down. These are the Cullens, they moved in two years ago, are absurdly wealthy, beautiful, and supposedly not actually related. They're all dating each other. No, seriously, they are. Except the hot ginger, Edward, but don't bother because he's an ass.

Both Bella and Beauford think Jessica doth protest too much about Edward and internally give the Cullens the same bisexual Bella ranking: Rosalie, Edward (after a bit of thought), and then the rest of them.

Edward, for his own part, notes that he can't seem to hear either's thoughts. Weird. He concludes that the pair are highly overrated and he can't believe the school's so agog over the pair of them. Stupid teenagers.

Then Biology happens.

The pair open the door and good god, Edward Cullen is a demon. Luckily for them, they have each other. There may be an open seat next to Edward Cullen but Bella and Beauford go "NOPE". You see, teacher, we always sit together. No, really, we ALWAYS sit together.

The teacher is weirded out but it's so weird he actually has nothing to say to that. There's only one immediately open seat anyway, and two new students, so they're clearly in trouble with seating arrangements anyway. So he says, "Um, sure, go sit with Angela I guess." Angela is now in an overcrowded table with both Bella and Beauford, her original partner gleefully goes to sit with hottie Edward (then is in dismay sitting with Edward because this guy looks terrifying today). The twins, throughout Biology, are staring down Edward Cullen.

Edward, of course, has smelled the scent of the gods and is going through his personal hell on earth. He devises his many schemes of how he's going to murder Biology before he can get to the pair of them (Angela, for the record, gets smashed into a wall for the honor of being in Edward's way). Then, he doesn't know which he'd start on, he can't tell which scent comes from which. He tells himself he'll toss a coin, heads the boy goes first, then tails the girl.

Still, thinking of Carlisle's sad, disapproving, face as Edward massacres a room filled with children allows Edward to hold on through Biology. He'll murder them after school. Then of course he's able to clear his head and flees to Alaska.

In the meantime, thanks to being hyperaware of their sibling, and now having someone to talk to and confirm their suspicions with: Edward Cullen is Ted Bundy. This guy is creepy, dangerous, and in that moment it looked as if he was going to kill one or both of them. Bella/Beauford would be alright, though disappointed, if they were murdered then left in a dumpster. But their sibling die and meet that same awful fate? Not ever allowed to happen.

Bella and Beau have the world's most tense drive home and tense night taking turns taking guard and sleeping in the same room. Every time one questions if they're, maybe, just maybe, a little paranoid about this, the other confirms that "NOPE, THAT DUDE WAS SCARY".

They can't tell Charlie, he wouldn't believe them and they have no evidence, but when Edward tries to climb through their window maybe one of them will get in a good hit with the baseball bat (they won't, they're both debilitatingly clumsy).

The next day, to their confusion and relief, Edward Cullen isn't at school. He's not there the day after that either, or the day after that...

Beau and Bella start to relax, if only a little bit.

Edward, Alaska, and the Prodigal Son Returns

Edward in Alaska calms down and goes through the same thought process he did in canon. He keeps picturing the twins' faces, his obsession beginning to blossom, and convinces himself that he can't let these unremarkable humans get in the way of his life and his family.

After a week of brooding, much to Carlisle's horror, Edward returns to Forks and goes straight back to school. Specifically, he wants to do damage control with the twins and see just how much they actually noticed.

This goes worse than in canon.

First, Edward has to approach their shared table with Angela like a loser. There, Bella and Beau clearly don't want to talk at him, at all, and both clearly vividly remember exactly what happened last Biology class.

Edward barely gets a word in before he has to go to his seat. When he notices Bella, Beau, and Angela get their lab done as quickly as him (thanks to Bella and Beau), he tries again.

Bella and Beau both ask to go to the bathroom. (Yes, teacher, at the same time. Don't question this.) They don't come back. Edward, after ten minutes, also goes to the bathroom. He finds the pair in their giant, red, truck in the parking lot, deep in conversation (trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Edward Cullen).

He approaches them again, being as charming as possible. This has the opposite effect. Directed towards only them, Beau/Bella would probably let this slide. Directed towards Beloved Sibling, their "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON" sirens are blaring in their head. Beau floors it, and the pair tear out of the parking lot as fast as the truck will take them, they're telling Charlie they're taking a sick day. What will they do next Biology class? FUCK IF THEY KNOW.

Edward, standing in the parking lot with his mouth open, feels very very embarrassed and ashamed. He is a man eating demon and these two are perfectly aware of it. The rest of the Cullens find him there not long after, they find this both sad and hilarious.

Bella and Beau Get Hit by a Van

Well, this would all be well and good. Edward tells himself that if the pair are so determined to avoid him then he'll just avoid them. Problem solved. More, the pair don't seem to be chatterboxes, there's no weird rumors spreading about Edward Cullen or his siblings. At least, no more than usual.

Instead, it seems that everyone's trying to ask the twins to the dance, and are very confused when the twins say that they're going with each other. Sibling policy. You see. (They don't see, nobody sees, this is weird.)

Then it happens. Bella nearly gets hit by a van, Edward saves her, with Beau as a full not-concussed witness. FUCK. Bella and Beau travel to the hospital, Edward driving along behind them, and then after Carlisle checks Bella out they have their awkward talk.

Bella wants to insist that Edward was clearly the one who saved her, with his strange superhuman strength, but thanks to twin telepathy (which either is actual telepathy or is just reading twin body language, who even knows) knows that Beau wants her to shut up. They say nothing, the truth isn't important.

Instead, Beau states that he was the one who pulled Bella out of the way, Bella's just confused. Edward stares at Beau like he's an alien. Beau just smiles, thanks Edward for his concern, then throws Edward out of the room.

Bella and Beau madly discuss that Edward's clearly not human. More, while he saved her life today and that was very noble of him, neither has truly forgotten how he was in that first day of Biology. More, did you see him now? He clearly wanted, desperately for Bella to not remember what happened. He crushed that van like a pretzel, what if they told him that they saw him? What would happen to them? Beau doesn't want to take chances, not even for the truth, and in retrospect Bella doesn't either. Now is not the time to look gifted horses in the mouth.

Given Bella's injured, Beau's on full guard duty that night.

Meanwhile, the Cullens have their vote. It's even more dramatic, because instead of just one innocent, injured, witness, there's two witnesses and one was completely uninjured. Carlisle is utterly appalled that Rosalie genuinely suggests murdering them both so she doesn't have to move. He's more appalled when Edward reveals that he believes the twins may believe that Edward... wishes them harm for having witnessed his heroics.

Because the irony being that the twins are right, the family is voting on this very issue right now. And what does that say about all of them?

Thankfully for Beau and Bella, the vote goes very similarly to canon. Jasper's not convinced until Alice has her vision.

And she drops the bomb. Edward's in love with Bella, Beau will be Edward's best friend and Bella Alice's, and both Bella and her brother will be turned and join the coven.

(Now, what Alice doesn't tell Edward is that, actually, Edward's in love with them both. It's safer to say that Edward's in love with the woman, as that's what Edward will far more readily accept. Throwing Beau into that mix would just make things very messy, if Alice wants her best friend and Edward's happy ending then she has to be smart about this.)

The family has a similar reaction. Carlisle gives his, "Well, alright then" and the family doesn't move. Edward, in despair and self-hatred, heads to the Swan house to see sleeping Bella for himself.

And lo and behold, Beau has been waiting for him. Beau tries to smash Edward's face in with a bat. Unfortunately, a) Edward's a vampire, b) Beau misses.

Beau and Edward end up talking, man to man, while Bella is sleeping. Edward decides that, yes, oh woe, he is in love with Beauford's sister and confesses as much (while also confessing that he might, you know, actually be dangerous). Beau suggests that Edward stay far away from his sister.

No, there's nothing Beau can do to stop Edward. Yes, he is just a pathetic human even more pathetic than most, but he promises that he will make Edward and his family's life hell on Earth if Edward ever thinks of assaulting his sister.

Edward protests he would never, Beau points out that Edward just climbed through his injured sister's window in the dead of night. Edward... tries and fails to explain away that one.

He actually does succeed in that he explains that Bella was in danger from... his siblings. Edward had come to protect Bella, to make sure none came to harm her. It's not necessarily his siblings' fault, it's complicated but... Well, Edward was trying to be somewhat noble.

Then something strange happens. Edward finds himself fascinated by this Beauford Swan. Such courage in the world's weakest, no most delicate, body. Look at those eyelashes, his big dark eyes, his perfectly shaped features. This boy is beautiful, as beautiful as his sister, and just as courageous as she is. And look at him now, nobly facing down a demon he knows he cannot win against for the sake of his sister.

How virtuous.

Edward tells himself that what he's feeling is kinship and admiration for Beauford Swan. Bella could not have a worthier brother. Edward leaves with the promise that he'll respect Beau's wishes (Beau doesn't believe that for a second).

The next morning, Beau tells Bella that Edward's the world's biggest creep and that the Twin Watch is not stopping anytime soon. They're going to need to make a big purchase of coffee.

Edward and His Torment

As in canon, Edward decides he should nobly stay out of Bella's life. He'll see if either twin really does talk (they don't) and then he'll ignore them until they disappear. They will forget him.

They don't, but they do discuss him. See, after much pondering, the twins realize that Edward truly is a Grade A hottie. More, he's so mysterious and inhuman. In retrospect, his saving Bella's life goes a long way, and for all that he's been... menacing, he's never truly threatened them and does seem intent on protecting Bella. More, he seems to be keeping his promise: he's staying out of Bella's life and he hasn't been back to the house since (he has, but they haven't caught him, Edward waits until they both crash until he can sneak in and stare at them both).

And he's never lied about being dangerous. Their glares soften into pondering glances, wondering just what the truth of this Edward Cullen and his family really is, and wonder what it'd be like to let him into their small, insular, world that no one before has ever managed to breach in the way he has.

Bella doesn't believe he's truly interested in her, despite Beau's insistence, and wonders if he's interested in Beau. Beau, for his own part, doesn't believe Edward's interested in him and insists that he's clearly very interested in Bella.

Reluctantly, the pair conclude that Edward is something likely very dangerous, against Edward's will, but benign. Whatever it was they sensed from Edward that first day, it was not something in his control.

Helping this is Edward enabling the mysterious mystery by breaking. He can't stay away from the twins. He tells them that he's tired of staying away from them, that they shouldn't be friends, that he doesn't want to be friends (but wants to be something hint, hint, wink, wink). Except he's convinced he and Beauford are friends, dual protectors of the angel Bella Swan. If he stares a little too much at Beau's perfect figure then that's because he's the perfect, male, version of his perfect sister.

Anyway, the twins go to Long Beach with the others and the twins are now just too curious. Edward's giving them nothing and they must know. Bella flirts with Jake for information, Beau is appalled that this works, and they hear the cold ones story. That night, they both have the prophetic Slayer dream: Edward is a vampire.

Bella tells Beauford that she knows three things. One is that she's in love with Edward. Beau's not sure how to take that for a second but, being Bella's twin and on the same weird wavelength, he gets it. He's in love with Edward too.

Neither finds it strange that they both confess to being in love with the same demon and that they see no conflict of interest in this.

The pair go to Port Angeles to help Jessica and Angela pick up dresses. (Angela and Jessica aren't sure why a man is coming, but they've learned not to question this twin thing). Bella and Beau ultimately decided not to go to the dance, too risky giving the deluge of invitations they received, and instead they'll be headed to Seattle that weekend. They claim this is not a date, Angela and Jessica just stare.

Due to Beau being with Bella, though the pair get hopelessly lost looking for the book store, Bella doesn't get followed by rapists. Edward shows up anyway, as Alice saw the possibility, and takes the pair of them to romantic Italian dinner. It's weird.

He then drives them home and Bella blurts it out. Edward's a vampire, she and Beau know. Edward has his miniature meltdown and realizes that these pair of siblings forgive him this. Beau, beautiful man that he is, is giving Edward his beloved sister and Bella is giving not only herself but her wonderful brother's hand in friendship.

Edward invites them both, that's right, them both, to the meadow. Neither thinks this is strange. And when they get there. Boom, it's over, any chance to question this is gone. Both Bella and Beau are seduced by Edward's sparkling chest and his quotes about lions.

He rests his head on Bella's chest but puts his right hand on Beau's. They sit like that. For hours.

The Cullens (Again)

Well, this went from weird to fucking weirder. It was weird enough when Edward became obsessed with this rando teenage girl. Now, it turns out that Edward's a horn dog panting after bisexual twins, clearly intending to romance them both at the same time.

Carlisle dearly tries to have an intervention. He sends Esme to do it, as in canon, this doesn't work (Esme is perfectly fine with Edward's twincest fetish and thinks it's wonderful).

Alice tells a dubious Jasper that Edward and Beau are just friends. Jasper doesn't believe her, but he's not sure what to even say.

Emmett is desperately holding in Edward sandwich jokes. Desperately.

When Beau and Bella are invited to the house (together of course), the entire family has no idea what to say to them. At all. They don't know how to process this. Rosalie is actually there this time, because somebody needs to warn these two about what Edward really wants, but then they're too weird.

It's all just too weird.

And... the rest of canon happens.

The baseball game occurs, James dies, Victoria's not sure which Swan she should target and so she targets them both anyway. They're in the same damn place so it makes 0 difference.

Bella and Beau joint hallucinate Hallucination Edward, somehow, and get even weirdly more codependent in their zombie fugue state. This tanks their popularity as now there's no denying the incest. Bella and Beau don't care.

Bella and Beau reach out to get Jake to build them the motorcycles. Jake doesn't necessarily want Beau around, the dude's weird and getting in the way of Bella time, but alright. Bella and Jake's friendship doesn't take off because Bella's codependent on Beau.

They do learn about the wolves though thanks to Jake's crush on Bella. Jake never realizes that he's coming in third place not only to Edward Cullen but to Beauford Swan. He thinks he has a chance. That poor boy.

Bella and Beau jump off the cliff together, convinced they weren't committing suicide.

Alice returns, gets Bella and Beau to go to Volterra, because Edward has to see that they're both alive. There's a joyful reunion, Aro is really weirded out by this whole damn thing and has a five second pause after touching Marcus' hand. "Well." he says afterwards, "You and your brother are close. I see."

They get to go home, Aro insists they turn. Eclipse happens. Edward proposes marriage to Bella. Neither Beau nor Bella are thrilled (mostly about the marriage and also about the question of how the twin enters this equation) but ultimately Bella accepts. Bella and Edward marry publicly.

Beau is invited for the honeymoon. Edward, Bella, nor Beau question this. Everyone else does. A lot. On Isle Esme, the three confirm their commitment to each other: they have a secret marriage. Edward and Beau are both convinced they're not in a relationship. Bella and Beau are convinced they're not incestuous.

Sex is had by... someone. Unclear who.

Bella gets pregnant, this seems to confirm Edward must be the father but... Bella and Beau are both very strange, almost alien, and very gifted. There is some red in their hair. Questions the Cullens dare not speak aloud are thought, Edward doesn't seem to notice.

TL;DR Basically, the books still happen but Edward is cuckolded and enables twincest.

...

I did not see this one coming guys. I swear. I did not.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where you and harry are keeping a secret from your brother, who happens to hate harry’s guts. 

author’s note : hello everyone! i'm back with another fic, one that i can't believe i wrote so quickly to say the least. this is part of @harrystylescherry​‘s playlist challenge. i chose drive on by miss charlotte clark because it is an amazing song, and i can only hope that i’ve don't it justice.  

word count : 13.9k of a lot of angst, smut and only a tiny bit of fluff. i really don't know what happened to me. 

please talk to me about drive on here. let me know what you think :) 

But if we parted I'd be half-hearted So I'll leave the light on

As you were getting ready that evening, you knew that you were going to have to try your hardest to not show that you were absolutely dreading what was about to happen. The light sounds of Fleetwood Mac filled your room as you finished making sure that you looked okay. It seemed as though the longer that you looked at yourself in the mirror, the more you started to doubt that you actually looked okay. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked in the mirror, running your eyes up and down your own body as if to check that you’re at least presentable. Your outfit wasn’t too out of the ordinary, just a pair of black, flared trousers and a white knitted jumper because you knew that it is going to be quite chilly and you are going to be outside for a large portion of the evening and you make sure to pair it with some white trainers, ones that match so you start to feel a little more put together. Even though it certainly wasn’t the most out there outfit, it was okay and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

Walking down the stairs, you could hear the mumbling of your brother, Isaac, in the kitchen, along with someone else’s voice that you immediately recognise as Daisy, your best friend. You’re not exactly surprised at their discussion, because whenever they’re alone in a room together you know that it doesn’t usually end up with them discussing sunshine and rainbows. The more you think about it, the more you struggle to determine which one out of the two of them is more stubborn, because they both are just as stubborn as each other. 

“Baby sis!” You try not to roll your eyes at your brother’s greeting, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

“We’re coming with you.” You respond, walking forward so that you can greet your friend with a hug. You knew that it was going to be a long shot of him letting you come with him, but if Daisy was too you knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no, and that’s why you go with her every single time. It’s how you’re cheated the system of having an overprotective brother. 

“I thought you were going to Daisy’s for a sleepover?” He questions, and you nod your head. 

“I am.” You smile, “But after.” 

You walk over to grab yourself a bottle of water out of the fridge because you know that if you look at him in the eyes he’ll be staring at you in a way that you could do without. You know that he’s only saying the things that he is because he’s protective of you, but you also have to keep reminding him that it wasn’t the first time that you had gone out and been to a race with him, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. 

Chugging down a bit of the water, Daisy extends her arm out to you and you pass the bottle to her, watching as she takes a sip before passing it back to you so that you can put the cap on. Even though you have been to the races before, that certainly didn’t meant that every time you did go you found yourself being more and more nervous for what you’re going to witness. It’s dangerous, and sometimes you feel a though you’re the only one out of all of them to notice that. 

“Every fucking time.” Isaac shakes his head and you smile. 

“Thank you.” You had an obnoxious grin on your face as you say the words, and you know it. 

“Yeah, well. . .” He shakes his head, “Just come on and let’s get in the fucking car.” 

The first time you went to one of the races, you remember not being able to focus on anything other than the fact that anyone could get really injured, or even die, at any second if they’re not careful. Maybe you were just too overly cautious, and you couldn’t ever find yourself focusing on the thrill and excitement of it all because you were too worried that someone was going to get hurt. It was even worse when the person you were worried about was someone you cared about like you did your brother. 

“One of these days you will take me without putting up a fight.” You say, following him towards his car, “I don’t know when it will be but I can feel it.” 

He looks at you as he opens his door, “That’s never going to happen. For one, I hate that you even come to where the races are held, more so that you stand and watch them.” 

You shrug and climb in the car, “Mum and Dad don’t know that you race, and if they’re not able to be there and worry about your safety then I am going to be the one to do so. Can’t have you risking your life and at least not one of us being there.”

He shakes his head and tuts, “I’m not risking my life. It’s just competitive driving.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and you hear Daisy chuckle, “You’re delusional.” 

“Says you.” 

The two of you hear a tut coming from the back seat, “I know the two of you are siblings, and this is just what I have to deal with, but sometimes I really do wonder whether or not you’re children hidden in fully grown bodies.” 

“I’m not the child.” Isaac’s quick to say, “If anything, you’re the child!” 

“Really?” You shake your head, “You must know that you saying that basically proving everything! You’re the child, Isaac.”

“God, I wish I’d never said anything.” Daisy shakes her head and you cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly but trying not to make it too obvious because you really were trying to be the adult in this situation. 

You and Isaac weren’t the closest of siblings, to say the least. The two of you never did much together and if you did it wasn’t voluntarily, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t care for each other because you certainly did. The two of you would protect each other without any hesitation, in any situation because that was the type of siblings that you were. That didn’t mean that you were friends, though, because you didn’t have to be. You loved each other, and you cared for each other, but you didn’t have to be friends with each other and you were both okay with that. It was was though you both had an unspoken agreement that you’d look out for each other in this way. 

Turning onto the ever so familiar field, you know that it isn’t going to be long before your heart rate is going to feel as though it is beating out of your chest and your palms are going to start to get sweaty. You believed that you brother was good at what he did, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had if he didn’t, but even if someone is as good and as talented as he was that didn’t meant that accidents don’t happen. 

There isn’t just that fact that your brother is good at the sport to contend with, but also the fact that some people who do it may not be as good as he is, and they could be reckless, and in drag racing, recklessness gets people in trouble. You knew that, he knew that and everyone who participated and watched knew that. You knew that there were some people there just to watch the race whilst getting drunk with their friends and you didn’t mind that because that was what it was there to do, but you couldn’t stand the people who were there in hopes that something did go wrong, just to see a little bit of action in their boring day to day lives. 

You supposed that a part of your worry for these games were because you weren’t just worried about your brother, you were worried about somebody else also. Isaac stopped the car so that you and Daisy could get out but you hesitated before doing so. You looked at him, and he nodded at you so you nodded your head and again and got out. You stood and watched as he drove away, making his wear to where all of the participants line up their cars before it starts. 

Your eyes follow him, all the way along the man-made little road on the field and to where the other cars were. That’s when you see him, stood in exactly the same place as he was a few weekends before this one and a few weekends before that, leant against his car and his arms crossed as he chewed some gum. 

The insides of your stomach flutter, and not in nervousness but instead in the complete opposite way. He catches your eyes straight away, raising his eyebrows at you as you smile at him. You nod your head, trying hard not to let too big of a blush cover your cheeks and he nods back. That’s as far as your interaction with Harry can go at the moment, because if anyone saw the two of you communicating you knew that all hell would break loose and you certainly didn’t want to be around to see that. 

The race was going to start any second, and you made your way over to where Daisy was stood, knowing that she would have saved you a spot next to her so that you didn’t have to try and manoeuvre your way through the crowd to get a good spot to watch. You were relieved that you had arrived here not early enough to have to wait hours like you had before, because it was in the time like that where the overpowering feeling of worry was able to slip into you like nothing else and you would try really hard to overpower it but the majority of the time you never felt as though you could. 

What YN worried about the most though, was the fact that whoever could be injured in the race, or something worse, were both people that YN loved. The two of them for different reasons, of course, but it was still love and all of the love you felt for them was important. You watched as they both sat in their cars, driving towards the starting line with such an ease that you wondered whether or not they’d be able to do it in their sleep. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could. You know that Harry has raced in hundreds of races, and you also know that your brother is quickly catching up to that, but that doesn’t make it any easier, for them or for you. 

“Ready racers?” A woman walked in between the cars and held up a flag. Both her brother and Harry respond by a roar of their engine, “3! 2! 1! Go!” 

You look down slightly once you hear their cars start, going along the man-made path and over all of the hills and round all of the bends. You only look down for a second before looking up and watching as they drive away from you. The people around you cheer, and Daisy even cheers from the side of you but all you can make up the courage to do is clap your hands slightly. Every time you stand and watch a race, you always say to yourself that you’ll never do it again because you don’t think that you’re heart will survive it, but then you always come back to watch the next race because you physically can’t keep away. Not when two people you love are doing something that you know could end badly. 

They drive around, the two of them doing anything they can to try and throw the other off track but you know that it probably won’t work, because it works with everyone else but hardly ever with each other. You know that whoever wins will do so because of their speed, because that’s how it always happens when the two are up against each other. You stand there watching them drive for what feels like hours, the cheers only getting louder as the two of them fight for the first place prize. 

As the finishing line draws to a close, they’re playing cat and mouse with each other, and you know whoever is next to cross in front will win. 

It’s Isaac. Isaac won. You’re happy for him, but at the same time you know that Harry isn’t going to be the happiest but you’ll just have to remind him that he won last time and that he has to let other people win at some point. Your brother was cheering when he got out of his car, and you could see his friends bouncing over to him with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. You and Daisy make your way over, but you aren’t as excited they seem to see him. 

“Are you two leaving now?” He asks and you and Daisy look at each other before nodding, “Satisfied?” 

“Very.” You nod, “Well done.” 

“Thanks.” He raises his hand up and points at you, “Am I picking you up tomorrow?” 

You shake your head, managing to keep your cool as you did, “Daisy said she’ll drive me back. I don’t know whether you’ll be at work by the time we’re ready.” 

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” 

You physically let out a sigh of relief when you walk away and he believed you. You hate lying to him, you really do, but you just don’t see any other option to do what you’re doing without lying, which is horrible buy you really don’t know another wine. 

Daisy slips her arm into yours as you walk away, “Where’s he meeting you?” 

“In the usual place.” You nod, “I couldn’t see him when we were over there so I think he’s already gone.” 

“Okay.” She nods, “I’m catching a ride with Dennis, will you be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine.” You smile. 

“Call me if you need anything?” 

“You know I will.” 

“Good.” She wraps her arms around you before pulling away, “See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

The walk to the edge of the field, just behind a row of trees that hide Harry’s car from the watchful eye of others isn’t a long one, and you can feel the butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach the closer you walked to it. Just as every time you did this, your stomach was in twists and turns tightly in your stomach until you have to place your hand upon it as though it would calm it but it doesn’t. It doesn’t calm down until you see the back of the man you loves head, a slight cloud of smoke around his head and his leather jacket on his body. A smile immediately broke out over your lips. 

You bound over to him, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek against the leather of his jacket. You can feel him tense underneath your touch slightly but once you hear and feel him chuckle, his whole body relaxes.

He hums, “Who might that be?” 

He grabs your hands and lightly pulls them away from his body so that he can turn around and place his hands around her back. You grin and place your chin on his chest, laughing softly as he leans down and places multiple kisses around your face, “Harry!” 

“What?” He grinned pulling away from you, shrugging his shoulders, “Do you not like my kisses or something?” 

You chuckle, “I love your kisses, but don’t you think they can wait until we’ll out of public. Away from my brother.” 

He pouts, dropping his head to your shoulder, “I suppose.” 

Harry walks over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for you. As you walked towards him, you placed a kiss to his cheek and slipped into the car. The nerves were back in your stomach as you watched Harry walk around the car and slip into the driver’s seat. The two of you don’t get to see each other as much as you’d possibly like to, so nights like these were special to you, and you hoped that he was just as excited and nervous as you were. 

The second Harry was sat in his seat, and had started the car, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh through your trousers at you sat there. You really had missed feeling having him touching you, even though it hadn’t been that long. If it was up to you, Harry would be with you everyday and you would be able to kiss and touch him everyday without any issues, but you knew that just wasn’t the case. 

You and Harry had been together for a little shy of three years now, hiding your relationship from literally everyone apart from a few trusted people on each side of you. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide, but you both knew that you just had to if you were going to be able to have the relationship that you had. When you were younger, Harry and Isaac were best friends. You could always remember sitting in the back of the car after behind picked up from school and being squashed into the door because the middle seat was always taken by Harry. You can’t quite remember why the two of them fell out, but you did remember that it happened when the three of you were around fifteen or sixteen. 

It was a shock to everyone, because the two of them had been friends for the longest of times and Isaac did seem to be in a rut once it had happened. You had tried to talk to him about it a few times but he never said anything, so you turned to the one other person in the situation who might have to been able to help you. Harry. At first, he seemed to be completely shocked when you walked over to him one day after school and jumped into his car. He actually looked quite taken aback, but when you started asking questions about the falling out he just went quiet.

To this day you still don’t know what had happened between the two of them, but you do know that was the day that you relationship with Harry turned from being the generally acquaintances because you’re friends with my brother to something more. Harry was somebody who you had grown up with, and yes you could admit that he was handsome, but you’d never thought of him in a romantic way up until that point. A part of you wished that you had picked up on it early because you may have been able to kiss him sooner than you had but you were happy, and the two of you were now three years going strong. 

The fact that your brother and Harry had fallen out, and when the two of you got together it was really rocky between them, you both decided that the best thing to do was just not to tell him, which led to not telling anyone. You had said that when things improved between the two of them you would tell him, but once the Drag Racing started, there was no way that it would ever improve between the two of them, and you just had to accept that. 

Arriving at Harry’s apartment, it was almost as though your body was working on auto-pilot when Harry opened the door and you walked through. You kicked your shoes off by the door, walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water and made your way into his bedroom. Harry was already stood in the small room, placing his jacket in his wardrobe. You quickly started to undress, swapping your clothes for one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of your pyjama shorts. You walk into the bathroom to take your makeup off and brush your teeth. 

“Have you had any more thought into our anniversary trip?” Harry called from the bedroom. 

“I’ve thought about it.” You say, running your make up wipe over your eyes, “That’s about it.” 

You can hear his sigh even from the other room, and your inside’s twists in not the good way. The anniversary trip had been something that the two of you had spoken about for a long time, and it would be coming in a few months and Harry had been on your back for a long time so that they could get it booked, but you were thinking about a lot of other things rather than booking a holiday. You did hate that you didn’t have anything more to say to him, because you knew that he was disappointed, but there was only so much that you could say. 

“I’ll need to book time off of work soon, YN.” He appears only in his boxers in the doorway, leant against it with his arms crossed, “I need to know the dates.” 

“I know.” You sigh, turning so that your hip was leant against the counter, “I still just need to figure out what I’m going to tell Isaac.” 

Harry sighs and runs his hand over his face, “I know. We can think of what to say to him later, but as soon as possible can you tell me the dates.” 

He walks over and places his hands on your waist and you nod, “I will. I’ll check when I get home.” 

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. 

You hated hiding things from Harry, you really did, because that man really was your soulmate and the person in this world that you told everything to, so it felt horrible to be hiding something from him. Hiding things from Harry felt like ripping your heart from your chest — you just couldn’t do it— but here you were, doing it without anything happening. 

It had been a long night for the two of them, and you knew that even though Harry had a brave face on, you knew that inside he probably wasn’t too happy that he’d lost. The thing about Harry, and your brother for that matter, was that they are so competitive, especially with each other, that when either one of them loses they try to seem like they don’t care but they do. When you walked back into the room, Harry was already in bed with his arms crossed and his face in a sulk. 

You sighed and walked over to your side of the bed, pulling the duvet back and slipping under. Harry didn’t even turn to look at you, so you wrapped your arm around his waist and placed your head upon his chest so that he couldn’t help but look at her. You knew that the main thing that you needed to do right now was try and get him out of the rut. It could spring on him at any point but it was never anything that was easy to get him out of. You sighed and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You mumbled against his chest. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He mumbled and you shook your head, lifting your hand up to push some of his hair out of his face. 

“There obviously is.” You sighed, “You’re in your rut. Talking about it takes you out of it. I know that, you know that, but you’re just too stubborn to realise this.” 

“I’m not too stubborn.” He pouts and you shake your head with a roll of your eyes, raising one of your eyebrows at him, “I just. . . fucking hate loosing to him. Talking about the anniversary, and I know why you haven’t said anything about it yet, baby, just reminded me. I’m sorry.” 

You hesitate for a second before smiling at him, “I know you are, H, don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should’ve told you.” 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head and leans forward, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Don’t apologise. I get that it’s hard for you, I know. I just. . . wish that I could take it all away from you. It’s my fault that you’re having to keep secrets from your brother.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not your fault. I promise that it isn’t your fault. There’s been hundreds of times in the past three years when I could have told him.” 

“It’s not just you. We need to tell him.” 

If you needed anything else to love Harry for (which you really don’t because you love him with you’re entire being) you feel as though this would be one of those things. You couldn’t believe how understanding he was, and even though the two of you did have times where you butted heads on things, it was never over anything big like this. The two of you made sure that if you ever did have a problem that you needed to sort, there would be some arguing and shouting but there is in any couple, but the two of you always made up before it ended up turning ridiculous. 

You turned your head to Harry and placed you lips on his, pushing his shoulders down with your hand so that he’s on your back. You move slightly underneath the duvet that you were both under, manoeuvring yourself so that you were hovering over his body, the two of your lips never separating. You were straddling him, your hands resting on the pillow by Harry’s head. Your hips ground against his boxers involuntarily, and you can feel him smiling against him. Harry moaned into your mouth, and you could feel his bulge growing harder and bigger beneath you. 

Pulling away slightly you lean forward and place your forehead upon his, smiling as you place a small kiss to his nose. The hard and stern face of your boyfriend that you had seen earlier when he was racing had completely disappeared, and it was now replaced by his soft and flush features that he only ever saved for when he was with you, and you loved it. You could still feel his hard-on rubbing against your thigh, and you leant forward and placed your lips back on his. His arms wrapped around your waist and back, slipping them down until he could squeeze and knead the flesh over your pyjama short. 

“You know I fucking love you, right?” He mumbles against your lips and you nod. 

His hips continue to buck up to yours, whilst you grind yours back down to him. You pulled away and leant your head upon his forehead again, “I know you love me. You know I love you?” 

He responded you flipping you over, his body now hovering over you. He gave you a boyish smile and nodded his head, leaning his head back down to place his lips on your neck, pressing small little kisses to the skin. 

“I know you love me.” He mumbles against her lips, “Do you wanna feel me, baby? Have you missed me?” 

You responded with a moan, the sound of his raspy voice goes all the way from your ear, all the way down your spine to the heat between your legs. You wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were completely ruined by now. 

“Of course I’ve missed you.” You mumble against his lips, your cheeks flushing as you admit it to him. For years you two have been this close, but it didn’t stop you from being nervous every single time that you are near each other. It’s always how it had been, and probably how it will always be but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me.” He kissed down your neck, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed you face as he did so, “Don’t hold back, baby.” 

You threw your head back as he moved downwards, threading your fingers through his hair as you did so. You just hoped that it made him feel better than it was. 

Walking home the next morning, your entire body was relaxed and happy in a way that it only ever is after you’d spent time with Harry. If you passed anyone in the street, you smiled at them and there was a slight bounce in your step. There was an excitement that there hadn’t been in you for a long time because you were going to look over your schedule and finally get yourself sorted for your anniversary trip with Harry. Walking through the door that goes into kitchen, you immediately walk over to the fridge to take the orange juice out. 

“Morning little sis.” You jump out of your skin and turn around, leaning your back against the counter and lifting your hand up to your chest as it beats in your chest. Looking at your brother, it seemed as though he had just got back from a run, since he was all sweaty, he had his running shoes on and his headphones around his neck. Immediately your heart started to beat in your chest quicker, and the relaxation that you had felt before had immediately left your body and you feel back on edge as you do a lot of the time recently. 

“Morning.” You grin, turning back around to open a cupboard to grab a glass that you could fill with the orange juice carton that you were still holding, “Been for a run?” 

He nods his head, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. When he wasn’t looking directly at you, a sigh escaped your lips. It was quickly over and he was looking at you again, leant against the counter across from you with his arms crossed. 

“Woke up with the want to go for a run.” He explained and you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him and he chuckles, “I know, totally unlike me but I really did just feel like it.” 

You nod, your fingers tapping on the counter slightly, “Did you. . . did you go on your normal route?” 

Isaac shakes his head, “I met up with D’Angelo. We went to the lake.” 

Just like that, the worry that was in your body had left. The lake was on the other side of the town to where Harry lived, and where Isaac normally ran meaning that he couldn’t have seen you leaving Harry’s house which was good. You were starting to realise that the more you had to make sure that your brother hadn’t seen or didn’t know anything about you and Harry, the harder it was becoming for you to keep track of everything. The lie of staying over at Daisy’s had worked for years now, but the older that you got and the more that situations were changing for the two of you, it was harder to keep it as a lie. 

“Was it busy?” You ask, trying to make conversation that made it seem as though everything was normal and nothing had happened. 

He shakes his head, “Not really.” He hesitates for a second before looking up at you and tilting his head to the side, “I did see Daisy and Dennis though.” 

And just like that, your whole body was back to being on edge and nervous. The only way that you could describe how you felt was a mixture of both shock and immediate nervousness. Isaac continued to drink from the bottle in his hand, with no malice or shock on his features at all. If he did know something, he would’ve had said something by now and you knew that because of how well you knew him and that’s in one of the ways how you were both similar — when you knew something, you couldn’t keep it a secret. 

It was something that you had grown up with, your inability to keep secrets and you were honestly and truthfully so surprised that you and Harry had managed to keep your relationship a secret for so long. This wasn’t the first time that you had thought that Isaac had found out about your relationship, and it wasn’t the first time that you hadn’t been able to figure out how to get out of it but you knew that you would be able to get yourself out of it. You hoped that you would be able to get yourself out it. 

You were started to get quite nervous though, with sweaty palms and a heart beating directly up against your chest. Your mind spiralled and you hoped that you were going to hear something that would stop your chest in the next few minutes. 

“Did you?” You cleared your throat to make it seem as though you were more put together than you were. 

He hums, “Yeah. They explained that you were walking home and that Dennis’ arrival was out of the blue.”

You nod and smile, your heart stopping to beat so quickly the second those words escaped her lips, “Yeah. He appeared and asked her to go on a walk before work later. I said that I’d just walk home so that Daisy could go. I think he’s going to ask her out soon.” 

Isaac scoffs and crossing his arms over his chest, “I hope so. They’ve only been dancing around it for the last few years.”

You nod, “We’ve all said it. I don’t know how many times we’ve told her but anyway, I’m going to get in the shower before getting ready for work.” 

You’re quick to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs with your head spinning. The entire time that you’re getting ready, showering and doing your hair, standing in front of your mirror and looking at the marks that Harry had left over the entirety of your skin before putting your work uniform on, you’re thinking about what you’re going to do. Today you were going to book some time off work from the café during the week of your anniversary, and even though that Daisy would know why you were doing that, you didn’t have to tell anyone else there. When it came to being at home, and telling your brother why you were going to be leaving for a month whilst Daisy stayed at home was going to be hard to explain to say the least. You were going to have to think very carefully about what you were going to say. 

Walking into the small café you worked at not that long later, you were happy to finally be in the place where anything else that happened in your life went to the back of your mind and you could focus on making drinks and serving customers. You had worked at the café since the day you turned eighteen, and you had worked there ever since. It wasn’t what you wanted to do forever, working in the little café with your best friend and your boss that is just an absolute asshole, but you just haven’t got the funds or was it the right time for you to try and get your dream going. 

Your dream, albeit a big one, was to one day own your own café that sold your own treats that you made and looked the exact way that you wanted it to. You had been planning your own café and telling everyone you knew about it since sitting in your maths classes in middle school when you realised that school really wasn’t for you. You were okay in school, and you got good enough grades, but none to get you to what you wanted to do in life. Over the last three years, many of your conversations with Harry had been about your café and how you would work there whilst he would take over his father’s mechanical shop. 

That was the plan for the future, but first — you had a shift to do and you had a lie to think of. 

“Afternoon.” You mumbled as you walked into the small café, Daisy’s eyes immediately widening as she takes a look at you stood there, “How are you?” 

“I’m sorry.” Daisy blurts out, not being able to stop herself from doing so, “I really didn’t know that he was going to be there, if I did I would have never gone there, you know that.” 

“I know.” You walk over and wrap your arms around her shoulders briefly, “He doesn’t know, it’s fine. I shouldn’t be relying on you so much, Daisy, I know that. I’m trying to figure out what to do.” 

“It’s okay, YN.” She mumbles, placing her hand upon your shoulder with a smile, “I know why you’ve done it, but I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses. It’s three years too late, but at least you’re here.” 

“At least it’s happening now.” You sigh, widening your eyes as you look at her. 

“You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.” 

You sigh and nod your head, hoping that she was right. 

You heard Harry’s car before you could see it, pulling up outside of your house in a quick stop so that you could quickly duck out and get it. Isaac was out for the night, doing another race in another town that Harry couldn’t do because he had work, so they had decided to spend the night together. Due to Isaac being out of town, they decided that they might even be able to go for a meal, to a restaurant, like a normal couple would. 

You gave him a small smile and a peck on the lips as you sat in the car. There hadn’t been much discussion between you and Harry that week, not since you had left his that morning. It was odd, because the two of you spoke everyday, even if it was just to check that the other was okay, but the conversation this week had been limited to you asking him to come for a meal and him replying saying that he would. You always knew that this day would come, where the unspoken issue between the two of you had become too much for you to handle. 

You had tried five times over the last week to say something to Isaac, trying to drop it in to normal conversation but you always dived away from it, as though you couldn’t allow yourself to say what you wanted to say to him. You had never been as nervous before in your life, and all you had to do was tell him about a secret that involved the one person that Isaac hated most in life and his twin sister. You just had to try your hardest to remind yourself over and over again that it was the best thing to do, and that you’d be happy if you were able to get the words out, but you just couldn’t. 

The two of you arrived at a restaurant on the outskirts of the town you lived in, one that meant you would be safe if Isaac did return home and one that the two of you also knew would serve good food. The car ride continued without any words spoken between the two of them, and you tried your hardest to not feel the nerves bubbling inside of you, but you also knew that there was a reason why you were going to have this conversation with him, and there was a reason why you needed to feel nervous for it. 

Sitting across from Harry in a booth that sat at the front of the restaurant, you couldn’t even bring yourself to take your eyes off of his face. There hadn’t been a lot of times during your relationship with Harry where you had felt like this, and it was usually always when the two of you were discussing the exact topic that you knew that you were going to be now. Whilst you couldn’t take your eyes off of Harry, it seemed as though he wanted nothing more than to not look at you. 

“Hey.” He didn’t look up from the menu that he had in his hand, “Are you going to even look at me?” 

You watch as he doesn’t even move a muscle, never mind do the thing that you wanted him to do which was look at you, “I’ve looked at you.” 

“Not since we’ve sat down you haven’t.” 

You watch as he sighs and drops the menu down so that it was rested upon the table between you and lifts his eyes up to look at you, “Happy now?” 

A small smile breaks out your face, a sarcastic one at that, but a smile nonetheless, “Very.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. You look at him with your eyes widened. Why this was happening all of a sudden, you didn’t know, but you had a slight suspicion that you weren’t going to be able to argue your way out of this one with him like you had done in the past. The first thing that led you to believe that was the fact that you were in a public place, where you had to do your best to make sure that you were going to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. 

As a whole, you were ashamed of your actions over the years, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to apologise for everything that you had done in the past but you could at least try. Everything had changed now that you had your three year anniversary coming up, and you realised that there was so much more to life than trying to hide a stupid secret from your brother. 

“Harry.” You start, a sigh immediately leaving your lips after, “I’m sorry. I really am.” He nods his head, “I don’t expect you to accept my apology, and I certainly don’t expect you to forgive me for the shit that I’ve put you through these last couple of years, but, I want to let you know that I am trying to fix things. I promise you.” 

He sighs, “I don’t know how you can, YN. I’ve thought about it a lot recently, in the past week, since our conversation last week.” 

“I have too.” You nod, your fingers messing with the hem of your jacket, “I have too. I’ve tried so many times, to tell him, but I just can’t and I don’t know why. He can’t do anything, I’m a grown ass woman and he’s just my brother. He can’t tell me who I can and can’t love, and I do love you Harry more than anything, but there’s a part of me that just can’t tell him.” 

Harry cleared his throat and sighed, “I never told you the reason we argued.” 

You shake your head, “Neither of you did.” 

“Do you want to know?” He asked. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know. . . if it will help, than yes.”

Harry sighed and nodded his head, running his finger over his bottom lip the way that you knew that he did when he was nervous, “We were in Eugene’s basement, having just watched one of his races and he had some shit, and we decided to take it. It was just us, everyone else had gone to do something else or get high somewhere else, and we were just sat.” You were hanging off of every word that he said, “We were taking about, I don’t know, life and all the shit that we usually do when we’re high and we got onto the topic of you.”

Your eyes widen, “Me? Why were you talking about me?” 

“He mentioned you and how you wanted to do things with your life and how he was fed up that all he had to do with his life was race.” Harry chuckled and shook his head, “I couldn’t even help it, I just blurted out that I liked you and that I was going to ask you on a date, thinking that he would be happy for us, but instead, he punched me in the face.” 

Your lips part, “He what?” 

“He punched me.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, “And then he just started screaming at me, saying that scum like me wasn’t good enough for someone like you. The more he said it, the more I believed it and I believed it all the way until you got in my car and asked me to tell you what had happened. I didn’t, and I didn’t for a reason, because if I had told you maybe you would’ve thought the same as him, that I wasn’t good enough for you, so instead I asked you on the date, just like I had planned to.” 

You let his words sink in for a while, the sound of them bouncing around in your head for a while as you look down at the table in front of you. You couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t thought about what had gone down between them, and what had been said to make them despise each other as much as they did, but you certainly hadn’t expected it to be about you of all things. It started to all make sense now, how when you had asked him, after your first night together at his house, if he was okay that you didn’t tell your brother about the two of you being together, and he agreed. At first you had thought that it was odd, seeing as though this man didn’t know your motive behind why you were saying that, but at the same time, you didn’t know his motive behind why he said yes. 

It all made sense. 

You sigh and nod your head, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve understood. You know that I would’ve.” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why didn’t you tell me about what you had been thinking? And what you had been trying to do?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.” 

“It works both ways, YN.” He shrugs, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but a part of you has to realise that there was a reason you didn’t tell me and you didn’t tell him. I understand a part of you was trying to keep it calm between us, but there had to be more than that.”

You can feel the tears starting to brim within your eyes, and the more that you thought about it, the more that you knew you were going to struggle to hold them back. You start to blink quickly, lifting your eyes up to look at the ceiling. It worked, and you managed to make sure that no tears slid down your cheeks. 

“A part of me did do it because I knew that it would be easier for you, that you didn’t have to tell him that you were my boyfriend. I knew how hard that would’ve been for you.” You explain, lifting your hand up to scratch your forehead, “So I decided that for a little while, I just wouldn’t tell him. At least not until things had calmed down between the two of you. After a few months of waiting was going to say something to him, just drop it into conversation and then walk out of it with my hands up but then I realised that it wasn’t going to be that easy. The day that I was going to do it, he walked into my bedroom with this big news that he was so excited to tell me.” You take in a breath and sigh, “It was the news that you were starting to drive, and that he was going to beat you that night and I knew that if I had told him, he wouldn’t have just beat you in the race.” 

“I can stand up for myself, YN.” 

“I never said that you couldn’t.” She shook her head, “I just didn’t want you getting hurt because of me.” 

“I wouldn’t be getting hurt because of you. I’d be getting hurt because of something we did.” He explains, “Just like you can’t blame this all on me, and me on you, I’m not going to let you blame this all on yourself either.” 

“Harry.” You sigh and lean back in the chair that you sat in, “We’re going to have to tell him.” 

He shakes his head, “He’s not going to like it.” 

“I know.” You agree with him and hold your hand out, “But we’ve got to tell him.” 

“I know we have.” He grasps your hand in his.

It turned out that you and Harry didn’t have to wait for too long to tell your brother, because when Harry pulled up outside of your house, your brother was already sat there on the steps of the house, waiting for you to arrive home. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing if you were completely honest, and a part of you realised that this was it. You turned to look at Harry slightly, a sigh leaving your lips as you did so. 

“You still want to do this?” He asked, pulling his keys out of the ignition as the car came to a complete stop. 

You sigh and lean over to place your hand upon his, “I don’t think we have a choice, now.” 

“We do.” He turned his head to look at you, squeezing your fingers as he did so, “I could just drive away. Ignore him.” 

You chuckle and shake your head, lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss to the back of his hand, “Come on. He might explode if we keep him waiting any longer.” 

You certainly couldn’t lie and say that your brother looked like he was handling everything well, because he certainly wasn’t. His jaw seemed to be constantly clenched the entire time that you walked towards him, and you definitely saw his hands that were clenched by his sides in fists. You knew that he was going to be annoyed, and you expected that there would certainly be some shouting involved with this, but, she certainly didn’t want this to become physical at any point. In your opinion, it certainly wasn’t worth it. 

“YN.” You stop in front of him once he’s spoken your name, and Harry is just a few steps behind you. Having him there really brings a comfort that you don’t really feel unless you’re with him, so if anything, you were happy that he was there, “What are you doing with him?” 

“I’m—” You start, looking at him for a second before letting out a sigh, “He’s—”

You can’t find the right words to say what you want to say. You knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to explain to your brother, but you at least thought that you’d be able to get past the first words without choking up, but it seemed as though that wasn’t the case. 

“Isaac—” Harry takes a step forward, so that he was directly next to you but before he could say anything else, Isaac holds his hand out to stop him. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Harry clamps his lips shut, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold back so many things but at least he isn’t making the situation worse which you knew that he possibly could. Isaac then turns to you, “I was asking you the question. What are you doing with him?” 

Letting out a sigh, you shut your eyes for a second to calm yourself down, “I’m. . . we’re together, Isaac.” 

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, tutting slightly as he did so, “When Eugene told me, I didn’t believe him. I said that you’d never do that to me because you know that I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my life before.” 

At first you listen to the words that he was saying and you nod along, as if you’re understanding what they’re saying, but you quickly shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I’d never do what to you, Isaac?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you say the words you were speaking, “I’ve fallen in love with someone, Isaac, I don’t think that involves you at all.”

“But you know I can’t stand him!” 

“Still here, you know.” Harry mutters, lifting his hands up and walking away from them slightly. 

You turn over to look at Harry and glare at him slightly before you turn your attention back to Isaac, “Why do you think I didn’t tell you? I knew that you’d react like this.” 

“What? I’d react completely sane, YN?” Isaac scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Sane?” You physically can’t believe what you’re hearing, “Isaac, you don’t have the right to act like this over who is my boyfriend. Yeah, I understand that you don’t like Harry and he isn’t particularly fond of you either, but you don’t have a say in that.” You stop slightly and let out a sigh of relief when you realise that you’ve got him listening, “I would completely understand if you were upset about me not telling you and lying to you, but that is what you can be mad at.” 

He looks at you but then he shakes his head, and you know that everything that you’ve just said has gone and he couldn’t care less about it now. 

“YN.” You know that tone of voice anywhere, and you couldn’t believe that he was still acting like this, “It’s Harry. You don’t know the shit that he said, and you don’t know what it was like to sit and listen to him saying everything he said about you.” 

This time, it’s you who lets the words that he’s just spoken sink in for a while. If what Harry had said to you earlier was true, that all your brother had to be upset about was him saying that he liked you and wanted to ask you out. Now, you’re not exactly sure how the male mind works, but you’re pretty sure that Isaac can distinguish between someone saying that they like someone and something else. You turn to look at Harry and he looks down at the floor, and that’s when you realise very quickly that there was something else to the story that you didn’t know. The mere thought of it made you feel sick. What had actually been said that night?

“Isaac.” You turn back to look at him, “What was said?” 

“YN.” He shakes his head, scratching his forehead slightly, “I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Tell me.” Your words are harsh and you can tell by the way that Harry backs away from you that you’re about to be in for a real treat, “Tell me!” 

“When we were in high school, we had this list.” Isaac starts, and you know that what he is saying is probably really important context but you just want him to get to the point, “And on this list, we’d rank who we thought were the most fuck-able girls in the school.” 

Your entire heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, “That’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves.” 

“I am, don’t worry.” Isaac nods, “Harry never got involved with it, and we all knew why, because he was the good one who never cared about those things and everyone just accepted that. I certainly did.” 

“Just get on with it, Isaac.” 

“Well, we were in Eugene’s basement and we were high and drunk and everything was just a little blurred if I’m honest, but I asked Harry a question. I said, best friend to best friend, if you were to pick one person to go on the top of the list, and just be his one person and nobody apart from us would ever find out, he turned to me and said: you.” 

You can’t figure out what your angrier at. You can’t decide whether it’s because Harry had actually said those words to your brother, degrading you in such a way that you had never ever expected him to or the fact that he had lied to you about what had actually happened. In honesty, you do think that thing that has upset you the most was that he didn’t tell you the truth. He could have told you what had actually happened earlier on in the day on you wouldn’t have cared, because you knew that he was high and drunk and he probably wouldn’t have meant it but the fact that he lied, made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you question whether or not he had lied to you at other points and you just hadn’t known because you were too naïve to see it. 

You turn to look at Harry and he’s looking directly back at you, not at the ground and not anywhere else but directly at you. 

“Harry.” You can already feel the tears start to form within your eyes, “Tell me it’s not true.” 

Harry shakes his head and looks down at the ground, and you shake your head to try and back the tears. You know that if you open your mouth words will tumble out that you really don’t mean, and you know that you can’t let that happen but you’re in such a state that you know that you’re mind would be clouded with how upset you are. 

“He knows it’s fucking, true, YN.” Isaac says from behind you, “That’s why we fucking fought and punched the living daylights out of each other.” 

You shake your head again, the tears involuntarily spilling down your cheek, “Harry. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I thought—” He starts but then he shakes his head, “I didn’t—”

Just like you couldn’t find the words to say, it seemed as though Harry couldn’t either. You really didn’t care about what he said, and you wouldn’t care about what he said. There were things that you’d said when you were younger and in high school that you certainly regretted and you would hate if anyone was to bring them up but you wouldn’t lie about it. You had lied in the past and done things in the past that you didn’t agree with, but it wasn’t as though you were doing it for any other reason but to protect the relationships that you had made with people. 

“Harry.” He lifts his head to look at you, “I think you should go.” 

“YN. . .” He takes a step forward towards you but you hold your hand up. 

“Just for tonight.” You nod your head, “We’ll speak tomorrow. We all just need to. . . calm down.” 

“But YN. . .” He takes another step forward but you shake your head. 

“Please, Harry.” You close your eyes, “Just for tonight.” 

He doesn’t seem very happy with what you had said but he nods at you once before walking over to his car and getting in. He slams the door closed behind him, and you flinch when he does so. You watch through the window as he looks at you one last time before starting the engine and driving. 

He drives on, and he doesn’t look back, not even one last time and you watch as his car disappears off the street. Once you know that he’s gone, you start walking towards the end of the drive and down to the pavement. 

“YN—” Isaac starts but you turn to look at him and shake your head. 

“Not now.” You run a hand through your hair, “I’m going to Daisy’s. I’ll be fine.” 

With that, you walk down the street and towards Daisy’s house, the thoughts of what had just happened dancing around in your head. You knew that this was going to happen at some point, and it would all blow up in your face, you just hadn’t know that it would be like this.

The next day you return home with bags underneath your eyes and yawns escaping your lips. You would say that you’re nervous, but after being up all night with worry in your stomach, you’re pretty certain that you’re just a little anxious but the thing that overwhelms your brain more than anything is the want for all of this to be over. You needed to sort things out with your brother, so you could go back to being siblings that annoy each other more than anything, and then you need to sort everything out with Harry. You knew that it was going to be hard, and you knew that your emotions were going to be high but you needed to get it over and done with. You weren’t going to allow your life to be like this for longer than it needed to be, and it didn’t need to be at all. 

When you walked through the front door of your house, you didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but you really didn’t expect what you saw. Isaac was laid across the couch, with empty beer bottles on the table in front of him. You knew why he had done it, and you hated that it was your fault that he had done it but at the same time he was a grown man, just like you were a grown woman, and he knew that this wasn’t the right way to go about things. 

With a sigh, you walked over to the sofa and picked up one of the cushions by Isaac’s feet and threw it air his head. He groaned and moved around and that was when you nudged his legs so that you could sit down. He groaned again but moved them away, and you heard him yawn and felt his body lift up from beside you so that he was upright. 

“How’s the head?” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in the seat. 

He groans and does the same, “It’s been better.” 

You chuckle and close your eyes, allowing a slight calmness to wash over your body. If there was one thing that you missed about getting older, was not being able to have the stupid conversations with him that made absolutely no sense to anybody but the two of them. But, something that you did know was that even when this was all sorted and everything went back to normal, you wouldn’t be surprised if not everything went back to normal between the two of you. It was something hard to understand, but you just had to accept it because you wouldn’t be surprised if it took years to fix. 

There’s a silence between the two of you for a while, but you quickly realise that isn’t going to help you in your situation so without really thinking you collect yourself and let out a small breath that you didn’t know you had been hiding for a while. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, the words coming out of your mouth stronger than you had expected them to. You thought that they would at least be broken, but they weren’t, “I’m sorry for everything, but most importantly, I’m sorry for lying and keeping it from you.” 

You don’t know what Isaac is going to say, and the fact that you don’t does make you worry slightly but you know that you’d be able to handle whatever he was going to say. You would be able to handle it because you were strong, at this point you needed to be. 

“I accept your apology.” He says, and you turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He nods at you and smiles, “The more I thought about it, the more I understood why you did it. If the shoe was on the other foot I would’ve done the exact same thing. I wouldn’t have even hesitated to.” 

You nod your head and close your eyes, a few tears falling from them but you’re quick to lift your hand and wipe them away. He reaches over and grabs your hand, and you squeeze his as you do so. 

“I shouldn’t have lied to you though.” You shake your head, “We don’t lie to each other.” 

“Oh.” Isaac shakes his head and you furrow your eyebrows at him, “We don’t lie to each other but we certainly keep secrets. The amount I’ve kept from you. . . you’d probably kill me.” 

Your lips part in shock, “Are you going to tell me them?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips, “I maybe will later, but right now, you’ve got somewhere to be.” 

“Have I?” He taps his hand on your leg and stands up, and all you can do is furrow your eyebrows in response. 

“You have.” You watch as he grabs his jacket and places it on his body, “And I’m going to take you there.” 

You know straight away that Isaac is talking about going to see Harry, and just the fact that he was going to take you made you want to burst out into even more tears that you had been before. You didn’t though, because you were able to keep your calm and just smile and nod along with him, but it was certainly hard for you to do. It felt as though you were getting acceptance from Isaac and although you knew that you didn’t really need it, it sure felt good to have. You offered him a quick smile and got into his car, driving you to Harry’s and leaving you there with a squeeze of his hand. 

Even though you weren’t that nervous when it came to talking to Isaac, speaking to Harry was a completely different thing. Whereas you and Isaac had a sibling bond that could never be broken, you and Harry had a bond, one that was love to the highest degree, but it was still a love that could be broken. You just hoped that this wasn’t it and you hadn’t met the point of no return just yet. 

You palms were sweaty as you knocked on his door, and your heart felt as though it was going to beat out of your chest but you knew that this was the right thing to do. You could hear shuffling behind the door, and then it swung open, and you wanted to sigh in relief just at the sight of him stood there. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but you hadn’t either so it was something that you both had in common, and he had his joggers hung low on his hips in a way that you always found so endearing whenever he did it. 

“Hi.” You say, the corners of your lips tilting upwards slightly, “Can I come in?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then he just ends up nodding his head and opening the door wider so your body can slip through. It looks exactly the same as the last time you had been there, and it felt comfortable and like your home. It certainly was your home away from home, and living with Harry would be something that you wouldn’t mind doing in the future if time permitted you too. You had to remind yourself to take a few steps back and look at the situation ahead of you, and how you had a lot of things that you needed to talk about before anything else in the future could happen. 

Walking into the apartment, you hear Harry shut the door behind you. You knew that he wasn’t too far behind you, so you turned around.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, “I thought you’d need a few days.” 

“I said I would talk to you tomorrow.” You smile and nod your head, “I’m wasn’t about to go back on that.” 

You swear you can see the slight lift of the corner of his lips, and it’s the first sign to you that everything might actually end up being okay. 

“I know you think we have things to talk about but I actually just have one thing to say.” He says, taking a step forward towards you. You watch as he hesitantly reaches out and grabs your hand, and you smile at just the feeling of his skin on yours again, “I’m sorry, That’s all I can say. I’m sorry that I said those things all those years ago, and I’m more sorry that I didn’t tell you about it when I had the chance. It was stupid of me, and I can understand if you want to. . . if you want to.” He physically stops and you can tell that he’s struggling with something, “If you want to break up with me.” 

You gasp at his words, taking a step forward and placing your hands on his cheeks, “Harry. . . no. Don’t think that. I’m not going to break up with you over that.” 

You can hear him physically sigh and you couldn’t even understand why he dared to think the way that he was, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know how you’d think.” 

“Harry.” You lean forward so that your forehead is on his, “I’m upset that you lied, but I did too. If anything, we’re just as bad as each other. That’s probably why we’re so perfect for each other, right?” 

“Right.” He chuckled, nodding his head, “We’re perfect for each other. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” You close your eyes as you let the words sink in, “If there’s one way I know how we’re never going to go through anything like this again, is if we promise to never keep anything from each other again.” 

“We won’t.” He mumbles, “I won’t.” 

“Good. I won’t either.” Your hands grip onto his arms as they wrap around your neck, “I need you, Harry Styles. I do.” 

“I need you too.” 

With that you open your eyes so that you can look directly in his, a small smile breaking over your lips at the fact the two of you knew that he needed you just as much as you needed him. It certainly made this entire situation feel as though it happened for a reason, that it happened so that you could be stronger than you already were. You never doubted that he loved you, and that you loved him, but there was the doubt that everything would have caught up with you, and that was something that you knew would be your fault. All of this was your fault, for not being honest in the first place, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be honest now and get you and Harry through this. 

Without even the slightest hint of hesitation you lean forward and place your lips on his, and he didn’t wait to kiss back, his tongue moving against his bottom lip before pushing it through your parted lips. Your tongue met his in your mouth, and you pulled each other closer, grasping at each other with the want and need that never stopped when you were around him. The spark that you always felt when you were with him ran all the way down from the skin of your lips to the tip of your toes, fluttering all over your body. You had told him that you needed him, which was the truth, but you were soon starting to realise that there was more to the need you had for Harry than what met the eye. It was something that went past all of the words in the dictionary to actions that you needed to name, and that’s why you pulled away and rested your head on his forehead. 

“Harry.” You mumble, “Take me to the bedroom.” 

He pulls away and furrows his eyebrows, not expecting those words to slip from your mouth, “Are you sure? We don’t have to.” 

“I’m sure.” You mumble against his lips, “Never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” 

He presses kisses against your neck and shoulders as he places you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours. When he starts to put a little more pressure on your skin with his teeth, you can’t help the light moans that start to escape your lips. He starts to toy with the hem of your shirt, and you respond to him by lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. Your hips move in circular motions to his, and it’s his turn to moan into you. 

You pull away and sit up, pulling your shirt over your head and revealing your bra to him. It wasn’t the nicest bra you owned, but it got to the point in your relationship when you didn’t need to wear fancy lingerie all of the time to feel good enough for him, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t every now and then to feel sexy. Every now and then, though, just like you felt now, you realise that you don’t need to wear anything to feel sexy because just the way that Harry looked at you made you feel like that. The was his eyes raked up and down your body, across every inch of skin that he could see. That made you feel sexy. The way he looked at you made you feel sexy. 

“Missed this.” He leans over and places a kiss to the skin of your shoulder, “Missed you. You’re so fucking beautiful, YN, you have no idea.” 

You lean forward and capture your lips again on his, slipping your arm around his shoulder so that you could run your nails down his back, scratching lightly as you did so. He took it upon himself to slip his hands between the two of you and unbutton your trousers, pulling them as well as your panties down your legs. You remove your arms from around his neck so that you can unclip your bra and pull it down from your torso and throw it down on the floor with the rest of your clothes. This was how you loved it to be with Harry. You just loved it when the two of you were together, alone. You guessed a part of it was because that was all you ever knew of it. 

Harry was the most loving and beautiful person you’d met in your life, and you would have loved to be able to show him off to the world as the one you loved but it just wasn’t that easy, but now you had the slight suspicion that you might be able to, and a part of you was excited about that. 

Your hands extend back out to him, pulling his body back down so that he was hovering above you again. He places a single kiss to your lips before moving his way down your body, placing kisses to your chest before moving down to the top of your breast and then down towards your nipples. He moves from each of them, one to the other, giving each of them the attention that he always does. You smile and thread your fingers through his hair, running through the curls that sat on top of his head. You used it to pull his head back up and place his lips on yours again. He responds by immediately kissing you back, and he wraps his arms around you so that he could flip you over, so that you’re resting above him now. 

You pulled back and rested your forehead against his, “You want me on top?” He nodded and you smiled, watching as he slipped his hands into each side of his joggers before pulling them down his legs, as well as his boxers, revealing his cock. You manoeuvre your body so that you’re further down the bed and so that your head is at the same level as him, and you lean forward, pressing a singular kiss to the tip. The sound that emits from his throat causes you to not hesitate in leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the top of him, starting to bob your head at a slow pace that you know is seemingly working because you can see his stomach moving up and down at a quick pace. Groans tumble from his lips, and you know that he’ll be getting close but before he can do anything else his hands press against your cheeks and lift you back up so that he can kiss you again. 

“Don’t you wanna. . . ?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at him. 

“No.” He shakes his head, placing his lips on yours, “I don’t want anything but to be inside of you right now.” 

You watched as he moved backwards slightly, so that you were close enough to the wall that you could rest of your hand against the wall as you manoeuvre yourself over him. His cock slips between your folds, and words can’t describe how wet you are for him, dripping all over him. You place your lips on his again and start to move yourself up and down his cock. The groan that escapes his lips is unlike any you’ve heard before, and you can’t help the smile that dances across your lips. 

“You’re drenched for me.” He groans against your lips, “Fuck, I wanna be inside of you.” 

“Be my guest.” You grin, and you watch as he leans down to grab his cock in his fist and you lift up so that you can line yourself up with him. You grasp his shoulder as you slowly sink down on him, the familiar feeling of having him fill you up overwhelming you. You had been together for three years and no matter how many times you had sex, it still manages to overwhelm you more than words can explain. You whimper when he’s fully inside of you, hesitating for a few minutes before you press your lips to his in another short kiss. 

“So fucking tight.” He mumbles, “Best fucking feeling in the world.” 

You tilt your head back slightly with a smile crossing your lips, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” 

He chuckles but that’s quickly shut off when you start to move, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your nails scrape down his back as you move, and you can’t help the moans of profanities that leave your lips as you move. You knew you were squeezing yourself around him, it was always something that you did that caused him to clench his jaw, just has he was doing now. You quickly found a rhythm, swirling your hips and grinding them in a way that had both of you moaning out each others names. 

You tilted your head back when he hit a spot deep inside of you that sent a wave of pleasure rushing over your body. He didn’t even hesitate to lean forward and capture your nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud slightly before moving to the other. He wrapped his arms around your body and slipped them down your back, all the way until he grabbed the flesh of your ass and squeezed. His movements were harsh, but they sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. 

“YN.” You hum, leaning forward and resting your head on his shoulder, not stopping the movements on his hips, “You’re never going to leave me, are you?” 

You move so that you’re sat up straight and look at him, “Why would you think that? I’m not going to leave you, Harry, never.” 

“Good.” He leans forward and placing his lips back on yours. Your movements don’t slow down, if anything, they speed up and a string of moans escape your lips. His hands are all over your body, and his lips are too, and the the feeling starts to rush over you. You manage to keep your hips moving at the pace for a while before you slow down, and Harry notices this and quickly flips you both over. You lay on your back with your head on the pillow, and Harry doesn’t even hesitate when he slips back into you. His movements aren’t fast, but they’re certainly deep. 

“So fucking deep, Harry. Feels so fucking good.” Your words only seem to egg Harry on, especially the way your nails scratch down his back, “I’m so close.”

Harry was hitting just as deeply inside of you as he had been when you were riding him, and the feeling tips you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands drop down to your sides to grasp the duvet cover, and you turn your head so that you can muffle the obnoxiously loud moans that you couldn’t help leaving your lips. 

“I know you are baby.” One of his hands slips through yours, “Don’t hide them moans though, let me hear them, baby, you know what it does to me.” 

You move your head back so that he can hear your moans, and he smiles as he continues to fuck you. It doesn’t take long before he’s tipping you over the edge and your orgasm hits you. It’s one of the most powerful you’ve ever had, and you have every reason to believe that it’s because of how high emotions are between the two of you at the moment. It’s intense and you can feel it everywhere, all over your entire body and more so in the pit of your stomach. Harry didn’t stop his movements, not until he hit his high as well and spilled into you. You didn’t care about anything else in that moment though, because you felt closer to Harry now than you even had been, and you never wanted it to change again. 

Once he pulls out of you, a whimper immediately leaving your lips due to the emptiness you now feel. He quickly cleans you up, and then drops into the bed beside you, and you don’t even hesitate when you wrap your arm around his waist and rest your head upon his chest. When your eyes close, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Harry.” He hums, and you can feel the vibration of his chest beneath your ear, “I’m sorry I told you to drive away.” 

“Don’t be.” He mumbles, his fingertips dancing along the skin of your arm, “We’ve all done thing that we aren’t proud of, but we have a new start. One where we don’t have to keep this a secret.” 

You nod and smile, still not opening your eyes, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, baby.” 

[jennana501]

A Case for Rexsoka

I’ve been around the block when it comes to ships. I’ve seen people obsess over them, and I too have been driven mad by obsession. I was a hardcore original avatar fan and I was OBSESSED with shipping Toph and Sokka together. Any time they so much as made an interaction I over analyzed it and picked it apart looking for clues that somehow would prove that my hunches were correct. It was because I related with both characters, and I loved their chemistry. I wanted them to have a romantic relationship because it would feel like some sort of personal validation.

I’m an adult now and nothing has changed. But it has been a while since I’ve desperately shipped two characters together that are not obviously romantically involved with one another, or who could be romantic behind the scenes or beyond the story shown.

Until Rex and Ahsoka.

And I’ve seen people be adamantly against it. 

“No no no it’s just a brother/sister relationship.” 

“No it’s gross she is a child”.

And of course being disagreed with on the internet can drive a person crazy, and instead of individually arguing with dozens of people online, I’m making this post once and for all to explain why I think Rex and Ahsoka have romantic feelings for each other. Especially Rex.

The argument I’ve seen, that their deep passion, commitment, love, admiration, and respect for one another (which are all so obvious you’d have to be...silly to not see it) are felt in a platonic fashion. Which, for the first 6 seasons and 8 episodes, I would totally agree.

But then Ahsoka comes back. And let’s face it. She is a woman. Age wise, she’s around 17, but everything from the maturity of her Lekku (which weirdly don’t get all that longer, especially compared to other Tagrutan women) to her poise and confidence, to her prowess as a warrior, a user of the force, and her ability to command soldiers as well as control her emotions points to her being an adult woman. She’s no Snips anymore; she’s no child. She’s grown up. And how her peers react to her illustrates how they now view her as an adult.

First there is Obi-wan. Obi-wan has always been a mentor to her, a sort of second Master. Obi-wan never hesitated to guide and Ahsoka or offer his council. He is proud of her when she succeeds, and will admonish her when she makes mistakes. When she returns and he sees her as a woman, he changes the way he treats her. He acknowledges her maturity by addressing her as an equal. He doesn’t admonish her. Instead he discusses with her, challenging her ideas and letting her offer an argument for them instead of putting them down and telling her how she should think or act. He also comes to her in his time of need, trusting her to help him with Anakin.

Then there is Anakin. We all know of Anisoka shippers, and they are perfectly able to ship and enjoy said ship, but we can all acknowledge that it is a crack pairing with no basis in the canon. Anakin portrays the perfect kind of brotherly love. He is excited to see Ahsoka, and is stunned by her unexpected reappearance. Things are harder for Anakin because he is used to their fun banter and sibling-like companionship. He’s constantly shut down with her business like manner and he struggles with coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t a little kid sister anymore. She is an adult with a mission and a plan. When he looks at her, he is endearing. He loves her. Admires her. And he can’t wait to pick up where they left off. There’s joy and adoration in his face. He is proud of her and what she has become, but he also feels alienated and even hurt because of how her adulthood has changed their dynamic.

Then there is Rex. When he first sees her, he wants nothing more than to reassure her that she still belongs. The clones had accepted her into their family. As far as they were concerned, she was one of them. When he looks at her for the first time, he’s beaming with the same adoration as he had had for her before, but also with a solemn awe at what she has become and what she has grown into. He welcomes her back into his life without hesitation.

But then there is a moment things shift so drastically that I paused the show and re-watched it half a dozen times. We all know it and love it. This face he gives Ahsoka. The Look.

What we see here is something we have never, EVER seen in Rex for 7 whole seasons. And it is my opinion that this is the first time Rex has been able to feel and express that he is attracted to Ahsoka. In other words, Rex has a sexual awakening.

Up until this point, Rex has been a sexless character. Nothing he does is flirtatious, sexy, or at all suggestive that he has those feelings inside him at all. Every sexual being has a moment where they are first animalistically drawn to another being. Characters who have already had this moment are easy to pick out. Obi wan. Anakin. Ventress. These characters have already experienced their sexual awakening. Ahsoka has too. Lux was her first object of attraction.

But Rex has never had this moment. Until this reaction.

I know some of you might be thinking “but Ahsoka gives a very similar look to Anakin, does that mean she is sexually attracted to HIM?” It’s a very good point. Ahsoka and Anakin share some cheeky playful looks during “Old Friends Not Forgotten”. We see many characters give similar looks to other characters, but does this mean it means the same thing as when Rex does it? The short answer is no.

When animators design a character, they establish the “range of emotion” for that character. You can easily see this when you look back at how many times you see Rex break from his stoic, captain’s face. He rarely laughs, smiles, or emotes in any way. This is why when we see him emote it is exciting to us as an audience. A character like Ahsoka or Anakin commonly show a wide variety of expressions. Ahsoka is much more likely to give a cheeky look than Rex is. So “the look” for Rex, means a lot more when he is doing than it does when another character does it, say Fives or even Obi-Wan.

Which means the writers are trying to tell us something about this moment. 

This moment has changed Rex’s and Ahsoka’s relationship. 

Now does this mean that they are going to go bang each other immediately? Does this mean the second they are alone after “Victory and Death” they start an intense, sexual relationship? Of course not. That’s not what this ship is about at this time. But the reason many of us ship it is because suddenly they don’t feel like brother and sister anymore. It isn’t entirely platonic. And the show does a good job to further emphasize this as they come closer and closer both emotionally, and physically during the finale.

Blocking is a huge factor in visual storytelling. During the finale, Rex and Ahsoka are blocked in a way that makes them as close as physically possible on the screen. This communicates to the audience that they are closer now than they have ever been. As Jedi and Clone Trooper. As friends, and as companions, their bond forged in the fires of war, struggling to find meaning in life as soldiers.

In contrast, look how Ahsoka and Anakin are blocked in their scenes. There is nearly always a gap between them, illustrating that they are distanced from each other emotionally. Rex is even visually inserted into the gap between them in several instances. Anakin and Ahsoka are growing apart, but she and Rex are growing closer.

We get to experience Rex and Ahsoka engaging in actions and conversations that we had rarely seen before. From casual banter, to moments of intense intimacy, to emotional peaks, Rex and Ahsoka interact more in these four episodes than in the previous six seasons. Part of this is because their maturity gap has closed. Ahsoka is finally Rex’s equal in experience and maturity. It is also in part because it is a unique dynamic. No Obi-wan. No Anakin. Rex and Ahsoka are equal leaders of the 332nd. There’s also the fact that they are put into life threatening situations and have no one else but each other.

But there is that “look” that is given at the beginning of all this that suggests something else, that as their bond undoubtedly becomes strong as beskar, there is an element of it that takes their relationship from the platonic to the romantic.

I feel every detail, moment, and piece of dialogue in the finale tells the story of this bond. 

Many instances of their strong emotional bond have been spread throughout the internet, with most ready to acknowledge that they have a connection unlike any other, one that may even be described as a “force” connection. These last four episodes are so exciting because we see two friends reunited, but then we get to watch as their relationship transforms.

Even disregarding their implied attraction to each other physically, they dive into each other and hold on tight. Ahsoka shares deep personal worries with Rex, and Rex and her are shown opening up to each other in ways they have never opened up before.

We were all floored and dumbfounded at scenes such as these that show these characters at their most vulnerable. But they decide to be vulnerable together. Is it because they are all that is left of their 501st family? It part, this is definitely true. But by being this vulnerable they transform their relationship into something very different from what they had before. It will never be the same again, and it will be near impossible to back out of the emotional intimacy that these two have participated in. Once you have formed that kind of an attachment with someone, there is no going back, and as is seen in rebels, these two maintain that strong connection even after years of being apart.

This goes beyond their sexual desires or needs. They’ve forged a bond that cannot be broken. They have shared minds, shared pain and agony that only the other can understand. They’ve been isolated from the world, and all they have left is each other.

And at the end of the series, when we have Rex and Ahsoka broken, their world flip upside down and everything they ever valued or cared about lies in ruins before them, the idea that they still have each other is that beautiful seed of hope Star Wars is so good at preserving. Those of us who believe that their relationship could be romantic want good things for Rex and Ahsoka. We want them to have that love and share it with each other. Maybe only for a few moments, but having known it would be better than both of them living and dying without having that experience. 

When we see the two in Rebels, for me it confirms that these two love each other deeply. But their lives can never be lived in a normal fashion. They cannot even be together as partners in life. The Empire has stolen this from them. The tragedy of this ship is that it can never be the way we want it to be. Rex will age and die long before Ahsoka is even halfway through her own life. They cannot live with one another. They cannot wake each morning with each other, at least not at the point we see them in rebels. 

But they continue to love each other. Even over distance, even knowing that mortality will claim them with only a fraction of the memories that they deserve with one another. 

So please, the next time you see some art or a fic, or a post like this, think of what I had to say. Rexsoka is about two adults, their lives destroyed at the hands of Sidious, but in defiance they still forge a bond that he could never break or take from them. And that to me is beautiful and something to celebrate.

Side note: I spent a ton of time making gifs but they never would work and so I had to use screenshots instead :(

EDIT: At the request of the OG poster of a few gifs, I have replaced them have also made some grammatical changes. 

[nctsjiho]

Shocking Truth Behind NCT JiHo’s Hiatus Revealed + SM Official Statement And Apology

July 24, 2021 By J. Mitchel (K!Today)

After an internal investigation of SM Entertainments financial reports, specifically those regarding NCT, the likely reason of JiHo’s hiatus from April to May of this year, has been revealed. The reason why this information, which I’ll be explaining in a bit, is only deemed “likely”, is because anonymous sources said this is only “part of a bigger problem”. However, what I’ll be diving into in a second is fully factual (unless stated otherwise), backed up by plenty of evidence, and I can conclude that this has been a driving factor of JiHo’s hiatus.

Visas, Working As A Minor And Bing A Foreigner Working In The Idol Industry

For those who aren’t aware, Geovanna Dubois, otherwise known as Lim Jiho, and debuted as JiHo, moved to Korea in late 2014. At that time she was only 13, turning 14 soon in international age, which made her a minor. Because her family stayed back in France, where she lived prior to becoming a trainee, she had to be assigned a guardian.

This guardian was an employee at SM Entertainment who was not particularly close to JiHo; it was stated that:

“(the guardian) was only in charge of legal affairs regarding JiHo and everything else: housing, medical needs, schooling, leisure and so on, was taken care of by other employees and managers - who kept in contact with JiHo’s family - until she was no longer a minor”.

However it was revealed that JiHo’s guardian had not taken care of their part of taking care of JiHo. For a total of 6 months, they did not provide JiHo with the right Visa (this does not include failing to renew her Visa when renewal was due). For a total of 4 months - beknown to managers and other employees - they violated the rules under the Child Labour Laws in Korea. And for her whole career up until April of 2021 they did not provide her with her fair earnings she deserved (more on this later).

Until 2020 all of this went unnoticed by the higher ups in SM Entertainment. An ex employee, who wanted to stay anonymous stated:

“There was always so much secrecy going on in the office. I felt insanely guilty towards JiHo because she wasn’t given fair treatment behind the scenes. Employees would fake reports about the state of JiHo’s legal documents. I thought it would all stop when she debuted, but things continued as they were.

… They withheld money from JiHo’s wage to pay off debt caused by the mistakes the employees made. One day the department got a 10,000,000.00 Korean won (around 8,500 USD) fine for violating Child Labour Laws. Instead of going to the boss, employees would take money from JiHo’s bank account - the guardian had full access to it - or would write it off on JiHo’s trainee debt. Something like this shouldn’t happen in such a big company as SM.”

If you thought this was bad, that was only just the tip of the iceberg.

Unfair Pay

As mentioned before, part of JiHo’s hard earned money would go to paying of debt and fines, but that’s not all.

JiHo is one of NCT’s rappers. But did you know she also participated in writing lyrics and sometimes help in arranging songs? Especially for Japanese releases. For most of her work she did not get credited, but apparently this was because of the percentage of her input being “too low”.

Whether this is a fair reason or not is not something I can comment on. In my small amount of research in this area I have found that not everyone gets paid the same just because they are credited in a song. And even if I find that logical, by that statement I would assume that JiHo should have been credited for every song she participated in.

However, that’s where I found out the reason as to why she might not have been credited for every song she worked on.

Comparing her with other members of NCT who have put in similar amounts of work into writing, producing, arranging music, as well as overall performing, making public appearances, modelling and other schedules, taking in account the money employees took away for debt, JiHo on average would receive only 80,6% of what her colleagues would earn.

Keeping that in mind, I suspect that if they would’ve credited her for every song, it would’ve been more obvious that she didn’t receive the payment she deserved whenever this news would come out. However if that was the reason behind this, they failed, because almost every source who is covering this news has at least mentioned this.

Today’s Reality

Before we go into SM Entertainment’s official statement and apology (yes I was also surprised by this), let’s talk about how these events have affected JiHo.

Of course we don’t know all the small details, and according to the previous anonymous ex employee there have been some problems with an ex manager, but in the big picture JiHo did not get affected by these past events on a day to day basis. Having said that, one thing does break my heart in this whole story. The same ex employee also stated that:

“While all this was going on, one of the managers - or maybe it was the guardian themselves - contacted JiHo’s family. They told them lies so that they would not ask JiHo to go visit them back home. Since her Visa wasn’t always okay, it might have caused problems once she left Korea. They also told her family it might be best for them not to visit JiHo because she was ‘doing fine’ and them visiting would ‘cause a distraction’. I once had JiHo’s mother on the phone, she seems like a sweet lady, who was heartbroken not being able to see her daughter for years, being under the impression that visiting her daughter would be a burden to her and her career.”

I hope that with everything that I’ve shared here, you can understand the severity of these events. Knowing that this is only a small percentage of the whole situation makes me scared to hear what else was going on. But let’s hope that things look better for JiHo’s future.

SM Entertainment’s statement

“This is SM Entertainment.

Earlier today, documents and numbers surfaced that we weren’t eager to show to the public. These documents revealed things that you weren’t meant to see either. For the longest time, we, the higher ups in SM Entertainment, were unaware of what was going on behind the scenes. That’s our mistake, and we want to own up to it now.

We should have been more thorough. We should have been more involved. But as we were tricked into thinking everything was fine, we decided to put faith in our employees and let them operate as they were.

Even though we felt cheated and tricked, we were not the real victims here. Lim Jiho, one of our idols, is the one who got tricked the most.

For the years we’ve known her she has grown incredibly much. She’s one of our most hardworking idols. She’s skilled in everything she does. She’s an inspiring and friendly soul and we, SM Entertainment, are extremely honoured to have her as one of our idols.

We are sorry to JiHo, to her family, her friends and her fans for all the discomfort, uncertainty and pain we have caused them. A simple sorry isn’t enough and that’s why we have decided to take some actions.

For JiHo: As you are aware, JiHo is now also under Esteem. The statement we have issued before still stands. We will work together with Esteem to provide JiHo with all the opportunities she deserves so she is able to grow in an even more talented and loved artist.

We will not only take accountability for the financial injury JiHo suffered, but also will try our best to put her emotional and mental health first. Many of these things we have and will continue to discuss with JiHo privately. She will, if desired, reach out to fans and friends on her own accord to talk about her side of things. So to respect her privacy we won’t go further into detail.

For family and friends: We are incredibly sorry towards JiHo’s personal and private relationships to which we caused damage. From the many foreign artist we have under our label, we know that homesickness and missing friends and family is natural. We did not mean to put even more of a strain on her relationships. Again we want to respect the privacy of everyone who is involved, so we will be reaching out to JiHo’s close family privately to issue a personal apology.

For the fans: We are again incredibly sorry towards all of JiHo’s fans who have been worried about her not only during her hiatus this year, but throughout her whole career. We know you want to see more of JiHo and we, along with Esteem and of course JiHo, will try and give back to you as much as possible by providing you with the content you deserve.

We know that the fans will be the happiest if JiHo is happy, so from now on we will make extra sure that JiHo’s happiness is our top priority.

Our apology doesn’t excuse our past actions and from now on we will try to be more transparent as that is something we heard many fans shared their concerns about. We want to let you know that most of the things we’ve discussed here are things we’ve been working on ever since JiHo’s hiatus started. But since the news is now public we want to assure the people that actions are indeed being taken.

We would also like to let everyone know that there have been actions taken in regards of the employees, managers and direct contacts who were at the base of all of this.

From now on we will be focusing on making things right and moving forward. Thank you for your patience.

Fans are happy to hear that SM is taking actions. Even if some things go unexplained and many fans don’t believe SM is being completely “transparent”, they are content things seem to start going into the right direction.

When more news surface (which I have a feeling it will) I’ll be updating you guys about this. For now I’ll leave you with some of the fans’ reactions to the situation.

What do you think about SM’s apology? And how do you feel about hearing the truth about JiHo’s hiatus? Let us now in the comments bellow or on our Twitter @KNewsToday

[cienie-isengardu]

Not only do I not regret asking you to "RELEASE THE RAMBLES!", I'm sending you requests for more. Below is a list of questions that I asked @bihansthot , and enjoyed their answers, but because you are so thorough, and answer in such depth, I'm re-asking them to you.

Brace yourself, it's a list. I didnt have time to sort thru them, I just copied and pasted, so if any are questions you already answered before, please feel free to include the links.

"LET US BEGIN!"

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

In the spirit of potential future writing,  I'm trying to find a building that  would make a good substitution for Lin Kuei temple.

I've tried looking up ancient Chinese military barracks/forts, and have found some stuff,  but is all exterior.  Anyone know of any locations (or several I can cobble together) that would make good inspiration fodder?

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So, uhm, religion? What's the Lin Kuei's take on that one? I know they are aware of Gods, they team up with/ encounter Raiden all the time,  and have literally worked for/against Shinook, so I know they recognize higher powers... but I  guess the question is,  do they care?

Do they have a religion,  or spiritual practice that resembles religion? Or do they have a more practical approach "gods exist,  but we just consider them very strong people"?

Which segues into... do they recognize and participate in holidays, or things like birthdays? Or are all their celebrations work related (I.E. successful missions or levels of combat mastery)?

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

Food.  What foods do they normally eat? What foods do they like?  What foods don't they like? What foods do they absolutely love so much they'll stop what they're doing to get it?

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If you had to match the Lin Kuei with a dynasty,  what one would it be? (I know the 2021 movie has the opening in the Ming dynasty, so the Lin Kuei is at least that old,  but given that movie Bi Han hasn't aged in 400 years, and was taken is a child,  its probably much older) (and also know the game probably cherry picked random Chinese things it liked).

What do you think the Lin Kuei's view on artistic culture (probably not the right word) is? I know they are heavily militaristic,  but in the game,  Kuai Liang offers Hanzo tea and he properly prepares it the Japanese way, that says they have something of an education other than just related to fighting?

Lastly,  in the movie,  everything Bi Han does is "for the Lin Kuei", but the Lin Kuei is on Earth (assumedly),  and he is working for a guy who wants to enslave Earth, so what do you think the deal is?

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

Question about the Cryomancers. I know the game lore says that they are supposed to be rare, but I also know that the Lin Kuei have had at least 5 (grandpa, papa, older, and younger Sub Zero,  and Frost). 4 of which are part of 3 generations that inherited it even with mixed blood (I'm assuming Mama Sub Zero wasn't Cryomancer since they left her alone).

That's a lot of generations in a row for a rare trait... So do you think the Cryomancers as a group have figured out they're being hunted and have chosen to live in hiding?

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

Lin Kuei society question? I like writing so I also like world building and I think about these things.

Is Lin Kuei society ever covered? I know there is a Grandmaster, a handful master assassins (Sub Zero's, Sektor, Cyrax, etc) and the  movies always have a bunch canon fodder lesser assassins.

And they live in the very isolated Lin Kuei Palace/Temple in Arktika (or wherever it used to be)

But is Lin Kuei (we'll call it "village") ever covered?   Do they have willing servants, kidnapped slaves, or a mix of both? Are there women (non fighter women,  I know there's Frost) or do they employ strictly male help? If there are women, what's their role, and are there children born there? What about Elderly? What about resources,  is everything (from food, clothes, weapons, and the raw materials to create them) grown or manufactured on sight by skilled laborers or do they import/interact with the outside world? How vicious or civil is this society, could you be killed for looking at Sektor wrong or do they value your services to a degree? What's the degree? This is obviously a combat culture,  but is everyone expected to know martial arts of some variety, is it optional, or do they prohibit it among the servants/slaves? How strict are they on things like clothing, food, alcohol,  drugs, "luxuries", or pleasures? Money? If they interact with the world do they recognize and use $$ currency, commodity currency, or a mixture? Internally are the Lin Kuei payed or just provided for? What about illness or injury,  if you're not a master and it a serious injury/illness are you taken care of or do they just give you a quick death?

Etc. That's all the questions I can think of,  but please feel free to answer questions I didn't ask,  if you think of anything else.

Thank you for this wonderful list to talk about! I’m gonna split the answer into smaller parts, for better focusing on each aspect but also so I don’t feel bad for keeping you waiting for ages, lol. For now let’s focus on asks about the religion!

So good questions! I do think they have some spiritual practice(s) because in martial arts the state of a mind is as important as the physical body and religion is one of many ways to shape someone’s mindset from a young age. I do, however, think that Lin Kuei does not worship the gods. They are aware that the gods exist (with Raiden as the thorn in the side) and may even respect their supernatural powers and battle skills but it never has stopped Lin Kuei from desecrating holy places, murdering people and stealing stuff for the best price. So, it seems to me that whatever religion the members of the clan follow, by nature it is rooted in nontheism.

Of course, there is also a chance that Lin Kuei worships some forgotten deity or deities (as a remnant of their ancient connections with Outworld / realms conquered and destroyed by Shao Kahn?) or may even practice ancestor worship which seems like a good way to uphold a widely understood tradition that plays an important role in the discussed community.

The closest thing to religious practice was seen in Mortal Kombat X, when Sub-Zero and his warriors seemed to pray together before statue of god / deity / ancestor / legendary warrior / personalized thing they value the most (sadly, my knowledge about Asian religious practices or faiths is very limited so I don’t have idea if the statue is supposed to represent any real god/religious symbol).

At the same time, it could be just a bluff since Grandmaster was aware of Cage’s team infiltrating the Lin Kuei territory and used this moment to lure them into a trap. Additionally, Mortal Kombat X comics presented once Kuai Liang sitting before the same statue albeit in a completely different (devoid of reverence?) position.

Of course, if we take into account Mortal Kombat Armageddon, the game states that Lin Kuei Temple placed in Arctika was actually once the Temple of Delia (the great sorceress & wife of god Argus) that at some point get abandoned and re-used by Sub-Zero’s clan.

(In the background, we can see a statue of Delia that Lin Kuei does not worship but did not remove for whatever reason. Mixing both old and new games, we can only wonder if MKX!statue is also the remnant of someone else's faith/religion?)

Beside that, Kuai Liang was pretty vocal about Lin Kuei not worshipping the Elder Gods, what was seen in MK11’s intro dialogue with Cetrion

Sub-Zero: The Lin Kuei do not worship the Elder Gods.

Cetrion: We seek gratitude, not worship.

Sub-Zero: I see no distinction.

and personally did not have any reason to pray to the goddess:

Sub-Zero: Why should I pray to you?

Cetrion: Why does a bird flap its wings?

Sub-Zero: I asked a simple question.

In all fairness, in MK11 Kuai Liang seems the most passive-aggressive toward the Elder God while Frost is focused on her ambitions and Noob!Bi-Han just wants to be left alone when bothered by Cetrion. Similar thing happens toward Raiden. Despite gratitude for saving him, Kuai Liang does not spare the god criticism (can’t serve both Elder Gods and Earthrealm, isn’t fit for his role of protector) and in MKX outright says he does not fear divine beings:

Raiden: Sub-Zero...

Sub-Zero: I fear no gods, Raiden.

Raiden': That's why you shall lose.

Surprisingly, Kuai Liang’s interaction with MK11!Fujin sounds less accusing than with Raiden and Cetrion and it is connected closely to their ties with Bi-Han. And maybe Kuai Liang did seek in the past Fujin and other elements to make a peace with them, like he planned to do so in Mortal Kombat 4 Limited comics?

"I came here to make peace with the gods of the elements that you fought [...]"

Anyway, the accusingly behaviour toward Raiden and Cetrion could be just Kuai Liang’s personal dislike for gods and serious authority issues, which makes sense considering how much he suffered because of their meddling and conflicts.

But honestly?

The available examples of Lin Kuei attitude toward gods, demigods and supernatural beings suggest how little the warriors - especially cryomancers - care for them.

Like, we have Bi-Han in Mythologies, who asked Quan Chi about details of mission:

Sub-Zero: If it's so precious, why don't you get it yourself?

Quan Chi: I cannot enter the temple until the four elements within its walls have been defeated. And I am not on the best of terms with the gods of your realm... especially your god of thunder.

Sub-Zero: Tell me about these elements.

Quan Chi outright said he and earthrealm gods weren’t friends and Bi-Han, reading between the lines, could get the idea that he may end on bad terms with Thunder God. Yet he was interested only in elements (lesser gods than protector of realm?) guarding the temple.

Then Bi-Han beat down four demigods and met a displeased Raiden after Quan Chi got the Shinnok Amulet. His reaction? No fear, like meeting an angry god was a normal occurrence.

Rayden: Do you realize what you've done??

Sub-Zero: I was just earning my living.

Rayden: Your clan's ignorance and greed will cost this entire realm. You must now set things straight.

Sub-Zero: Quan Chi could simply be a lunatic sorcerer. I've never heard of an elder god named Shinnok or of a place called the Netherrealm.

Rayden: Well, you'd better start believing in both, because you're going to the Netherrealm and you're going to bring the amulet back. We must act quickly. I have no dominion in the Netherrealm... You are reality's only hope.

Sub-Zero: I'll do it, Thunder God... but only because I have no choice.

And once he came back from Netherrealm, where he was fixing what he messed up in the first place on Raiden’s order, his abrasive attitude did not change much:

Sub-Zero: Here... the amulet.

Rayden: Impressive, Sub-Zero. Perhaps you will reconcile your reckless past after all.

Sub-Zero: That's it? Not even a thank you?

Of course, to some degree Raiden’s words did have an impact on Bi-Han but even the god’s warning about his soul tainted with evil did not stop him from coming back to Lin Kuei. Bi-Han’s attitude and/or approach to gods seems to change somehow once he was reborn as Noob, but that is a different matter for different times.

Anyway, Mythologies!Bi-Han and MK11!Noob act less aggressive toward gods than Kuai Liang. But then we have Sub-Zero from from the MK novel by Jeff Rovin, who not only is not afraid of gods but outright insult them:

“Wait! Be warned, Shang Tsung. He is cursed!”

“Cursed? By whom?”

Ruthay wailed, “By the immortal Yu.”

Shang Tsung felt cold spiders crawl up his spine. “The demigod Yu?”

“Yes… he who is said to dwell in the underground caverns of Horse Ear Mountain… which is sacred to the goddess Kuan Lin. He who protects the canals… and the tunnels… and looks after all who use them, human and animal.”

“What did our brash friend do to Yu?”

“He… killed a man,” said Ruthay.

“What man?”

“A toll-taker… one who had given up a life of crime… one who had been a partner of the man… you… seek.”

“And how did that crime come to the attention of the spirit of Yu?” Shang Tsung asked.

“The man was killed… slowly disemboweled with a sword… while accomplices forced his wife and his son to look on! After his murder… the man’s remains… were dumped into a canal!”

Shang Tsung raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? I was expecting something truly terrible!”

“It was!” Ruthay shrieked. “When he disposed of the body… in that way … he profaned one of the sacred waterways… of Yu!”

Shang Tsung smiled now. “Then he is definitely the man I want,” he said. “Anyone who is impudent enough to insult a demigod won’t be afraid to attack a member of the White Lotus Society, or the gods who watch after them. I will send Hamachi, Ruthay. When he nears his goal, see through his eyes and guide him!”

Book!Sub-Zero was impudent enough to insult a demigod which is why he was one of Shang Tsung’s favorites. And to be clear - book!Sub-Zero did not regret insulting the demigod at all. Even more! He found humor in it!:

He dwelt in a cave two hundred feet up the face of a cliff by the sea. The mouth of his home was barely wide enough to accommodate a slender adult, and was accessible only by climbing the sheer wall of rock, a feat that was impossible for most adults and daunting even to the few arachnids and marsupials that tried it.

Maybe some of them were even sent by Yu, he thought with a smirk, little assassins who would chastise me for having spilled blood in his precious canal.

The less abrasive attitude toward gods was shown by Cyrax, who talked a bit with Raiden over Bi-Han’s remains. He wasn’t outright antagonistic but wasn’t overall respectful either. He talked with Thunder God like he would talk with any other human being that wasn’t actually Scorpion. Frankly, from the named Lin Kuei only MK9!Smoke actually addressed Raiden in respectful manner, with proper bow and the name of lord

albeit did he do so because he respects the divine beings or just out of gratitude for saving him, hard to tell for sure.

So yeah, it seems like no matter what kind of timeline or age or medium of the story, Lin Kuei does not fear gods nor pray to them. And the clan has a long history of dealing with Raiden, so the Lin Kuei had first-hand experiences with supernatural beings. Somehow, cryomancers are the most impudent warriors when it comes to dealing with or criticizing the gods.

Interestingly, as much as Lin Kuei warriors don’t care for gods, most of the known to us named characters believe to have - and to care - for their own souls. Sektor and MK11!Frost embraced the Cyber Lin Kuei idea but Kuai Liang, Cyrax and Smoke were opposed to C.I. project out for concern for their souls among other things. Even Bi-Han, to some degree became concerned about his soul after trip to Netherrealm.

Believing in souls is usually a sign of belief in the afterlife, albeit after all of them went through (the change into cyborgs, death and change into Revenants) this is less a matter of faith (religion) and more first-hand experiences. And let's not forget that regularly dealing over the centuries with Shang Tsung who steals people's souls on a daily basis makes it really hard to not believe spirits are real.

Also, an interesting matter of Lin Kuei practices that could have a religious/spiritual ground and/or be an example of ancestor worship is the clan’s funeral rites. I don’t think we actually saw any Lin Kuei to bury their own (especially after warrior’s failure?) and for sure MK9!Cyrax and Sektor did not bother to take care of Bi-Han’s remains. However the sources provide examples of Lin Kuei keeping corpses, most likely of their own leaders or warriors.

And so, we could see human remains:

put in two coffins on each side of statue

hidden / kept in a block of ice(?) in chamber of Fallen Lin Kuei in which Frost’s frozen body was also laid, but on the altar

Cyrax’s cyber body was kept and guarded by Sub-Zero (and this is like the only thing that Kuai Liang and Cyber Sektor so far agreed on)

and even Cyber Sektor’s remains, even if just for pragmatic reasons, are kept in what seems to be respectful manner:

It could be just Kuai Liang’s good nature to honor fallen of his clan (I’m still not sure if Lin Kuei Palace is the new place for Sub-Zero’s clan or the ancient hideout) but even in MK Conquest TV series, after Grandmaster was killed by then-currently-Sub-Zero, there was the farewell ceremony with clothes on display (cause there was not much left of body after freezing and shattering) while new leader gave the speech promising to punish the guilty.

Which makes me think that Lin Kuei did honor their fallen warriors (especially those exceptional, deserving). Such custom and apparently common belief in soul could also support the ancestor worship - both as some ancient, mythical ancestor(s) connecting warriors into one clan (family) and tradition to follow in the footsteps of forefathers (Bi-Han taking place of his father [old timeline] or grandfather [current timeline] or Kuai Liang taking Bi-Han’s place as Sub-Zero).

My general conclusion about Lin Kuei is that its members believe in souls, have respect and use of spiritual matters (meditation?) and maybe ancestor worship. Whatever the religious / spiritual practices they have over the centuries, it is not something they will share, as the Lin Kuei by nature are secretive people who keep personal things mostly for themselves. The people that joined the clan (Cyrax and Smoke) maybe kept their old, eventual religious beliefs but overall, Lin Kuei warriors did not fear, care for nor pray to gods. They may respect god (Raiden, Fujin) as a person but not because of their divine nature. And even that would not stop them from criticizing said god. Which is pretty much how Kuai Liang and Raiden’s relationship looks like. Grandmaster is grateful to Thunder God for saving him but he won’t blindly follow his authority.

(Kuai Liang has serious authority issues, hasn't he?)

As for holidays, I can’t really see Lin Kuei to follow any specific religious (theistic) special day cause they don’t care much for gods in the first place. Unless they worked undercover and needed to act as normal human beings, religious holidays would mean nothing to them. The warriors may however celebrate their mission success, combat mastery or promotion between themselves or in secret, I think. Like, Lin Kuei did forbid friendship because it was considered warrior’s flaw yet we know some members either were blood-related (Kuai Liang, Bi-Han, previous Sub-Zero - father or grandfather, depending on which timeline is correct) or considered each other a family (Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada) and most named characters worked in duos so they have both opportunity and knowledge about each other to celebrate important matters. If they managed to remember anything from previous life, that is. Because from ancient to at least Great Kung Lao’s times most(?) adepts were kidnapped from biological families at a really young age (something around 6 years old). And Mythologies: Sub-Zero takes that even further:

Its warriors are chosen at birth to be raised apart from the workings of day to day civilization and are stripped of their former lives. Only the clan knows their existence. Each of them posses certain skills and abilities that set them apart from normal men. These abilities are passed on from generation to generation and honed throughout the experiences of life.

So, celebrating birthdays doesn’t sound like happening much, unless those with family around could allow themselves such luxury. The clan may however celebrate the day of becoming a fully trained and sworn warrior? Or the fallen warriors? Who knows.

Also, something worth thinking about: in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series, when the Grandmaster presented newly appointed Sub-Zero to the rest of the clan, he “celebrated” the cryomancer's first official performance as the execution of two men who failed their mission. So, yeah, celebration of something special in (old) Lin Kuei does not necessarily mean anything nice.

(The next part of answer most likely will be focused either on food or architecture / origin of Lin Kuei. Let's hope I will get it written sooner than later)

<><> EDIT <><>

RELIGION <> ORIGINS / ARCHITECTURE <> FOOD <> FOR THE LIN KUEI <> ART <> CRYOMANCERS <> LIN KUEI SOCIETY <> MONEY & MATERIAL GOODS

[lyracasstuff]

I am NOT prepared to make myself sad,, you FRENCHIE!! ಥ⌣ಥ

However,, I will accept because as much as it pains me to write angst,, I also have to in order to improve my writing skills..

I'll do this in one shot/fic form as I feel as though I can convey emotions there better. That and I've been doing headcannons as of late,, so let's switch it up a notch..

WARNINGS: DEATH, BLOOD, SPOILERS FOR JOSEPH'S BACKSTORY

Joseph x fem! S/o

To be Sick at Heart💔

"How did this all happen?" thought the Frenchman, although it was more retorical, as he already knew deep down the answer to that question... He just can't accept it..

You had been an acquaintance to Joseph before, seeing as how your family served him, and the both of you only grew closer once you got caught in the twisted "games" of the manor. Joseph asked as to what had tempted you to accept the invitation of the manor.

It turns out, you were looking to find people who you can treat as your own family. In all your life, you practically had been treated like dirt, especially the time when Joseph had gone missing. Your family had given you love and acceptance, but it was short-lived seeing as how their lives were slowly taken from them early on in your life by sickness, you had no one but the other servants to take care of you.

The other servants cared for you, but not to the same extent as your family... You were aware of that fact as did they. So, when the invitation arrived, you couldn't help but accept right away.

It promised that "they" could fulfill your desire of having the bonds and relationships that you never had growing up, why wouldn't you accept? You would be missing out on a golden oppurtunity.

And so, that was how you ended up in this morbid manor, tricked and forced to participate in these "games" that gets everyone hurt much like every other survivor who came here...

Days had gone by. Weeks. Months. Hell, even years, and you were all still being forced to play.

Thankfully, you had everyone to keep you company during these times.. Thanks to your loving nature, you were able to be close with everyone in the manor, even those who are notorious at being secretive like Norton. You even managed to befriend some of the hunters as well.

But most especially of all, you were thankful you had Joseph to be there with you.

You were quite shocked when you saw the silver-haired count, as he had seemingly disappeared out of nowhere the last time. So to see him here made you pleasantly surprised.

Joseph as well felt shocked when he saw you here, albeit he took some time to figure who exactly you were as you looked extremely familiar to him.

It didn't take long for the both of you to grow close to each other where outside of matches, you two were practically inseperable. The both of you would be spotted having afternoon tea together, walking around the manor together, sightseeing for new photoshoot locations together.

You always did things together...

Over time though, you would grow feelings for the count and the same can be said for Joseph as well. However, your fears of being rejected has delayed the both of you from ever confessing about your feelings toward each other. The others in the manor can most definitely see your connection as bright as day, but they really didn't know how to go about helping you about it. After all, all of them never really had great experiences in their lives, so they don't know what would normally be best in a situation like this..

Despite this, you can't help but feel content and happy that you have found people that you can treat as your family. Emily and Michiko were like motherly figures to you with their kind nature. Leo treated you like his own daughter, much like how he treats Emma. Wu Chang, Andrew, Norton, Naib, and Eli were like big brothers for you, always being protective of you to keep you safe.

You really felt at home with all of the inhabitants. It almost felt as if being stuck in a manor wasn't so bad after all...

Almost

There was still one more thing you wanted to do. You had discovered your family, but you wanted to expand on that desire..

You wanted to start your own family

And you would want to do so with someone you love... That someone would be the Frenchman with whom you have grown immense feelings for.. So you sent him an invitation to go to the balcony of the garden at night, where you won't be disturbed by the others...

Unbeknownst to you, the Frenchman had been thinking the same thing, especially after reading the invitation you sent him. Can you blame him though? Seeing you interacting with him, along with all of the others, made him feel butterflies in his stomach. How you unconditionally helped the other inhabitants through their issues and suffering, not because you needed something from them, but because you wanted to. You wanted to help them, you wanted to nurture them, you wanted to support them...

With that feeling alone, Joseph finds that he just couldn't take it anymore... He wants to confess to you..

He wants to be with you, to call you his love, to marry you and call you his wife, and to start a family as well..

With that thought, he made up his mind and decided to accept your invitation, and there, he will confess..

It was night time, you were already at the balcony waiting, knowing that Joseph values punctuality and doesn't like to be kept waiting. Soon after, Joseph shows up. It seems as though he had been brisk walking which is evident by the way he's catching his breath in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly and calmly began to confess your feelings towards him and how you wanted to start building a future with him as the father of your children.

Joseph was in awe, for he had never could've guessed that you felt the same way. He accepted, saying how he had always thought about you the same way, and that he would be honored to be the father of your children. Joseph took a few steps towards you, with you unconsciously doing the same. Joseph wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, while you wrapped yours around his neck.

He lifted his hand and tilted your chin upwards to stare at your features, admiring them. The way your skin glistened in the moonlight, how your eyes sparkled with life when he stared at them. How your cheeks were flushed with the slightest hint of color.

You looked angelic to him.

Brushing his thumb over your lower lip, he slowly closed his eyes as he allowed his lips to connect with yours.. You can't help but reciprocate immediately, you'd been waiting for this moment to come. You truly felt happy that you took the risk to confess to him, knowing that he may have rejected you instead.

And that was the start of your blossoming relationship...

For the next few years, the two of you became more and more in love with each other every single day. Countless affirmations of love, bouquets of your favorite flowers, numerous cuddling sessions, along with the discussion of having a domestic life together..

You two really had the potential to have a wonderful life together...

But, there are repercussions in growing fond of the potential...

One time at a match, you had been feeling dizzier and more nauseous by the second, so much so that it frequently disoriented you from kiting the hunter properly. At some point even, you threw up a bit. Your team still won the match since the hunter decided to go friendly in the end because of your condition, however they were still concerned for you so they sent you immediately to Emily.

You were diagnosed to be pregnant..

Your thoughts immediately went to Joseph. A mixture of joy and anxiousness washed over you. Can be a good mother for your child? Can you really do this? Can you really start a family like you had promised? What if you do something wrong? What if you're not cut out for this?

Just as your thoughts began to generate more questions, Joseph runs in and looks over to you with wide eyes. Emily must've told him that you were pregnant with his child. He immediately went towards your bed and hugged you as he sobbed his heart out.

He was so convinced that the bright future you two head towards is certain...

Oh, how a fool he was for believing so....

2 months in and your belly hasn't been growing rapidly.. Normally, you would've had a small baby bump forming on your belly... Joseph and Emily had been constantly reassuring you that you might need to readjust your diet more to fit your baby's needs....

But, that's not the only thing bothering you...

You see, just as you haven't "developed" your baby, your dizziness and nausea didn't go away. For quite sometime, you thought it was normal.....

Until you see tiny specks and droplets of blood on your hand...

That's when you realize....

You're not actually pregnant.. You're sick...

Having this sudden realization, you quickly washed your hand and looked at yourself in the mirror... Maybe this was some sort of mistake? Maybe you're actually pregnant and you just scratched the inside of your cheek?

You were hoping. Praying, that it was anything else other than a sickness... However, as time passed, you felt yourself growing weaker and weaker...

For months, you had kept this sickness of yours a secret. You didn't want to make anyone worry about you and you especially didn't want to disappoint Joseph with the fact that you're not actually carrying a baby or make him devastated with your death just as he became devastated with his twin brother's death...

However, try as you may, the longer you kept it a secret, the more the others noticed. How your skin was getting paler, how your cheeks had started to sink in, how you became alarmingly skinnier and bonier, how your eyes became more dull and lifeless...

Most importantly, at how you became increasingly more secretive and quiet about all this.

Joseph was by far being more and more anxious than before. He didn't know what was happening. He wasn't an expert in medicine, but even he could notice that this isn't normal for a pregnancy..

Quickly carrying you to Emily, he asked for a check-up to see what was happening. You would've stopped him if it weren't for the fact that you were so weak, you couldn't move a muscle without hurting it.. There, he was informed about the condition you're in. He was just as shocked as you are, but there's a mixture of fear and hopelessness bubbling inside him...

No. He couldn't let this happen. Not again...

His breathing starts going rapid, his hands start shaking, he hugs himself as he looks at you at your weakened state with tears threatening to spill from his eyes...

Just as he was about to confront you, Victor had entered and pointed towards the main hall, signaling Joseph and Emily to go there.

Apparently, there's a meeting that's going to be held.

Joseph and Emily looked at each other before turning to look at you. Then, they quickly left the room, with you all alone inside with nothing but your thoughts and the life within you.. Or, what's left of it...

The meeting started once Joseph and Emily arrived as they were the only ones left to attend. Emily had to quickly explain your condition when some of the others questioned your whereabouts.. All were quite shocked and concerned about your sickness, however the meeting was said to be an important one so they had to stay. They'll just have to relay the information given to you by the time it's done..

After the meeting, everyone was so shocked and confused that for several moments, no one said a word.. Who wouldn't though? Because after all this time...

They were all finally free

Free from the clutches of the manor, free from the twisted "games", free from the prison that presented itself as a grand oppurtunity for everyone to get what they want.

They were free at last... Now, they can all live their lives as they want it to be...

Suddenly realizing this, Joseph quickly made his way back to your room. There was still hope he thought, he had hoped for you to get better and finally leave this prison together, along with the others.

But what he saw when he opened the door made him feel like his heart had been crushed into a million pieces...

There in your room, was you lying in your bed, breath shallow and rapid, crimson blood dripping from the side of your mouth and staining the sheets, your eyes looking duller and duller as ever...

You were grasping..

Grasping for whatever life you had left within you, it made Joseph run to your side quickly as he cradled your head in his arms, proclaiming you'll be fine and that you're all free now and that you just need to hold on for a little while longer..

But you both know that you won't make it..

You both know that Joseph is more so convincing himself, than convincing you..

The others had rushed in to see you, and they too were crushed for they also wished for you to escape with all of them...

You held Joseph's hand, and told him not to worry anymore.. Looking towards the others, you proclaimed that you had finally found the people that you can call your family, and that even if Joseph can't see you, you'll always be there for him no matter what.. And that you wish for him to be happy and enjoy his newfound freedom, without the confinements of the manor...

Joseph begged you to stay, to hang on, to stay strong, all while sobbing uncontrollably but to no avail...

You withdrew your final breath as your hand became limp, your eyes closed, and your body going cold...

...

...

...

You had died

For the second time in his life, he once again witnessed the death of someone he deeply cared about..

First Claude......... And now, you....

Joseph lost it as he let all his tears and sadness out.. Everyone, soon followed suit. They can't help but be crushed at the thought of their friend never making it on time for the escape....

The now former inhabitants of the manor prepared one last funeral in honor of your death, with Aesop embalming you, Andrew preparing the hole from which will forever be your resting place, Emma preparing the funeral flowers, while the others prepared the venue... The Red Church.. Everyone gathered and mourned for your death. By the end of it all, everyone left the cemetery and the manor together, with Joseph gripping a bar of the gate, longing to see you again once more and hoping that you were still alive somehow...

Alas, it never came. And so, he reluctantly left the manor and had trenched forward to live his life "to the fullest"...

But how can he ever live his life as he pleases when you're not around? How can he simply enjoy the pleasures of life when you aren't there to accompany him? How can he move on when he doesn't want to forget you?

These thoughts plague him constantly, as he stirs his tea mindlessly, looking into the distance, as his new "family" were chatting happily, not knowing what goes on inside his head..

He has a family now alright, but it wasn't perfect.. It wasn't with you.

That thought is enough to make him sick at heart, for he will never experience the joy he had longed for when you were still around...

Sick at Heart : to experience deep unpleasant emotions such as grief or disappointment

💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞

Author's Note: I hope you are all satisfied with this angst, Frenchie... Because you really made my day a bit sadder than usual..

Can someone pls request something fluffy the next time I open my requests?? I need some comforting chocolate cake after that bitter black coffee moment..(╥_╥)

Well,, until next time then! See you all in my next post!! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)💚

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Chapter Two of See You in the Morning Time

The third in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Gif by @mrsrafaelbarba . Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted to ao3!

Part Three of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Chapter One: A Different Feeling Entirely Chapter Two: Show Me the New

Warnings: Frederick being an anxious (and sad. and repressed) little weenie, discussions of period typical homophobia, bi panic, completely invented backstory (you got on this ride folks lol), Rafael being surprisingly supportive, cuddling, and of course a little bit of teasing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2293 Summary: It's not often that Fred instigates anything with Rafael except an argument.

It’s late by the time Fred and Rafael finally make their way to bed. They shower and put pajamas on while waiting for the food to arrive and once they eat, they finish the bottle of wine that Fred had opened earlier and spend the rest of the evening chatting and watching some dumb movie on TV.

Lying in Fred’s bed in his borrowed clothes, Rafael can’t help but smile to himself. After weeks of skittishness from Fred he had finally made it past some of the walls that the doctor had put up. Fred curled close to Rafael while they watched the movie, dragging a blanket over the two of them and cozying up entirely unprompted.

When Fred comes out of the bathroom and flicks the lights off, he’s even more pleased that Fred doesn’t seem to hesitate to lie close to him in bed or reach out for his hand.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Rafael murmurs, to break the silence more than anything. He hears Fred scoff.

“I was hardly going to kick you out as soon as we were done.” As best as he can, Rafael turns on his side trying to make Fred out in the darkness of the room.

“I know. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel.” He’s not at his most eloquent or subtle, but he wants to acknowledge what happened between them. “You were… hesitant at first and I just want to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to do this. As of a few days ago you were still pretty clear that you were not comfortable with the two of us having sex.”

Rafael doesn’t want to force a confidence, but he feels like he has to make sure. He’s coming to care too deeply about the arrogant chronically awkward man next to him to just let this go with vague assurances. He hears Fred shift onto his back and wants nothing more than to drag him into his arms and kiss his stupid, conceited face, but he holds himself still and waits for Fred to answer him, giving him the space he clearly wants.

“This wasn’t as sudden as you think it was,” Fred assures him eventually, face still pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about this since, you know, that first time.” Rafael can practically feel Fred’s blush from his side of the bed and grins. “And my reticence was never about you, you know that, yes?”

Rafael nods, realizes Fred probably can’t see him, and clears his throat.

“Yeah, I figured as much. I am, after all, a damn catch.”

Rafael yelps as Fred reaches out, faster than he thought was possible for a well-fed psychiatrist who sits behind a desk all day, and smacks him on the chest.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, together in the dark cocoon of Fred’s bedroom, before Rafael sighs. He can’t help but notice the similarities between the blank peacefulness of Fred’s minimalist design and the deliberately organized calm of a therapist’s office and wonders if he did that on purpose. Maybe it’s a natural inclination, he muses idly. It invites honesty. The sharing of secrets.

“I’m only eighteen months younger than Benn, you know,” Fred says eventually, and it’s so unexpected that Rafael finds himself frowning a little in confusion. “All the way through school, I was Bennett Chilton’s younger brother; just the little brother of the handsome quarterback that everyone adored.” Rafael has seen photos of Bennett, tall and painfully handsome. He can see that it might have been hard to grow up in that shadow.

“He came out when he was sixteen, and I was fourteen. And I’m sure you can imagine what that was like at an all-boys Catholic school in Virginia in the eighties.” Rafael winces in the dark. He remembers well enough the attitudes in his own high school, in marginally more liberal New York. He can’t imagine what it must have been like in a place without a visible community to look up to.

“People were mostly smart enough not to say anything to Benn’s face--he was a six foot two starter who never backed down from a fight, they would have had to have been stupid--and our parents were supportive. But the things people said about him behind his back--” Fred shudders, an involuntary shiver that makes Rafael want to wrap his arms around him and never let go.

Instead, he just squeezes Fred’s hand reassuringly and waits for him to continue. For someone who has trouble shutting up at the very best of times--staying silent isn’t Rafael’s forte--he is doing an admirable job tonight. His desire to prove he’s worthy of this unexpected vulnerability from Fred is more than enough to keep him quiet. Rafael is desperate to know more, to know everything about Fred; about what makes him tick, about why he was so reticent, so reserved, when clearly this is something that he enjoys.

“It was awful. The kind of things you never want to hear about somebody you love. And I was hardly in any position to be giving out bloody noses or black eyes whenever someone called him a fag, or made some crack about AIDS.” Rafael shifts slightly nearer, still not saying anything. He smiles to himself when he feels one of Fred’s hands reach up to rest on Rafael’s hip.

“I was a short, scrawny child--I spent a lot of time in the hospital and home sick--and I couldn’t afford to give the other boys in my school one more reason to pick on me so I just… didn’t say anything. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like Benn had any trouble sticking up for himself. I doubt he would have appreciated anyone stealing his opportunity to get into one more fight anyways.”

Rafael covers the hand Fred has on his hip with his own, deciding now is not the time to joke that he can’t ever imagine Fred as scrawny. Fred clears his throat again and continues in the same calm, rehearsed manner. Like this is something that he witnessed happening to someone else.

“It wasn’t long after that that I had my own month of absolute pure terror and confusion. It was one of Bennett’s teammates from the swim team that actually sent me over the edge. His name was Bobby and he was gorgeous. He had never made any jokes about Bennett, never joked about changing somewhere else in the locker room. He was a little stupid, I can admit that now, but back then I thought he was perfect. I worshipped my brother and this pretty boy clearly did the same.

“Well, I was horrified. Up until then I had been fully and completely in love with a girl I had known practically since infancy. Was all of that a lie? Was being gay genetic? Was Billy going to go through the same thing? It took me a whole month before I had the guts to ask Bennett and I nearly stabbed him with our father’s letter opener when he laughed at me.”

Rafael winces again, knowing how touchy Fred is now, a grown adult well-respected in his professional field and still a little obsessed with slights, perceived and real. Fred huffs, forcing any trace of bitterness out of his voice.

“He told me that you can like girls and boys at the same time and that I should go see if I still liked jerking off to pictures of Jennifer Connolly.” Rafael isn’t able to suppress his snort.

“I always liked Carrie Fisher,” he tells Fred, smiling over at him.

“You would, you pervert,” Fred shoots back. “Probably loved that bikini, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.”

Fred shakes his head and sighs deeply.

“Well, naturally, that was enough humiliation for me for one afternoon and so I threw a throw pillow at him and bolted for my room.”

“Did you jerk off to Jennifer Connolly?”

“Rafael, I can still kick you out of this apartment.”

“Sorry.” Rafael is silent for all of twelve seconds before he asks again, “Come on Fred, I’ve got to know; did you?”

“...Maybe,” Fred reluctantly admits. Rafael laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Moving on from your prurient obsession with my teenaged masturbatory life,” Fred says pointedly, managing to sound arch, offended, and haughty all at the same time. “I contemplated for a while what Benn had told me. A long time actually--that percolated in my brain all throughout the rest of high school. I only ever dated girls, I ignored it completely every time I was even remotely attracted to another boy, but I kept thinking about that. Not only did I have a lifelong conviction that if Bennett said it it must be so, but it just sort of felt right, you know?”

Rafael nods, remembering a similar feeling he had when he was younger. Despite what the other boys in his neighborhood said about “queers”, despite what the Church said, and despite what he knew his father would do to him if he heard Rafael’s thoughts, he was what he was and that was that. Fuck anyone who said different, he remembered thinking. It’s not like he could change it, even if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he answers when it’s clear that Fred requires some encouragement to continue. Fred twines his fingers with Rafael’s before carrying on.

“I lived with Benn in college. Our father bought him an apartment in Cambridge the day he got his acceptance letter from Harvard, and it only seemed logical that I’d move in once I got accepted too. And, I don’t know. It was a little easier there.” Rafael thinks he grimaces, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

“It has been a while though, since I’ve indulged. And I've never participated frequently.” Every word seems like it’s forced out of Fred’s mouth.

“All this to say, Rafael,” Fred murmurs, inching closer across the sheets, “Is that the problem was never you.”

Rafael gathers him into his arms this time. Fred goes willingly, releasing a heavy, shaky breath and clearly relieved to not be talking about this anymore.

“I know,” Rafael reassures him. “I know it wasn’t me. I was just… I don’t know. I was worried.” He smiles, giving Fred another squeeze. “You’re a delicate little flower Freddie, I want to make sure I don’t trample all over you.”

“Get out of this bed this instant.”

Rafael laughs and they settle down to sleep.

***

The three of them celebrate in Rafael’s tiny Brooklyn apartment when Fred returns from Baltimore. He insists that he wants to cook and, though he had his doubts about his equally minuscule kitchen, manages to turn out an incredible ropa vieja. His mother would be proud.

When the empty plates are discarded on his coffee table, stacked haphazardly and waiting to eventually be washed by whoever loses the inevitable game of ‘who had the harder day’, Rafael sinks back into the couch and smiles benignly basking in the praise of the two of them and their company. Four days is starting to become too long to go between times when they’re all together and though he wants to frown at the unpleasant feeling of missing the both of them when they aren’t around he loves it a little bit as well. Every other wandering thought was of the two of them and he can’t deny that it's nice to feel these first desperate stirrings of a relationship again.

“I don’t know how you made all of that, Rafael. I’m pretty sure my cousin Caroline had a bigger kitchen in her dollhouse.” Fred surprises him when he leans closer to Rafael, snuggling contentedly against him. Rafael had told the third of their little trio that he and Fred had finally slept together--hiding things in a threesome was the quickest way to hurt feelings. Everyone was going to eventually do things without everyone involved and it’s best to just let that out in the open--but he hadn’t expected Fred to offer such casual affection so freely.

Rafael catches her looking at the two of them with a soft smile on her face and returns it with one of his own. She hid it well but she was a little disappointed during their FaceTime when he had warned her that Fred might not be overly demonstrative yet. Rafael knew she felt a little--guilty wasn’t the word she would use, he knew, if he could ever get her to talk about it--uncomfortable about how much more open Fred was with her than he was with Rafael. He loves how hard she tries to remind him that Fred is just anxious, cautious, a little scared. Rafael is a grown man and doesn’t need his hand held, but the fact that she tries to anyways makes his heart feel like it’s growing through his ribcage sometimes.

When Rafael looks back down at Fred he looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head nuzzled against Rafael’s shoulder. He would describe it as endearing until Fred moves one of his hands high onto Rafael’s thigh. Rafael smirks.

“All it took was one night and he’s already falling for me,” he says to her in a stage whisper. Fred is unfortunately still awake enough to jab Rafael in the ribs, settling down only after the air is knocked out of Rafael’s lungs with an “oof”.

“As long as you remember to invite me to the wedding,” she teases. Rafael watches her duck admirably as Fred throws a cushion at her head.

“You’re supposed to throw a bouquet at me, not a pillow!”

[ask-them-bois]

Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 1/3

TLDR: Musrio has a talk with Oliver and the ancestors.

TW: None

~~~~~~~~ Musrio knew exactly what god had chosen to shove its bulge up his wastechute and fuck him over when he’d walked into Scarbucks to see none other than Oliver fucking Maddel standing at the counter, chatting amicably with the barista.

The sun had only just set, so the coffeehive was nearly empty, and Oliver turned her head at the sound of the dongshouter above the door ringing. Musrio froze on the spot, despite Oliver being unable to see him. As he watched, a small, knowing smile spread across Oliver’s face, and the rustblood knew beyond doubt that Oliver knew exactly who stood behind her.

“Good morning, Almawt.” He said politely.

Musrio said nothing, rooted to the spot by his surprise. After a moment, he shook himself out of it, magic springing to his palms as he braced himself for the oliveblood to make a move. And since Oliver couldn’t see him, he flipped them the finger.

Oliver seemed unperturbed by his silence. “I was hoping to come across you soon, you know. I didn’t realize it would be now, but, ah well. Better now than never, darling. Come, order your drink, on me. We should talk.”

“What makes you think I want to talk to you?” Musrio scowled.

“Oh, I know you don’t want to, but I think you and I need to. Just give me ten minutes, darling.”

“I’d rather eat glass. Ribbit.” Musrio spat.

Oliver tittered, taking her drink from the barista. “With the amount of venom you ingest, would that even do anything?” She inquired, turning to fully face him. “Five minutes, then? That’s all I’m asking for. Perhaps we can set some of our grievances aside.”

Musrio narrowed his eyes, understandably suspicious. Oliver tisked, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll be over here if you change your mind. Darling, put this man’s drink on my tab.” They said, talking to the barista over their shoulder, before they turned and headed for a booth far away from the other patrons, their cane clicking against the floor.

Musrio strongly considered turning around and walking back out. His feet were burning with the urge. At the very least, he was going to get what he came for, though. He approached the counter and gave them his order; a black coffee with as much espresso they were legally allowed to give him, and whipped cream.

It came out rather quickly, and he took it to the personalization station, watching Oliver out of the corner of his eye the entire time.

The oliveblood had taken a seat, and was tapping on his palmhusk, an earpiece reading out his claw’s placement on the screen as his purse and cane laid on the bench beside him.

Musrio reached into his robe, to his satchel, and removed a vial of a viscous, clear fluid. He splashed a healthy amount into the coffee and stirred it, before pouring in a few packs of sugar. He turned towards the oliveblood again, debating himself silently for several seconds.

Finally, he approached the booth, and wordlessly slid into the opposing bench.

Oliver didn’t look up from her palmhusk, but she smiled. “So glad you decided to join me, darling.”

“Five minutes starts now.” Musrio said pointedly.

Oliver hummed, flicking tabs away on their palmhusk before closing it down and setting it aside. “Indeed.” They knitted their fingers together, resting their chin on them. Even with their eyes covered, Musrio got the impression Oliver was staring him down. “We have quite the history together, don’t we, Almawt?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Oh, but we do. Perhaps not directly, but we shared one very important troll.”

“We didn’t share them; you took them away and gave me back the broken pieces. Ribbit.” Musrio snapped.

“If that is how you remember it, darling, sure.” She hurried on as Musrio opened his mouth to speak, “You know, it’s quite funny. I don’t even know what you look like, darling, yet this… animosity has grown so dark between us, that even I am blinded by it. I am thankful that I am a phoenix, so that I might have a chance to cut through the murk with a gracing light.”

Musrio scoffed. “What are you getting at, Oliver?”

“I am getting at your surrender, Musrio.” Oliver said bluntly, his smile suddenly dropped.

“My what?”

“I am asking you politely, and once: I ask that you surrender your side now, before this gets messy and trolls get hurt. I don’t care if you join me or not, but simply… stop fighting. There’s no way you can win- you see that, don’t you?”

Musrio’s claws dug into his palms as he curled his hands into fists. “Trolls are going to get hurt regardless, Oliver- you’re planning a fucking genocide! Ribbit!”

Oliver sighed, shaking his head. “Sacrifices must be made, for the good of-”

“The only troll this would be good for is you.” Musrio cut them off.

“Darling, please. Surely someone as logical as you can see how the odds are stacked? On my side, I have the entirety of the Black Hand- nearly three hundred strong- BB, the Enforcer, and the Bladepen.

You have a drunk, a chef, a pair of broken batteries, a pair of mangy mutts, a gardener, a rancher, a madman, a chronically sick child, a philosopher, a retired soldier, and a failure.” She listed them off like she’d practiced this. “That’s not even to mention those of us who are undecided, such as the Hounding, the mutant reds, and the dear prince. Your side is mere has-beens and broken trolls, darling. I am offering you a chance to surrender with grace, rather than see them all culled.”

Musrio took a deep gulp of coffee in hostile silence, setting his cup down with force. “That’s where you’re wrong, Oliver.” He said, his voice dark. “I “have” nothing. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for demons and shifter-beasts and robots. I didn’t ask for soldiers and thieves. They took a good look at the fight you’re trying to start, and chose to back up the one troll you seem afraid of. Ribbit.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’m not afraid of you, Musrio.”

“Then why are we having this discussion?” The rustblood demanded, “If you aren’t afraid, why meet me like this?”

“Because I, platonically, pity you, darling. Watching this all go down is like watching a warren of hop-beast grubs try to fight a howl-beast. Frankly, it’s depressing that the Infinite Scapegrace thought you were a suitable rival to strengthen me.”

Musrio’s mouth opened in shock. “You think that’s what this is? Ribbit?” He hissed, “That I’m some big obstacle your god put in your way to test your mettle?”

Oliver tipped his head. “Of course, darling. Why else would you be so inferior, yet so maddeningly annoying?” Musrio growled, low in his chest, and Oliver raised her hands in surrender. “No offense.”

“Oh, all offenses taken.” Musrio snapped. He slid out of the booth, standing up. “I think I’m done here. I’m not surrendering, Oliver. That’s not a fucking option anymore. I don’t give a damn about you, your god, or even this piece of shit world, but I do give a rat’s ass about the fact that you collectively ruined my fucking life. Ribbit. Fuck you, fuck the Black Hand, and fuck Neviserrath.” Oliver tensed in his seat, “I didn’t ask for this. All I fucking wanted was to be a professor and marry my partner. But since you ruined that, since you started this bullshit and I got no say in my participation, I’m going to put an end to it. Ribbit!”

He spat out the final croak, snatched up his coffee, and stormed out.

It took the entirety of the twenty minute walk down to the docks for him to calm down. He called Drayco as soon as he was a few blocks away from the coffeehive and told them everything that had happened.

“Holy shit, babe.” Was Drayco’s response, “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Mush.” The bronzeblood sighed, “I… I don’t know what to do or say. This all started because of m-”

“Don’t, Dee.” Musrio said forcefully, before his dropped into an almost uncharacteristic softness, “This isn’t your fault. It’s Oliver’s. You know that. Ribbit.”

“… Yeah, I know.”

“This will be over soon, Dee, and we can put this all behind us. We just need to find Lucina.”

“Are you headed to them now?”

“Yeah. I’d just stopped off to get a drink.”

He heard Drayco suck in a sharp, gurgling breath. “Well, good luck, then. Call me after and tell me how it goes.”

“I will.”

“Okay. I love you, Mushy.”

“I love you, too. Ribbit.”

Musrio hung up as he approached the docks, and ascended the ramp of the Warshark. Standing on the deck, smoking a cigarette, was the Ruthless Deepbite.

He let out his breath, smoke streaming from his mouth and gills.

“They’re all waitin’ in the dinin’ block fer ya, lad.”

Musrio paused, looking up at the violetblood. “You know what this is about, don’t you?”

Ruthless nodded, the haunted and exhausted look in his eyes, for once, slightly alleviated by the faintest spark of hope. “Aye. There’s only one color left.” He looked out towards the water, his tattered fins flickering. “Krakyn wanted ta be here fer this, but he can’t come this close ta shore.” He said.

“You can tell him about this afterwards. Ribbit.”

“Aye.” Ruthless dropped the butt and crushed it under his boot, before he turned and headed for the hatch. “Come on, then.”

He hauled open the hatch, and let Musrio into the bowls of the ancient ship.

Down the corridor, Ruthless let him into a large room that once crammed a crew of four dozen trolls into tables to eat.

Now, only the Incoding, the Innocent, the Decaying, the Deadscar Wanderer, and, inexplicably, the Hounding and Ashhur, sat around a table, the former sat on the opposite end of the two latter. They all looked up as Musrio and Ruthless Deepbite entered.

“Welcome, young Almawt.” Innocent signed politely.

“Hi. Thank you all for coming.” Musrio nodded. Awkwardly, he took a seat at the head of the table, while Ruthless took a seat between his morails. Taking a sip of his coffee, he cleared his throat. “I… suppose you’re all wondering why I called you here.” He internally cringed at saying such a cliché line. “Well…” He took a deep breath, trying to settle his sudden onset of nerves; he’d never been in a room with so many adults before. “I’ve got a lot to explain.”

Knocking back another gulp of poisoned coffee, the adults were silent as Musrio launched into the story; his death, his revival, his title as the second harbinger, the Black Hand, Neviserrath Apocriyna, the chosen child, the ritual, Oliver’s goal, and his mission. He spoke for over an hour without pause, leaving nothing out as he explained the reasons for their revivals, and why he’d needed them in the first place.

“… and now,” He said, his throat beginning to ache from talking for so long, “we’ve come down to the final color: Jade. Ribbit.”

Musrio watched Innocent and Incoding’s eyes slide directly to Ruthless.

The large seadweller swallowed. “But ya’ve tried a hundred times ta bring her back, lad. Nothin’s worked.”

“That’s the thing.” Musrio shifted in his seat, “The Hierophant came to me, and told me why we’d been failing.” He leaned forward, “Ruthless, your wife isn’t dead.”

A very loud silence fell as the violetblood’s face went slack with disbelief. “… She…?” He tried to speak, his voice faint. Slowly, he began to shake his head. “No, no, that can’t be right! She died in my arms! I watched-”

Musrio held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not denying that she died. She did. Ribbit. But she came back, long before I ever even hatched. She’s a rainbow drinker, Ruthless, and she’s waiting for us, somewhere.”

Ruthless sat back in his seat, before he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands as he digested this. His fins began to flare, before they drooped, only to hesitantly flutter upwards again. Incoding and Innocent each put a comforting hand on his shoulders as he digested this.

For a minute, Musrio honestly thought the seadweller was going to cry. At last, though, he took a deep breath and sat up again, running a hand over his face. “I…” he shook his head. “Okay. Sorry. Okay. My wife’s alive.” His voice cracked, “Where is she?”

At that, Musrio could only shake his head. “I don’t know. She could be anywhere on Alternia- for all I know, she could be off-world. We need to plan, to-”

“To what? We can’t possibly sweep the entire planet for her.” Incoding interjected.

“I know that.” Musrio huffed, “But we need some place to start.” He turned to Ruthless, “Think, Deepbite. There must be a place the two of you went to that she’d know you’d think of, or something. Ribbit.”

Ruthless frowned, brows furrowing in thought. “… No. The only places I could think of would be ‘er grave, or here. Most everythin’ ‘tween us happened on this tub.” He stamped his foot, and the ship responded with a creak. “An’ trust me, I’d know if she were here.”

Musrio swallowed the growl in his throat. “Well, then…” His gaze wandered the room, as if the answer would be scrawled on the walls. He turned to Deadscar, next. “What about you? You’ve been all over Alternia, have you seen anywhere that could be a rainbow drinker’s hideout? Ribbit?”

The Wanderer considered it for a moment, before he shook his head. “That is too vague a question. I have seen hundreds of places where it would be easy for a rainbow drinker to dwell.” He rumbled.

Musrio reached up and fiddled with his necklace, thinking. Looking over the gathered trolls again, his gaze landed on his own ancestor, the Decaying Mind. Brigan was staring fixatedly at him.

“… You know, don’t you?” Musrio asked him.

He nodded.

“What?” Ruthless rounded on the older rustblood, “How?”

Musrio sighed. “Brigan saw all of this happen before it even occurred, when he was caught between life and death. Ribbit. It destroyed most of his mind, which is why I gave him his title.” He explained.

“Rotted, totted, off to the maggots.” Brigan hummed, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Then tell us, Bri.” Incoding took his matesprit’s hand, squeezing it gently, “Where is Lucina?”

Brigan looked up at him, squinting at the goldblood’s face. “Oh, Cody…” he sighed, making Incoding start in surprise.

“Where is she, Almawt?” Ruthless repeated, more forcefully.

Brigan began to sway, his lips pursed. Slowly, he scowled. “Words, words, words. Rotten like my pan, spilling black ink on black paper. Leviathan drowned by wolf, heralded by scorpion, stealing my lexicon. Incomprehensible, even to the Ebonblack.” He said, sounding frustrated.

“… What?” Innocent asked.

That was when Ashhur suddenly stood up. He walked around the table to face Decaying, leaning towards him. “Incomprehensible, against the Ebonblack.” He chirred, “Scrambled eggs in fried pan. Indigestible for gods. Poison. Use it.”

“Brat, what’re you doin’?” Hounding growled. Ruthless shushed him, as Decaying fixed his gaze on the young mutant.

Ashhur made several clicks and hums, all four eyes blinking out of sync. “The raining bows sipper is…” more clicks, “hiding. You know?” He asked.

Decaying nodded, enthralled. “I know.” He agreed, a look of hopeful wonder on his face as he stared at Ashhur.

“Where do you know?”

“Where do I know…” Decaying repeated, scratching his stubbly cheek. He opened his mouth and shut it several times. “The monster.” He said at last, seeming pleased with himself. He pointed at Ashhur, “Monster to monster, water to sand. No- no water, but the sapphire eye, guarding to the metal serpent. Beast of thirst, watching beast of slake, guarded by beast of bone. You know?”

All of Ashhur’s fins waved, almost hypnotically, as he thought this over, Decaying leaning forward with anticipation. Finally, Ashhur turned to Hounding. “What call you, the place of sand with no water?”

“The desert?” Hounding raised an eyebrow.

Decaying slapped his free hand onto the table, shook it out, and pointed at Hounding, nodding emphatically. “Desert, dessert, sweetness in sugar sand and gritted gold.” He turned to Ruthless. “Therein lies the where I know, what I know, who is known. Follow the screaming serpent’s trail, into the red, and find the corpse of lifeless gods.” He said, as if that was both comprehensible and important.

“Cody?” Ruthless turned to his morail, hoping for a translation.

“The hound of war lies in the desert.” Ashhur spoke instead, “Guarded by a beast, of one kind or many.”

“Okay… what’s a screaming serpent?” Incoding inquired.

Ashhur looked to Decaying.

“Metal, screaming, scuttling upon legs of centipede, but a serpent none the less.”

“Oh- a trackscuttler.” Incoding realized. He glanced at Ashhur, impressed. “How did you… manage to make him do that?”

Ashhur shrugged. “He cannot speak the way his pan speaks. I am,” he hesitated, clicking to himself, “broken worded, with your tongue. Broken tongue,” He pointed at himself, “broken thinkpan.” He pointed at Decaying, “Together, we make the words.”

“Well, then...” Innocent signed, “We head to the desert, and follow the trackscuttler trail.”

“All of us? That seems… like a bad idea.” Incoding frowned, “We don’t know where in the desert she is, or even which desert. The supplies alone would be a huge burden, and-”

“Then I’ll go.” Deadscar interrupted shortly. He rose to his feet, “I have crossed many deserts. I can search on my own.”

“Now, hang on.” Hounding squinted at Ishran, “Why the hell are ya goin’? I’m the tracker; my name is the Messiah’s damned Houndin’, after all.”

As one, the entire table turned to look at him. “... Why are you here, even?” Innocent inquired, “Last I checked, you weren’t on our side.”

Hounding nodded to Musrio. “The scumblood told me I aught’a come. Said I could get away from Godric.”

“I thought Godric was your boss.” Innocent pointed out, “He is the one that set you on us in the first place. Why would you want to get away from him?”

Hounding eyed the limeblood reproachfully. “Name one laborer that actually likes their foreman, sewerblood, an’ I’ll hang up my ax. Motherfucker pays me ta clean up his messes, but that doesn’t mean I want ta do it. The jobs the church gives me are more important than offin’ off some bitchblood with a big mouth.”

“...”

All the other adults gave each other a look.

Musrio shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Hounding is no longer the bigger threat here. We have Oliver, and the Enforcer to worry about. Ancient animosities have to be set aside. Ribbit.”

“It’s true…” Incoding said thoughtfully, before he snorted a laugh and turned to Hounding, “You’re basic, big guy. You’re season one’s villain.”

Hounding growled at him. “I could still rip ya in half right now, pissblood.”

“An’ ye’d get a bullet in the eye fer it.” Ruthless hissed.

“Stop.” Musrio said sharply, “Now isn’t the time.”

“Aye.” Ruthless agreed, looking around. “But it’s decided, then? Ishran’ll head fer the desert ta search fer Lucina. When ‘e finds her, we’ll come a’runnin’.”

The others nodded.

Ishran turned towards the door. “No point in wasting time. I will leave now.”

“Already?” Innocent asked, surprised.

Ishran looked towards his former charge, his expression momentarily softening. “Yes. I will be in touch.” He said, before striding out the door.

With that, Musrio rose to his feet, before he bowed to the gathered ancestors. “You have my thanks, all of you, for hearing me out. And… I’m sorry, for all of this. If it was my choice, I would have left your souls to rest. Ribbit.”

The gathering broke up, then, Hounding and Ashhur leaving promptly after. Musrio stood on the deck of the Warshark, texting Drayco as the three morails chatted nearby. The young rustblood looked up as a hand touched his shoulder.

“Puzzle to puzzle, pieces to rest.” Decaying murmured, coming to stand beside him. He looked up at the moons; they were full and fat that night, bathing everything in silvery purple and green. “Connected, all of them, until the picture is made blurry by the buried secrets. Clicked together, string to thumbtack, followed by the puppet wires, until they all tie behind the boy with demons in his blood and gods in his brain.”

He looked down at Musrio again, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he gazed intensely at his descendant. “The line will be blurred, paint will spill, but painters spared. Follow the lines, balance, tight-rope walking, but let ashen feathers run amok. Flames consume breath until redemption breaks the puzzle. The bane of worlds and innocent constellations will be the salvation of us all.”

He squeezed Musrio’s shoulder, before he wandered away, leaving the young rustblood to contemplate the oncoming events.

[pocfansmatter]

Okay I said before I was going to get more in depth with blood quantum eventually so now is as better time than any I guess. Mind you I'm speaking as a Native American meaning an Indigenous person from America. Specifically from 2 southern California tribes. I cannot speak for all Native or Indigenous people. I can only speak for myself, I can’t even speak for my tribe. However most Natives tend to have the same view when it comes to the blood quantum debate. From this point on blood quantum will be shortened to BQ & Native American to Native(s).

Originally this was gonna be a reply to another comment but decided to make it it's own post so I don't associate my blog with that anti Indigenous one. Please try to read the whole post before clicking the articles. I screenshotted the main parts to keep the discussion going. Feel free to click on all the articles because they are good & most of them are from Native run news websites.

I was gonna do this with a read more tag but my laptop doesn't want to work. I'm literally getting anyther one on Thanksgiving but my old one doesn't cooperate sorry so y'all are gonna get a long post. 😕

So let's start with the basics. What is blood quantum?

"Blood quantum laws or Indian blood laws are laws in the United States and the former Thirteen colonies that define Native American identity by percentages of ancestry. ... For instance, a person who has one parent who is a full-blood Native American and one who has no Native ancestry has a blood quantum of 1/2."

In case that was confusing if one person is "full blood native" they are considered 4/4. Meaning they have no relatives who are of any other race or ethnicity. If the "full blood native" has a child with a non Native person the child would have a BQ of 1/2 Native blood. If that child has a child with a non Native that child will be considered 1/4. This will continue to get lower & lower unless the child has a baby with another Native. Then the BQ raises or stays the same depending on the other parents BQ.

Now that the definition is out of the way lets get into the issue with this.

This is a good article that narrowed down an issue with Pharrell wearing a headdress. I wanna focus on one part of the article though.

"... deeply connected to their Native culture & live it every day."

"Having Native American ancestors doesn't get you off the hook if you don't bother to do the homework."

So I mentioned before that a lot of Natives don't consider BQ as a proper way of measuring your culture. Being Native isn't something you can pull out when it's convenient like for a photoshoot. Its every single day. It's in the words we speak, in the clothes we wear & in the food we cook. Same as any other culture.

Asian people don't wake up not Asian. Black people don't wake up not Black.

So why is do some people pull out the Native card when it is convenient? Like Pharrell did or Elizabeth Warren claims.

This article sums it up well but I wanna focus on the last 2 paragraphs.

Link to the full article:

There's similarities in both articles by 2 different Native authors from 2 different news websites.

They both speak about connections to our culture. A DNA test cannot measure ones Indigenous Ancestry because being Indigenous is much more than something in your blood.

I made a post asking some questions that might help understand if one is Indigenous or not. Now I'm not saying these are all the questions nor that I'm the expert on this. These are just STARTER questions to help people understand what it means to be Native.

Does the tribe you claim, claim you?

Have you been to the reservation?

Do you participate in the community?

Have you met your family from the tribe?

Do you know your history, traditions, anything about the tribe you claim?

The big one is are you claimed. You cannot claim a tribe that doesn't claim you. Now I'm not saying the entirety of the tribe has to know you personally. I'm not even saying you have to stand in front of the tribal council & ask them if they claim you. A claim can be made as little as just your family saying "this person is one of us".

The reason I bring this up is because multiple tribes have in the past & continue the practice of "adopting" a person into their tribe. There's many examples of this. Some can be adopted because they married into a tribe. Non Natives & Natives of other tribes alike have been adopted into tribes. There can be legal adoptions like adopting a child. And countless other examples.

A lot of the time biologically those members aren't apart of the tribe & cannot be enrolled but are still viewed as a member by the community.

For personal example, my sister has been adopted by my tribe. She's actually an enrolled member from another tribe & technically my cousin but was taking away by CPS & my family took her in. She grew up & still lives on my reservation. She is from another reservation. Although her tribe still claims her as a member my tribe also does. People in my community know her as a member of my family & have grown up with her. She knows many of our traditions & practices some ceremonies with us that are specific to my tribe. No one in our tribe has expressed any issue with this so far & even if they did they would have a stern talking to. We are even in the process of organizing her to be buried on our tribal land instead of hers. Her choice & we are okay with it.

Now I want to point out another way people can be considered Native even if they aren't enrolled or cannot answer those questions properly.

Let's look at something called "reconnecting Natives".

What is a reconnecting Native?

A reconnecting Native is someone of Native Ancestry who for whatever reason has been removed from their culture, family, reservation, etc so they do not know them & are actively trying to learn those things so they can reclaim their Native roots.

So, how does this happen? This is actually a very common issue in the community.

One of the main ways a Native might become disconnected is through the process of Residential Schools or Indian Boarding Schools. What is that? Here's a snippet of an article to help explain.

Of course here is the link:

The official motto of these schools was "kill the Indian, save the man” and if you think it sounds awful I promise you, it was much worse than you could imagine.

There's a movie on Netflix called Indian Horse which I have not watched yet but is based off a novel by an Indigenous author that looks at these Boarding Schools if you wish to check that out.

The goals of these schools were to strip Indigenous children of their culture. They were beaten, starved, punished of things as simple as speaking in their languages. A lot of them didn't even speak English. It was illegal to keep your kids from this school & often times tribal children went to these schools and never returned to their family. Natives who attended these schools or are children of children who attended these schools more often than not stop practicing their culture or forget it. In that way they become "disconnected".

Those members can if chosen too began the process of reconnecting.

I found this really good article going a little more in depth on the do's & don't's of reconnecting.

But here's a screenshot of important parts.

Granted this is a long process. Lifelong. Every journey to reconnect is difficult & very different from others. It depends on your tribe & community. Some of them make it easier & some make it harder. It's up to the individual to put in the work.

Now I don't want to make it like being a connected Native is easy. Yes it's easier but connected Natives also put in work to live their culture everyday.

Now what does this have to do with blood quantum? As you can see none of these articles about being Native or even a reconnecting Native mention blood quantum or DNA being a requirement.

If one is Japanese & someone asks "how are you Japanese?" What would the answer be?

"Because I just am. Because my parents are Japanese."

If someone is white & has kids those kids are white, correct?

So if it's so easy to explain for other cultures why does mine require math? Why are some of my family members not enrolled members despite having Native parents & growing up on the reservation? Why do my people have to actively think about the DNA results of our children if we choose to have them?

Because of BQ. Its a tool created by colonizers that are forced upon us. If we do not abide by the rules & requirements the government sets in place we run the very big risk of

Losing our status of a Native American tribe.

Losing our land & land rights.

Losing funding from the federal government.

Losing our housing.

Losing Healthcare.

Losing our basic citizenship rights.

The thing about BQ is it's designed so that we fail. If we fail to keep a certain amount of enrolled tribal members in a tribe then the government can break treaties & take away our land & things that are rightfully ours.

BQ is a lose/lose situation all around for us as well as extremely racist.

Because of the BQ requirements Natives actively worry about who they have children with. Some don't date outside of the their culture in fear of their children not being seen as legally Native. The problem here is a lot of the tribe is related. The issue of inbreeding increases. How do we solve that problem? Well we can have children with Natives of another tribe. But there's a problem here too. Most tribes do not allow what we call dual enrollment. Both of my tribes for example don't allow this. Which means one would have to pick which tribe to enroll their child. That means one of the tribes will lose out on a member. So that's another way identities are erased using BQ.

Okay I think I'm going to end this here. There is so much more I could've added. I also could've expanded on residential schools, what it means to be Indigenous, & reconnecting Natives but I wanted to keep it focused on BQ. If you have anymore questions feel free to ask or research on your own. We're still here. We aren't stuck in the 1800's. We weren't all killed by cowboys but the government is still actively trying to erase us.

[pedros-mustache-main]

crayons & caresses

summary: you know it’s wrong, that pining after your student’s father is wildly inappropriate, but gosh if john deacon isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

word count: 12k+

warnings: pining to the extreme!, slight angst, discussions of parental death, health scare + medical response, alcohol, language, innuendo, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: mechanic/singledad!john is everything i didn’t know i needed in my life. also: WOW this took me a long ass time because i find john the hardest to write, but i love him so. much. so hopefully it’s worth the wait.

(photo: originally from @davidgayhan​ i think?? ugh look at him. i drool. yes i did set this during the brief short-perm-montreal moment. sue me)

september, 1981.

you love all of your students equally. each one is like a fingerprint on your heart: unique in their own way, made up of patterns and histories you will never be able to appreciate in full before they are whisked away to their next year. it is safe to say you adore the collection of twenty-four seven year olds who walk into your classroom each morning. their bright faces, some still chubby with baby fat, fill the lonely parts of your soul, and you leave your flat each morning with a sense of purpose and duty. you are their teacher, their guide through some of the most crucial parts of learning. it is an honor and a privilege to teach them—each and every one. but there is one student who sticks out among the rest. 

his name is beau deacon.

beau is remarkably quiet. he’s small for his age, both in height and in weight. at times, he appears frail, what with the way he sits by himself in the corner during reading hour, flipping through a picture book with glazed over eyes, never really concentrating on what’s before him. he walks slowly during recess, preferring to stay by himself and drag a stick along the blacktop than play a game of kickball with the other boys. he whispers when he speaks and avoids meeting the eyes of those who do try and pry a few words from him.

you try to engage him—really, you do—but nothing seems to stick. not the participation reward system you build just for him, but use for the entire class. not moving his desk closer to yours. not even coercing your best friend ami to bring in her therapy dogs one afternoon early in the year. despite your best efforts, beau remains decidedly uninterested and removed.

it bothers and worries you to the point of questioning your colleague on the matter. martha is sixty, but spry as ever. she’s been your confidant this last year. you’re new to teaching, green as ever, but she has welcomed you with open arms and a plethora of advice. you feel comfortable sidling up next to her in the car-line one friday afternoon. it’s hot outside, summer not yet allowing autumn to take root, so you hold a hand over your eyes to shade yourself from the sun.

“can i ask you something?” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the children who filter out of the school and into their parent’s waiting vehicles. 

“as long as it’s not about sex,” martha mutters. “haven’t had a good romp in so long i don’t even know if it still works the same way.”

you swallow a laugh as a trio of students pass you by. their mother waves over her shoulder, shouting her thanks, before shoving the children in the backseat of a tan mini-van. you watch the van pull away, another car rolling forward to take its place, before asking your question.

“beau deacon,” you start, hoping that, if you simply say his name, martha will fill in the gaps herself.

blessedly, martha twists and nods with a knowing smile. “i know that tyke well. had him last year.”

you release a huff of air in relief. “oh thank goodness. i’m almost beside myself. i don’t know what to do with him.” you frown as you attempt to speak as diplomatically about your student as possible. “he’s awful quiet. he doesn’t play with any of the children and barely looks at me when i speak to him. how’d you manage?”

to your dismay, the older woman just shrugs. “i didn’t really. his mum died all sudden like about halfway through the year, and he clammed up. no matter what i did, what tricks i tried to pull, he stayed completely unmovable.”

“oh.” your shoulders drop in defeat. “i didn’t know.” truthfully, your heart tugs for the child. to lose one’s mother at such a tender age? you can’t imagine the world of hurt he lives in. it’s no wonder he sticks to himself.

“you didn’t speak with his father?”

“no. was i have supposed to?”

“no, not necessarily. mr. deacon was helpful on a few occasions last year. we were sort of a united front, i’d say, when things were particularly bad in the beginning. perhaps give him a call. at least to let him know you’re in his corner.” she smiles and squeezes your bicep. “and you can always come to me, love. i may not have all the answers but i do have some.”

“thank you, martha. i think giving mr. deacon a call might be smart—” you turn at the tell-tale sound of feet dragging against the ground. in the few weeks since classes have started, you’ve grown to know the sound of beau deacon’s footsteps better than your own. he’s always on your mind, the sullen little boy with glasses, so it’s hard not to pounce on him with love when you turn around to see him in the school doorway. “oh! beau! we were just talking about you.” 

beau stops walking, and his grip tightens on the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t say anything. he simply stands there, as if he’s listening but doesn’t know how to respond, so you soldier forward.

“do you have any big plans for the weekend, beau?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“none with your father?”

another shake of the head.

“well, perhaps you’ll do something fun and you can tell us about it on monday, yeah?”

to your surprise, he nods, which is more than he does most days. you can’t help the smile that claims your lips and the way your arm waves a little too hard to his retreating form. he walks to a faded old corvette and opens the passenger door with ease. you can hear a muffled voice—his father’s no doubt—and see the man stretch his arm out to take beau’s backpack. 

but then the car door is shut, and the chevy pulls out of the parking lot with too much speed to be safe when a child is in the front.

you glance at martha. she rolls her eyes and mouths men. you can’t help but agree.

a week passes before you finally find the time to phone beau’s father. you find his name—john richard deacon—and a telephone number in beau’s emergency contact form, shoved amongst a stack of other hastily filled-out parent paperwork. there’s no secondary number listed—not even a distant relative or family friend—so if the call doesn’t work, you aren’t sure what your next move will be. even so, after all the children have left and the other teachers are beginning to close their classrooms for the day, you slouch at your desk and punch the numbers into the phone. it rings three times before someone picks up.

“taylor auto-repair. this is rog.”

the voice on the other end is high and scratchy. you’re taken aback, both by the man on the phone and the blaring rock n roll music in the background. you aren’t an expert, but it sounds like zeppelin. not what you’d expected.

“hello?”

you shake yourself free of surprise, and the wheels beneath your chair scrape against the linoleum floor as you sit forward. “oh, sorry. i thought i was calling the deacon residence?”

“deacon? like john deacon?”

“yes, i’m beau’s schoolteacher. i thought—well, this was the number on the contact form.”

there’s a sigh, and the phone brushes against something rough before rog says anything more. “hold on.” when he speaks next, his voice is distant yet poorly muffled. “deaky! there’s some bird on the phone for you! what have i told ya about putting the shop’s number down instead of the house’s? fuckin’ hell, mate.”

you frown, pressing your fingers to your lips as you wait for... deaky... to take the phone from his co-worker. when a new voice does appear on the line, you again find yourself surprised.

“hello? this is john deacon.” john’s voice is almost lilting, like a song. it’s soft, comforting—though how you determine this from four simple words is beyond your understanding.

“mr. deacon, hi! my name is [y/n] [y/l/n]. i’m beau’s teacher. i thought we might have an over-due chat, if you have the time?”

“oh, hello.” there’s a pause on the other end, as if he’s considering whether or not he’ll entertain your out-of-the-blue phone call. “has beau done something wrong?”

you laugh despite the worried edge to his tone. “no, absolutely not! beau is a delight. he’s practically a model student. however, i do have a few concerns... do you have a moment?”

“yes, i can have. just give me a second.” the line goes muffled again, the only sound a fading rolling stone’s song before all goes quiet. you hear a door shut and the squeak of a chair before john speaks again. “i suppose this is about beau’s shyness?”

you choose your next words carefully, uncertain if john simply cannot accept his son’s retreat into himself or if he does not see it. you’d rather not jump to conclusions and alienate him on your first phone call, but you must admit your unease at hearing the word shyness. beau is far more than shy. despite the frown puckering your brow, you hold your concerns close to your chest for the moment.

“shyness is a word one could use, yes.”

“he’s been that way since his mum died last year.”

rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “i heard. i’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

john makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and does not acknowledge your paltry offer of condolence. “if you’re calling to ask how you can fix ‘im, i don’t have any answers for you.”

“i don’t want to fix him, mr. deacon,” you say. “i simply want to help.”

“i’m sure you’ve spoken with mrs. cooper then.” he sighs, and the sound seems to rattle the receiver pressed against your ear. “look, i appreciate what you both are trying to do for beau. but he’s young, and the pain of losing his mum— i just don’t want him to rush into moving on.”

“oh, mr. deacon, that’s not my intention at all!” you wince at the high-pitch of your voice and clear your throat. good lord, this was not going as you’d planned. “i just want him to feel comfortable in the classroom, that’s all.”

“that’s kind of you, but i think it might be easier if you just let beau work it out for himself.”

you fall silent and glance down at the hem of your blouse. there’s a blue thread dangling from the article of clothing, and you pull on it, watching the thread unravel until it falls free from the shirt itself. 

in all honesty, you’re puzzled by john’s hesitance to so much as entertain your concern. anyone—student, teacher, classroom parent—who comes across beau knows he’s more than shy. it’s written in his face, in the way he holds himself, in the way he shuffles aimlessly to and fro. god, he breaks your heart. you want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the cruel world.

but you’re not his mother. you’re merely his teacher, and you must respect john’s wishes despite how wrong you think they are. perhaps, in time, he will come around, see the need for a little concerted effort in helping beau work through his obvious grief-stricken state.

“is there anything more i can do for you, ms. [y/l/n]?”

clearing your throat again, you sit straighter in your chair and fiddle with a pen on your desk. you click the depressor up and down, up and down. “no, there’s not. i’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“you didn’t,” john says—and his voice has that indescribable soft quality you noted the moment he first spoke. “really, it does mean something to me that you even thought to call.”

“i care for my students a great deal.” you aren’t sure what brings the words to your lips, but the second they fall past your tongue, a flush crawls up the back of your neck. you’re sure you sound like a petulant child, whining at the mere inconvenience of a rejected idea.

“i can tell.” his tone is anything but salty. in fact, the truth dripping from each word leaves you decidedly flustered. you click the pen faster, your leg bouncing beneath the desk.

“yes—well—i’ll leave you to it.” though you add, “if ever there’s something i can do for beau, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“i’ll be sure to.”

after a rushed goodbye, you drop the phone to its base. the hard-plastic clatters, the coiled wire dropping in a pile on the desk. you press your fingers to your eyelids and groan. both deacon boys, it seems, have the power to infuriate and melt you at the precisely the same moment.

this, you think, does not bode well for the rest of the year.

if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you think of john deacon often as the school year falls into a comfortable rhythm. no matter how hard you try to forget the phone call, forget the way his voice lulled you into a strange sense of serenity, he’s like a specter in the back of your mind: always there and definitely uninvited.

still...

when the children work silently at their desks, you sit behind yours and struggle to keep your mind from wandering to either of the deacon boys. when you greet beau as he walks through the door each morning, you resist the urge to drop a question about his father’s well-being. when the faded red corvette pulls to the curb each afternoon, you bite your tongue and fist your hands at your sides to keep from introducing yourself properly through the open window. 

it’s embarrassing, really, how much the phone call with john deacon has affected you. it’s embarrassing how... interested you are in his life. you’re a schoolgirl with a crush—a crush on a man you’ve never even seen! if you were to admit your undue fascination with the deacon household to your best friend ami she would laugh in your face and remind you how desperately you need to get out more. you keep your wonderings and your daydreams to yourself to save her the trouble of telling you what you already know.

come mid-november, when the students are well-adjusted to their daily routine and you’ve learned how to juggle so many personalities at once, you finally pause to take a breath. the breath comes at the end of a school-day. it’s drizzling outside—not raining, but not dry either. the sky is a wash of gray and a deep purple. there’s a storm coming, a bad one too from the looks of it. humming to yourself and contemplating whether or not you should stop by the grocery on your way home, you tug on your jacket and step outside the school into the chilled autumn air. 

you’re about to cross the parking lot to your car when you hear a harsh sniffle come from your left. you pause, keys in hand, and twist to see a huddled form on the curb. it’s clearly a student and a young one at that. knees drawn to their chest, backpack large over their back, fingers interlaced on their knees, they are the picture of a frightened schoolchild. the hood of their blue raincoat obscures any defining features, so you hustle to their side and kneel down, but not before glancing at your watch.

nearly four. someone’s been forgotten.

“hey?” you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse of the face beneath the shade of the jacket hood. “did mum not come through the car line?”

you barely stifle your gasp when the slick raincoat crinkles as the student turns to meet your gaze. 

it’s beau deacon.

his eyes are puffy, tears still clinging to his blotchy cheeks. beneath the wide frames of his glasses, fear swims across his gaze. he draws in his lower lip and rubs his hand under his nose. his eyes flicker to the ground, his toes tilting inward.

you press a hand to his shoulder. he feels so small beneath your palm, like a fragile piece of clay, molded by tragedy and loss in such a short span of time. “where’s your father, beau?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

“i guess he’s running late.” you look at your watch. very late. “should we give him a call?”

beau nods, and you stretch to your full height, offering your hand to help him from the curb. beau does not take it as he stands. he pushes his glasses up his nose and follows you inside the school office where he hesitates in the doorway as you borrow the receptionist’s phone to call the auto-shop.

no one answers.

lowering the phone to its base, you look over your shoulder. through the venetian blinds you can see the sky darkening as you hem-and-haw. in the distance there’s a flash of lightening, and fat raindrops dot the tan sidewalk.

you could leave beau with the receptionist. it’s not uncommon for parents to run late or completely forget about their child. normally, betty calls the child’s guardian and gives the waiting student a granola bar and coloring page or picture book to flip through as they wait for the mortified adult to speed to school. there’s nothing obligating you to stay. 

just as there’s nothing obligating you to offer to drive beau home.

you look at betty and calculate the words of your offer. “would it be wrong of me to drive beau home? he lives on my way ‘s all.” boldfaced lie—at least, you think—but what betty doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

betty doesn’t stop clacking on her electronic typewriter. “i don’t think so.” she peers over her glasses at the clock hanging over the door, still typing. “i’ve got a dentist appointment in half an hour, so i don’t have time to wait around today. you’d be doing me a favor, love.”

“alright, it’s settled then.” you slip the thin strap of your purse over your shoulder and turn to beau with a toothy grin. “i’ll drive you home. maybe your father just isn’t feeling well today and overslept?”

beau frowns, and inwardly, you cringe, your smile faltering. beau’s mother died of an illness, so it likely disconcerts him to think of his father in a similar state. in a piss poor attempt at an apology, you grab a piece of chocolate from the bowl near betty’s desk and slip it in beau’s hand as you make your way to the parking lot. the faintest flicker of a grin crosses his face as he methodically unwraps the candy. you take that as a sign of forgiveness.

once beau is snug in the backseat of your station wagon, you pull into traffic with a bubble of giddiness in your stomach. what you’re doing is ridiculous. though you feel horrid beau was left behind, there’s a sick park of you that is glad for it. it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet john deacon unless fate throws you together. he did not attend back to school night, and as a single father, you doubt he has time for any of the other parent-student events on schedule for the rest of the year. in all honesty, you’re taking this opportunity to put a face to the man behind the phone call that’s plagued you with daydreams since it occurred.

if you can just see his face, just learn what he looks like, perhaps the fascination with fade. unless, of course, he turns out to be as attractive as your mind has made him out to be and then you’ll be in even hotter water than you are now.

adjusting yourself in your seat, you glance in the rearview mirror. beau has his head pressed against the foggy glass of the window, his eyes scanning back and forth as he takes in the surrounding scenery. rain droplets create dark shadows over his face, and you wonder if that’s what he feels like on the inside: foggy and rainy and shadowy. you shake the thought free; you read too many melodramatic novels.

“so, beau, what’s your address?” you ask, your tone obnoxiously chipper. he tells you, and you shrug as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “gotta give me more than that, hun. do you remember how to get home? do you think you could tell me?”

beau nods and scoots away from the window, leaning nearer the space between the driver and passenger seats. there a gleam in his eye. you catch sight of it as you turn right at his instruction and see him hovering near your shoulder. it seems that with each turn you make his voice inches a decibel louder until you can hear every word with a clarity previously unknown. he’s confident when he’s instructing you, when he knows what he’s supposed to do.

he’s confident when he’s helping.

you tuck the bit of knowledge away for later as you pull into the cracked driveway of a red-brick bungalow. the house is small and unadorned, the homes on opposite sides just as plain and simple. a single spruce tree, like something out of a holiday catalog, is the only foliage in the yard. gauzy curtains are drawn to block the sunlight coming through the two bay windows framing the white front door.

you turn the car off as beau slides across the bench to open the car door. grabbing your handbag, you all but tumble after him, hastening up the sidewalk.

“wait a minute! beau!” you punctuate your call with a breathy laugh and smooth the sides of your hair back as you approach the front door. the bubble of giddiness from moments before has turned to a bubble of nerves, and once again, you realize this moment is entirely ridiculous. still, you adjust your blouse and straighten the crooked edge of your collar.

beau’s left the front door open, his shoes and backpack already tossed on the living room floor. you hesitate at the threshold. you haven’t been properly invited in, but the open door might just be beau’s way of telling you it’s alright to invade his home. at least, that’s the message you decide to take. 

crossing the threshold, you hold tight to the strap of your purse and glance around the cramped front living area. beau’s nowhere to be seen, and the home is silent as the grave. you bite the tip of your tongue when your gaze falls over a photograph of a woman holding a baby. it’s beau and his mother; has to be.

maybe... maybe you’ve overstepped your—

“beau, is that you?” the sound of heavy footfalls on stairs snaps your attention away from the photograph. before you can slip away and forget you ever had the silly notion of meeting your student’s father with the intent of something other than a professional hello, a man rounds the corner.

your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. it’s not the john deacon you’d imagined.

he’s shorter than you pictured, only several inches taller than yourself. his jaw is sharp, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and a thick mustache almost covers his upper lip. a white wife-beater tucked into green trousers completes the ensemble, and his bare feet pad across the floor as he sticks his hand out in greeting.

“you must be the teacher!” he pumps your hand up and down, his grip crushing but his smile wide. his voice is friendly and welcoming, though you can’t be sure it was the voice you heard over the phone. so many days have passed since then, perhaps you just forgot, though it’s highly unlikely. 

“i’ve been trying to call deaky ever since i got here, but the damn fool just won’t pick up. i don’t even know where beau’s school is so i couldn’t come and get him myself. the ship we run here isn’t very tight.” he rolls his eyes with a grin. “thanks for bringing him home, darling.”

your head swims as you struggle to keep up with the man’s fast pace. so, he isn’t john deacon? and john deacon isn’t here? you open your mouth to ask the first of several questions but he beats you to it.

“hell, you look positively confused. shut the door, won’t you? the rain’s getting in, and molly was always worried about the the hardwood. i’ll put on the kettle.”

“oh, i don’t—”

he bumps your hip toward the door. “nonsense! deaky will want to thank you for driving beau home.” he’s around the corner before you can refuse, so you shut the front door against the steady rain and slip off your shoes, leaving them beside the two pairs already against the baseboard.

you’re quick to follow him to the kitchen. the walls are a muted yellow, the countertops clear but the sink full of unwashed dishes. the refrigerator in the corner is bare save for the back to school letter you gave to each student to bring home to their parents. that—and a photograph of four men in a basement. it appears to be a homegrown band of sorts, and the man behind the drumkit is shouting at the man who looks like an overgrown string bean. you’re not sure which one is john, so you turn away, feeling rather out of place when the man at the stovetop says:

“beau’s probably in his room. he always holes himself away as soon as he gets back. doesn’t come out until supper. that’s when deaky gets home.” a pair of mugs clatter against each other as he pulls them from a cupboard. “brian says it’s just a phase, that he’ll grow out of it once he processes molly’s death, but i’m not certain.” the man’s eyes flicker to you, and he laughs, loud and short. “oh dear, i’ve done it again! i forgot you’re not in the loop. i’m freddie,” he explains. “part-time nanny, full-time diva.”

you accept the mug of tea as freddie passes it to you, a smile lifting your tight mouth. “[y/n] [y/l/n]. so you’re beau’s... nanny?” 

freddie drops to the round kitchen table shoved in the space between the kitchen counter and the wall. you follow suit and stir a drop of sugar in your tea. “you could call it that. i just watch him in the afternoons, between school and deaky getting home.” he sighs. “since molly... well, things have been hard to juggle.”

“i thought mr. deacon picked beau up from school? unless that was you in the car i saw?”

“heavens no! i don’t drive!” freddie laughs again. “that was deaky you saw. he takes his break at the garage long enough to pick beau up and bring him here. i guess he and rog were overrun today. bet beau was terrified. poor dear...”

you glance over your shoulder, down the dim hallway leading to, you assume, beau’s bedroom. there’s a half-full laundry basket deposited outside another open door, perhaps the bathroom. a few mislaid toys litter the carpet. it’s reassuring, knowing that beau has a few good men in his life, willing and ready to raise him. still, there’s a pervading sense of loneliness throughout the bungalow. you saw it in the photos on the living room wall, but it’s here too: in the dead roses, brittle to the touch, in the table vase; in the index-card note tucked on a notch in the cupboard, the feminine handwriting unreadable from your spot at the table.

freddie’s voice is somber when its breaks through the thick air. “complications of pneumonia,” he says, following your gaze to a wedding photo on the hallway wall. “it came on quick but didn’t last long, thank heaven.”

unbidden, tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’ve never felt more like an intruder—and you know why.

your crush on john deacon is misplaced. you see that now. realizing what you’ve done in coming here—twist a child’s terrified moment of abandonment for your gain—makes you sick to your stomach. what kind of person are you? assuming a recently widowed father would be at all interested in his son’s pesky teacher? the thought brings a flush to your cheeks, and you rise from the table all too fast. the mugs of tea wobble when your knee connects with the underside of the table.

freddie frowns at you. “you okay, love?”

“i—” how to explain yourself without sounding a total fool or heartless woman? “i think i’ve overstayed my welcome” is all that comes to mind, and you aren’t surprised when freddie uses his foot to push your chair back out from under the table.

“sit down. john will be home soon. let him thank you then you can go.”

from where you stand, you look to your right. the front door practically screams for you to politely decline freddie’s insistence and high-tail it to your car, to get out while you still have the chance. but he’s making it too easy to stay for what you’ve come for: a peek at the illusive john deacon. you know you should go, that you should leave well enough alone, but despite your best intentions, you find yourself sitting down again and allowing freddie to bombard you with questions about teaching life.

half an hour later, when your sides hurt from laughing while freddie regales you with the dramatic story of beau’s birth, the door to the garage opens and closes with a loud click. you twist in your seat, arm draped over the back, and bite your lip hard to keep from drawing in a sharp breath.

by god, he’s a stone-cold looker. better than you could have imagined.

john deacon stands in front of the garage door, his head of tight curls wet from the rain. he’s tall but not towering, his shoulders made broad by the leather jacket across his back. he hasn’t noticed you or freddie as he’s too preoccupied with wiping the grease on his fingers across a piece of soiled cloth. he turns, not towards you, but towards the hallway when beau tumbles out of his room with a shout of joy. beau races down the hall, his arms extended, and jumps into his father’s waiting embrace. john mumbles something in his son’s ear, ruffling his hair, before dropping him back to the ground. the sullen little boy jumps around his father’s feet, chattering in great detail about his day at school, though he forgoes mentioning his father’s absence in the car-line. 

you exhale, a wash of new tears covering your eyes as you stare at beau. he can be happy. you’d thought it impossible.

you must have exhaled louder than you thought because john looks over at the sound. his brow tightens in a frown of confusion, his eyes flicking back and forth between yourself and freddie, but freddie is quick to explain. he stands from the table and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“deaky, this is [y/n] [y/l/n], beau’s teacher. remember you spoke to her on the phone?”

your cheeks heat at the thought of him mentioning the phone call beyond the walls of the auto-shop. warmth spreads over your face even further when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and extends his hand. you slip your fingers over his palm, and he shakes your hand.

for a moment, your hands linger as john glances at beau, who is tucked behind his leg. he cringes, groaning. “please tell me you didn’t go out of your way to bring beau home today?”

you drop your hand from his and clasp your fingers before your waist. scrunching your nose, you tilt your head to the side. “well...”

“bloody hell,” john murmurs. he screws his eyes shut and runs a palm down his face. “i’m sorry,” he says. “you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“it was no trouble, really. in fact, you live on my way home.” the comment isn’t a falsehood. you’d realized as beau pointed his way home that your flat lie only a minutes down the road. just as it had then, the realization sends a nervous clench to your stomach now. the thought of the deacons so close...

“you must think me a horrible father.” as he says this, john reaches around to smooth his hand across beau’s back. the gesture, done mindlessly, almost makes you laugh. how could anyone find him a horrible father?

“absolutely not, mr. deacon.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward in something close to a smile. “john, please.”

you roll your lips together and blink rapidly to keep your eyes from going wide. john. “lots of people miss the car-line. it happens more often than you think.”

“well, let me give you something for your trouble.” he slides past you, the scent of cologne and car oil in his wake. his movements are stiff, hampered by beau who insists on clinging to his father’s leg, his ankles crossed over john’s foot. 

“i don’t want anything, john.” you almost trip over his name. it tastes good, strong and steady. god, you’ve got it bad. “it wasn’t a hassle.”

john ignores you as he slides open a kitchen drawer. unsatisfied with its contents, he reaches for another before meeting your eyes with a wry smile. “all we’ve got is take-out menus anyway.” he shuffles nearer, beau still heavy on his leg. “thank you, ms. [y/l/n], for bringing him home. i got sidetracked at the shop and—” he sighs. “anyway, just... thanks.”

“again, you’re welcome—and call me [y/n].”

there’s a moment where you’re simply staring at one another, the room around you lulled to a comfortable silence. john is handsome, of this there is no doubt. perhaps he’s not striking in a classical way but you’re sure someone would have killed to chisel a bust of his face during the sixteenth century. it’s regal and sure in all the right places, but soft where it counts: around the eyes. when he chuckles at something freddie says, his eyes fold around the edges, and your heart all but gives out.

“what do you say, [y/n]?”

“sorry?” hopeful no one caught you ogling, you bring your attention front and center, turning to freddie. his proposal dawns on you a second too late to be anything but obvious. “stay for dinner? no, i can’t do that.”

“why not?” freddie reaches out to pinch your forearm. “it’s our way of saying thanks, and neither of us will try to poison you with our cooking. we’ll just have brian bring something ‘round.”

you shake your head and scoot around freddie to lift the handbag hanging from a kitchen chair. “i’d like to, but i’ve stayed too long already. perhaps another time.”

prying beau from his leg, john trails behind freddie as you make your way to the front door. freddie wishes you well, reminding you to drop by any time, and john simply lifts his hand in a motionless wave. on the front stoop, hair tangled around your face by a sharp wind, you lean your torso across the threshold.

“mr. deacon—i mean, john,” you say quickly, willing your voice to sound stronger than you feel. “if you’d like, i can drive beau home in the afternoons. i live not five minutes from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

john hesitates. beau stands in the kitchen, his head poked around the corner. john looks over at his son then back at you. “that’s a kind offer, but i like coming to the school.”

your eyes flick to beau, to his round, soft face and intelligent eyes. yes, if you were his mother you’d enjoy coming to pick him up too.

with a nod, you retreat into the wind. “well, the offer still stands.”

as you slide into your car and pull out of the driveway, waving to beau who now stands in the doorway, you hope against hope that john will accept the offer one day—just so long as it means you get to see him again.

he calls during the middle of show-and-tell. you nearly forgo the call as abby sinclair insists on lifting her pet toad for all to see and you’re worried she’ll drop it, but you’re waiting for a message from the front desk—missing package again—so you pick up on the last ring.

“hello?”

“hi, ms. [y/l/n]. it’s john deacon. is this a bad time?”

“oh, mr. deacon!” you wince at the delight coloring your voice and tear your eyes away from abby, who has handed her toad off to max. “i was expecting a call from the front office.”

he snorts out a rushed laugh. “sorry to disappoint.”

you brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “no, not at all.” out of the corner of your eye you catch max squeezing abby’s toad between his palms, and you push the phone away from your ear. “oy! max, knock it off! abby, please put the toad back, dear?”

john is chuckling on the other end of the line when you return to the call. “sorry,” you say. “show-and-tell.”

“i know. beau was excited this morning.”

with a smile, you glance at the boy in question. “he did very well. everyone was impressed with what he brought.”

“brian made that for him as a birthday gift, so he can’t take any of the credit.”

“he didn’t! he explained who made the planets, but he did want to be clear about who painted the stars.” you hesitate, the sound of laughter over your shoulder reminding you not to get too entangled by the sound of john’s voice. “is there something i can do for you, mr. deacon?”

“right, yes. well, it’s a bit awkward... do you remember a few weeks ago when you drove beau home?”

you nod, the memory lifting from your heart with ease. how could you forget? you only replay the evening like a film every night before you fall asleep. “of course”

“do you remember offering to drive him home again?”

“yes.”

“i’m in a jam at the shop and can’t leave this afternoon. would you mind? taking him home, that is.”

you answer without hesitation. “i can do that. it’s not a problem.”

“you’re a life-saver. it’s just with freddie not driving... i guess what i mean to say is thanks. it helps me out a lot.”

“i’m happy to do it, john.”

“i promise i’ll make it worth your while this time. proper take-out and all.”

“you really don’t have to do that,” you say, hoping he does anyway.

“no, freddie will insist. i’ll let you get back to class for now. thanks, [y/n].”

“don’t mention it. good luck with your jam at the shop. i hope it’s cleared up soon.”

“me too. all the sooner to get back to beau—and you.”

he hangs up before you can respond, and you’re left with your jaw scraping the floor and your heart in your throat.

all the sooner to get back to you.

the words circle your head like a drug for the remainder of the day. you can barely focus as you teach, stumbling over your words and through math equations and spelling tests. 

surely he didn’t mean it like that. he probably just tacked you on at the end of the sentence in his haste to get back to work. he probably wasn’t thinking when he spoke.

but, by god, you were listening. 

you’ve never been so head-over-heels for a man in your life. each day when you wake up with john at the forefront of your mind, you wish for a morning where you can stay in bed and dream of him all day—his voice, his smile, his gentle way with beau. it all makes you crazy. ami calls your fascination puppy love and claims it will fade with time, but you wonder if it’s gone deeper. you’re interested in more than john deacon’s looks. you’re interested in what makes him tick and whether or not he’s in a band with the three other men who constantly appear in every conversation you share and whether or not he misses his wife and what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning. you what to know him and be known by him.

all the sooner to get back to you.

perhaps it’s wishful thinking—a dreamy idea on the part of a lovesick woman—but part of you wonders if he feels the same way about you.

driving beau home becomes part of an unspoken routine. after sharing dinner at the deacon household that second evening, john admits when walking you to your car how overwhelmed he can feel between his job at the auto-shop and his responsibilities with beau. with a tentative hand on his forearm, you promise you’ll help lighten the load. he thanks you by squeezing your fingers with his, and then he’s gone.

it begins by driving beau home every monday, wednesday, and friday. you enjoy your time with him. as soon as he settles in the back seat of your station wagon, he comes alive. the protective shell he wears in the classroom is replaced by the bright and earnest eyes of a seven year old boy, curious about the world and all it has to hold. he asks you questions and tells you stories, and you laugh as you watch the light dance in his eyes. he’s a sweet child, and you truly treasure the afternoons you spend with him.

one friday, you drop him off and find the cozy bungalow empty. beau has stopped retreating to his room once returning from school—at least, this is what freddie tells you—so you’re not completely surprised when beau invites you in for an afternoon snack. you are surprised by the empty house, however. freddie is nowhere to be seen and neither is john. what concerns you even further is when beau opens the refrigerator and slams it shut with a huff.

“nothin’,” he mutters, slumping to the table with a groan.

“what?”

“there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“what do you mean by that?” you cross the floor and open the fridge, hoping beau’s comment is nothing more than a hungry child displeased with the array of choice and nothing to his liking, but you find his statement to be true. the fridge is woefully stocked—naught but a half-filled carton of orange juice, three apples, and a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. you glance over your shoulder. “is it always like this?”

“no.” beau circles about on his chair. “but it’s happened a few times since dad and uncle rog got more busy at the shop.”

“well, that won’t do. grab your shoes, beau, we’re going to the market.”

once returned from your grocery run, you teach beau how to make spaghetti. he stands beside you on a stool, pushed up on his toes as he watches you prepare the boiling water and pasta. as you wait for the pasta to soften, you set about crafting a homemade pasta sauce. it’s your mother’s recipe, and it’s easy to make. easy enough that you allow beau to carefully slice the tomatoes under your supervision and dice the onions and sprinkle the spices.

the kitchen smells like your childhood: fragrant yet simple, sweet and comforting. somewhere in the waiting for the sauce to simmer, beau turns on a radio and draws you to the center of the kitchen. he holds your hand tight and kicks his feet to the music. you laugh and mirror his movements. he grabs your other hand and steps on his stool, forcing you to bend in an awkward twirl around his finger. you struggle but complete the movement, though he attaches himself to your shoulders like a barnacle. you whirl around on your socked feet in attempt to toss him off, but he holds tight, his fingernails digging into the skin of your collarbone. he squeals in your ear, a mixture of laughter and gasping breath and shrieks.

“mama, mama, stop!” 

he says it without thinking, his head lolling against your shoulder as you stop short at the sound of his breathless voice. he giggles against your back then releases himself and slides to the floor. you stare at him, feel his words in the back of your throat like an uncomfortable burn, and then you hear the garage door shut.

you swallow hard and force your eyes from the yellow-and-white linoleum floor. beau hops from his stool, sauce-covered spoon in hand, and rushes to his father’s side.

“daddy, look, we made dinner! miss [y/l/n] and me!” he tugs on john’s shirtsleeve, but john’s just staring at you, his face unreadable. beau turns to one of the other three men crowding the hall behind john. “uncle roggie, taste it!” he forces the spoon in the face of a mulleted blond.

eager to break the thick tension, you motion to the spaghetti. “i—there wasn’t anyone home so...” your sentence trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

so many eyes on you. you feel exposed against them all, caught in a domestic moment with a child that’s not your own in a home that’s not your own.

john looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing in anger. “fred?”

freddie winces. “about that, deak.” he rubs the back of his neck and glances at beau. “i can explain later.”

“you’d better,” john mutters.

“i should go,” you say at once, hastily grabbing your things from the table. your keys jingle in your hand with the force of your anxiety, and you stub your toe against the floor in your hurry to put your shoes back on.

john’s hand on your arm stops you. you look up, stooped as you try to slip the back of your sandal over your heel. he looks down at you, face still remarkably unreadable. “no, please stay,” he says. “you made supper.”

you shake your head and rise to your full height. “i’ve intruded enough already.”

you’re embarrassed, too. the gaggle of men heard beau’s slip up; they heard him mistake you for his mother—and certainly they saw the immediate flush of happiness rise over your cheeks at the sound.

mama. you’d always hoped, always wished, someone would call you that one day. you just didn’t think you’d hear it from a student with a deceased mother and a father you pined after first.

“[y/n], stay.” john’s voice is soft, breathy, and his eyes flit back and forth between yours with a startling amount of intensity. 

how can you say no?

once the dinner has been divided, you sit beside john on the couch in the living room. the kitchen table is too small to host the gathering, so the living room was deemed appropriate just this once, to beau’s great delight. he sits on the floor at the coffee table, a tall glass of milk beside his plate of pasta, his eyes bouncing over everyone in the room with unrestrained joy.

“beau, why don’t you introduce everyone for miss [y/l/n]? she doesn’t know all your uncles.” john nods to his son in encouragement, and beau is only happy to take the job.

standing, beau crosses first to the impressively tall and curly-haired man sat beside him on the floor. “this is uncle brian. he likes space and teaches all the big kids at uni.” 

he moves to freddie, who sits on a plush armchair. “this is uncle freddie, but you already know him.”

the last man leans against the foyer table, his ankles crossed and sunglasses still perched on his nose. beau pats his arm. “this is uncle roger and he works with daddy.” in a stage whisper, he adds, “he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

roger guffaws and lightly pushes beau’s head to the side. “oy, you twerp, take that back!”

glancing about the room, you nod in greeting. “it’s nice to meet you all. i’ve heard quite a bit.”

brian smiles at you from the floor. his legs are bent awkwardly beneath the coffee table, and you’ve noticed the way he helps beau cut his side salad and keep sauce from dripping to the area rug. “all good things i hope?”

“oh yes, of course.”

“[y/n], dear, you really must tell brian what that student of yours did last week,” freddie pipes up. “it had me laughing well into the night. i’m sure some of his twenty-year olds are much the same.”

“i shouldn’t, fred.” you look at beau, who is watching you in interest. 

freddie nods in understanding and tugs on his earlobe. “little ears, yes. maybe another time.” he pushes brian’s shoulder with his foot. “really is a riot of a story.”

as supper progresses, conversation twists and turns down different avenues. you explain how you came to teach in the area and find you used to work with one of brian’s newer colleagues. freddie tells the group about his recent run-in with an angry bird watcher in the park. his gestures are so grandiose he whacks roger in the chest, who has come to sit on the arm of fred’s chair. there’s more laughter than there is silence, and you settle back in the couch. at one point, john drapes his arm over the back of the couch—not around your shoulders, but close enough to send your heart into overdrive. it’s all you can focus on—the proximity of his muscular arm behind your head—as brian explains to beau the difference between the big and little dippers. even as roger describes the ramshackle band they four participate in on the weekends, you barely register the words because you swear to the high heavens you feel john’s pointer finger purposefully brush against your shoulder.

beau begins to yawn sometime near the eight o’clock hour, and you jump from the couch when you realize you’ve stayed so late.

“good lord, i’ve got to go!” you shuffle about the room, gathering your belongings, as john rises behind you. “i didn’t know it was so late!”

his hands are in his pockets, and he studies you as you put your shoes on. “got a big date tomorrow?”

you frown. “no,” you say on a laugh. “i’ve actually got breakfast with my mum.”

he looks away for a moment, but you can’t help but note the edge of a smile.

he grabs his jacket from the coat-stand when you’re ready. “i’ll walk you out.”

at the door you wave to the others. “good night, all! it was nice to meet you.”

roger tips an imaginary hat. “i’m sure we’ll meet again, [y/n], if deaky has anything to say about it.”

freddie kicks the back of roger’s leg, and the injured man doubles over in a yelp of pain. “you fucker!” freddie mutters. “you know that—”

john ushers you out the door before you can see or hear any more.

the night air is chilly, and you warm your arms around yourself. you reach for your keys in the depths of your purse and slide them into the lock on the driver’s side of your car. it’s dark out. you can barely make out john’s features beneath the light of the moon, but when he shuffles to the side, an automatic flood light turns on above the garage. you blink against the sudden light and smile, chuckling beneath your breath as your vision adjusts. you’re not eager to leave quite yet, and he doesn’t seem eager to send you away, so you both stand, looking at one another in the darkness of the drive.

“your friends are nice,” you say.

he hums in agreement. “m’yes, they are. we just started as a screw-around band a few years back, but when molly got sick...” he pauses, clasps his hand on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “they’ve been my lifeline, y’know?”

“i can’t imagine what that was like, losing her. i’m glad you had them around.” you suck in a deep breath. “about earlier... i didn’t know beau was going to say that, and i’m sorry it happened. i realize that my... involvement might appear to be me wheedling my way into your family, but that’s not it, really! i mean, i like you and beau—as friends—but i’m not trying to...” you sigh, shaking your head. “i’m sorry it happened ‘s all. i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

before you know what’s happening, john’s reaching out to cup your cheek. his smile is soft in the glow of the moon and the floodlight, and your heart stops in your chest. 

his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “i haven’t seen beau that happy in a long time. you’ve brought a lot of joy back into the house, [y/n].”

you’re sure you’re sweating despite the chill of night. you shake your head, but his hand holds fast against your face. “no,” you whisper. your voice sounds heady, even to your own ears. “beau’s just a good kid.”

“yes, and you’re a good teacher.” 

is his face inching closer? you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“a good teacher and a good person.”

if it weren’t for your firm hold on the car door handle, you think you might slip to the ground in a puddle of goo. 

his lips are on yours, then, and you fall into his arms as he holds you against himself. you have dreamt of this moment far too many times to count, but you never thought it would happen. really, you thought you would finish the year without ever knowing the taste of john’s deacons lips. 

but there he is, and there you are, and he tastes like the wine he drank during supper. he is more eager than you thought he would be, and soon he has your back pressed against the door of your car. you huff into his mouth and feel your eyes roll back into your head when he drags his lips across your jaw, inching closer to that spot behind your ear. your arms practically quiver around his shoulders, and you open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of a particularly bright star winking down at you.

he catches your lips again, and you feel hot and delicious all over.

“john,” you mumble against his mouth. “john.” 

loathe as you are to stop the moment, you do, pushing his shoulders until he pulls himself away. his hand still cradles your hip, and he looks flushed in the moonlight. you’re sure you look equally as rumpled.

you grin. “well.”

he matches your smile, though it’s fleeting. “call you, yeah?”

unlocking your car door, you nod. “please do, mr. deacon.”

he shakes his head on a chuckle and shuts the door, waving gently as you pull out of the drive. when you’re several homes away, out of eyesight, you drift to the side of the road and blast the air conditioner. then you pound your fists against the steering wheel and let out a muffled squeal of delight.

he doesn’t call you. 

when you sit down to think about it, it’s not that great of a surprise. you’ve been around him only a handful of times, and though you’ve both been comfortable in those moments, you don’t blame him for resisting whatever it is he feels for you. there’s beau to think about. you’re his teacher; surely there’s some line you shouldn’t be crossing? there’s molly too, and her memory and the years they spent together and the child they had together. 

if anything, you figure he’s using you to test the waters of romance again. those stolen touches and deep stares and that kiss in the drive—it’s all just experimentation. the conclusion drawn from those experiments? he’s not ready.

you sigh, take another sip of wine. maybe you should stop driving beau. you like john; you like him a lot. and after that kiss, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. you thought about him before, but never this much. he threatens to consume your every waking moment, and it scares you because he’s not interested. desperately pining after a disinterested man means one thing: ruin. if you stop driving beau home, put some distance between yourself and the deacons, the puppy love and infatuation will fade over time.

it has to or you’ll go crazy.

it’s early evening, and your stomach grumbles. your flat is quiet as you putter around the kitchen in search of a suitable supper. there’s not much in the cupboards and even less in the fridge. you desperately need to go to the grocery store. take-out it is. withdrawing a handful of menus, you spread them out on the counter and flip through them mindlessly.

your thoughts are elsewhere. always on john.

you wonder what compelled him to kiss you. he’s an enigma, john deacon. you’ve seen him in moments of great levity—when he’s around beau or his friends or recounting a story from his youth. he has an infectious laugh, delightful crinkles around his eyes, and a quick wit. but he can be hard, too, like an immovable stone. he’s quick to toss a glare at anyone in his way in those moments of weakness, and his biting wit can turn sour at the drop of a hat. you chalk it up to weariness, those moments. weariness, loneliness, frustration. it doesn’t phase you, though perhaps it should.

with a groan, you drop your forehead to the cool counter and shut your eyes. the kiss lingers on your lips; it has the entire week since. you want him badly—in more ways than one.

the telephone rings, and you startle, clutching a paper menu to your chest. “fuck,” you whisper. you need to get a hobby other than daydreaming. pressing the phone to your ear, you barely get out a word of greeting before someone’s shouting at you on the other end.

“[y/n]? it’s fred! we’ve got a fuckin’ problem over here.”

you frown. “freddie? what’s going on? why are you are john’s? it’s a saturday.”

“no time for that! how fast can you get here?”

“well, i don’t know. i’ve got to—”

“beau’s sick! he’s on the bathroom floor, moaning and groaning and—shit!—[y/n], i don’t know what to do!”

“i’m sure it’s just a tummy ache, fred,” you say. “i see it all the time in my class. give him some pepto and he’ll be fighting fit in the morning.”

“no, [y/n]!” something in fred’s tone—a raw, animal fear—has you standing straight, your heart stuttering in your chest. “he said he feels like he’s gonna die just like molly did!”

“okay, okay.” you begin to move toward your bedroom, but are yanked back by the phone chord attached to the wall. you stumble backwards with a grunt. “okay, i’m coming, fred. just hold tight.”

“fucking hurry!”

you slam the phone down, rush to your bedroom to change from your nightclothes, and jump in the car without a pair of shoes. as quickly as you can you race to the deacon household. the sun dips low, casting an orange glow over the suburban streets lined with family cars. you grip the steering wheel tight, your heart thumping a prayer of protection for beau. 

the driveway of the bungalow is empty, the garage door thrown open. the old convertible john toys with in the evenings is parked inside, but his everyday vehicle is gone. cutting the engine of your car, you run through the garage and into the house. fred stands in the hallway, pressed against the bathroom door. he looks ridiculous, clad in a bright yellow bathroom and bunny slippers, but he pounds his fist against the door, pleading for beau to unlock it and let him in. he turns at the sound of your bag dropping on the carpet.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes. he grabs your arm and wrenches you to his side. “beau, miss [y/l/n] is here. why do you talk with her, huh?”

before you say anything to beau, you frown at freddie. “where’s john?” your whisper sound harsh in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“at the shop. overtime. i can’t reach him.”

you jerk your head to the phone sitting on a side-table in the living room. “go try again and i’ll stick with beau here.” when he’s gone, you slide to a sitting position on the floor and press your ear to the thin wood of the door. “beau? beau, honey, it’s me.”

beau only groans in response.

“beau, can you please open the door? i want to help you. that’s it; just help.”

there’s a pause then you hear: “no. go away.”

“it’s okay if you’re embarrassed, beau. we all get sick sometimes. fred and i just want to help you feel better.”

there’s the sound of water sloshing and then a hard sniff. “i want my mommy.”

“oh, baby, i know.” you clear your throat to work past the lump rising to the surface. “come on, just let me in. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“but... what if i die like her too?”

“that’s not gonna happen, beau. i promise.” he doesn’t respond, so you plead once more. “please let me in.”

he shuffles to the door, unclicks the lock, and cracks it open. through the opening, you can see his pale face gleaming with sweat. gently, you push the door open further.

beau’s curled on the floor, his head bent toward his knees. his arms tighten around his stomach, and a spasm ripples through his body. he’s dripping with sweat, his star wars pajamas soaked through. hot air clogs the room, and you switch on the overhead fan. pressing your fingers to his forehead, you cringe and draw back. he’s burning up.

“beau, baby, what hurts?” you finger some of the sweat-matted hair away from his forehead. 

“my tummy.”

“what’s your tummy feel like?”

beau shakes his head into the floor. “bad.”

“do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

“already did. on my floor.” he opens his eyes long enough to stare at you through thick lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize about that. we’ll get it cleaned up later. i’m just gonna go get you some water, okay?”

he groans, shifting against another spasm of pain. “okay.”

stepping back into the hall, you grab freddie’s arm before he can slip into the bathroom. you tug him to the safety of the kitchen. his eyes dance between yours, expectant.

“well?”

“did you get ahold of john?”

“no, the fucker.”

“we’ll have to go pick him up then.”

fred’s brow twitches. “what? why? what’s wrong with him?”

you throw a glance down the hall when beau whines. “i think it might be his appendix. my dad’s burst last summer and he looked a lot like beau does now.”

“fuckin’ hell.” freddie runs a hand across his mouth. “just what deaky needs.”

you nod in agreement. “i know. we’ve got to take beau to a hospital, though, before it gets any worse.”

“yeah, yeah, i know. go get the car started and i’ll meet you in a minute.”

several minutes later, you’re en route to the auto-shop, freddie cradling beau in the backseat of your station wagon. the drive is tense, your bare foot hard on the gas pedal. beau wrestles and whines against freddie’s hold, continuously asking for his parents and where you’re taking him.

no one wants to say the word hospital, so his cries go unanswered.

freddie directs you to the auto-shop, his phrases terse, and you pull into the drive with a sharp squeal of tires on gravel. with the car still running, you hurry across the parking lot, loose pebbles catching on your feet. music blasts from a stereo within the garage. it’s loud and obnoxious and keeps you from locating john fast enough.

“can i help ya, miss?” a lithe man steps out of a side office, his hairline receding and face near gaunt. 

“yes—i’m looking for john deacon.”

the man continuously wipes his hands on a dirty rag. none of the oil and grease on his fingers budges. “he’s down there.”

dirt and grime covers the bottoms of your feet as you race down the shop. cars of all varieties line the wall to your left, some stationary on the ground, others lifted towards the vaulted ceiling. there’s a handful of men at work, but you don’t recognize any of them as john. you’re prepared to start shouting his name when a familiar voice stops you.

“[y/n]?” it’s roger. “can’t get enough of our deaky, can you?” he’s chuckling as he steps out from behind a truck. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s beau,” you say, and his face falls.

“over here.” roger wastes no time in finding john beneath a volkswagon beetle. only john’s legs are visible, his knees bent and leather boots firm on the floor. he curses when roger hooks the toes of his shoes around a curve in the sliding plate on the floor and drags john out from under the car.

“what the fuck, rog? i—” john stills when his eyes land on you. his muscle tee is loose over his chest, and a line of grease mars his forehead. he swallows. “[y/n]... i...” he sits up. “i’ve been meaning to—”

though you’re curious about the end of his sentence, you cut him off. “beau’s sick. we’ve got to take him to hospital.”

the blood drains from john’s face in an instant. the wrench in his hand clatters to the cement ground, and he’s grabbing your elbow, pulling you toward the exit, before you can say anything more.

“crystal, i’m gone!” he shouts, practically shoving you in the direction of the car.

there’s either no reply or you don’t hear it because john shouts for freddie to move the fuck over and give him beau. you slide behind the wheel and pause, twisting to catch a look at the scene in the back. 

beau looks like a newborn swaddled in his father’s arms. his face is wet with tears and sweat, and he sobs in his father’s grasp. john feels beau’s forehead and frowns, muttering an oath under his breath. then his eyes flick to yours.

“what are you waiting for? go!”

you don’t need to be told twice.

it’s another fifteen minutes before you reach the hospital. your head throbs under the stress of it all: beau’s pitiful moans for help, john urging you to go faster, freddie barking directions as he slaps the headrest behind you. before you’ve pulled to a complete stop, john is out, beau in his arms. you shoo freddie after him. 

“go! i’ll park the car.”

by the time you’ve found a parking space and picked your way across the parking lot, beau’s been admitted for emergency surgery. his appendix, as you suspected. it’s a routine procedure, and he’ll be fine within the next hour. relief floods your system at the news, and you find john and freddie sitting beneath a large fish tank in the waiting room. you take the open spot beside john and cross your ankles.

“your feet are disgusting,” fred says. he points to the bottoms of your feet, dark with dust, dirt, and grime. 

you shrug. “forgot shoes.”

the quiet of the waiting room is both a comfort and annoyance. a clock on the wall ticks loudly, and the fish tank bubbles at an uneven rate. every breath you take feels too loud, and the antiseptic smells cling to the inside of your nose.

still, the quiet gives you a moment of rest. you catch your breath. you let the knowledge of skilled and capable doctors working on beau ease your heart-rate. it will all be okay; he’s going to be okay.

you glance at john. his fist is pressed against his mouth, his eyes shut. his leg bounces, and you dare to reach over and lay your hand against his knee. he stills, his eyes flashing to you.

“he’s going to be okay, john.”

on the other side of john, freddie jumps to his feet. “i’m going bananas just sitting here.” he rubs the side of his head. “might burst. i’m gonna give brian a call.” he stalks away, his bunny slippers slapping against the linoleum floor.

you shake your head, biting back the urge to smile.

but then john’s fingers curl around yours, and you can’t help but give into the grin.

you look up, meet his eyes.

“i didn’t call you,” he says.

“no, you didn’t.”

he shifts in seat and looks to the floor. “you should be wearing shoes.”

at the turn of conversation, you frown then follow his gaze. “yes, i suppose.”

“take mine.” he releases your hand to bend down and undo his laces.

“no, john, don’t be silly. i’m fine.”

“please, [y/n], take the shoes.” he slides the boots toward you, and you begrudgingly slip your feet into the warmth of his shoes. 

you look silly, the pair of you—your ill-fit mtv t-shirt, loose jeans, and oversized leather boots; his muscle tee with the aptly faded word muscle scrawled across the chest, his faded jeans, and socked feet. one of his toes pokes through the end of his sock, and his exposed arms look cold in the frigid air of the waiting room. you laugh.

“we look like a pair of bikers or something.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “not much of a biker. that’s crystal’s territory.” he doesn’t look at you when he continues speaking. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

on a sigh, you drag the boots across the carpet. though it pains you to do so, you let him off the hook. “it’s not a big deal, john. it was just a kiss. no promises.”

“i know.” his head tilts to the side. “but i wanted to call you. nearly did twice, but i chickened out.” he turns, then, and meets your eye. “i like you, [y/n].”

you smile, but know it doesn’t reach your eyes. still, you reach for his hand again. “i like you too, john. i’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family.”

he shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is firm. “no, i like you. that’s why i kissed you and that’s why i didn’t call. because you make me so bloody nervous.”

your shoulders drop, as does your jaw.

“ever since you dropped beau off that first time, i’ve been thinking about you and about you and him together and then he called you mum and i saw the way you acted with him and—” he pauses for a breath. “molly was different with beau. i mean, she loved him, but she was always so fragile and worried and—and that’s not the point! the point is that you make beau happy and you make me happy. and i want to be happy again.”

“john...”

his grip on your hand tightens as he leans closer. “make me happy, yeah? i’m stubborn as a mule and shy, too, but i want you—badly.”

the fire in your heart spreads at his words. it spreads throughout your body until you feel like you could burst and shine a light into even the darkest corners of the earth. a laugh bubbles forth from between your lips. you lift a hand to stifle it.

“you want to know something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i’ve been pining after you, john deacon, ever since i heard your voice over the phone. i was content to just wallow in my daydreams, but this seems better.” you lift your fingers to brush his chin. “a lot better.”

“i can’t promise i’ll make a good boyfriend. i’m pretty rusty.”

“me too. we can be rusty together.”

he grins, leans forward further, his nose brushing yours. “can’t promise there won’t be hiccups. i’ve got baggage.”

“i can carry it.”

he kisses you, his hand on the back of your head, keeping you firm against his mouth. you grin, your teeth knocking his as you laugh. his curls are soft against your fingertips, and you hold on for dear life when he chuckles into your smile.

“mr. deacon?”

john kisses you once, twice more, before pulling away to look at the doctor. “yeah?” he doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position in the middle of a hospital waiting room, but you hide your face against his neck. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide.

“beau’s ready to see you now.”

john stands and extends at hand. “comin’, dove?”

your footfalls are hard against the ground, the boots heavy around your ankles, as you walk with him hand-in-hand to beau’s hospital room. you lean against his side, breathe the comfort of him in, and smile.

yes, this is much better than your daydreams—baggage, boots, beau, and all.

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Thirty-Six: I Have the Best Summer Ever

The rest of Luz’s summer was a total blur of the best kind of amazing, fantastic, demigod-ness a kid could even imagine.

Luz’s days were filled with training in the arena, playing capture the flag, and hanging out with her friends. Every morning that she woke up and put on one of her orange t-shirts was another reminder that as of right now, she really had it good.

Sometimes in the mornings she and Eda would head out into the arena and spar while King took his usual sunbathing position a few feet away. Eda would parry and block her strikes, give her dirty tricks to use in upcoming games or events, and sometimes Luz would even get lucky enough to disarm her or pull something new she wasn’t expecting.

“I swear kid, one of these days you’re going to be even better than me,” she’d say, reaching down to ruffle her hair and switch her weapon and get ready for another round.

More than once, she and her siblings in the Hermes cabin had banded together to play some light-hearted pranks on the other cabins. Viney and Jerbo were a mischievous force to be reckoned with, and while Luz liked to participate she never really got lucky in the “getting away” part. More than once, Lilith had caught her in the act while she was placing a prank and turned a blind eye, and Luz always felt a rush of affection for the daughter of Zeus. It was asking a lot for her to not snitch, especially since she was a stickler for rules.

Luz made it up to her once or twice by pranking Eda on her behalf with a little bit of help from Edric and Emira. When her mentor showed up to the dining pavilion once with her hair sticking straight up in the air thanks to some magic hair gel, the laugh that came out of Lilith’s mouth made it all worth it.

At nights, Luz and Amity would sneak out of their cabins and hide from the harpies, sitting with their sketchbooks in the strawberry fields. They would laugh, and talk, and kiss, and enjoy each other’s company until one of them inevitably almost fell asleep and they decided to head back.

The wall of Luz’s bunk was soon tacked to the max with drawings, some of them of her quest, and some of them with fond memories of camp. She always did her best to text one to her Mami once in a while, and let her know how she was doing.

Luz made sure her cabin would try and team up with Gus and Willow’s whenever they could. The three of them were officially a force to be reckoned with during capture the flag. Their combinations and chemistry in battle often resulted in very easy and very early wins, and some of the other cabins were quick to point out they had an “unfair quest experience advantage”. While Eda had just shrugged, Willow did her best to make sure the teams would sometimes even out a little better after that.

Gods kept visiting camp here and there, usually to come by and say hello to their kids. Aphrodite had the habit of showing up unannounced and snapping her fingers, giving everybody an unrealistically fashionable outfit and hairdo, while the clothes they’d been wearing got snapped back to their bunks freshly washed and laundered. While some of the campers hated it, Luz didn’t mind. Aphrodite certainly had her style down to perfection, and pocketing another free outfit was always nice. Amity had other opinions on the matter.

“I just don’t get why she has to do this!” She complained, adjusting the pink t-shirt Aphrodite had magically slapped onto her. “It’s so weird!”

“I think that really suits you,” Luz shrugged while pointing to the leather jacket slung over Amity’s arm. “And your shirt says Hexside! How cool is that!”

Amity rolled her eyes as Luz did a spin, showing off her new green jacket and beanie to Gus and Willow. “She gave me new shoes too! My old ones are torn to bits from the quest.”

“You have to admit Amity, it’s nice getting free stuff,” Willow said while examining her own yellow jacket. “And she’s not the goddess of beauty for nothing. These are nice clothes.”

“My clothes look exactly like the ones I already own!” Gus complained, looking down at his simple navy button-up and jeans.

“If it isn’t broken don’t fix it!” Luz teased with a smile, patting him on the back. Amity groaned in embarrassment, slapping her hands to her face.

When Hermes showed up the first few times to visit the camp, Luz said hello to him, but also made sure that her other siblings got to spend some one-on-one time with their dad. As he was leaving the third time he visited, he pulled Luz aside for a quick chat.

“I just want to let you know that the gods have talked about adding an additional reward for you and your friends after what you’ve done for Olympus,” he said quietly, and Luz’s jaw dropped.

“I… I don’t need another reward dad. The way you guys have been showing up at camp is more than enough.”

Hermes tilted his head, smiling softly. “Perhaps you don’t need one, but the gods want to give it to you anyway. You have no idea the gravity of the situation that Belos had created upon Olympus. He almost destroyed us all.”

He looked around to make sure nobody was listening, and then leaned in to whisper.

“As the god of messengers, I was responsible for delivering a package to your mother and the rest of your companion's parents. You should hear from them shortly.”

Luz gaped. “What? What do you mean…”

Hermes reached over and gripped her shoulders. “I am proud of you, Luz. And trust me when I say I will make good on my promise and be there more for you and your siblings.” He winced rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “And… don’t be the first one to use the shower this evening. Your siblings and I might have set up a bit of a cruel prank.”

With a flash of wind, leaving behind a thoroughly confused Luz, Hermes was gone.

Luz didn’t have to wait long to find out what exactly the gods had done, because her Mami was calling her on her cellphone almost immediately after.

“Luz! You’ll never guess what showed up in the mail today! You’ve been accepted for a full ride to a boarding school downtown…”

And she wasn’t the only one.

“I can’t believe this!” Gus had exclaimed while the four of them were sitting on the beach just after dinner. “We’re all going to the same school next year!”

“It really does seem too good to be true,” Willow grinned, handing Luz one of the illicit cans of Sprite that Viney had managed to sneak from out of camp in celebration. “My dads are sad that I won’t be staying at home in Wisconsin, but they had to admit it is a great opportunity.”

“I’m just excited to go to a school where I finally have real friends.” Luz had never been so happy to think about the start of a new school year before. “We’ll get to go see Olympus on the weekends! Working alongside the actual gods!” Luz turned to Amity, who was watching Luz with her own soft smile. “Are your parents… okay with this? After everything that happened…”

“Oh trust me, they’re more than pleased. They see this whole internship program to create a bridge between the gods and their mortal kids as a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity'. They’re even talking about paying for Edric and Emira to go with me and hope that my ‘success’ rubs off on them. They don’t love that you guys are also a part of it though…” Amity’s expression darkened for a moment, and Luz reached across the beach to squeeze her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Luz started, but Amity just shrugged her shoulders.

“Don’t apologize, this is a good thing. I’m going to get to stay here in New York full time.”

“We all get too!” Gus grinned, digging his hands in the sand like he was holding back a squeal. “Luz you’ve got to show us all your favorite moral spots in the city.”

Luz’s smile had stretched wide, already imaging the kinds of shenanigans she and her friends would get up to running loose in Manhattan. “Obviously! The city’s huge; we could do something new every night!”

“You’ll never be able to get away from us now,” Willow teased, passing Amity an amused look as she sipped from her Sprite. Amity tilted her head back and laughed.

“Oh gods, I better stock up on Advil. Between you three and the twins I’m going to have a constant headache…”

As it started to fade to late August, Luz’s days just kept getting better. Thanks to Eda and her training paired with the other camp activities, she was faster than she’d ever been, she could scale up the rock wall in record times, and her sword skills had gotten incredibly good.

So good, that when the annual sparring tournament came up in the arena towards the end of the summer, she’d been able to knock Boscha into the dirt with the pommel of Aletheia, leaving the red-faced daughter of Ares extremely bitter and her final opponent being none other than her girlfriend.

“No chance you’re going to go easy on me?” Luz asked at the campfire that night, really only half-joking.

“Nope,” Amity replied with a little smirk. “I’ve won this tournament two years in a row. I’m about to make it three.”

To say the camp was buzzing with excitement would be an understatement. The whole camp had watched as Luz the newbie quest hero and Amity Blight had grown obviously closer, and in the three days leading up to the final tournament match, the discussion of which girlfriend would be the winner was as common as asking what the harpies would serve for dessert that night.

“Come on, kid, this is what we trained for!” Eda said, smacking her shoulders encouragingly the night before the match. “I don’t care if she’s you’re little girlfriend, she won’t be going easy on you so you shouldn’t either!”

“Knock her into the dirt!” King screeched from his napping spot on the ground.

While they were only trying to help, it wasn’t the most reassuring advice she’d ever received.

Luz tried to turn a blind eye to the gossip leading up to the fight, but it was hard to ignore Emira and Willow exchange a bet right in front of her at breakfast right before the right.

“Seriously?” Luz scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Sorry Luz, but Mittens has years of training under her belt, and I’m out of allowance,” Emira shrugged while she shook Willow’s hand.

“You don’t see the way Amity acts around her,” Willow retorted. “If she’s like that today, Luz has a good chance.”

Emira hummed, “Shoot. I didn’t think of that.”

“Oh my gods,” Luz groaned, slapping both hands to her face, sinking into the bench of the table, mortified.

Once Luz had been fitted into a set of finally well-fitting bronze armor, she drew Aletheia and met Amity in the center of the field, where Eda and Lilith were standing to referee the match. As she approached, she watched Amity coming from the other side, armor almost identical to Luz’s strapped over an orange camp shirt, the crowd of campers cheering in excitement. As her gaze flitted up to Amity’s eyes, there was a glint that reminded Luz that Amity was not the person she wanted to be on the bad side of.

It was too easy to forget weeks after their quest that Amity was a demigod force to be reckoned with and not the kind of enemy you wanted to have.

As the crowd quieted to an anticipated hum, Lilith raised her hand. Her mouth was cocked in an uncharacteristically juvenile smirk. It made Luz wonder if the campers hadn’t been the only folks at camp to place bets. When Eda shot Luz a cartoonish smile with two thumbs up, before patting her pocket knowingly, it confirmed her suspicions.

Gods. Now she really couldn’t lose. Eda would never forgive her.

“Amity! Luz! Are you ready?”

With a single touch to her own wrist, Dike sprung into its full form, lifted just high enough to cover the grin that was spreading across Amity’s face. She swung her sword experimentally in her hand, the little flecks of a glinting in the sun. “Yep.”

Luz took a deep breath and raised her own blade nodding once. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“No holding back, right?” Even though Amity had phrased it as a question, Luz knew better. It was a challenge. The nerves in her stomach faded, and a laugh escaped her lips.

“Since when have I ever held back? ”

She smirked, “good point.”

“Alright your adorable banter is literally making me sick,” Eda scoffed, “let’s just do this already.”

Lilith rolled her eyes, dropping her hand. “Begin!”

Without wasting another beat, Amity charged and swung, and Luz lifted Aletheia to deflect it. A loud metallic clang echoed around the arena, and the watching campers erupted into cheers.

It was Luz’s toughest match yet.

The two of them traded blow for blow, each pushing the other to their limit. Amity was, inarguably, better trained, with mastered precision and skill that left Luz reeling with each strike. But Luz was more creative. She was able to flick her sword at the right angle to push her off balance and shove, she was able to dodge and weave without the extra weight of a shield, and she was crazy enough to take steps closer to her and press into her personal space, forcing her to recalculate moves.

As the fight went on for some time, the cheering got louder, their arms got heavier as they began to slow down, and the fighting got dirtier.

Luz did it first, though it was kind of an accident. Amity went to swing when she’d knocked Luz off balance, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop it before it cut into her armor. Amity would have taken it out on herself later if she’d seriously hurt Luz, so it came out as more of an instinctual shout.

“Too low!”

She closed her eyes bracing for impact, but it never came. With a woosh, the sword went right over her head. She opened her eyes and saw Amity’s misty eyes clearing, before changing to a completely indignant look.

“Did you just use your Hermes bartering on me?”

She smiled sheepishly and swung Aletheia towards her, and Amity barely had time to raise her shield to deflect it.

She could hear the snorts and chuckles from both Eda and the crowd, but Luz barely had time to be proud of herself. Within the next two swings back and forth, Amity got her revenge.

Luz swung upwards, flicking the blade and finally getting a decent move that knocked her off balance. But as Luz went to disarm her, Amity’s eyes flashed and a curled smile crept up her face right as Luz brought her weapon forward.

“Don’t!”

And for a moment, all Luz could feel was the thrum of her heartbeat in her head as her vision went blurry. There was an overwhelming urge to get rid of Aletheia, back away, stop herself from getting any closer to Amity. All she could think about was how she couldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t even try. When her vision cleared, she had backed up five feet, and her sword slipped from her hand and clattered in the dirt.

She blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened before it dawned on her that she’d seen Amity do this once before. Aphrodite’s passion.

Luz looked down at the sword, then up at Amity, scowling. “Really?”

Despite the smirk on her face, Amity’s eyes were sparkling with humor and affection. “You started it.”

Luz barely had time to leap out of the way from another swing, doing her best to make a grab for the sword, but Amity wasn’t coming to play. She stepped right over it, and for a couple of moments, all Luz had was her speed. She ducked and dodged and weaved between swings, doing nothing but buying herself a tiny bit of time.

It wasn’t enough. Luz tried to make one last grab for the sword and Amity reached out with her hand, grabbing Luz by the arm and honest-to-gods judo flipping Luz over her shoulder. With a comically loud “oomph!” Luz was thrown onto her back, looking up at Amity as she grinned, her sword lifted in a faux-threatening position just below her chin.

“Alright,” Luz groaned, slapping her hand against the dirt. “Mercy.”

As Luz heard Eda groaning behind her and Lilith’s positively gleeful “and the winner is Amity Blight!” Amity sheathed her sword, reaching down with one hand and pulling Luz up to her feet.

And yeah, it was a tiny bit embarrassing to lose to Amity. But as her girlfriend lifted her fist to the roaring crowd of campers and grinned, her own hand wrapped tightly around Luz’s, she couldn’t find it in her to care.

The following night was Luz’s last night at camp before her first summer as a camper was over. She sat at the dining hall for hours with her siblings, joking, laughing, promising to stay in touch over the school year. Viney ruffled her hair and passed her an emergency pouch of Hermes tricks, while Jerbo reminded her not to be too close to this one when it exploded.

Edric and Emira snuck up on Luz at the table and informed them their parents did in fact enroll them in the same boarding school come the fall, and while Luz loved Amity’s twin siblings, the devious grin on her face did make her a bit nervous.

Right after dinner, Luz made a point to go find Eda and King, who were in their usual spot at the arena.

“Kid!” Eda said as she approached. “That was some great swordplay today.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t win, I know Lilith is probably giving you a hard time…” Luz said immediately, but Eda just held up a hand.

“Gross, sympathy. You’ve accomplished more than most first-timers this summer, and you’ve… made me proud.” There was a crooked smile on her face as Luz looked up at her, and she realized that Eda really was going to miss training with her. “Don’t be slacking while you’re gone. Keep your skills sharp. Stay out of the bad trouble, but in the good trouble. Don’t die. Oh, and if you’re getting chased by another empousai and need a quick getaway, there’s a great alley on sixty-second street-”

Luz rushed in, pulling Eda into a tight hug. While Eda huffed out a little groan at Luz’s overwhelming need to be touchy, Luz felt a rush of affection as the daughter of Zeus leaned into it anyway.

“Thanks, Eda,” Luz muttered into her shoulder.

A hand came up to pat into her hair. “No problem, kid. If Lili and I are ever heading to Mount Olympus, I’ll make sure we stop by that fancy new school of yours and say hello.”

“You better.”

"Can I come too?" King called out from at their feet, and Luz bent down to pick up the tiny hellhound scratching behind his ears.

"Yeah, can he?" Luz pleaded, and Eda rolled her eyes.

"Gods, you two are just the cutest things ever. Fine, whatever, the next time I go to Olympus I'll let him tag along."

After a chorus of excited cheering from Luz and King, it was time for the last campfire of the year. Luz finally got the true Camp Half-Blood experience. As Eda was leading the campers in a final last hurrah of songs and games, she walked over to Luz and reached out, handing her a leather necklace.

“As you all know, per tradition, every year we give our campers a bead to celebrate another year at camp. This year, the Hermes cabin designed the beads, and there is someone very special they wanted to honor.”

Luz blinked at it, taking it gingerly, and as she did Viney stood up, the twisted smile on her face visible through the crackling orange, magical, campfire.

“Luz, not only are you our newest sibling, but you helped lead a quest that not only saved Camp Half-Blood but all of Olympus. So with permission from the councilors from all the cabins, we dedicate this year’s bead to you and your quest!”

There was a whooping of applause as the beads were passed out, and when Luz took a look at it her heart clenched, affection and gratitude washing over her in a whirl.

It was a beautiful deep purple bead with a very familiar-looking sword and shield, and as she turned it in the light of the campfire, the glint of the light made it glow a beautiful magical bronze.

“So, did we nail it?” Viney asked as Luz was left speechless. Willow and Gus were grinning over at her with knowing smiles. Next to her, Amity squeezed her hand, looking just as emotional as Luz felt.

Luz leaned over and threw herself into the embrace of her half-sister, and the campfire erupted into more whoops and cheers. And yeah, Luz might have teared up a bit as she sat back down next to her friends, but if anybody noticed they didn’t comment on it.

That morning as she packed up what few belongings she actually had, electing to leave a majority of the items she’d bought for next summer, she was digging through her backpack when her fingers touched something soft. She pulled out a stiff, slick, feather, and immediately broke into a smile. Carefully sliding it across the leather to dangle right next to her bead, she clipped the necklace on and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Saying one final goodbye to the Hermes cabin, she walked out the door to go meet Willow and Gus in the strawberry fields.

When she got there, she couldn’t help but grin. Around the growing collection of beads on their necklaces, five and four respectively, a single matching feather was dangling from the middle. While none of them said anything about it at first, Luz watched as both Willow and Gus glanced down, their eyes softening with affection.

“Well?” Willow asked as she reached them, gesturing towards the now distant Camp Half-Blood. “Give us the verdict. What did you think of your first year at camp?”

“I…” Luz didn’t even know what to say. Sure, there had been the lows. The hungry belly as she traveled across the Midwest, the sword slashes, the monsters, the horrible villain who’d threatened to destroy the world. But right now as Luz looked between her friends and her new home, she felt nothing but love for her new life. The mischievous half-siblings, the rivals between the cabins, the eccentric camp directing duo that was the daughters of Zeus, Gus, Willow, Amity…

Luz couldn’t ever recall a time in her entire life that she’d felt so full.

“All I can think right now is that I don’t want it to end,” Luz finally said, and Willow and Gus stepped forward to pull her into a group hug.

“It won’t end, at least, not really,” Gus promised, his voice muffled as he was shoved into Luz’s bicep.

“Yeah, it’s just a short break,” Willow nodded, leaning her head against Luz’s shoulder and wrapping her other arm around Gus. “And in two weeks, we’ll all be together again on a new adventure.”

Luz laughed, “yeah, because the life of a half-blood is never really quiet, is it?”

“Well, that’s half the fun of it,” Amity said from behind her, and when Luz turned her head she saw her girlfriend walking through the field to join them. Her own backpack was swung over her shoulder, and she had a genuine, at peace, smile on her face.

“Spoken like a true Blight,” Willow chuckled from next to Luz, and Amity laughed.

“Well, maybe I’ll get lucky and this year away from my parents will shake some of that out of me.”

“You’re sure you’re mom and dad are okay with you staying at my Mami’s for two weeks?” Luz asked for what felt like the sixth time that week, and Amity shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m back to being their number one, despite all the… drama, that happened the last time we saw them. Edric and Emira will pack my things for school for me. Honestly… it’s kind of nice not going back to Colorado.”

After getting a first-hand glimpse into how uptight and uncomfortable the Blight Manor was, Luz couldn’t help but agree.

“Don’t have too much fun you two,” Willow teased, and Amity flushed over the sound of Gus’ laugher while Luz bumped her with her shoulder.

Whatever retort Luz would have come up with died in her throat as she looked down towards the pine tree. There, a few parents were already waiting at the border, with some campers joining them and saying hello. Among the waiting ones, Luz saw a man almost identical to Gus, and two other men standing together with their hands interlinked.

“We better not keep them waiting,” Gus said slowly, but he looked back up at Luz with a frown. Willow was standing there as well, and for just another moment Luz felt that same rush of love.

“No, you shouldn’t. Amity and I will meet you at grand central in two weeks, okay?”

“Two weeks,” Willow affirmed, and Luz pulled the four of them into one last group hug before Willow and Gus grabbed their things and went to go join their parents at the pine tree.

It wasn’t a real goodbye, nowhere near it. But Luz couldn’t help but feel her throat close up at the sight of them reuniting with their parents. Gus’ dad scooped him up into the biggest hug, and one of Willow’s dads immediately took her backpack while the other one kissed her cheek.

She felt Amity’s warm hand close around hers, and when she looked back, the daughter of Aphrodite was smiling softly.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” Luz said, and she meant it. She squeezed her own hand around Amity’s, taking a moment to really let the gratitude she had for this camp, for these people, sink in.

It wasn’t long until she saw another familiar person join the other parents near the pine tree. Luz perked up immediately at the sight of her Mami, still dressed in her scrubs. She’d probably gotten off of a shift at the hospital and rushed all the way down to Long Island just to meet her and was looking around anxiously at the other gathering parents and campers.

“Is that her?” Amity sounded nervous, and when she looked over, she was reaching up with her other hand to self-consciously adjust her mint green hair.

“She’s going to love you,” Luz promised, giving her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. “She’s been talking about how excited she’s been to meet you for like, three weeks.”

“That… somehow makes me even more nervous,” Amity breathed out. Luz chuckled, adjusting the straps of her backpack over her shoulder as her Mami finally looked up and noticed them. She beamed so widely Luz could see it from all the way up in the strawberry hills, waving towards them.

“Well, then let’s do this together.”

Amity looked back at her one more time, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Together.”

And as they walked through the fields hand in hand, slowly getting farther and farther away from camp, Luz felt her anxieties about the coming months slowly begin to fade. That was part of the magic of Camp Half-Blood. The place wasn’t just a training ground for young demigods. It was a safe haven. A family. A place that, even miles and miles away from it, you always knew it would have your back. It would be there for you, whenever you wanted to return. So leaving it didn’t feel like a goodbye, not really.

Instead, it was the promise of another new beginning as a child of the gods.

[prpledusk]

PSA: Kids please fucking stop.

In regards to recent events I just wanna go ahead and make something clear about where I stand on certain subjects, I dont have a lot of followers and for all I know I might actually lose a couple by writing this but eh. Fuck it, its tumblr.

So my oppinion when it comes to children the internet. Kids are fucking stupid.

I say that not to be mean spirited but more in the sense of "Kids do stupid shit when given the power of anonymity."

Specifically they do stupid shit when it comes to nsfw content.

Throughout my time on Discord and tumblr Ive come across muiltible sitations involving both children and adults as well as controversial and nsfw content, from a child lying about their age to gain access to said content, to adults posting minor/adult content under mine and my friends noses, to someone actually attempting to groom a minor. Its the Kingdom hearts fandom, we've had problems with preditors, and people spreading things like noncon fics since the early 2000's! Put simpley Ive seen some shit. And have a zero tolerance when it comes to Minors on the internet for reasons dealing with experience and also for the fact that I have a daughter and plan to teach her Internet safety when she becomes of age.

So here's a few bits of advice to help those in the fandom and maybe to assist in understanding why children shouldnt be posting or activly participating and comtributing nsfw content.

Children are not permitted to post pornographic content online. Ya'll can write and draw it sure but do not share it or post it online. Its illegal and can get you in serious trouble.

Do not write noncon as it not only helps in the spread of rapeculture but its insulting to actual victems, especially in cases where you may not be cappable of understanding things like nuance or lack the world experience that would tell you w h y its bad. To top it off, most of the time these fics are written by children whove never hhadto experience such a thing and see it as just an edgy way to get their kicks which again, just rubs salt in the wound.

Kids dont have to tell you their age, but if ever theres something that requires age identification simpley say "I identify as an adult/minor". Or just dont identify at all and stay away from adult areas. Easy peasy kill me pleasy.

If someone says "no" or "Im uncomfertable" please. Back the fuck off. End of discussion.

Do not post, contribute, or even dabble in minor/adult things. Yes Im looking at you Akuroku fans. I wish you all a very perish. By comtributing any minor/adult ships all your doing is helping pedophilia and MAPs become more normalized and for a minor online that is definatly not a good because it increases the chances of you becoming a VICTEM of those people.

The amount of times I had to call out adults for thinking theres nothing wrong with minor/adult things is staggering and I want to swallow glass and grind my own bones because of it, but its worth it if it makes a safer inviroment for the children around you. That being said, adults reading this: call that shit out. You obviously dont have to if you dont want to but you'll be shocked how many people you end up helping because of it.

If a minor has been getting nsfw from you, block them and cease contact. Its really the best thing you can do, and Minors? Please dont interract with adult artists and writers, you wont face any consiquence for getting nsfw from an adult but the adult can be legally charged with distribution of porn to a minor you have the potential to ruin someones life and you do not want that on your conscience.

Kids? Please do NOT share porn with other kids? Thats distribution of porn to a minor, which a minor can be charged with.

This list may be subject to update but ya'll get the picture. Back when I was a kid I made a lot of mistakes and yes even I wrote some things that I wish I never did but the difference is I kept it all PRIVATE. I made certain that Only I ever saw that stuff and never ever posted any of it publicly, and dammit it hurts to see kids who already remind me of myself when I was younger make those same mistakes within the same fandom no less.

I remember demyx time and how it consistantly made noncon jokes at the expense of minor characters, I remember Saix puppys :You got served! and how the characters where constantly sexually harassed and molested for the funnies,

I remember the near constant stream of noncon fics and how NO ONE was ever calling out this behavior in the fandom but times have changed. The fandoms changed and most of those kids have grown up and are now highly against all of that bullshit from the past and are currently calling out shit behavior and irresponsible posting but thanks to those mistakes of the past kids today see things like pressuring people into things they dont want, gaslighting, guilt tripping, and streight up minor/adult ships are fine and should even accepted. Hell proshippings apparently a thing and the more I think about that the more I get the Frenzy status.

I want this fandom to be safe. I want peoplr to come to my blogs and feel safe. I want people to talk to me and feel. Safe.

So I guess hopefully people read this and try to understand the basic do's and donts of being a kid on the internet.

In conclusion

Kids need to practice basic internet safety and creepy adults need to fuck off into the abyss.

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘set’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 3.8k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

> next

The principle of balance. 

It’s a curious concept. Like most of the things that turn people into different versions of themselves, just from an unconscious force brought to light by the sheer inner sense of competition that inhabits every single person. It’s quieter in some people. Feel non-existent sometimes. But it’s here, dormant, just waiting on the right trigger to awaken. 

You didn't think you would see it in Jimmy. The little boy lacks completely self-confidence and affirmation. But a voice and a stance, easily remarkable, end up fitting him.

It turns out that you witness it quite quickly after the Progress has started. And it manifests in the most adorable and comical of ways. 

It’s been a few weeks since you've met his dad. There wasn’t much to talk about with him yet. Every day, longer lingerings of the gaze, less tucking away in the far back of the rest of the group, more definite wordless participations during class -nodding and clapping along. The progress you've been wholly satisfied with but nothing so drastically different that you thought necessary to call his father in for. 

Nothing absolutely astonishing. Therefore you didn’t call and what a surprise this one Thursday afternoon turns out to be when he appears at your class’s doorway.

He’s wearing very casual clothes, a simple light linen shirt and some distended jeans to pair, sneakers and his hair -you've only seen neatly tucked to the side- is floating about his forehead, freshly washed and devoid of any wax. It’s a pleasant surprise, especially with the evident appearance of calm and quiet tranquillity he’s carrying. 

This man looks rather handsome when he’s on vacation, stressless and well-rested and seemingly content, you note.

“Mr Kim?”

He looks up from his son he is holding the hand of, eyes wide and bewildered as he stares a little. You chuckle, confused but amused. He’s the one paying you a surprise visit but he’s shocked when you do talk to him?

“Is it bad timing? I can come back another day...” From the look he’s giving you, or more accurately, barely sparing you, body already aiming for the corridor, you wonder if you should return the question. It'd be cruel though, to tease, therefore you choose to simply shake your head and insist on him walking in. And then it happens, the man can’t take a step inside, for some reason. He’s just paralysed, looking like a million contradicting thoughts are fighting inside his brain and he simply cannot make out the best option, if he would or not step in; and it’s Jimmy who takes the decision for him. Puffing his cheeks out in annoyance, he pushes against his father's leg, small hands pulling the bigger one towards him. It’s like watching a tiny mouse trying to drag along a giraffe. It has little to no physical effect until there’s an aggravated tiny whine of “appa”. He moves, at last, letting himself stood in front of me before Jimmy lets go of his hand. 

He gives you a look you're not sure you interpret well. Dark eyes all serious, attention loud, he seems to be intrusting his father to you. A gentle smile, hiding your teeth biting back a hilarious grin, sends him away towards the very back of the room. Taking a seat next to the bookshelf, it takes Jimmy a few minutes only after you've diverted your attention from him to grab an image book and start going through it patiently.

He's so comfortable. Almost too comfortable. He looks strange, like that. Strange because different from usual but still, oddly, it fits him well. It's like a projection, a little vision of a future little boy, easygoing, at peace with himself and his environment, that won't take too long to be born again.

And it's now the dad who's acting weird. He's standing on his two never-ending legs, the tip of his fingers toying nervously with the button of his vest, his mouth keeps teasing, opening slightly, as if about to spill a word, only to shut itself right up, a lightly aggravated sigh following soon after. It happens quite a couple of times until you get tired of waiting. Tired of the eyes avoiding you, the tension heavy for no particular reason that you could decipher, you ring him awake with an abrupt overexaggerated clearing of your throat.

"Mr Kim?" He's confounded again, caught off guard somehow. "Did you mean to discuss something with me?" It's hard to make an adult talk, you realise. Sometimes children can be difficult. Put aside Jimmy's case, sometimes children are like that. Making them want to share, especially when they are at that age where they can't express themselves and their ideas as well as they wish they could, frustration, laziness at times can get the better of them and having a fairly constructed conversation with them is like pulling teeth out of a very adamant, unwilling person. But you manage. Adults, on the other hand, have never been too much of your cup of tea. There's a reason why you chose to spend the better part of your weeks with children instead of adults. You're not that terrible at getting along with them, you do it pretty well, honestly. But the reason is probably the fact that you're not difficult. You're convenient as a person, always willing to help, always trying to be positive, you do not get in people's way and most of the times, it's enough to make it through.

You don't deal with adults the way you deal with children. With great pleasure and passion, you insert yourself into your pupils' existence, try to leave a mark and help them have the better, feel the better, be the better. Adults, you don't get too involved. They sound complicated, complexed, too many compromises, too many facets. You know because you are one too.

And Mr Kim, looking all nervous and troubled seem the very embodiment of this bias you have. He looks some sort of troubles. Probably nothing that terrible. He appears too childish for it to be that grave. But he's serious about it, about the anxiety, the struggle, the uneasiness he's feeling, you can tell, just from the way he hasn't been able to look at you in the eyes since he appeared in your class. Still, whatever it is, will cost some of your time, and with that, might clog up some very much needed space you require in this busy head of yours.

It's happened before. A new neighbour trying to get closer to you, maybe because they've just moved in the city, didn't know anyone, and you looked friendly enough and they needed someone to listen to the exhaustive list of all the things that made them leave their hometown -even though, you don't necessarily care for any of it. Or a colleague, trying to get you involved in their office dramas, simply because people need the attention, the feeling of importance and support.

Quite frankly, you've never been interested in any of them. Adults sound like too much work, especially given the fact that, as filled with flaws as they are, they are a pain, and often impossible, to fix. And they say things they don't mean. And they want things that they don't need. Their words and their acts hardly ever match. They're for the most part unrecoverable and unfixable, and you don't want any of it.

But Mr Kim and his dimples -invisible to the eye at the moment, but that you realise marked your brain so strongly you can picture them exactly where they should be winking- are piquing your interest. You're ninety-nine per cent sure it is not about Jimmy but you'd like to know. Never mind that curiosity killed the cat.

“Yes, uh-“ Clearing of the throat, scratching of the neck and more clearing of the throat. “about last time...”

You're lost. For a second, your body freezes to give your brain its full capacity to wreck through the whole place and retrieve a memory that seems to have been lost somehow, somewhere. You have no idea what time he is referring to. 

He seems so invested, so intensely experiencing his emotions you're left shocked and deeply embarrassed to not remember something that had that effect on him yet didn’t leave a single trace on you. 

He insists then, having to face your transparent confusion. The more you stand in pure oblivion, the more awkward he gets. Stuttering more, an accent, very deep, adding rough edges to his voice, colouring his words with new shades that you've never heard before.

“Mr Kim-“

“Namjoon.”

“I’m sorry?” 

“No, it’s me, I am, I’m-“ You will, later, feel terrible for it. It’s undeniable. But right now, facing this grown-ass man, usually so collected now decomposing in the most adorable red-cheeked boyish thing, you can only start laughing. It renders him speechless which in a way is almost an improvement and when you finally can restrain the giggles from bubbling straight from your belly, you start again,

“Maybe take a deep breath, take your time.” You bite your lip down to the blood, poorly concealing your grin when he actually does it. “What did you mean by ‘last time’?” You're mortified to ask, honestly, persuaded that you should know but at this point, it’s pretty mean but you don’t think you can embarrass yourself that much in front of him, not when he’s been such a mess himself. 

“When we met. When I came to talk about my son.” Calmly, diligently he answers. Like a good boy answering his teacher’s question, a shadow of worry covering his usually sharp gaze. 

“Oh, what about it?” Curiosity melts with confusion as you refrain yourself from pressing him further into elaborating faster, eager as you are to understand. You were sure he was not going to talk about him. 

“I’d been a bit much and I wanted to apologise personally to you.”

Been a bit much? 

“In what sense? I’m not sure I understand.”

“It’s just- I poured myself and our luggage on you when you’re- I know you care about my son but I shouldn’t have, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have-“

You hate cutting people off. It’s a terrible habit you are constantly trying to teach your students to drop. But here he is, struggling to express an idea that irks you strongly. Is he able to put the words he needs? Does he even know them in his own mother tongue or do they even exist? Maybe what he's trying to express are pure emotions. Unease coming from a heart shameful for having shown itself vulnerable to a stranger. You'd know about this feeling. You've experienced it plenty of times, throughout all your life. Even if it wasn’t in the form of you stripping your heart off to someone, like he did, simply showing that you cared gave you the same sense of vulnerability, of terrifying exposure you've always had a hard time dealing with. 

You hate the idea that he regrets it, especially with you. At that time, you could tell he had words to pour out. You were glad, you were even enchanted to be the one helping out no matter how small you just assumed your impact to have been. And now, he's trying to say that he regrets it?

“You said you were thankful to have someone to talk to.”

“I did say that.” He mumbles, pressing the pad of his fingers against his closed eyes. 

“Then don’t regret it. I don’t want you to be embarrassed about this, seriously. I had parents do way more, actually embarrassing, things in my career. Don’t even worry about it.” He’s thinking it over. You can tell your words have little to no impact on his bruised ego. “I’m not sure how appropriate it is for me to say that but if you need it, whenever in the future, don’t hesitate. I’m not a psychologist, but I’m just- I’m willing to listen if it can help. I mean me or anyone else, really, you should in general just share. It’s important. You don’t want Jimmy to mimic such bad habits like so, holding in and all.” You may be talking too much. The man just looks so eager to hear those words and it spurs you on. “You really shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I can understand the feeling, where it comes from, but it’s pointless with me.”

“You’re really kind.” You give a smile, only. It’s not much but you're pretty sure it’s the genuineness tinting it that renders it enough. Again, he seems surprised. As bewildered as last time but undoubtedly convinced. “I’m glad he has you as his teacher.”

Your cheeks burn intensely. You don’t know how conscious he is of his words. If he realises that he perfected the art of flattery and of slipping people in his pocket. He really did. Especially when he’s leaning slightly towards you, gaze intense and on you now that the embarrassment has vanished for the most part and he can bear looking at you, seemingly hanging out for any other words you may have in stock.

There’s nothing left for you to say though. It takes you quite a few attempts to skim over your brain, trying to formulate a sentence, any word, but you come out completely empty. You can’t even stutter a thank you from how utterly flustered you're feeling. 

Therefore you choose the easy way out. Waltzing on your heels to give him your back, your hands reaching to the barely messy top of your desk to pretend they’re busy. You believe yourself to have been sleek enough but apparently not so -maybe it’s the fact that you're just picking up stuff to put them exactly where they belong, at the exact same place. 

“Was I inappropriate? I’m really sorry, Mrs ___. Sometimes I just talk too much and I don’t realise that maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Please stop apologising. It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re just- You saying nice things that you mean,” You stumble upon the last words as if maybe you're getting over your own head to just assume and claim so loud that he must mean the sweet things he said to you but that bashful yet adorable expression he's wearing, with the eyes a bit wide and the bottom lip munched, fill you with a regain of confidence, “can’t be an issue. It’s just unexpected and- I mean you’re fine you can say whatever you want. I mean I’m not asking for more compliments, I’m just saying-“

It’s terribly unnerving. You don’t know what impression you're giving off as a teacher. Lacking so much elocution, scrambling to form sentences and turning into a messy, overwhelmed emotional mess. 

“I don’t mind giving you more compliments, Mrs ___.” Here comes that curious principle of balance again. You're half-dying of mortification and he seems to be having fun, smiling kindly, with a hint of something else -amusement, maybe even smudginess. 

Is he flirting with me? There’s no way he’s flirting. I think I’m losing my mind. 

“It’s Miss, actually.” You swear to yourself, silently, that you're not flirting back -assuming he is, in fact, doing just that- and you just mean to be called by an accurate name. 

“Oh.” He almost gasps. Looking shocked and you don’t understand what’s going on anymore. Was he really not flirting? Why does he look so shaken as if you misinterpreted his intentions and now he’s misinterpreting yours and think you're getting over your head -because you're not, you were not flirting!

“I’m not flirting with you, I’m just clarifying!” 

You hate this whole conversation. You hate yourself, your life and anything and everything that may or may not have led you to this tragic instant.

You're positive you screamed a little. You get confirmation of just that from the tiny mop of hair bouncing up in your peripheral vision, as Jimmy gives you two a slightly concerned, curious look. 

The tension is blatant. It's a mixture of irritation, of anxiety, of embarrassment. You couldn't have messed up any worse than you did and you positively want to simply die, right about now.

The mere thought that you'll have to live with this humiliation not only for the whole day ahead, blatantly hanging out at the back of your head, sometimes probably too close to your consciousness for any sense of comfort to ever inhabit you again, but for your entire life makes you want to throw yourself out the window. You decide not to indulge in the pressing pulsion only because you're on the ground floor, therefore, it would be pointless if not even more humiliating.

Mr Kim, somehow, helps a little. By not wearing a mask of pure revolt, revulsion or aggravation. He stares soundly, expression not giving off much to work with. Just enough to understand he is not mad, simply lost in his own thoughts he doesn't seem too keen on sharing.

A spark of sensibility blooms suddenly in your brain. You're so thankful for it, you jump right on it, grab it with your two hands and start again, as if nothing happened, as if you haven't just humiliated yourself in front of this man (and his son), "Jimmy has made a lot of progress, I've noted."

Mr Kim blinks a few times, unnaturally so. "Yeah? I mean, yes, I've noticed too, actually." He keeps staring with the same obnoxiously loud thoughts running in his mind. His brain is on full activity mode. It's obvious. And he doesn't care too much about talking about his son right this second (even though he doesn't seem to care much about sharing what's going through that private head of his either).

How disappointing. You sincerely thought the one subject that matters the most to him would successfully tear the attention away from you but you're a fool. Apparently, even the cute little bean of a son he has can't divert the attention from the humiliation you've just submitted yourself to.

"Anyway, I won't hold any more of your time, you must have work to attend to."

"Actually I'm not working today. I have the day off." Your lip now too sensitive, you attack the inner part of your cheek with your teeth -thankfully you've turned your back to him again, feigning observing with great attention something through the windows- to stop yourself from screeching. It takes him so long, so fucking long for him to decide, finally, that maybe he should leave. The longest dozens of seconds of your life. Staring outside, picturing him behind you, probably watching you wondering to himself how you can be so lame and how he could have thought you a good fit to be his precious son's teacher. "Ah, I should leave anyway. Your class is about to start?"

"Ah, yes. Well, thanks for passing by. I hope you rest well." It's the least genuine you've been with this man, and anyone for the matter, in so long. Your heart and mind are in such a shamble you don't actually remember the reason for his coming and if, really, anything positive came out of this conversation.

It's ridiculous how you feel, all bothered and nervous, aggravated with him for making you feel so flustered. You give him the most convincing fake smile you own, not taking the time to check if he buys it as you don't dare lingering your attention on him for any longer than the blink of the eye takes.

When he leaves, only after having scattered a bunch of smooches on Jimmy's face, you find yourself breathing again. It's like you've been holding in for so long, you're getting dizzy at the taste of oxygen again, heart beating furiously in your chest, sweating all over.

Fuck, that was painful.

You're such an idiot sometimes. Why do you have to be such a fucking idiot? It's not like you're asking much in this life, honestly. You're not aiming at any groundbreaking, universe shaking novelties. You're staying in your line, trying to be good and do good in your own little world. Not asking much, not taking without beforehand being offered. Is it really that much to ask to not be absolutely humiliated in front of one of your kids' parent, who happens to be a stupidly handsome man? (Yes, he is. You can admit that -to yourself. It's probably the reason why your brain stopped working properly, by the way.) You're cursed. I'm cursed, I'm cursed, I'm cur-

"Mish?" The quietest little call comes from the quietest little boy. Standing a secure meter away from you, his peculiar big black eyes staring with a silent demand in them, Jimmy waits patiently for your attention to be given to him. You offer it to him with great enthusiasm. Because between self-pitying your dumb ass and celebrating the first-ever-self-willingly-uttered word to you by this boy, the choice is not even to be pondered over.

"Yes, Jimmy?" He's holding in one hand your crayons he slowly tends your way, careful not to spill them all from his tiny fist. In the other one, there's a paper he's drawn on. Your eyes instinctively are driven to it, curious to see what he decided to draw when he felt comfortable enough to do it. He catches the line of your attention, evidently, and it takes him a second but then, finally, he decides you're allowed to see it. It's a too accurate copy of the ugly cat you made for him the other day. The colours are different, the traits a bit shakier yet, completely unbiasedly, you have to admit that he somehow made it look better. "That's a very pretty cat, Jimmy."

He looks at it, ruminates your words, trying to make sense of them, verify their accuracy. Suddenly he seems to decide that you're right and giving you another candid look, he returns to his table where he proceeds to carefully slip the drawing in his bag.

You realise your eyes are filled up with prickling tears while you sniff. You're not sure how much is due to this, how much the terrible, terrible encounter with his dad worked your emotions so intensely you're so sensitive now. In any case, it turns out for the better. It's this cute little cat that ends up making you and your day ahead feel better. You're so thankful for it.

Again, you know you're too involved but how are you supposed to do any different with them? Maybe it wasn't a punishment earlier. Maybe it was the storm before the ray of sunshine. It's probably the case. You're less aggravated, suddenly. Less vexed and probably more lenient on talking to this man again given, not the ray of sunshine, but actually rainbow that he may have helped cause to colour your day.

A/N: thanks for reading 💜

[lesbianavatarverseimagines]

You Left Me - Part 1 of 2

Pre-Redeemed!Princess Azula x Reader

Anon Asked:

Could you do an AzulaxReader where the reader grew up with both of the royal children and always kept them in place, especially Azula, knowing that she had mommy issues? As they get older and grow closer, the reader is suddenly declared dead after her war ship is blown up before Azula is named Firelord, which is the last strike to Azula losing her mind during the final battle? Thanks AJ! 

The events will be stretched out so that I can make them older during the canon events!

(A/N: I’m kind of surprised by the requests I got overnight, but I love it! Thank you everyone! I love you guys! The next one will either by Mai, Kyoshi, or Rangi! If I’m up to the task, I may even do all three haha - AJ)

***

It all started with my parents selling baby me to Fire Lord Azulon. Apparently they needed money that bad and wanted me to have a 'better life' knowing damn well I would probably become a palace servant. However, the Fire Lord seemed to take pity on me after learning that I was a firebender at the young age of 2, when I started learning to cook. After I impressively firebreathed at my caretaker, who refused to give me a chili pepper, he immediately heard of the incident and placed me in the care of General Iroh, who was to train and teach me the arts of firebending.

At the impressive age of 5, I’d mastered fire using non-conventional forms. I studied waterbending and airbending forms and used those to make me more effective as a master of the arts. I also took great pride in Iroh’s teachings of the mind, body, and soul. It opened my eyes to the great things I could accomplish if I had the ambition. I was also introduced to Prince Zuko and Princess Azula, the royalty that I'd be personally guarding once my training was finished. They both latched onto to me very quickly, as I had that playful charm, but a powerful aura that made them feel safe. 

***

By the time I hit 8, I was made the personal guard of the prince and princess. 

“You are to guard them with your life and keep them in line, behaviorally and training-wise, Private L/n. They are to respect you as they would me. You know what to do if they do not.” Fire Lord Azulon had told me during my official inducting ceremony. I bowed, honored to have been given a position that thousands of so-called 'masters' fought so vehemently for.

As soon as I was dismissed, I ran to the courtyard where Azula and Ty Lee were doing somersaults. Mai was sitting against a tree fiddling with her fingers while Zuko walked with his mother, Ursa. As I walked over to the three girls to tell them the news, I watched Azula fail to stick her landing. As a result, she retaliated when Ty Lee landed perfectly by pushing her to the ground. I stopped walking once I reached them and gave Azula a stern look.

“Azula, you need to stop being mean to your friends. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean that your behavior is acceptable.” I grunted out. She stopped laughing after seeing that I was completely serious and helped Ty Lee from the ground, apologizing after. Azula then skipped over to me and gave me a hug before waving her friend over.

We huddled together for a second before she whispered, “Watch this.” She skipped over to Ursa and urged her to let Zuko play with us. Once he came over, Azula demonstrated the ‘game’ that we would be playing. “We have to try to knock the apple off the other person’s head, like this!”

She shot an orange flame at Mai’s head and caught the apple on fire, prompting Zuko to panic and save Mai from catching on fire. However, he ended up tackling her into a water fountain that was behind them. Azula, Ty Lee, and I laughed and started cooing them until they walked away in embarrassment.

***

At the age of 11, we all learned that General Iroh’s son had passed away during battle and that Iroh was coming home. It hit home for me, as Lu Ten acted as my older brother after I was taken in as Iroh’s pupil. Time seemed to pass by very fast until I was suddenly in the throne room of the palace with Prince Ozai, Prince Zuko, Princess Ursa, Princess Azula. Ozai had requested an audience with Fire Lord Azulon to show the advancement of his children’s skills.

As usual, Azula excelled like a master in the making, but Zuko wasn’t at the same level yet. In the end of it, Azulon ordered me to escort the kids out of the room for a private discussion with Ozai.

While we walked out, Azula grabbed my hand and we all snuck back in to listen. I didn’t really pay attention to the heated conversation between father and son, as I was solely focused on the princess’ hand in mine. At some point, a frightened Zuko ran out, but Azula and I stayed until the discussion was over.

We ended up walking to my room, which was between theirs. After I closed the door, I sunk to the floor. I never got to express my grief about Lu Ten’s death because I was constantly expected to never show deep emotion. I forgot that Azula had come in with me, so she watched as I quietly broke down in sobs. It almost surprised me when she sat next to me and cradled my shoulders in comfort, knowing that I was going through a hard time. She didn’t say anything even after I was done and helped me out of my armor and into bed. 

“Get some sleep, Y/n. A lot of things are going to be happening tomorrow.” She said as she walked out and closed the door.

***

At the age of 13, Fire Lord Ozai challenged Zuko to an Agni Kai, making me jump up during the war council to object, as it was my sole duty to defend the prince, no matter who it was to. “No! As my duties pertain, I am the one who will participate in this Agni Kai! The prince shall not be harmed, my Lord!”

Fire Lord Ozai widened his eyes for a split second, surprised that one his most trusted and obedient guards was speaking out against him, during a war meeting nonetheless.

He fumed. “It may be your duty to protect Prince Zuko, but he needs to learn discipline! I will give you a day to train him before the challenge, but that is the only mercy I will give. Now, take him and get out of my sight, Private L/n!”

I grabbed Zuko by the upper arm and pulled him up. I then dragged him out of the throne room that had noticeably grown hotter in temperature.

Once we were far away enough, I led him to the training grounds and punched a purple fireball at him, catching him off-guard. He yelled and dropped flat on the ground, narrowly avoiding the flames. “What are you doing?!”

I angrily got into my stance. I bent my arm to where my right elbow was next to my ear with my fist parallel to the side of my face. My left arm stuck out like a punch, except my hand was opened rather than in a fist. It matched Zuko’s stance since he took inspiration from me and wanted us to have an identical fighting style.

“Fight me.” I growled angrily. “Iroh and I warned you not to speak up during the council, yet you did! Show me what you’ll do during the Agni Kai, Zuko!”

He shakily got up, realizing how angry he’d made me. He got into his stance and sent weak firelashes toward me, not putting enough momentum behind his strikes. I cut through the fire in a rage, not caring that it was burning my skin. How dare he be so weak when he had an Agni Kai tomorrow!

I firebreathed at him with what sounded close to a dragon roar. The flames spread everywhere as my anger only rose. “Y/N!” Solid arms wrapped around me, cooling me down a little bit. Azula yelled through the roaring, “Y/N, STOP! YOU’RE HANDS ARE BLEEDING!”

I listened to her on command and realized that I had obliterated most of the training equipment. Zuko was lying on the pavement again, cowering in fear while Azula held me in place. Wetness ran down my face uncontrollably. My brother would be no match for the general he was to face and I wouldn’t be able to protect him. Another person I care about would die tomorrow along with my honor.

How dare he?!

***

At the age of 16, I was promoted to captain and given my own ship to command. By this age, I'd begun to hate Fire Lord Ozai with a passion.

A while ago, during the Agni Kai, everyone was surprised when they found out that Zuko would be fighting his father rather than the general he spoke out against. When Zuko bowed and started begging for his life as Ozai approached him, I’d gotten up and almost ran on stage until the same solid pair of arms wrapped around me and held me in place again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but he has to do this on his own.” Azula had said. As much as I’d grown to love her, I had to disagree. He couldn’t do this on his own. He was a child, as were we.

I flinched away from the memory, focusing on my current mission at hand. I was to find Zuko and bring him back to the capital, as he and Iroh were both apparently traitors. Honestly though, how surprising. You give him a huge scar and then banish him, expecting him to remain loyal to you?!

I scoffed in contempt. Once I completed that task, we were to find and retrieve the Avatar, dead or alive, which was something I was wholeheartedly against.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead as a familiar voice spoke out from behind me.

“Are you just going to sit in here and sulk all day, or are you going to train with me?” I heard Azula say from the doorway of my room. I chuckled and turned around to see her giving me that signature smirk.

Azula was to be the successor of Ozai instead of Zuko, as she was the promising prodigy. Ozai tried turning her into a monster, but I was the line that he couldn’t cross. Part of the reason why he promoted me was to get me away from her so that he could turn her, but she always found a way to be at my side and get my advice. I knew she was a ticking time bomb due to the level of her father's abuse, but I loved her too much to leave her on her own. I wouldn’t let her turn into her father so long as I was alive. And that was what I worried about these days.

I smiled and bowed, to which she snorted. “Of course, O’Princess Azula. We shall duel!”

She came over and kissed my cheek before grabbing my hand to lead me away from my thinking. “I am glad that you think of me so highly, Captain Y/n.”

***

After I’d turned 19, Sozin’s comet was nearly here. I was to participate in the raid on all of the nations and burn it all to the ground. I, of course, wasn't going to do that and had joined Team Avatar to stop Ozai. 

Azula didn’t know that I switched sides, as her father sent me away a couple months ago on a ‘scouting mission’ before declaring her Fire Lord and then declaring himself Phoenix King. I knew that she would be stressed under the weight of the title without me there, so I tried my damndest to go back to her and convince her to switch sides. However, fate decided differently. 

An explosion rocked my ship and soon sent me spiraling into blackness.

I’ll find my way back to you, Azula. Before it’s too late for you.

***

(3rd POV)

As soon as Azula learned of your death, she broke. Her mental state completely broke into pieces right before her.

She banished everyone from the palace and went into a frenzied state, seeing you and her mother everywhere she looked. She’d just got done cutting her hair when she looked in the mirror and saw you smiling. Illusion!You didn’t even have to say anything for her to start crying uncontrollably. Why did the fates have to be so cruel? You should be here ruling at her side!

When she blinked, it was her mother, Ursa, standing in your place, telling her that she was loved. A brush was thrown at the mirror and shattered the glass on impact.

After Azula got dressed and went outside for her coronation, the ceremony was stopped by her annoying brother, Zuko, and Katara, the Water Tribe peasant.

"You want to be Fire Lord? Fine, let's settle this. Just you and me, brother, the showdown that was always meant to be; Agni Kai!"

Zuko agrees to the challenge after seeing that something was off about her.

"I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother." Azula growls out.

"No you're not."

***

Once the battle was over and Azula was in chains, she started thrashing around while screaming and crying. "Y/N!" She sobs. "WHY?!"

Why did you have to leave me?

***

End of Part 1.

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! I actually cried a little bit with this one. Azula deserves a redemption, so I'm gonna give her one since they did her dirty in the comics ;). Azula is 18 at the end of this but will be 19 in the next part, while you'll be 20. Part 2 will most likely be uploaded later today 8/15/20!)

As always, REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Help.”

Based on a discussion I saw between some readers last night. It gave e some ideas, and I thought I would take it and run with it :) Hope you guys enjoy!

He pulled a crate behind him. It rattled over the tarmac of the launch field as his boots pounded against the concrete. Cargo trucks and fuel tanks passed him on either side, their occupants waving in recognition as they passed him. He raised his hands to them in greeting, wincing slightly as his arm dropped back to his side. 

He glanced back at the crate, nondescript. If Krill found out what was inside…. Well he’d throw a fit, he would have called it a bitch fit, but for some reason that title seemed way too funny for what Krill would probably do to him when he figured it out. He sighed and stretched his aching back. Despite the heat out, he was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. He knew it probably looked suspicious, but the longer it took the others to figure it out, the better.

The Harbinger loomed overhead, all black lines and cold metal. He paused at the base of the ramp closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Even the smells were comforting.

He dropped his hand back to the handle of his cart and began rolling it up the ramp, a task which turned out to be a little more difficult than he had foreseen, and he struggled with both hands to drag his cargo up the incline. Suddenly his load lightened, and he turned to find Ramirez pulling with him.

“Morning, commander, what the hell do you have in here, bricks.”

“Actually I have your mother.” he grunted, pulling harder.

Ramirez snorted, “Dare you to say that to my mother’s face, she’ beat you about the head with her sandal.”

He laughed, “Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

Together they made it to the top of the ramp panting, “Seriously though, where have you been. You’ve been gone for like a week. Krill and sunny have been freaking out.”

He smiled slightly, “They would, and don’t worry. I’ve been requisitioning some stuff for the ship.”

“More jetpacks I hope.” Ramirez muttered.

The commander smiled, “Don’t I wish, but no, all the important boring stuff.”

“Where-have-you-been.” His smile grew stiff, and he sighed turning around to find doctor Krill marching up the deck towards him.

He stepped in front of the crate, “Participating in all kinds of heinous debauchery I assure you, you know like, gentlemen’s clubs, and drug houses, smoking shrooms and whatever the kids are doing these days.”

A hand patted his shoulder, and he looked over to see Ramirez smiling, “You eat shrooms commander, you don’t smoke them.”

“Hmm well shit, that’s why they weren’t working.”

The doctor stormed up, “You always think you're funny, and I never do. So where were you!”

“Like I was telling Ramirez. I had to step out to requisition some parts. I should have left the Lt. in charge, so I don’t see why everyone is so hot and bothered about it.”

Krill stepped forward, looking suspicious, “Why are you wearing that…. In the middle of summer?”

“Pure laziness Dr.” he said waving a hand, “Besides, I was overnight in the car, and just woke up as we were getting here, still trying to wake up. Now if you don’t mind.” He pulled the crate after him and down the hall greeted by other members of the crew as he passed. The spiderlings rushed to say hi, but were on their way almost as soon as they had said hi heading down the hall and out to make mischief. Following behind them, conn floated with extra interest, his eyes seeming to bore into the commander.

“You won't say anything? Will you?”

“I don’t give up internal secrets, but you need help.”

“Yeah and you need to stop being creepy as fuck, but we all have our little problems.” The two passed each other continuing forward. HE had almost made it to his quarters when a new figure stepped up before him. He sighed sufferingly and pulled to a stop as Sunny stepped up in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest, “Where have you been.”

He threw his hands in the air, “Does anyone realize these days that I am a grown ass man who is allowed to go leave and do things without telling everyone about them.”

She looked at him suspiciously. Perhaps a little confused.”

He kicked himself, he never usually talked to her like that.

He let his voice soften, “Don’t worry, I had to requisition some equipment, had a long night.” He motioned to his door, “Don’t mind if I slip in to catch a few winks.”

She eyed him, and he frowned; he did not see why everyone seemed to concerned, but she stepped aside and let him through holding the door open for him as he pulled the crate inside.

The door hissed shut behind him, and he locked it closed with a snap.

He sighed dropping the handle to the crate and walking over to the floor’length mirror along one wall.

He pulled back the hood and stared at his face for a long moment. He looked tired, bags under his eyes and sunken cheeks, but nothing too bad beyond that, maybe just a little pale around the eyes.

He grunted in pain again as he reached up tugging at the zipper of his sweatshirt pulling it down to show he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

He pulled it off and dropped it to the floor giving himself a closer look.

This is what he couldn’t let krill see.

“Well shit. He muttered to himself turning this way and that to examine the hundreds of small red patches over his chest and abdomen. He reached a hand down to touch them, small red and slightly scaly in nature. He hadn’t had hives since he was in elementary school, but he supposed physical manifestations of stress were better than the mental alternative, besides while Krill wouldn’t have liked to see him covered in hives, he definitely wouldn’t have  liked what was above that.

Tiny disks of clear polycarbonate under a tiny metal rivet. 

From here the little pieces were visible on his chest, biceps, forearms, back of his hands, hips and stomach.

He turned around where to see where a line of them went down his spine from the base of his skull to the upper part of his tailbone, which he couldn’t see 

He took a deep breath and stepped towards the mirror, “Come on, do better.” He muttered to himself. Time to grow up and do what needed to be done.

No one trusted him to make these decisions, which is why he hadn’t told anyone. If he trusted them o trust him he would have asked krill to preform the procedure, but he knew the doctor would never have agreed.

He turned back to the crate and knelt to flick the lid open. The lid popped with a hiss, and he paused with a deep breath before pushing back the lid. He paused to look down at the contents breathing hitching and speeding up. His body went cold and then warm and then cold again.

He had to shake himself as he reached down and ran his fingers over the metal.

Now to test it out.

He took another deep breath. 

No one understood just how much he would do for the UNSC, for Earth. No one could understand what he was willing to do. All of them would just assume he was insane or…. What? Broken? Desperate? Confused?

He wasn’t any of those things.

He Tugged off the rest of the clothing and, Like the scientists had directed, he sat on the edge of the crate and slid backwards positioning himself just right before lying back. He closed his eyes listening to the sharp snap as the first rivet fell into place at the base of his skull. 

More sharp snapping noises came, and he expected agony to come with it, but when nothing did he cracked an eye and looked about. He was fine, no pain at all, though maybe a little pressure.

He sat up using his hands to secure to the rivets around front, locking them around his feet and then his hands.

He stood, the cold metal of the ship hard under his bare feet. Hydraulics hissed and clicked with him as he walked slowly back to the mirror. He paused before it’s reflective surface.

Project Iron eye, the progressive follow up to steel eye (though their choice of name was questionable.

A painless, drug less evolution of the first model, but that required permanent implants into the body to work.

He had made the decision upon learning about the project.

He had consulted no one, spoken to no one and visited with no one.

This was his choice, this is what he needed to do. Whether people liked to admit it or not, he was one of the few people standing between the entire GA and a universe full of threats. He needed to be prepared for anything, he needed to be stronger faster and more prepared than anyone else to make ready for the things he might be asked to do in the future.

The scientists had been hesitant to allow him to participate. They had no idea what a project like this would do to someone with trauma related to Steel-eye. He was, in essence stepping back towards his trauma and forcing himself to wear it like a rope around his neck. Where therapists and psychologist would have suggested moving on from his trauma, he had done the exact opposite.

He looked away from the mirror.

It was alright, as long as he didn’t look at himself he would be fine. His ody clicked and hissed as he moved around the room. Memories battered at the edges of his mind, but he stood firm forcing them back.

Not this time.

Not this time.

He-would-NOT-break. He was done with that. He was done being a loose cannon, he was done relying on other people to help him through his own personal issues. He was done being a child.

He was a man and needed to start acting like it.

He turned back and walked over to the mirror forcing himself to look, forcing himself to stare at the steel that encases his limbs and hands, forced himself to stare at his augmented body covered in that parasitic leaching thing that had destroyed his life so many years ago.

He would look until it stopped bothering him.

Even if he had to sit here all day 

He nearly leaped out of his skin as a knock came to the door. He yelped pushed violently back and nearly went flying across the room as the IE suit responded. He staggered fell over metal clattering against metal with a horrendous crash.

“Adam! Adam are you ok! “

He cursed violently and got to his feet, “yeah! Fine ! You just startled me. What do you need.”

“You sure you’re ok, that sounded like a pretty big crash.”

“Fine, knocked the table over.”

“Can I come in.”

“No I’m naked.” he announced hurrying back over to the crate, sitting on the edge and swinging his feet up, allowing the mechanism to pull from his body and hiss into place inside the crate.”

“You serious?”

“Yes I’m serious.” The rivets clicked open with sharp hisses.

“What is that noise?”

“Are you going to keep interrogating e, or do I get to change in peace?”

He was growing frustrated with constant questions. The last piece clicked into place, and he opened it up crawling form the locks and allowing it to click shut. Then he pushed the crate under he bed and hurried to the closet to grab his uniform quickly pulling on the pants, undershirt and jacket adjusting the cap on his head hoping that none of the rivets would be visible.

He walked over to the door and unlocked it.

“Now you can come in.”

Sunny poked her head into the room, “I thought you were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Just remembered I have a meeting.”

He saw her eyes flick down towards his hands, and he quickly turned away from her to secure his jacket into place discreetly pulling on the gloves before she could see.

“Maybe you should cancel. You need your rest.”

He stepped up to the mirror straightening out the last pieces of his uniform, ‘I can sleep when I’m dead.” He turned on his heel and walked past her patting her on the shoulder. Her eyes were still narrowed as she looked around the room.

He hurried past her out the door adjusting his cap.

***

He suppressed a yawn as he sat in one of the USNC conference rooms surrounded on all sides by brass both higher and lower in rank than he.

Someone raised a hand quieting the voices.

“Our first order of business, Commander.”

All eyes turned to look at him, and he straightened up hands clasped on the table before him.

“We’ve discussed our most recent missions, and I don’t know if I speak for everyone , but I am worried about you, and your crew. That is…. A lot to take on in such a short amount of time.”

He nodded his head doing his best to channel his father, calm and collected, “Yes Ma’am which is why I have requisitioned R&R for my men as well as full pscyh and physical evaluations to be run before our next deployment.”

“And you, commander?”

He felt his face tingle with nerves, “I have a lot to do for our next deployment, but I am sure I can fit something in.”

“Something you might want to consider doing sooner rather than later.”

He turned to look at the man who had spoken, “I’m sorry, Major, but perhaps I don’t entirely understand your implication.”

“I am saying that you are a loose cannon commander.” He sat back in his seat glancing around at the others who shifted nervously clearly agreeing with the man but unwilling to say it.

“I have a near perfect mission record, if not perfect.” He said calmly.

“But your methods are extreme.” Another voice protested.

“I would prefer extreme methods to dead men.” He forced his voice to stay calm.

“Have you been counting the amount of times you have almost died. The amount of missions that should have been suicide. Commander, I am beginning to think you are determined to martyr yourself to the cause. Some of our consultants have suggested suicidal tendencies.”

He sat back in his seat unable to contain his surprise this time around, “Suicidal tendencies.” he repeated, “I think you misunderstand. I have no desire to die, in fact dying scares me, as it does most people. That is why my  missions are successful, because I will do everything in my power to avoid dying.”

“Commander, the only reason we haven’t already grounded you is due to your popularity with the GA, and your integration into their command structure.”

“Grounded!” He took another deep breath. No he had to stay calm, they would take any outburst even understandable as a sign he was off his rocker, “On what grounds?”

“On Every ground commander. First we should ground you simply on principle of what you have gone through these past few months, war, imprisonment, returning to the steel eye project, The incident with the jetpack. You have been showing erratic behavior both physically and emotionally. You are not well enough to be making decisions for a military vessel much less the entire universe.”

HE took a couple of deep breaths, “Grounding me would be a mistake.”

“Why is that.”

He tilted his head, “Simply sir, space is where I am most comfortable. To ground me here on earth would only cause added stress to what I already have. It would be counter-productive.”

“That simple admission just demonstrates why you can’t be rusted.”

“No. if you took someone who loved the forest more than anything and put them in an urban environment it would cause them stress. That is a normal human reaction to being put in places one does not want to be.”

This is not your decision to make commander….”

“No, but maybe I should remind you of a few things.” he stood slowly, “Perhaps you intend to release me from my duties,or move me into a job where I can do no harm, but there is a simple reality you have not considered.” He rested his hands on the table, “I am the most valuable man in the universe right now and this is not simple narcissism on my part, it is a logical fact that I have been forced to accept. I speak three alien languages to near fluency Drev, Vrul, and Tesraki, I am sentinel of a Drev clan, and part of a second. After the debacle with the hybids, I am the only person the adaptid queen will speak with. If I am grounded the entire Tvek homeworld will dissolve into chaos.  I am familiar with and well-informed as to the Rundi command structure and the proper way of addressing, interacting, and making suggestions to the council. I am the only person who can communicate with the starborn. Lord Celzex will treat with me only. I have thousands of valuable contacts who owe me favors, who gather information, and who trust me with their lives. I am, unfortunately, one of the most popular and well followed men on earth. If I am grounded it would cause a media and civilian uproar. Recruiting would drop marginally.” he paused. He could have continued but it was getting almost excessive.

“You seem to think highly of yourself commander.”   

He shook his head, “Not that, I am simply giving you facts. If I were to speak while thinking highly of myself, I would simply remind you that I am the most accomplished pilot in the galaxy, I have more flight hours, more simulation time, and am the only person who can out-fly a burg frigate in open combat with an overheated warp core.” 

The room sat silent before him.

“As this goes on I will only get more experienced and by the time I am a proper age with the proper maturity you all wish for, I will be the single most valuable man in the entire universe.”” 

More silence.

The commander took a seat, “One last addition to my list.” he said quietly.

They all stared.

“I have the lowest mortality rate of any UNSC vessel despite being the longest operating. My ship has the highest ratings of moral and ob satisfaction. My men are loyal to me, and I am loyal to them.” He looked up at the surrounding table, “I would do anything for the UNSC, and anything for my men. You have seen what I will do,s o ask yourself if it is worth loosing what I can bring.”

***

He sort of just wanted to throw up.

The hives were beginning to itch, which wasn’t a good sign, but he had kept himself together during the meeting, and, as of yet, he had not been grounded.

He walked up the ramp and back onto the ship smiling weakly at those he passed.

He needed a nap, so he made his way straight to his room.

He was already thinking about his nice soft pillow as he threw the door open simply intending to pull off his jacket and hat and sleep in his uniform pants, but when he stepped in, he froze.

Eleven pairs of accusing eyes stared at him from the interior, and flicking his eyes around he saw the crate lying open on the floor.

Shit

Shit 

Shit 

Shit!

Ramirez stood up and approached to where he was standing in the door. The commander tried to crack a smile, “This some kind of intervention.”

Ramirexz didn’t crack a smile, instead grabbing him by the arm and pulling of his glove tossing it to the ground.

The little metal disks glittering in the iridescent light above.

The eyes around the room grew even more accusatory, but he didn’t bother to hide it. This was going to happen sooner or later, he had just hoped it would be later rather than sooner.

When he looked up, he saw that Ramirez’s face was twisted into an expression of pain, rather than the anger he had been expecting.

“Ramirez?” He asked in confusion, but the other man  cut hi off placing his hands on his shoulders to look him in the face. It seemed as if he was trying to say something, but gave up and suddenly hugged him, tight.

Adam went with surprise into the crushing hug feeling the man’s desperation as he whispered, “Commander, please, you need help.”

He tried to find words, but it was harder than it should have been.

“Please, you need help.”