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waywardstation · 4 months

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I'm Glad You're Here

It is Akari's sixteenth birthday, and a surprise party is thrown for her. She isn't able to appreciate it as much as she wants to though, and Ingo can tell. Emmet also struggles with facing his first birthday without Ingo, but Elesa is there for him.

HAPPY (VERY LATE) SECOND ANNIVERSARY PLA!! What a wonderful game that has given me many friends and creatively compelled me for more than two years!! I tried to get this out on the date, but lots of things made it very hard to. So now it's out on valentine's day instead, so I'll just excuse it with saying this is my love letter to PLA haha, and it fits with palentine's day, as it contains a lot of appreciating friendships and found family.

I wrote this including three prompts that I had gotten, such as requesting something about Akari or Ingo dealing with their birthdays in Hisui, Ingo and Akari acknowledging the found family dynamic I write them with, and Akari talking a little more about her own family.

OR read it here on AO3!

Enjoy! —————

“Goodnight, Akari!”

“Hope you had fun at your party, Akari!”

“Happy birthday, Akari!”

Standing by the Galaxy Hall’s doors with Ember at her feet, said teen thanked partygoers and bid them goodbye as they trickled out into the chilly autumn night. Protecting themselves from the ongoing rain as best they could, they were quick to make their way down the steps and back to their village homes.

“Oh, Professor! Rei!” Turning away from bidding goodbye to Darego and thanking him for the photos he took, she saw Laventon and Rei were next to leave. “You’re heading out now too?”

“Unfortunately so,” Laventon seemed a bit sheepish, as if apologetic for leaving despite the event having already ended. “Early mornings filled with paperwork are not the most forgiving of late night festivities. Otherwise we’d stay and properly take care of that whole disaster upstairs!”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Akari waved him off with her hand. “I already said Ingo and I would take care of it! Honestly he’s probably already done by now, so it’s fine, you guys can go home! You both already did so much for me tonight with this whole party, anyways; I don’t know how you did it!”

Laventon returned the smile she gave them both with one that was twice as big, seeming very proud with the compliment. “Well it was quite a delight to finally reveal all this, I’ll say; having to keep all of it hidden from you for the last few weeks was by far the hardest part!”

“You did a good job, I had no idea until everyone shouted ‘surprise!’ , honestly.” Akari shrugged her shoulders, giving a little laugh about it. “Thank you for all of this, Professor.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear girl!” Laventon held her in a tight embrace when she stepped forward to give him a farewell hug. “Once again, happy birthday!”

“And Rei, you too; thank you so much for the party,” She next reached out to grab her friend’s arm and pull him into a hug when Laventon stepped aside.

“Well of course-!” He choked out with some strain, crushed in her sturdy grip but doing his best to return the embrace. “You deserved it!”

As the two moved out the door to head back for the night, Laventon gave one last look back, shielding his eyes from the rainfall with one hand. “I hope you have a very good night, we’ll be seeing you tomorrow!”

“Yes, goodnight Akari, happy birthday!” Rei added on, following behind.

“Goodnight, guys!” Akari made a show of waving and bidding them both goodbye, but as Laventon made his way down the steps first, she reached forward and grasped the end of Rei’s scarf, tugging him back.

“Rei, wait!” She whispered, pulling her confused colleague back to her. “Real quick-”

Before he could even protest, Akari reached around behind the Galaxy Hall’s door, and handed him a small woven basket. Holding it out, she waited for him to take it.

“Here, take these. I know the Professor would say no if I tried to give it to him. But it’s for you both, as thanks for putting this whole party together for me.”

Rei studied the basket for a moment. Quickly picking up the sweet smell coming from inside, he put his hands up. “Akari, thank you but we couldn’t take that, those are yours!”

“I know, but please; I love Radisa’s cakes, but I also have a ton of dango from Beni, and Cyllene got me all those imported pastries from the Ginko Guild, and Floaro made me a whole box of muffins…” Akari explained, numbering all the confectioneries with the fingers on one of her hands. “There’s no way I can eat all of them by myself, and I’d rather someone gets to enjoy them rather than let them be wasted!”

“Rei!” Amongst the rain, the professor’s voice called out from down by the units; he’d finally noticed he was gone. “Are you coming?”

Looking back over his shoulder at the call of his name, Akari took the chance to shove the basket into Rei’s hands, to his surprise. “Hey!”

“Uh-oh, yours now!” Akari put her hands behind her back and took a step away from him, a mischievous grin on her face — Rei was now entirely stuck with them. “Guess you gotta take them now!”

“You can’t just- that’s not fair!” Rei seemed stuck between amusement and exasperation as he looked between her and the professor’s direction, caught in the middle of two different options and no proper time to consider them. He shook his head.

“Agh, fine! Thank you for these, Akari, really-” With a free arm, Rei pulled Akari into another quick hug, before whipping around to rush down the steps, protecting the basket as best he could from the rainfall. “Coming, Professor!”

As her colleague made his way down the steps and into the rain, Akari waved him off until he disappeared. Once he was out of sight, the teen’s big smile waned into a more neutral line, and she turned to go back inside the hall. With Ember quick to follow behind as she headed for the staircase, the door closed behind her.

The drizzle continued on.

—————

“Did we miss another spot?”

Ingo glanced over his shoulder from where he stood up on a chair. Akari had entered the otherwise-vacant room, Ember at her heels while she pushed stray paper streamers aside from where they dangled.

“It appears we overlooked the ceiling,” The warden returned to the task at hand, stretching an arm back up to scrub as Akari came near to watch him. “And I’ve overestimated how stubbornly bean paste clings to surfaces once it’s dried. Would you mind holding that bucket up for a moment?”

“Even up there? Man, Beugene really did get it everywhere, didn’t he?” Akari laughed as she retrieved the bucket from the table and held it up to him – she could already hear Beuregard profusely apologizing again to her tomorrow for letting his wurmple get into (then burst out of) her cake. He really could stand to keep a better eye on Beugene, seeing as Miki’s staravia almost flew off with it the other day, but she truely hadn’t been upset at the incident. It had honestly been too impressive seeing just how much cake and paste the little Pokémon had managed to splatter all over the walls, carpet, and guests to feel mad about it.

“Thank you,” Ingo dunked his paste-covered rag into the bucket, wringing the soapy water out generously before going back to work on one last spot. A couple thorough scrapes, and the last of the cake seemed to finally be gone.

Ingo handed the rag back to Akari as she reached out to take it, having already placed the bucket back on the table. She set it aside as the warden took one last look around the room from atop the chair, a final scan. “There. While I wouldn’t be surprised if a Galaxy Team member somehow finds another spot somewhere tomorrow, that should be the last of it.”

“Ok, now get down,” Akari gestured to the floor with one hand while she held the chair with the other. “Don’t want you hurting your old man back.”

“I’m not that old,” Ingo played along with her teasing as he always did. But regardless, he began to step down with a soft grunt that did suggest some tightness, at the very least.

Normally, Akari would have pursued it with more of her usual teasing, like asking how old he really was then — he always came up with something funny when she asked that. But she knew he didn’t really remember his age. And yes, he always said it didn’t bother him in the grand scheme of things. But reminding him he didn’t have that right after they had finished celebrating her sixteenth birthday felt uncomfortable, especially considering he didn’t remember his own birth date either. So she left it there this time, watching him get down.

“Well, exploding cake and its messy aftermath aside, I’d say your party was quite a success; what an array of festivities we had tonight!” With his feet back on the ground, Ingo sang his praises as he set the chair back where it belonged against the wall. “I’m glad to see the sudden rain didn’t dampen the mood; it’s good the professor had opted for an indoor celebration! I do hope you had a good time and enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah,” Akari began to pick the few remaining scraps of colorful paper out of the carpet, though with a contradictory tone. “I did! It was really nice tonight.”

Ingo’s frown tugged slightly. He pulled down a bundle of streamers and crumpled them together, but he kept a careful eye on her. “…It was all alright, wasn’t it? Because I can understand if the whole, well, cake incident is still upsetting, what with no one actually being able to have any.”

“No, no-” Akari waved it off and turned away from him as Ember handed her a mouthful of paper she had picked up herself, though it also felt avoidant in nature. “Sorry, no, it’s not that. Really, that didn’t bother me! I’m just tired, I guess. It was a really late party!”

Ingo didn’t quite buy it with the way his features held tight. “Well then, that makes two of us I suppose.”

A couple times tonight near the party’s end, he had wondered if something was bothering her. It surely seemed so, but asking unobtrusive questions and gently inquiring if certain things were ok had come up with nothing but reassurances. But still, something felt wrong. As the evening went on, Ingo had been suspecting it went a little deeper.

And when the teen asked if he could possibly stay back and help her clean up, he was afraid it went even deeper than he initially suspected. Like, displaced-person-problems deep. Something he would come the closest to understanding out of everyone here. It was her birthday today after all, being spent in a time period she didn’t belong to. He could easily see it being a day of conflicting emotions, if that was the problem.

But Ingo didn’t know if Akari was simply seeking company from him, or conversation. And if it was as personal as he thought it was, he would never ask about it before she was ready. So for now, he would stick to the former, but he was prepared for the latter if she asked for it.

“Ok, I think that’s all of it.” cramming the last of the colorful paper scraps into a wad, Akari dropped the last of it into a bucket they’d been using for trash. Besides a table standing a little crooked, and a few chairs a little out of line against the wall, it seemed they had restored it to its previously-clean, empty state. “Thanks for staying after to help out, Ingo.”

“I was happy I could be of service,” Picking up the scraps-filled bucket and stuffing the streamers into it, Ingo went for the doorway and stood at the exit. “Before I dispose of this and depart, is there anything else you’d like any assistance with?”

Another chance for her to get out what was clearly weighing on her. But only if she wanted to. Grey eyes patiently watched her as she looked off to the side, clearly considering what to say.

“Um. I’ve got like, a ton of gifts downstairs.” Akari pointed down, in general reference to the floor below. “Would you be able to help me take them back to my unit? Normally I wouldn’t mind a couple trips, but the rain…”

Ingo gave her a flat-lined smile. “Not a problem at all. I’d be happy to help you carry the extra cargo.”

–––––

The drizzle was there to greet them all when Ingo pushed one of the Galaxy Hall’s doors open with his back, holding it open as Akari and Ember hurried out. Carefully going down the slippery steps, they hurried down the empty street to the teen’s unit, burdened with various birthday presents.

“Quiw!” Ember reached the door first, and eager to get out of the rain, squeezed through the moment Akari opened it by a crack. To the teen’s dismay, her Pokémon began shaking the freezing rain out of her fur with a vicious full-body shake.

“Ember, no! You’re supposed to do that outside!” Akari scolded the quilava as she opened the door the rest of the way, but she already seemed resigned to the fact she’d have to dry the floor and walls off later. She opened up her damp blue hanten, now bulging considerably with boxy shapes, to quickly remove the gifts she had sheltered inside it. At least they were still dry.

Ingo stepped into the doorway after her, holding his own similarly-bulging coat closed around the rest of the gifts. Akari retrieved a towel and began to chase after a protesting Ember with it as the warden placed her presents down near the door, but he then stepped back out to wait under the unit’s eave. He wanted to minimize how much rain he tracked inside – he wouldn’t add to the trails of puddles that Akari and Ember were currently leaving all across the floor.

“Ember! You’re dripping everywhere!”

“Qwill!”

Akari was completely absorbed in catching her Pokémon, Ingo could see. He supposed part of him had been curious if she had wanted him to come with her so she could share what had been bothering her – maybe she just hadn’t wanted to say anything at the party, which was understandable.

But now he supposed not, and that was ok. Maybe she’d share another day. Or maybe not at all. But regardless, he had given enough openings for it, so it was now entirely up to her on if she wanted to share or not.

“Well,” Ingo cleared his throat, “I suppose I should get going then, and leave you two to enjoy the rest of your night.” He pulled his cap down further over his eyes in anticipation of going back out into the rainfall. “But I’d like to say that I had a wonderful time at the party tonight, and thoroughly enjoyed being a part of it. I hope today’s celebrations made for a fulfilling and memorable day with those close to you, and I wish for even better ones in the future. Once again, happy birthday Miss Akari, and goodnight.”

“Wait! Ingo, wait-” Akari abandoned the chase. Throwing the towel at Ember (who was subsequently swallowed up by it in an instant), she came back to him. Arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed tightly as she hugged him. “Thank you. For being at the party, and for helping me after. And for the really nice birthday wishes too.”

“You’re very welcome.” Ingo returned the hug as best he could. “Sixteen is a special milestone, after all.”

The restraint that was Akari’s arms only tightened instead of loosening. She stood against him, turning her face into his tunic and let out a long sigh. She didn’t say anything immediately. Ingo wondered for a moment if he had said something wrong amongst those ten short words.

“...Sorry, I know you’re tired and you have stuff you gotta do tomorrow, and you’re trying to leave,” She finally looked up at him. “But, would you mind sticking around for a second? It won’t take that long. But, um, I can make us some tea.”

So she did want to talk to him.

Ingo’s frown once again pulled into a neutral line, his eyes indicating a reassuring smile behind the shade of his hat’s brim. He would certainly be tired tomorrow, but he found that didn’t bother him much in this moment. “Of course.”

—————

“I… don’t believe I follow. What do you mean it didn’t count?”

“I mean it didn’t count, because today can’t actually be my birthday. Like I didn’t actually turn sixteen today.”

With one hand absentmindedly stroking alongside Ember’s back as she curled further into his lap, Ingo watched Akari take the steaming tea kettle from off the irori. The warmth from the pit was a welcome heater against the cold breeze of the cracked-open window behind him — he would have preferred it closed, but Akari liked to listen to the rain. “But today is the date of your birthday, correct? Did we get it wrong? Oh dear, I… I apologize profusely if we did!”

Firsthand embarrassment crept close. No one ever liked to have the date of their birthday forgotten, or gotten wrong. Secondhand embarrassment trailed behind. He knew Akari would never have the heart to tell everyone they got the wrong day after everything they had planned. It must have been so awkward to know the whole time and not say anything for everyone else's sake; no wonder Akari seemed so bothered today.

“Woah, no, it’s nothing like that!” Akari briefly stopped pouring the tea, surprised at how flustered Ingo seemed to get. “Sorry! No, you guys didn’t get it wrong! And I mean technically, today is my birthday. But it's also… not?”

“...While that is certainly a relief, I’m afraid I am still in the dark.” Ingo insisted.

She had told him once that some things felt wrong, like her name. It hadn’t seemed wrong and she certainly felt it as her own, but for all she could remember, she could never recall the name ever leaving the mouth of her friends or family during moments with them. Not even her mother.

She had considered when she was put here, some personal information had been messed with in her memory to ‘protect’ things. She said it would make sense if her name was one of those things. She also said maybe she was entirely wrong and had watched too many time-travel sci-fi movies, a concept he could only dimly recall once re-explained at length.

Ingo couldn’t tell her if she was right or wrong about that. But he was aware of her thoughts on this by now, and he wondered if she had begun to suspect if her birth date was one of those altered things as well.

Setting the kettle back over the irori and getting up with the two cups of tea, Akari handed one to Ingo as she sat down next to him against the wall. Ember, who had previously been comfortable in Ingo’s lap, immediately abandoned him for Akari’s instead. “Um, ok. Let me try and think of how to explain this… Oh, wait- I have stuff I’ve written-”

Leaning over Ember, Akari reached into her satchel, now placed near her bed. She pulled out her Pokédex and set it across her quilava’s back. Ingo, both intrigued and surprised, sat forward to get a better look. She had written things down about this? He watched her flip through the back pages until she reached the sections she had been looking for.

Notes. Dates. Scribbled out nothings. Timelines of the year by its months. Arrows, jumping backwards and forwards on said timelines. Numerous question marks etched deep and dark with frustration.

Page after page. Attempt after attempt trying to understand.

Ingo blinked, keeping down a reflexive mouthful of questions. Whatever this was, it had been bothering her for a long time, clearly. And she had been trying to figure it out by herself the whole time, because this was the first he had heard or seen anything about it.

“Ok, so I remember that before I was put here, when I was still at home, it was almost spring. It was at the beginning of the year, nowhere close to my birthday! But after I got here, and I first showed up on Prelude Beach,” Akari held up the Pokédex, tapping at the page. “I learned that here, it was almost fall. And only a few weeks after my birthday!”

She was tapping at one of the many timelines she had made that took up two pages, surrounded by notes and question marks, and overall seeming to be one of the simpler ones. All of the months of the year, in chronological order. There was a blue dot on March, and on August, a red dot — an arrow connected the former to the latter.

“I skipped like, five months ahead into the year when I was brought here. Kind of. I went back in time, but like, that doesn’t affect my age, does it? So looking at it that way, I really just kind of lost five months, if I went straight from March to August?” The notes lost Akari’s gaze as she blinked up at Ingo, as if wondering if she was even making any sense to him. “Right?”

“Uhm,” while the diagram she had written out certainly helped visualize the jumble somewhat, this was still a lot for Ingo to process. He sat back, scratching under his hat with one hand. “I might require another run-through or two to fully comprehend it, but I believe I’ve grasped the gist of it. That seems probable.”

Perhaps it was because he himself had no birthday, year, date, or even season of his own to compare with as a reference point anyways, but he’d never really given much thought to something like this. It made sense though, he thought. Just because someone went back in time on a certain day, doesn’t mean they’d show up in the past on that exact same day, down to the second. Akari certainly could have showed up here, with the year five months ahead from when she left her own time.

Not that it even mattered much, but maybe something like that had happened to him as well.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I know all of this sounds so confusing, and all these scribbles probably aren’t helping. It was hard trying to figure this out with nothing but books to use as reference.” Akari seemed to become self-conscious of her rant; she closed her Pokédex and set it down at her side, replacing it with her cup of tea. “But I know dates aren’t the same. It was technically my birth-day today, yes, but not my birthday . It hasn’t been an actual year since my last birthday. I honestly don’t count myself as turning sixteen for another five months.”

“Well, I can understand the conflicting emotions with the celebrations now.” Ingo swallowed down a long sip of tea in order to verbalize his sentiments. He did not understand, though. Not entirely. When he listened to her talk, he heard confusion, and perhaps a little self-directed frustration. He didn’t exactly hear the well-hidden sadness he saw at the party.

This didn’t feel like it was all of it. But he was beginning to suspect he knew what the rest of it was, and he would not broach it himself.

“It was entirely unintended, I’m sure you understand, but all the same, I’m sorry to hear that the party brought up unwanted reminders.” He added on another statement to address it as best he could, more genuine to his true thoughts. “I’m sure the others would be too, if they were aware.”

“I know, I know… and I feel bad about that.” Akari confessed. “But they didn’t know. And I don’t want them to.” She looked down into her tea. “It wasn’t like, obvious that I was bothered at the party, was it Ingo?”

“Not particularly,” He half-lied. It certainly hadn’t been obvious, but it had been enough for him to suspect something, at the very least. He couldn’t speak for anyone else though, and he doubted anybody would ever be able to guess the reason if they did notice anything. “I don’t believe anyone would suspect themselves as the cause of your troubles.”

“You were asking me a lot tonight if I was ok.”

“An exploding birthday cake can be quite a distressing matter.”

The dry humor got a little laugh out of Akari. “…Yeah, ok. But. It’s just…”

Ingo waited.

“I don’t know,” she stumbled, though Ingo could see she very clearly knew. “The party wasn’t really the problem. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate everything they did, because I really did! I know it took a lot of work! But… I dunno.” She stumbled again. “You saw the party tonight. It was huge! And it’s not like it wasn’t super fun, because it was, or that it was too much for me or anything, because it wasn’t , but I kind of just…”

Akari shrugged, looking off to the side. Ingo watched her, patient as she set her cup down on the windowsill behind them and began fidgeting with her scarf.

“I don’t know, I guess I wished my mom had been here to celebrate it too.” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Even though I know that’s impossible right now. I just didn’t want her to miss it. Or more like do it without her, I guess. She would always talk about how turning sixteen was so big and so important, and it was going to be a special milestone. Just like what you said earlier.”

Oh. So it was something he had said.

“I think my mom was looking forward to this birthday more than I was!” Akari continued. “SO I felt bad that I did it without her. And I really miss her a lot, all the time. And I know she doesn’t know what happened to me. And I’m worried about that, and I just… Yeah. I didn’t want her to miss it.”

Ingo bit the inside of his cheek; it was what he suspected it to be – missing her family. Her mother.

But despite all the growing suspicion he let build up inside him over the course of the night, shamefully, he still wasn’t quite sure what to say. Akari’s mother was rarely the topic of their discussions, on account of the teen’s own emotional distress over it. Ingo never tried to bring it up on his own, and treated it with caution the few times she would bring it up herself, but it meant words always came slowly and with much difficulty when they would turn to it.

“That’s why today just can’t be my birthday. I want to be back with my mom by the time it actually is.” Akari kept handling the fabric of her scarf. “Because tonight I just kept thinking about how she was missing it. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever have something like that again. And I’m afraid that she thinks that too.”

“Oh, Miss Akari,” Ingo set down his own cup as she looked back up at him, sniffing with newly-misted eyes that threatened to well up. The sign that that was all she was going to say on the matter, and she was done. He opened his arm when she leaned closer to him, and she slumped into his side at the invitation, rubbing at her eyes to catch anything before it could fall. “I’m so sorry, I know you miss her dearly.”

A child separated from their mother. A mother who doesn’t know what happened to their child, or if their child is dead or alive, and is only more inclined to assume the former as time goes on. Except the child is not, and has no way to reassure the mother, or comfort her — no way to tell her she’s still alive, and that she hopes she doesn’t somehow suspect it’s her fault, and that she’s thinking of her every day while trying to find a way back to her.

It should not be this way.

But it is.

Ingo’s heart hurt; did he leave behind some terrible situation like this as well? Broken hearts and unanswered questions? It was easier for him to forget possibilities like this sometimes, when memories were not there to remind him of them.

“I do.” The teen settled more comfortably, rubbing at her eyes again when Ember reached up to lick at any stray tears. Her voice was shaky, but not uncontrolled — she took a deep breath to regain it. “It is really hard.”

Gears were turning in Ingo’s head, trying to figure something out. What could he say to this? She had been upset to the point of tears, and he wanted to comfort her. But he could not offer a promise to her, telling her she’d get back to her own time, see her mother again, and celebrate with her the way she wanted. Because as much as he wanted it to happen for her, he just did not know if it would. And Akari knew he did not know. Telling her something like that would just be empty, and maybe even painful. And he felt that lamenting the ghosts within white-out memories was a different kind of heartache compared to the vivid grieving over separation from one’s mother. Or maybe it was. But he didn’t know if in trying to console her with relatability, he would end up referencing too much loss, or not enough. What could he possibly-

“But it’s been easier. With you around.”

All the overworked lines speeding through Ingo’s mind halted. “...Oh?”

“I mean, you’re like the only other person in this entire world that can understand this whole thing right now. Like, really understand it. Even though I know they’ll listen, I don’t really know how to bring this stuff up to other people sometimes, because these aren’t things that anyone can really help.” Akari went on, seemingly not even noticing that he had mentally stalled. “Like I obviously couldn’t tell Rei or the Professor the party made me feel like this after all the time they spent putting it together for me, that would be terrible. And I don’t know how obvious it was, but I kind of took a long time working myself up to even tell you tonight. Even though to me, you’re like my, um…”

A very heavy pause as she mulled over her words.

“...I don’t know, my time-travel buddy here.”

Akari pet Ember as she talked, who by now had settled back into her lap, seeing as there were no more tears. Ingo found some appropriate humor in the title she gave him, but was otherwise quiet. She wasn’t finishing her sentences with a tone that suggested she was really done; it seemed like she kept wanting to say more but was cutting herself short.

“So… thank you for listening to all that. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to that really understands what I’m talking about.” Was all that came out instead, all that summarized her feelings on the matter. “I just wanna say I’m glad you’re here too, so I don’t feel so out of place, or lost, here.”

Ingo took in a breath, ready to thank her for such kind words and add in a reassurance that yes, he was there for her, but it seemed the moment of silence had led to quick reflection, then overthinking; Akari became noticeably flustered, suddenly leaning off of his shoulder to sit up straight.

“I mean, wait, no-” She stumbled. “I’m… I’m not saying I’m like, happy you ended up here just to make me feel more comfortable or anything, of course not! It’s terrible that it happened, especially the way it did! Obviously! I’m just-”

A pause to gather her thoughts.

“I’m… thankful I have someone else who can understand my situation, and helps me. And I’m not alone in this. Is what I’m trying to say. If that makes sense.” Akari finally killed her choppy ramble by taking a hasty sip of her tea.

“I understand,” Ingo tried to reassure the flush of embarrassment on the teen’s face; it hadn’t come across like that at all. “And as long as we’re being honest, I must admit I hold similar sentiments.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. Staring at the square of dim moonlight stretched across the floor from the window behind them, he watched the shadows that the rainfall projected as it came down outside. She told him she appreciated that he listened and talked through these things with her, but he hadn’t said much of anything yet. Well, now it was time to do that.

“I hope I’ve been transparent enough about just how much your arrival has changed my tracks for the better.” He started slowly, idly turning his cup of tea in his fingers. “From when I first arrived here until our routes crossed, I felt… entirely derailed. You know that. I’m even sure you can recall that disposition from when our tracks first crossed.”

“Yes,” Akari slowly allowed herself to settle back against his shoulder. She didn’t really give their first meeting much thought these days. Looking back, it felt polarizing to compare him to the man she had first been introduced to, now paling as distant and directionless in comparison to how he was now.

“But I’ve regained an amount of myself that I thought was indefinitely lost due to your assistance. I know that I lived in a time period comparable to yours, if not the very same — wouldn’t that be something?”

It had to be the very same, Akari just knew it was.

“I also know that I conducted many exciting battles alongside someone who enjoyed them just as much as I did, if not more. And I know that this someone was similar to me in many ways, and very dear to me. Perhaps family, from what I’ve gathered at this point. And while the identities and locations are still quite blurred, I’ve recovered many fragments that indicate I was fortunate enough to be loved by friends and family, seemingly up until my sudden derailment.”

Akari recalled the times when Ingo first remembered these things. When she first helped him recover shards of these cracked but significant recollections, whether purposely or accidentally.

He always cried.

Whether that was uncontrollably in the moment with her, or later in the evenings when he had resigned himself to the privacy of Lady Sneasler’s den, there were always tears.

She knew it hurt him to recall such loving, warm, comforting memories when all his situation did was serve as a reminder that it was out of reach, had been for a long time, and may still be for much longer. Questioning if it would ever be felt again by the same people who extended so much love to him, and he couldn’t even do them the decency of remembering their faces. Weaponized grief accusing him that it had all been taken for granted – that it hadn’t been appreciated enough back then.

Akari knew, because she would cry over similar things when she was alone at night, sometimes.

But she could do that. She was a teenager. Teenagers could cry.

Ingo was an adult. Adults could cry too, but it always felt harder to deal with when it was them. Especially when it was Ingo. Ingo, someone who always comforted her. Ingo, who didn’t cry.

At least, he didn’t before he started regaining these memories that she’d helped recover.

“But, it…” Akari looked down into her cup of tea, conflicted. In a way, she felt like Ingo was thanking her for simultaneously helping and hurting him. “I mean, it feels like-” She didn’t know how she wanted to phrase it. “-I know it hurts a lot sometimes, to remember. Would you… knowing what you know now, would you rather not have, um…”

It seemed Akari was becoming disheartened with the question, probably beginning to find it an insensitive question to ask. Ingo understood what she was getting at, and she realized that.

“Nevermind,” she finally ended the struggle and cut herself off. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” Ingo reassured her. “It can be quite hard, yes, to know what I’ve been removed from. It weighs heavy on my heart when I stop to reflect on it. But I know I have something to return to now. And while it can be painful at times, it is, to me, a welcome change from the plaguing hollowness of loss and confusion. I would not have, well… myself without you, and for that I am immensely grateful.”

It was heartening to see his words put her at ease, but he realized he was getting off track from what he was trying to express.

“ Ahem, all of this is to say; likewise, Miss Akari, if I had any say in the matter, I would not wish for you to be displaced here either. Yet you are. And as unfortunate as it might feel sometimes, all one can do is make the best of their situation. And there was nothing either of us could have done about our destination, but your presence at this station is a pleasant one, both in company and agency.” Ingo cleared his throat. “I am thankful for our friendship.”

“Me too…” Akari sounded almost choked up again, her voice quiet. “ See, you always know what to say. Thank you.”

The ambience of the rainfall against the unit’s eave became prevalent as conversation died. They sat like that for a while. Whether listening to the rain or replaying the conversation in her head, Ingo didn’t know what it was that Akari was doing. But the relative darkness in the room, the internal warmth of the tea, and the relaxing pattering of rain against the roof outside was a very dangerous combination for him. His eyes were already growing heavy, he should probably get going before he falls aslee-

“Hey Ingo,” The warden started when he felt a bony elbow suddenly nudge him in the side. “When we both get back, I’m gonna have another birthday party, one on my actual sixteenth birthday, with my mom there so that she doesn’t miss anything this time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ingo yawned, sitting forward to help rouse himself from the weakening grip of sleep. She was treating an ‘if’ like a ‘when’, and he sometimes warned her about doing that, but he found that right now especially, he couldn’t not indulge her a little.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna have tons of balloons, streamers and confetti everywhere.” Akari leaned her head against his shoulder to look back at him. “Like so much, even five days after the party, you’ll sneeze and confetti will still come out.”

“Every proper birthday party needs that.” Ingo couldn’t help but huff a laugh through his nose at the visual she’d constructed. “What colors for the theme?”

“Everything’s gonna be blue, of course!” She knew that he knew her favorite color would be the only choice. “You know that! Oh, and also, one birthday cake that’s the size of two! To make up for the one that exploded today!”

“What flavor?”

“Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. So everyone can have a flavor they like. And-” Akari sat up and fully turned to him, like this next part was serious. “I'm gonna have every single one of my friends and family come. So that means you’re going to be invited too! And anyone else you wanna bring! I’ll get to introduce you to everyone there!”

Ingo smiled. Because it did sound nice, truely. But the small smile quickly dulled. Indulgence aside, he didn’t want to encourage setting herself up for hurt. “You know I would love to. And if I can, I certainly will. However… Miss Akari, I truly hate to bring it up, but please be mindful of what we’ve talked about. I wouldn’t want there to be… any hurt. In case our tracks do not run as close as expected.”

Hopeful prospects built upon skewed expectations are terribly vicious if time reveals those expectations are wrong. It would leave deep wounds if they did go back to their own times, only to be separated by a gate of decades that stretched so far, they’d only ever be able to assume that’s what had happened, and never know for sure. But it would hurt more if they had convinced themselves that would not happen and took that as fact.

And so Ingo did not.

And while Akari had said over and over that she did not either, he could tell that really, deep down, she did.

And all of this wasn’t even considering the very real possibility that Ingo might not have a ticket back home like she did. She had told him time and time again that she’d drag him back by the arm if she had to, and stop anything that tried to keep her from doing so, but… what was a teenager against the Unknown?

“I know, I know.” Akari said it with concerning brevity. “But we have to come from the same time. How could we not? You also know what Pokémon gyms are, and contests! And you actually know what double battles are, too. And you know what cellphones are, and pizza, and video games!”

“It is… convincing.” Even though it was more vague than anything that narrowed things down to decades, not a single year, Ingo decided to just leave it there for now. This was not something to talk about at length tonight. Not after all she had just told him.

“So you’re gonna need to come! I really want to introduce you to my mom. I know she’d wanna meet you after all you’ve done for me! Knowing her, she’d probably try and repay you with tons of home-baked things, and I need to warn you she’s going to hug you with the strength of an ursaring trap.”

“Ah, well now I know where you get that from.”

A quick, simple sentence said without much of a tone, but Akari caught the humor of it. She laughed into her tea. “No, hers are like three times as strong as mine!”

With her leaning into her cup, Ingo did not see the playful look she gave him in the stretch of silence.

“And, just thought you’d like to know, she’s single too…”

“O-oh-” Ingo found himself sitting forward suddenly, his ears steaming hot with sudden embarrassment at the implication. Arceus, of all the ways for her to confirm his suspicions that a father probably wasn’t present. Surely not- “I- no no, with all due respect Miss Akari, I don’t think that would-!”

“Kidding, kidding, I’m kidding!” The teen shouted in between laughs, pushing his shoulder playfully and giving him a big, stupid smile. “Geez, you’re always so easy! I know! That wouldn’t work anyways, you’re like… the weird, distant uncle I didn’t find out about until like a year ago, if anything.”

“Weird uncle?” Ingo snorted at the notion, perhaps a bit too loudly — he hadn’t been expecting that, but it was certainly less heart attack-inducing than the former proposition.

“Yes!” Taking his laughter as disagreement more than surprise, Akari shoved his arm again. “I mean, you let me do a lot of things that I don’t think responsible parents would let kids do-”

“Because I’m- I’m not your parent,” Ingo hastily tried to correct her, still somewhat processing the topic. “And I’m not letting you, I’m simply ensuring you’re performing the proper safety checks when doing them!”

One would have much more success trying to properly equip her with tools and knowledge than to try and stop her from doing anything she was set on doing. Anyone who knew Akari well enough would know that.

“Yeah, well, I know my mom would kill me if she knew of all the dangerous things I was doing, and you don’t. There.” The teen poked him several times to drive her point home. “That’s what uncles do. And, you respond to my jokes with more jokes, and you like all my pranks-”

“I wouldn’t say all of them,” Ingo squeezed in, shaking his head but allowing himself to laugh a little.

“-and you let me hang around you like every time I come by, and you listen to my problems, and you help me when I need it-”

“You make it out to be a chore, I assure you it’s not-”

“-and! And! I don’t know how you do it, but you can fall asleep anywhere within like, thirty seconds.” Akari started snickering, looking back at him to see his reaction. “You were doing it like two minutes ago! I’ve only ever seen three types of people do that.” She began numbering off with her fingers, “Dads, uncles, and grandpas. You kind of best qualify for the latter in that area because you’re like, super super old, but…”

“Hey!” Now it was Ingo’s turn to nudge her with his arm – she was already joking with him again. She laughed more freely this time, quickly settling back against his shoulder.

“Point is, you’re um, kind of what I wished my actual uncle would have been like when I was growing up… if that’s not too forward to say. You’re the weird, distant uncle. Except the weird is a good weird, and the distant part wasn’t your fault. I appreciate that you um, basically look out for me here. It helps with missing my mom.” She finished, ending it by returning to her cup for another long sip of tea.

What a confession.

Ingo had known she had grown very attached to him over the months, and he could not deny he had done the same. She had made it very easy, he supposed; her frequent company filled time that had previously been spent alone, and those times were much happier now. And while he had grown to feel some sense of responsibility over her – she did often follow advice or guidance from him anymore, so logically there was some responsibility there – but he hadn’t thought much past it. He never felt like he had to.

However, she basically just admitted she felt like his ward, if he could compare it to anything. He had not known she had grown to see him like that, exactly – he wasn't sure he even saw himself like that – or when that had even first begun.

But it was comforting, in a way. Whether he had a spouse or children before Hisui, he did not know – he very much doubted it, but realistically, he didn’t know for sure. And siblings? Or parents? The scratched-out faces and names that haunted his cracked memories never made it clear. Those people could have been family, but they could have also been just close friends, and while that was certainly family in its own way, it was… hard, not really knowing.

And although he certainly did consider the Pearl Clan his family in Hisui, eternally indebted to Irida and the rest of the clan for their kindness to him, the circumstances of his acceptance had unfortunately felt purely obligatory or pitiful by some. It felt... different. And he didn't know if that would ever change.

So it was nice to hear someone call him family.

Akari had never said that phrase explicitly, but basically confessing of her own volition that she saw him as a member of hers was, in all honesty, painfully consoling and cathartic.

Ingo realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He turned to address the teen; she was sipping the last of her tea, but her cheeks were pink now, eyes down as she pet Ember with her other hand – she had grown self-conscious of her vulnerability in his silent processing, perhaps thinking he didn’t reciprocate the proposed connection. Or worse, he thought she was clingy for it.

She had confessed everything to him that she’d held back earlier, hadn’t she?

“Well, I am glad to know I live up to the expectations then, Miss Akari.” He made sure to give her a smile, still turned down in the corners but clearly, genuinely happy with his eyes. “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

Very few words, but relieving and emotional all the same. Arms reached around his shoulders to give another steel trap hug. “Thank you. For that. And for talking with me tonight. I know I said it would be quick, but…”

“It’s quite alright. I’m glad we could talk as well.” Ingo picked it up when she trailed off, squeezing her back with an arm in a side hug.

Weird uncle.

Yeah, he supposed he could get used to that.

“Ok then, you’re definitely going to need to come to my real birthday party now, no way you can’t.” Akari finally let go of him. Ember leapt off her lap and onto the floor as she moved to stand up and collect both of their tea cups, now empty. “And you’re gonna have to start showing up to family barbecues too! And your own family’s gotta come too, so you can introduce them to mine, and we can get even more get-togethers!””

She was joking, but he could tell she also was not. Another pang of future uncertainty dampened the sentiments, but Ingo looked past it as he made his own move to get back to his feet, and help her put everything away. “I can certainly try my best to do so.”

Hmm. His own family too.

His heart ached. He did wish he could remember them. He found himself wanting to meet them just as much as Akari did, if not more. (Surely though, he did.)

A part of him once again wondered if they missed him the way he missed them. Or the way Akari missed her mother.

—————

“Thank you, Elesa. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Please, don’t even mention it! You know I’d never pass up another opportunity to drag you around with me.”

Emmet pulled his cap down over his eyes as he stepped out of his apartment to join his friend. After he locked the door, the two of them began to make their way down the stairs to the street below. “Though I’m happy to go with you, I'm sorry to hear about Skyla. That was very unfortunate timing.”

“It really was; she said she’s already feeling better, though! She just told me to tell you to enjoy the premiere for her.” Elesa hooked her arm around Emmet’s as they continued down the steps.

It genuinely had been unfortunate timing for Skyla to catch a cold only a few days before the premiere of Pokéstar Studios’ newest movie that Elesa had a part in. But even if she hadn’t, herself and Elesa had long before agreed that they were going to come up with an excuse to take Emmet in her place anyways.

His birthday was not until tomorrow, and while many things had been planned with friends and family to occupy the day with good times and love, Elesa did not want him confining himself to his dark apartment tonight. Things were often just as painful the day before, as well.

“Skyla’s name is on the ticket.” Emmet absentmindedly observed as she handed the decorated slip to him. The dozen pokeballs within his coat weighed heavy for a moment. “And all of my Pokémon will be there, not Skyla’s. Will I have to show them ID or something?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it when we get there.” She reassured him. “Again, last-minute stuff, but I can work that out pretty easily.”

“Mmm,” Emmet hummed. That seemed like it would be his only response. But as he continued to scrutinize the name on the ticket, he spoke up again. “It’s ok, Elesa. I know that this was not last minute.”

While she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, Elesa also couldn’t say this wasn’t unexpected. Emmet had always been very good at picking up on things.

She just didn’t want him to think this was being done out of pity or anything.

Which maybe part of it was, how could it not be? But moreso, Emmet was her friend. And she wanted him to have something to think about other than grief tonight.

“I’ve been saying it’s last-minute too much, haven’t I?” She asked, seeming a little rueful.

“Yes, you have.” Emmet sounded almost amused as they continued down the steps. If he was bothered, he certainly wasn’t showing it. “But you also have not said a thing to me about my birthday all week. That is verrry unlike you.”

Harassing himself and Ingo with silly cards, gaudy gifts, and at least one big activity the week of their birthdays. Making Ingo and Emmets’ birthdays a week-long, inescapable reminder of the big day they shared was Elesa’s style of celebration. Not this.

But to be fair, just like how this year was… a first for Emmet, it was a first for her too. It was a first for everyone. Emmet understood why she was walking on eggshells – their birthdays had very much been an Ingo-and-Emmet thing. One was not without the other, ever.

Except this year, it was.

It was understandable why people would be nervous to bring it up to him in all the ways they had before. They were afraid it would serve as a reminder that someone was not there anymore to celebrate it with him. And they were right, it would. But while Emmet appreciated the sensitivity, he didn’t want a careful birthday where everyone was afraid of how to handle him. It wasn’t intended, but it would be demeaning.

“I’m sorry, Emmet. I just didn’t really… know how to do it this year.” Elesa confessed what he had already known. They were practically at the bottom of the stairs now. “And I didn’t want to say or do anything that would be- I didn’t want you to be alone, or thinking of anything that’ll hurt right now. I just want you to feel as loved and appreciated as you are, not sad. Not on your birthday.”

“I do feel loved.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs and stepping onto the sidewalk, Emmet stopped so that they could talk face-to-face for a moment. “Tonight I was invited to an event that was very much not planned last-minute, with my dear friend, to see a movie that she is in. And tomorrow, I will get to spend the entire day with friends and family. And even after that, when I am back in my apartment, I have all of my Pokémon, who need me as well. You all do a verrry good job of making me feel loved. It is a good birthday already.”

“Oh Emmet,” Elesa let go of his arm to reach out for him. She settled into his shoulder as she gently hugged around his neck. Emmet reciprocated, arms secured around her back.

Emmet knew tomorrow was going to be different. Difficult, certainly. For the first time, only half of him would be there. The reminders were still daily and constant, but tomorrow they were going to be a little sharper, a little more poignant. He couldn’t avoid that. But he did not want to try and bury it – he had already slipped into that once before, and learned how destructive and painful it was. And he certainly didn’t want others to feel like they needed to as well for his sake. He was hurting, and a part of him always would regardless, but he was not fragile.

“And it is ok to talk about Ingo.” Emmet spoke into Elesa’s shoulder. “It will be his birthday tomorrow too. And even if he is not right here at this moment, I would not want him to be excluded from it.”

“Alright,” There was relief in the way she sighed, squeezing him a little harder.

“Thank you, Elesa.” Separating from the hug, Emmet gave her a reassuring smile, though it was not without a hint of melancholy. “You are a very good friend.”

At the edge of the sidewalk, a sleek black car pulled up to them and stopped, engine thrumming quietly.

“Oh, that’s for us,” Sniffing, Elesa carefully wiped at her eye and cleared her throat. “You know, Emmet, I’m really…” She stopped, seeming to think better of it. No more apologies or condolences for tonight, she was supposed to be cheering him up. “...I’m glad you could come with me tonight.”

“I am too, very much.” Emmet seemed doubly grateful for the lighter change of topic. He followed her as she led him over to the car, and opened the backseat door for her. “I have not gone with you to one of these in a while! Last time was several years ago when you took Ingo and me with you to see that terribly cheesy rom-com you had a cameo in.”

“Well, funny you should bring that up,” A bit of Elesa’s playfulness slowly began to show itself again, a smile brightening her features as she scooted across the seat to make room for him. “Because lucky for you, tonight’s movie is also a romantic comedy!”

“Blech!” Emmet made an exaggerated gagging sound as he stepped into the car after her, which sent Elesa into a fit of laughing while he closed the door. “I will be watching this for you, not for the romance!”

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risustravelogue · 1 year

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Valentine's Period Pains

Summary:

Bedridden on what was supposed to be a special date. How fun. So he came to visit you instead.

Featuring:

Boyfriend!Alhaitham

Tone:

Fluff! Hopefully it soothes the pain a bit (it kind of worked on me).

Note:

Happy Valentine's Day! 💚 I didn't plan on posting anything, but since I already started a period-related headcanon-turned-fic fluff anyway (because I'm having my period… ugh… the PAIN), I decided to finish it up and post it today. (There's a headcanon-format fic for the selfship collab I reblogged last week that's still in progress. I'll post it later today or tomorrow.) Enjoy~ 💚

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

Your first period after becoming Alhaitham’s girlfriend came on what was supposed to be a Valentine’s Day date night.

He had visited your office to pick you up and hurried to your place after your coworker told him you didn’t show up for work. Your landlady, who opened the front door, told him that you’re having your monthly guest and showed him to your room.

“Your boyfriend’s here to see you, honey,” she called. You wordlessly opened the door for him and staggered back into bed. After thanking your landlady, he followed you inside, quietly observing your room. He sat beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Period cramps suck,” you replied, your face buried into your pillow.

He caressed your arm. “Have you eaten anything today?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Do you want anything in particular? I can go and buy it,” he offered.

“Mmm… a big roll of lamb kebab would be nice,” you mumbled.

He thought of giving you an “I’ll be back” kiss on your lips, but decided against it and placed it on your temple instead. You were being too cute and vulnerable for your own good, and he was afraid he couldn’t hold back. He returned half an hour later with three rolls of lamb kebab and a mug of hot cocoa.

“Your favorite,” he smiled. “Two standard rolls are more than one big roll. The other one’s for me.”

You gave him a weak sheepish smile. He took out a roll, unwrapped it, and handed it over to you.

“I’ve read some books about periods,” he says while unwrapping his kebab, his verdant eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I’m wondering about how the cramps actually feel.”

You think for a while. “Well,” you begin, “for me, it’s like my insides are being ripped into shreds, then twisted beyond recognition. Sometimes not in that order.”

He winced. “And you have to go through that every month?”

“Pretty much,” you said. “I get lucky sometimes, though.”

His expression turned into one of deep thought. “So you have to endure both the pain and the bleeding.”

“Yep.”

“No wonder you have days when you always look like you’re almost fainting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That… explains your postponing our plans once a month or so when we were working on that assignment together.”

“Yeah.”

You chewed on your kebab. A few seconds passed before your eyes widened upon fully realizing the implication of what he had said.

“Haitham?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hmm? What is it?”

“How do you even still remember that?”

“Oh, that,” he chuckled. “My memory’s always been good,” he said, shifting closer to you. His free hand cupped your cheek, wiping away the sauce at the corner of your lips. “But it’s always the best when it comes to you.”

You felt your face going hotter and hotter. “Oh, shut up,” you mumbled.

He pushed away your kebab-holding hand and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I will, once you tell me if there’s anything more you’d like.”

The first thought you had was please cuddle me, but then you remembered the way he jerked away his arm when you tried to physically flirt with him a few days ago. A milder option would be…

“Is it okay if I sleep on your lap?” you said, a shy smile on your lips.

He squeezed your free hand. “Of course, after we’re done eating.”

You spent the rest of the day just eating and reading books in bed. His fingers found their way to your head once you snuggle into his lap. The feeling of them running through your hair and massaging your scalp sent shivers all over your skin—the good kind. Needless to say, you slept very well that night.

—

You woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside your window.

You were a bit disappointed that Alhaitham was nowhere to be found, but you tried to shrug it off. It had only been a few weeks since your confession, after all. It was too soon for him to stay the night with you. Then you noticed that there’s a bar of your favorite brand of chocolate on top of a handwritten note on your bedside table. You couldn’t help but let out a squeal after reading it:

Good morning. I hope you’re feeling better. I’m sorry for not staying for long. I’m afraid I’ll end up unwittingly taking advantage of your vulnerable state the longer I spend the night alone with you. Leaving you without saying goodbye was a tough decision, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Still… I might have stolen a kiss or two. Sorry about that. Rest well. I’ll see you tomorrow, my love. –H

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #kurisu writes

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boyrobott · 2 months

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everybody's got a little glory

"I don't know how to play poker," Astro says.

Read on AO3.

"I don't know how to play poker," Astro says.

Everyone else turns their heads to look at him and he realizes, with the sudden burn of a flush in his cheeks, that he probably should have spoken up about this before they settled in their usual seats around the rickety kitchen table, and Hamegg dealt out the cards. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he probably should just go ahead and excuse himself from the game right off the bat, since he honestly doesn't know how to play, but he's not totally sure he can do that and not come off as rude to everyone else — and he doesn't want to miss out on an opportunity to spend more time with his new friends, anyway.

"I'll just sit out and watch for the first round!" he adds, quickly, before they feel like they have to pause everything just to explain the rules to him, or something. They've been so wonderful to him over the past few days, welcoming him right into their family and their home like he belongs here just as much as they do, and he doesn't want to be even more of an inconvenience than he knows he must be already. "If I watch what you guys do, I can figure out how to play from there. And then I'll join in the next game."

There's a second of silence, and then Hamegg chuckles. "Aw, jeez, kid, there's no need for all that. Why don't you and I just play as a team for the first couple of rounds 'til you find your legs? I'll explain everything as we go, don't worry."

"R-Really?" Astro reflexively sits up a little straighter in his chair at the offer, a tentative smile taking over his face even as he tries to suppress it. He really wouldn't mind if he has to sit out a game or two, honestly, and he's sure he can pick up on the basics through observation, but the way Hamegg says why don't you and I just play as a team and I'll explain everything as we go—

It reminds him of something a father would do with his son.

Astro pushes the thought away before it can settle too deep in his brain, and leaves his chair in favor of the one right next to Hamegg at the head of the table — Sam happily swaps seats with him for the low cost of another one of his pizza slices at dinner tomorrow night. As soon as everyone else has turned their attention back to their cards, shuffling them around in their hands and fanning them out to get a good look at them, Astro leans in close, dropping his voice to a low murmur, and says, "Thank you, Hamegg. This is really nice of you."

"Nah, don't sweat it," Hamegg waves him off with a flick of his hand. "You're part of the family, son. And family helps each other out."

Astro can't swallow around the sudden lump in his throat.

"All right, let's get started," Hamegg breezes on, throwing an arm casually around Astro's shoulders and holding his cards out in front of them, so they can both easily see the hand. He lets out a low whistle of apparent approval. "Now, how about that, kiddo? See, you're giving me good luck already."

Astro blinks blankly at the jumble of clubs, hearts, and diamonds staring back at him — and he knows there's really no such thing as luck, good or bad, and Hamegg is just making it up to be nice, but a warm, golden spark of shining happiness flickers to life in his chest, anyway. "I-I am?"

"Heck, yeah, you are. Look at this, we've got—" Hamegg pauses, right there in the middle, to throw a playfully suspicious glance at the others, and then pointedly drops his voice down to a dramatic whisper, so silly and exaggerated that Astro laughs, "—three kings right here, and an ace high! And we haven't even gotten to the trade-off yet."

"…I have no idea what any of that means," Astro whispers back, after a long, silent minute of trying to figure it out, with absolutely no success. He slowly lets himself sink into the warmth of Hamegg's side, smiling wide as he looks around the table at all of his new friends — his family. They're his family. Hamegg said he was part of the family. Hamegg called him son. "But it sounds good to me."

#astro boy #astro boy 2009 #tetsuwan atom #mighty atom #astroboyfanweek2024 #astro boy fanfiction #astro boy fanfic #astro boy fic #astro boy 2009 fanfiction #astro boy 2009 fanfic #astro boy 2009 fic

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lady-wallace · 8 months

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Whumptober Day 30 - "Creature Comforts" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

A wholesome one for today's @whumptober fic

~~~~~~~

Prompt Used: Borrowed Cloathing Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Characters: Team Bucciarati

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

1: Abbacchio

Bruno Bucciarati had seen a lot of desperate men in his line of work, but few who looked as depressing as Leone Abbacchio, standing in the foyer of his apartment, soaked to the skin and dripping like a stray cat.

"You can shower if you'd like—there might still be hot water this time of night," Bruno told him, tucking the umbrella beside the door. "I'll find you something dry to wear."

The man shook himself and nodded, taking a hesitant step toward the bathroom door as Bucciarati pointed it out.

One he had provided him with a towel and showed him how the shower worked, Bruno hurried to his room and tried to find something for their guest to wear that might actually fit—Fugo definitely wouldn't have anything.

Bruno sighed, rummaging through his drawers, pulling out a pair of sweat pants that were slightly long on him and a plain t-shirt.

It was then he found the lump in the back of his drawer, fingers tangling in soft knitted cables. He hesitated slightly, but pulled the sweater out, holding it up. It was still definitely too big for Bruno, always had been.

Part of him wanted to put it back in the drawer and keep it for himself, but his father had also instilled in him the importance of helping those in need. So, Bruno would pass it on to someone more in need than him.

When he heard the water turn off in the bathroom, he knocked on the door. "I'm leaving some clothes out here for you. You can come to the kitchen when you're done and I'll get you something to eat."

He set the stack of clothing down and headed to the kitchen to start making some coffee. Even he was chilled after being out that night and he'd remembered the umbrella.

It was a few more minutes before Abbacchio showed up with wet hair and the too-short sweatpants. The sweater however—a dark blue wool with chunky cabling down the front and an open ribbed collar—fit him just about right. If not slightly long in the sleeves.

"Can I get you some coffee?" Bruno asked.

Abbacchio winced, still standing there as if unsure of what to do. "I—thanks, sure," he mumbled. "Thanks for the clothes too. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's not a problem," Bruno assured him as he went to fill a cup. "Cream or sugar?"

Abbacchio shook his head. Bruno set the cup on the table, urging him to sit down. Abbacchio took a hesitant step before he finally took a seat, tugging at the sweater. "This is really nice, I'll get it back to you once I can get back to my apartment tomorrow."

Bruno hesitated, but finally waved his hand. "Keep it. It was always too big on me anyway, and I'm sure you could use some warmer clothes? Besides, wool keeps you warm even when its wet So if you forget an umbrella again…"

Abbacchio looked up at him with some confusion for a long moment before he pulled the cup of coffee closer and took a sip. "Okay then. Thanks. I appreciate it."

Bruno smiled back and decided he was glad that the sweater would finally get some use.

2. Fugo

It had been a long stakeout in the cold. Stealth had prohibited them from turning the heater on in the car, and Abbacchio felt pretty terrible seeing just how much Fugo was shivering by the time they finished, the drive home with the heater on full blast hadn't even been enough to thaw either of them out.

Not to mention that their heater wasn't functioning fantastically in the apartment either, so it wasn't much warmer there.

"I'll make some tea, you should go get something warm on," Abbacchio told the kid worriedly. Fugo was so skinny that Abbacchio was afraid he might catch cold—though he would never say that to Fugo's face unless he wanted his nose broken.

He went to throw on a sweatshirt and thick socks before he started boiling some water.

Fugo showed up in a few minutes, still shivering, in a long-sleeved shirt with a thin cardigan over it and a pair of sweat pants.

Abbacchio eyed him briefly, but didn't want to embarrass the kid by asking him if he was warm enough. He simply took out two mugs and some tea bags and poured the water over them when it started to boil.

"Want to work on the report together?" Abbacchio asked him.

"Sure," Fugo replied, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He went to get paper and pen and Abbacchio sat down with his notebook where he had written down observations and snatches of conversation that night.

The tea worked to warm Abbacchio's core and he got to work compiling info with Fugo for their report.

He reached for a pen at the same time Fugo reached for his tea and Abbacchio's hand brushed his, feeling like ice.

"Jesus, kid," he hissed, pulling his hand away sharply. "You're actually freezing!"

Fugo glowered, hunching his shoulders as he pulled his hands back and clasped them around his mug, still shaking every once in a while. "It is freezing in here, you know."

"Don't you have anything warmer to wear?" Abbacchio asked genuinely.

"Nothing comfortable," Fugo huffed. "Just my overcoat."

Abbacchio frowned and stood up. "Hold on, I'll be back."

He went to rummage around in his closet, trying to find something warm for Fugo to wear. That was when he spotted the dark blue sweater. He'd almost forgotten about it—the one Bucciarati had given him the first night he'd dragged him back to this apartment. That would be warm enough.

Abbacchio brought it back out and handed it over to Fugo. "Here, try this."

Fugo took the sweater, looking somewhat embarrassed, but he tugged it on and pushed the sleeves up over his hands. Abbacchio watched as his shivering finally stopped all together and Fugo let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thanks. That is better."

"No problem," Abbacchio replied and nodded to the sweater. "You can keep that too, it was just something Bucciarati gave me. You'll need it if the heater doesn't get fixed soon."

Fugo offered a very small smile, huddling into the sweater as they continued with their work.

3. Narancia

"I'm…so sorry."

"Just shut up," Fugo snapped, feeling mud squelch in his shoes—they were probably ruined by now. But at least the mud had been relegated to his lower half. Narancia was practically covered in it. He didn't even realize you could find that much mud within the city limits but any calamity seemed possible with their new recruit around.

He fumbled his keys out of his pocket and opened the apartment up, cringing at the thought of all the mud they were about to track inside. The car was already a disaster.

"Just don't touch anything you don't have to," Fugo muttered.

Narancia tip-toed delicately into the apartment after ditching his shoes by the door.

"Probably the best thing is to dump the muddy clothes into the bathtub so we can rinse them out before putting them into the washing machine," Fugo said.

"Uh, yeah okay," Narancia replied. "But, um, problem—I don't have anything else to wear. I left my wash in the washing machine and I only have my pajamas pants.

Fugo sighed tiredly. "Just…throw your stuff into the tub and I'll loan you something to wear."

Narancia perked up and Fugo hurried to dump his clothes in the bathroom, washing briefly before grabbing a towel to wrap around himself to go find something clean to wear.

He dressed quickly, hearing Narancia swearing as he struggled with his mud-covered clothes then turned with a sigh to his dresser, digging around for something Narancia could wear.

A bundle of dark wool caught his eye and he pulled the sweater out, remembering how Abbacchio had given it to him when he had been freezing that one night. It had kept him warm through the winter, but he could do with passing it on now, especially since Narancia really didn't have that many clothes.

He grabbed a pair of his sweatpants as well and set the neatly folded pile outside the bathroom door.

"Clothes are outside," he said before going to make a call to Bucciarati to tell him the mission was finished.

He was just grabbing the laundry basket in prep to take the clothes down to the washers when Narancia reappeared, practically swimming in the sweater, sleeves slipping down over his hands. But he was grinning, waving the floppy sleeves around.

"Dude this is so cozy! Thanks for loaning it to me."

"Oh, you can keep it actually," Fugo replied. "Abbacchio gave it to me so…it's not really mine."

"Really? Thanks man!" Narancia hurried off as Fugo yelled at his back.

"Narancia get back here! You have to go finish your own laundry—I'm not going to do it for you!"

Narancia hurried back and grabbed the basket from Fugo. "Yeah, yeah, I'll meet you down there."

Fugo shook his head and went to gather the muddy stuff before he realized Narancia had run off with the laundry basket.

4. Mista

Narancia wasn't entirely sure what to think of the new guy yet. He'd been nice enough if not a little out of place with all of them, and Narancia didn't exactly understand why he hated the number 4 so much but he wasn't one to judge.

Still, Guido Mista had a habit of moping around when he wasn't given a task. Narancia could understand that. He'd been the same after getting out of prison. It was hard to adjust back to normal living when you'd had your days so regimented for a long time.

Narancia was currently relegated to the apartment due to a minor injury and that day it was just him and Mista there. The new recruit puttered around in the kitchen getting coffee for a while in the morning before he sat on the old couch in the living room, staring at the wall.

It was…kind of driving Narancia nuts. He didn't understand how someone could sit still like that doing nothing. At least Fugo was usually reading, he could understand that; even if reading didn't keep Narancia's attention for long, it was still doing something.

He didn't want to be annoying, but he poked his head into the living room.

"Hey, um, can I do anything for you?"

Mista looked up. "Nah. I'm good."

Narancia fidgeted. "Aren't you like…bored?"

Mista shrugged. "I don't know. It's just nice to be out of prison." He stood up. "I guess I'd like to take a shower though."

Narancia nodded and went to make lunch as he heard the shower running. Mista returned when he was halfway through eating in just his pajama bottoms and a towel slung over his shoulders.

"Hey, um…I still need to go shopping for some new clothes. Could I borrow some change so I can do a wash?"

"Oh sure," Narancia said quickly and pointed over to a jar on the counter. "Bucciarati keeps that for laundry and stuff."

"Thanks." Mista said and hurried out of the apartment.

Narancia thought about what he had said, and got up to head to his room. He grabbed a box of VHS tapes from under his bed and rummaged in his drawer until he found the oversized sweater he was looking for.

When Mista returned, Narancia tossed him the sweater.

"Here! You can have this for now," he said.

Mista held the sweater up, surprised. "Oh, hey, thanks man. I really appreciate it."

He slipped it on, tugging it down. "This is really nice. You sure you want me to have this?"

Narancia nodded. "It kinda gets passed around between us. You can use it for as long as you want. But only if you answer a question."

Mista cocked an eyebrow as Narancia presented the box he had been holding under his arm. "Do you like movies?"

Mista's face lit up. "I love movies! Hey, you got some great stuff in here!"

"Then let's watch something! Then you don't have to just sit around doing nothing all day," Narancia said. "Pick whatever you want, I'll grab some snacks."

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies and chatting and Narancia thought that he and the new guy were probably going to get along really well.

5. Giorno

Mista roamed the safehouse after everyone had gone to sleep, making sure everyone was okay. He checked in on Narancia last, but the kid was sleeping soundly, knocked out from pain pills and exhausted from his still-healing body. He'd been able to leave their makeshift infirmary yesterday though so he was doing a lot better.

Speaking of…

Mista headed down the stairs to the guest room they had made into their designated infirmary while their teammates were recovering. Bucciarati and Abbacchio were still usually unconscious and hooked up to IVs aside from a few times they had woken.

Giorno was sitting beside Bucciarati's bed as Mista figured he would be. The blond had been watching tirelessly since they had gotten to the house three days ago and had barely left the room.

He looked up briefly as Mista poked his head in.

"Hey, can I get you anything?"

Giorno shook his head, reaching up to rub his face. "No. I'm okay."

Mista nodded slowly, taking in Giorno's exhausted frame. "You really should sleep. They'll be okay for the night. They're stable, right?"

"Yeah, I just…" Giorno sighed, before he finally stood up. "Maybe you're right. I'll catch a couple hours on the couch."

Mista frowned as Giorno passed him, noticing that he was still wearing the same lavender suit he had been wearing the whole mission. It had the look of being washed, water thinned bloodstains visible around a couple tears, but Mista realized he'd never seen Giorno put on anything else.

"Hey, um…you want me to wash and fix that suit?" Mista asked. "I think there's a sewing kit somewhere. At least until you can get a new one?"

Giorno looked down at the suit. "I, um…I don't really have anything else to wear."

"Oh." Mista blinked and then realized Giorno hadn't brought so much as a backpack with him. "Hey, I'm sorry man, I should have asked earlier."

Giorno shrugged. "It's not really a big deal. I'll get something soon."

"No way, you need to be comfortable. Stay here, I'll be right back."

Mista hurried up to his room and dug through his duffle bag until he found—ah, there it was.

He took the bundled sweater and a pair of sweatpants down to Giorno, dropping them into his arms.

"Keep these. I've got more changes of clothes."

Giorno smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mista. I really appreciate it."

Mista gave him a salute and a grin. "Anytime. How about I make you a cup of tea? I was just gonna get one myself."

"Sure."

Mista headed to the kitchen and by the time he got to the living room Giorno was curled on the couch, bundled into the big sweater, fast asleep.

Mista chuckled and set Giorno's mug down on the coffee table before throwing a blanket over him.

"Sleep well, GioGio."

6. Trish

Giorno was up late reading one night when he heard the back patio door open and shut. It was right below his bedroom and he had his window open. He figured someone might just be getting some fresh air, but then he heard the soft, unmistakable sounds of someone crying and frowned, getting up to go see what might be wrong.

He pulled on the heavy sweater Mista had given him and padded downstairs and toward the back of the house.

Through the glass door he could see Trish huddled on the steps leading into the garden, shoulders shaking. Giorno hesitated a second, not sure if he would be intruding or not, but he ultimately decided that Trish shouldn't have to be alone if she was upset and if it turned out she really wanted him to leave, he would go.

He stepped outside, the sound of the door opening causing Trish to turn around, hurriedly wiping her eyes.

"Oh, hey," she said quietly.

Giorno silently went to sit next to her. "Hey. Are you okay?" he asked.

Trish looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I…I guess."

"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't really look okay," Giorno responded. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Trish took a shuddering breath and scrubbed a hand against her wet eyes. "It's just…Now that everything's settled down it's kind of hitting me, you know? That I'm not going home—that I don't even have a home anymore."

"I know it's a lot," Giorno said quietly. "I didn't…really have anything to leave, but I can understand how you must feel, being forced to leave everything."

Trish sniffed. "And I miss my mom. I didn't even really have the time to mourn her, so…I guess it's all hitting now, three months later."

She curled around herself, shaking slightly, breath hitching.

Giorno didn't know if she was cold or not, but the weight of the sweater was comforting to him so he tugged it off and looped it over Trish's head.

She looked up in surprise, before a small smile turned up one corner of her lips as she sniffed. "Thanks." She tucked her arms into the sleeves, letting them fall past her hands as she dabbed her eyes on the sweater.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Giorno told her quietly. "But you're wrong, you know."

Trish sniffed again. "About what?" she asked sounding slightly offended.

"That you don't have a home," Giorno replied, nodding back to the house. "This is your home. It's all of our home, and you never need to go anywhere else unless you want to."

Trish looked at him for a long moment, eyes wavering, before she simply leaned forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Giorno that's…that's such a sweet thing to say," she said shakily.

Giorno smiled, hugging her back, letting her cry for a few more minutes before she pulled away and wiped at her eyes again.

"Thank you, that…I feel better now," she said.

"I'm glad," Giorno replied. "I'm always here to talk if you need."

"I appreciate it," Trish said as she stood. "Thanks for letting me borrow the sweater too. It's…really comforting."

Giorno waved his hand as he also stood. "Keep it for now. Mista gave it to me when we first got here, but you should use it now."

Trish smiled with a grateful blush and waved to him as they got inside. "Good night, Giorno. And thanks again."

"Good night, Trish."

7. Bucciarati

Trish was having a hard time sleeping that night and decided to run down to the library to grab something to read.

She had thought everyone had already gone to bed, so she was surprised to find Bucciarati sitting in there in the middle of the floor in his pajamas, a box of photos open and spread in front of him.

He startled as she walked in and Trish stopped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were up."

A look passed over his face and Bucciarati cleared his throat and said, "It's okay. Can't sleep?"

Trish shook her head, feeling a little like she was intruding as she cautiously stepped into the room. "Not really. You either?"

Bruno gave her a small, sad smile. "Just…looking through some old memories."

Curious, Trish came over and knelt beside him. "May I?"

Bruno waved a hand and Trish picked up a picture of a young boy holding a large fish up proudly. His black hair and blue eyes told Trish that it was obviously the man beside her.

"This was you?" she asked with a smile. "You were adorable!"

Bruno let out a light laugh. "Thank you. It was… a long time ago. I…haven't looked at these for a while but…"

There was a weight to his words and Trish watched him carefully, finally realizing that his eyes were slightly red, the lashes damp as if he had been crying.

"Bucciarati? Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat again. "I'll be okay, Trish. I…it's been four years today since he died. I just thought…I would take a moment to remember him."

"Oh, Bucciarati, I didn't know," Trish said softly, reaching out to take his hand, squeezing.

"I usually keep it to myself," Bruno replied simply.

Trish was silent, wondering if he wanted to be alone, but, she thought about how she felt when she remembered her mom. How alone it felt. And it was too sad to think of going to bed when Bucciarati was sitting here alone with the pictures of his past.

"Would it…be okay if I stayed here to look at the pictures with you?" Trish asked hesitantly. "Unless you'd rather be alone."

"I wouldn't actually," Bucciarati replied, voice slightly raw.

Trish felt a little relieved, but stood. "Okay, I'll be right back, I promise."

She hurried away to make some hot chocolate, and as an afterthought, ran to get the sweater Giorno had loaned her a while back when had had found her crying. She always put it on when she was feeling bad now and thought that maybe it would comfort Bucciarati too.

She brought the items back to the library and Bucciarati looked up in surprise.

"I made hot chocolate—thought you could use some," she told him with a small smile, setting down the mugs before holding out the sweater. "And this. It's so warm and cozy it…"

She trailed off at the look on Bruno's face when he saw the sweater, eyes wide, mouth parted as if in awe.

"Bucciarati?"

He reached out to take it from her, holding it carefully in his hands, fingers curling into the chunky knitting.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Um…well, Giorno gave it to me, he said Mista gave it to him before that."

Bruno laughed lightly, eyes wet. "And I gave it to Abbacchio a long time ago." He turned to Trish with a small smile. "It was my father's. I had…actually forgotten about it but it seems to have made its way through the team somehow."

"And back to you," Trish replied. "Where it should be."

Bruno slowly tugged the sweater on over his t-shirt, running his fingers over the hem, eyes full of nostalgia. "Funny how things have a way of coming full circle when it means the most." He turned back to her, eyes wet. "Thank you, Trish."

Trish couldn't help herself and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly in the comfy sweater. "I'm glad it came back to you when you needed it most," she told him.

"It did. But anyone is welcome to borrow it at any time," Bruno said. "Perhaps it's best that it belongs to all of us." He smiled "I think that's what my father would have wanted."

Trish hugged him more firmly and genuinely felt at home.

~~~~~~~

Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about fic or art commissions, find my info on My Carrd

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #borrowed clothing #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfic #team bucciarati #found family #hurt/comfort #trauma bonding #jjba part 5 #golden wind #everyone lives au

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sugarsnappeases · 1 month

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tag game

okay showing up so late and likely with a lot of rambling but thank you so much for the tags @fxreflyes and @static-radio-ao3 love seeing little insights into ur lives <333

fave colour: red/pink!!

last song: i've had chappell roan's album, the rise and fall of a midwest princess, on repeat all day to try and somehow magically imbue myself with the strength to write my essay (which i've done now! mostly! gonna look it over tomorrow but it's basically done!!) but the specific song that's playing as i hit post is femininomenon!! a classic and a banger

last film: i rewatched pirates of the caribbean 2 w one of my friends (who had never seen it before can you guys believe that?!?!) and it's still as brilliant as ever, four and a half stars on letterboxd (there's no rhyme or reason behind my star system on letterboxd like i do it on the vibe in the moment and am now wondering why i didn't give it five stars??)

currently reading: okay so boring answer is 'the decameron' by boccaccio, i'm studying him for the second part of this term and really shot myself in the foot bc i didn't realise how fucking long it was (nearly 700 pages) and i have NO time ever so it's gonna be a little miserable over here in roughly two weeks when my first essay on him is due.... seems interesting tho i've read like 40 pages so far.... more exciting answer is anna karenina!! started reading it in the holidays (when i should've been reading the decameron lol) and have only read like one part and a bit so far bc i never have the time for fun reading during uni :(.... gimme like three months tho and i'll get back to you guys, i really enjoyed the bits i have read and will absolutely have some marauders-related thoughts once i have the full picture (incapable of not linking all media to them)

currently watching: i just finally started watching the sex lives of college girls, which was soooooo long overdue, i've watched two eps so far and am loving it a lot, think it's gonna be slow going tho bc. busy :(... i also rewatched the first two eps of new girl a couple days ago bc sude and i were talking about it and i felt it had to be done... wanna do a full rewatch bc it's been so long but alas, again, time is of the essence, and also i'm always very slow at tv shows... anyway

currently craving: like. spare time. ig?? no more essays?? that's the main thing that i think would make my life exponentially better.... we're at 3/8 now tho so like... slowly crawling through them.... also every time i've gone to tesco recently i've been eyeing up the raspberries, just waiting for them to go on some kind of clubcard deal so i can pounce, raspberries are my fave fruit but they're always so fucking expensive the world is so cruel to me

coffee or tea: tea!!! always!!! can't stand the taste of coffee and i think that much caffeine would send me into like cardiac arrest or something. but also i'm not huuuuuge on tea either (not very british of me ik) like i only ever drink it when i'm w other people who are drinking it or when i'm writing an essay and need some willpower/energy/to procrastinate a little... like i'm not a cup of tea at all times of day kinda gal at all

not sure who's been tagged so soz if u've already done it but no pressure tags for @quillkiller @themuseoftheviolets @stillagoodwitch @inevitablestars @sixlane and whoever else wants to <33

#also the last time i did one of these there was like a current obsession section which was beautifully conducive for my rambling....#i've been thinking a lot about apollo and daphne recently if anyone was wondering what my answer for that might be.... also sybarty....#but i'm not going into depth!!! look at me curtailing rambling left right and centre i'm so strong and always know exactly when to shut up #anyway.... please everyone tell me everything about yourselves i am the nosiest person i know #tag games

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empty-cryptid · 11 months

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Since AO3 is struggling at the moment, I'll post this here for now and put it on AO3 later. This is set before "Reading Glasses", a story I wrote some time ago.

Edit: Now posted to AO3! HERE

Step One (Reading Glasses)

When Antonio suddenly appeared beside him and excitedly held up a drawing he did, Bruno tipped backward in surprise. After a breath, he took the picture and held it further away from his face so he could see it properly. "Oh wow, this is great! Is it Chispi?"

"Yeah! Chispi sat and let me draw her even though I can't talk to her right now."

"That was nice of her. I wish my rats would sit still for a portrait. Very nice job, Antonio."

"Thanks, Tío!"

Antonio took his picture back and ran out of the house to show it to the next family member he wanted to see it. All of the Madrigals were in temporary accommodations until Casita was rebuilt, so he was running from house to house.

Pepa watched the interaction with a small smile, happy that her brother is finally back with them and can meet her little boy.

Beside her, Julieta, who usually noticed things first, hummed and lifted an eyebrow. "Bruno, how are your eyes?"

"Hmm?" He looked up, "What do you mean?"

"Well both Pepa and I have reading glasses now, so I was wondering if you also needed some."

"Oh. Hmm, no, I think I'm alright?" Bruno shrugged.

"Somehow I doubt that. Here, try my glasses."

Julieta handed her glasses to her brother along with a recipe card. "Try reading this without the glasses, then with them."

"Alright." He held the card away from his face at arms length and read it.

Pepa chuckled. "Oh he definitely needs glasses."

Bruno glanced at her, then placed the blue cat-eye frames on his nose before looking back at the card. "Oh wow."

"Do the glasses help?" Julieta smirked.

"Yeah." Bruno admitted while he looked at the card.

"We'll take you to the optometrist tomorrow."

He suddenly looked nervous as he looked up at her through the lenses, making his already big puppy dog eyes look even bigger. "Why do I have to go? Can't I just use yours sometimes?"

"You have to get a proper check up anyway, and yes that is a requirement, so let's start with the eye doctor. It's the easiest one," Julieta explained.

"It's to make sure you're healthy, Bruno. You've gone too long without a check up. We'll be right there beside you," Pepa said.

"W-well ok…I-I guess if you're there too…but I'm not excited about it." Bruno hunched down and pouted.

"You'll get some reading glasses out of it. With all the reading you do, I think you'll appreciate that," Pepa said.

"F-Fine…"

…

At the optometrists office, Bruno was sat behind a machine while he anxiously fiddled with the edge of his ruana. Julieta put a hand on his shoulder and Pepa smiled at him from the doorway. Having his sisters there with him helped keep him calmer but he was still nervous about leaving Casita.

The doctor came over to him after writing down a few notes. He was warned beforehand to tell his skittish patient what he's going to do before he does it to avoid too much flinching and possible panic by the anxious man.

"Alright let's get this over with, eh?"

Bruno nodded and offered a pitiful smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"None of this will hurt, but I'm going to get fairly close to you, alright?" The doctor explained.

"O-o-okay…" Bruno stuttered. He released his ruana so he could cross his fingers. While in the office, he wasn't allowed to throw salt around in order to keep the equipment safe.

The whole process went smoothly besides a few of Bruno's more intense flinches knocking the equipment. The doctor calmly reset what was bumped and continued.

"How does that look?"

"That…that looks, um, clear. I-I can read it."

"Is this better?"

"Y-Yes."

After a few more tests, Bruno was free to go. He was thoroughly done with everything and hid underneath his hood while his sisters took over for him. They showed him a few frames they liked and he picked one after trying them on. Finally, he was taken home.

Bruno was completely exhausted from the whole ordeal, so he decided to take a nap in the borrowed room he shared with his sisters. The triplets refused to be separated for the first month at least.

…

A week later, at a picnic lunch with the whole family, Pepa presented a package and gave it to Bruno.

"This arrived today." She pushed it into his hands and waited eagerly for him to open it.

He started to open it while the rest of the family watched curiously. The box held his new reading glasses. He pulled them out and tried them on, shyly smiling at his family.

A smattering of compliments and little jabs about getting old came from his various family members.

"When did you go get your eyes checked?" Alma asked.

"Um, last week."

"We noticed he might need them when he was holding everything at arm's length," Pepa giggled.

"Turns out he has the worst eyes of the three of us," Julieta informed them.

Everyone processed that information quietly, knowing a few factors probably contributed to that before Félix broke the silence. "Lookin' good Bruno! You'll find it much easier to read now." He held up his own glasses that were usually sitting in his shirt pocket.

"Thanks," Bruno said with a smile. He put his glasses away and hugged his sisters. "Thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome, now eat hermano, you need to put on some weight." Julieta said as she filled his plate.

Pepa put a hat on his head. "And tell us if you're getting too hot, you're so pale you'll burn easily. Here, drink more water."

Bruno laughed then, thoroughly happy to be back with his family. The emotions overflowed into tears and he started crying. Both of his sisters hugged him tightly and he let it all out.

"I'm so sorry! I love you so much, I'm sorry!" Bruno wailed.

"It's ok, Bruno. We're here, let it go." Pepa said as she rubbed his back.

"We love you too, hermano. We love you so much." Julieta squeezed him and kissed his cheeks.

After a while, he calmed down and uttered one last apology, embarrassed at the display.

Agustín replaced the hat that fell off his head and said, "Don't worry about it. Everyone needs a moment sometimes."

Julieta stuffed a buñuelo into his mouth, effectively breaking any tension. "Now eat, you're too scrawny."

So he did. They all got their fill of the good food and pleasant conversation, just enjoying the afternoon together. Camilo and Mirabel started a fútbol game and all the kids formed teams.

"C'mon, join us!" Camilo called to the adults still sitting comfortably.

"You guys have fun, we'll enjoy watching you!" Félix replied.

"You guys are no fun." Camilo rolled his eyes as he returned to the game.

"I'm far too stuffed to run around right now…" Bruno sighed tiredly.

"Get used to it, I'm going to put some weight back on you." Julieta said with determined finality.

"'M not complaining, I missed warm food," Bruno flinched, "Sorry…"

"No need to be sorry. We talk about things now," Alma said. She briefly looked at her daughters for confirmation and got two nods before returning to her book.

Pepa put a book in one of Bruno's hands and a glass of water in the other. "It's hot, drink more water. Now, this book is one I thought you would enjoy. I read it a few months ago and instantly thought of you."

After drinking his water, Bruno looked at the cover and turned it over to read the back. He held it out at arm's length for a moment before Pepa put his glasses on for him.

"Oh, right…heh." Bruno chuckled at himself and brought the book closer. "Hey this looks pretty good! Thanks!" He immediately opened it up and started reading it.

Julieta put an arepa into his hand and he automatically started nibbling on it, lost in the story. She and Pepa stifled their giggles at that before turning to watch their kids play their game.

…

Bruno got used to pulling out his glasses eventually. He lost them sometimes and usually found them on his head where he had forgotten about them.

The glasses caused Pepa to notice his colour was returning to the healthy dark olive tone he was supposed to have. He had gotten some tan lines where the arms of his glasses sat along the sides of his head from reading outside for hours on end.

He had a much easier time seeing his sobrinos' drawings, writings, and whatever else they wanted to show him. He didn't notice the intricate detail of Mirabel's designs or the subtle additions of tiny rats on Chispi's back in Antonio's drawing before getting the glasses.

Some months later, they even contributed to Julieta noticing her determination was starting to pay off when he lifted his shirt to clean them, revealing the start of healthy weight returning to his middle.

Bruno appreciated the glasses for allowing him to read comfortably, his family enjoyed seeing the positive changes in him. That visit to the eye doctor started him on his path to health and reconnecting with his family one small step at a time.

👓 💚 👓 💚 👓 💚 👓 💚 👓 💚 👓

#Fic: Step One (Reading Glasses)#encanto #my writing #fanfic #encanto fanfiction #viva la pancita de bruno #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #the madrigals

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byierficrecs · 1 year

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the year has come to an end. i hope you guys had a nice year; you're all amazing and i've been having a really nice time interacting with everyone here :] may any hardships you've experienced be solved promptly~

this year was not really kind to me (as i'm sure you're aware; i talk about personal stuff far too much x.x), but writing and making graphics for this fandom has really helped me and i genuinely want to thank everyone for being so kind and making me feel a bit better ^-^

as it's the end of the year, i believe some stats are in order! in three months i've

spent almost 540 hours making graphics;

taught myself to make aforementioned graphics;

read the works of 66 unique writers;

read 1,196,725 words

(which means i read approximately 2400 pages);

and made graphics for 89 stories!

i'm not sure anyone's noticed, but i like to alternate between pastel, colourful and dark aesthetics~

i would like to once again thank everyone who's interacted with this account in any form. be it a like, a rb, an ask or sending me a message, you've all been kind and i hope i can continue to make more stuff that you like~ the "slots" for next month are almost full, so i'll keep this train going for as long as i can~

(that said, i /am/ taking a one-week break once the 12 days of christmas are over x.x i am tired)

lastly, i would like to thank the authors whose works have been shared! thank you so much for all the work you do for this fandom, and for gifting us with beautiful stories to fill the void of no-content. let it be known that we appreciate you all a lot, and that without you this byler fandom thingy would be far darker and infinitely more boring. i wish you luck in any creative endeavours you might have (byler-related or otherwise), and i can't wait to see what other beauty you bring to this world 💖

@andiwriteordie, @anemori, @astrobei, @bookinit02, @buck-yyyy, @byeler, @byleresque, @bylerisc4non, @champion-rowlet, @chiquitablanquita, @claryfrayed, @clericxpaladin, @elmaxed, @etchedstars, @futureboy-ao3, @ghoulsanderson, @gleefcll, @hellfire-byler, @hiscleric, @itsromeowrites, @kastuud0n, @kiirotoao, @lilacline001, @nastyaex, @octopusoptimusprime, @perexcri, @saelotusline, @scout-the-wise, @sevensided, @smoosnoom, @strangerange1s, @strangersynth, @twelfthbite, @untitled-byler-blog, @uranium-suite, @voulezvulcan, @wheelerboi, @willuvbot, @wiseatom, @zombiewheeler

i'm probably missing people whose blogs i don't know or who just don't have a tumblr account; i'll add more people as i find them, but even if someone's not listed, i thank you sincerely for everything you do. you're all very talented!

anyway, i think i've rambled long enough. i shall leave for now, but i'll see you tomorrow! happy new year! i hope everyone accomplishes everything you set out to do this year :]

- - - - - - - - - - -

sincerely, angel 🧸

#📰

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aniron48 · 1 year

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Love Letters - Day 9

Here we are at the end of our choose your own adventure, friends. I've said this before, but it's been an absolute delight, doing this with all of you, and writing this together. Your choices shaped every step of the narrative, so if you've enjoyed the story, you should feel proud (and if you didn't, uh, not it? 😉)

If you need to catch up on a day or two, you can find the other installments here. I'll keep this post pinned for a day or two as well, and may put the finished version up on ao3 eventually. Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8

Last, but not remotely least: my wife has been making noises about joining Tumblr, because I told her about this, and she wants to read it in its original form. I hope she does, because all of this is for her. 💜

Conclusion starts below the cut!

And tomorrow at noon, as instructed, he would meet Q in front of the Fighting Temeraire.

At precisely twelve o’clock, Bond walked into room 34 of the National Gallery. Q was already there, this time, a reversal of the day they’d met a little over a year ago. He’d swapped his anorak for a wool coat, his suit for a navy blue cardigan and a white button-up, and, in a nod to the day, he sported a navy blue bowtie with tiny white hearts on it. So much had changed, since the last time they’d been here, much of it because of the man waiting for him on the bench, looking at a Turner painting.

“James,” Q said as Bond approached. “You got the package I sent?”

“Yes,” Bond said. “It’s the best thing anyone’s ever sent me, Q. Even without the exploding pen. Though thank you for that, by the way, I still haven’t managed to clean up all the confetti hearts. I even found some in my pants, last night.”

“How in the world—actually, never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Bond gestured to the envelope Q was clutching in his right hand. “And you got your letter as well, I see.”

“Yes,” Q said. “I, ah—I haven’t opened it, yet. You’re going to think it’s silly of me, but I was too nervous.”

Bond sat down beside him. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, taking Q’s hand in his own. “You can open it with me, if you like.”

Q nodded. He squeezed Bond’s hand, and then released it, taking a shaky breath as he opened the envelope and began to read.

My darling Q,

A wise man recently told me that I should be honest above all else, in my letter to you, so I’ll start with a small confession: I have read countless love letters in the last few days, preparing to write my first to you. It was the best thing I could have done, but not for the reason you might think: it showed me that there are as many ways to tell someone what they mean to you as there are people in the world.

I needed to know that, because so many of the traditional idioms people use to describe love didn’t seem to fit the way I feel for you. Take “falling” in love, for example. I haven’t found that to be particularly apt. I’ve fallen from any number of things—helicopters, buildings, construction cranes, moving cars—and loving you hasn’t been like any of that.

I’m beginning to suspect that I’m doing an absolutely shit job of writing this letter, but the thing is, so many people treat pain as a kind of virtue, as something that must be surmounted before you gain anything of value. It’s astonishing how untrue that really is, though, and it’s equally astonishing how long it took me to learn it. How the only reason I’ve begun to learn it is because loving you is the only thing in my life that never hurts.

I’m not trying to say that relationships are effortless. I’m not that daft. What I mean is—loving you isn’t falling at all, Q. It’s a lie-in on a Sunday, with you in my arms, and the cats at our feet, and the certain knowledge that all of me is welcome there. That all of me is home, because by some miracle you know me better than anyone, and you love me anyway.

So much of my life is a fight, and you remain the most effortless surrender.

I love you with all of me, Q. And I always will.

Love,

Your James

Q sniffed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to swipe at his face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not crying.”

“Of course not,” Bond said. He reached out to wipe Q’s cheeks with his thumbs, and rested his forehead against Q’s. He stayed there for a long moment, leaning into Q, feeling the warmth of his body alongside his own.

“We’re quite the matched set, aren’t we?” Q asked eventually.

“I’d say so,” Bond said. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.“ He reached into the leather satchel at his feet, and pulled out the snow globe he’d bought in Bath. “I bought this to throw Moneypenny and Tanner off the track, but do you know, it’s rather grown on me.”

Q shook it, and watched as snow fell on the replica of the Bath Circus. His smile widened.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“By the way, I presume that Moneypenny and Tanner aren’t actually having an affair.”

“Do you know, I’d convinced them to go down with me to Bath to mail your package, since we all had the Saturday morning free—I thought we’d make a day of it. If you’d taken the train into Bath, instead of driving, you might have run into all of us. As it was, I had to take the train back by myself. But I gather I had the more comfortable journey.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, looking at the Fighting Temeraire on the wall.

“Does it still make you melancholy, when you look at it?” Bond asked.

“Maybe a little. It’s a melancholy painting, in many ways. A painting about change. But then, not all change is bad, is it? Something ends, and something else begins. Maybe there’s hope in it, in its own way.” Q shifted on the bench, turning to look at Bond. “And what about you? Do you still just see a bloody big ship?”

“Well,” Bond said, considering. “There are actually two ships, sailing toward the viewer, aren’t there? The older, wiser, stately ship, and the younger, cheekier ship there in the front, dragging the older one into the future whether he wills it or no. It’s a metaphor, you see.”

“A metaphor for what, exactly?”

“The ships are a metaphor. The painting’s actually about shagging.”

“Oh my god. And here I was starting to think you were a romantic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

“I do love you, you know,” Q said. “In case you needed reminding.”

“I do,” Bond said. “Frequently.” He reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Q’s ear. “And I love you too. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Q looked down at his watch. “Do you want to have a look around? I took the day, but if you have to be back at work—“

“There’s nowhere I need to be,” Bond said. “We have time.”

The gallery slowly started to fill up with people, students and tourists and docents giving tours, eddying around the pair of them like boats in a harbor. Some of them may have noticed them sitting there, the agent and his quartermaster, looking for all the world like an ordinary couple on a Valentine’s Day outing. Others never noticed them at all. But they stayed for a long while, and then they were gone, and when they left, they left together.

#Love Letters #Love Letters Day 9 #El fin #00q #choose your own adventure #00q choose your own adventure

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mamamittens · 10 months

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Alright, ngl, I fully planned on writing this week but work decided it was time to do inventory again. At the literal last minute.

I. Hauled. Ass.

And tomorrow I'm probably going to be counting a fuck ton of shit sooooo RIP IG

Anyway, as a small apology lemme talk about the au of Sweet Child, Grow (now the nickname for "How our Seeds Grow"). And fittingly, I'll start with the name!

I actually didn't think too much about the name before rolling with that but it's kinda genius in hindsight because now the two read as "Oh, sweet child of mine, how our seeds grow" which sounds awful wistful don't it? And sweet. I like it. And it's very poignant considering the au is all about little reader growing up with the WBP.

Also! I did write a fair bit for the next chapter but it felt short and I thought I could more or less squeeze in a few chapters now that the narrator (child reader) is way less angsty about being kidnapped and not as observant so there's less wordage to get across here. And as I did I realized I accidentally wrote in a little plot hole in the first one.

See, reader's supposed to really love animals. But what happened to their den den mushi? The snail from the beginning? So I'm taking a moment to answer what no one has asked.

They didn't get to keep the snail until well after they returned since it's apparently pretty easy to convert them into 'phones' so to minimize shenanigans, they just withheld it until they felt they could trust reader.

And since in Grow the reader is just a scared kid, they get to keep the snail with a normal shell. Reader named him 'Cream' even though they weren't supposed to because it's not 'their' snail. It's the marine's snail. Little reader has gotten better at hiding how attached they are to their issued snail at whatever base they're on but not very well.

As a treat, here's a little snippet!

Oh! And before I forget!

I'll try to remember y'all that asked to be tagged in the next update but I make no promises! If you're super concerned about it though as soon as it comes out you can also read not only Sweet Child but Grow as well on AO3! Or maybe follow the tag for the story??? Idk how reliable that is, I don't really follow specific tags on Tumblr ngl

AO3 is currently experiencing some minor issues (8/30/23) though, so please be patient if it won't work immediately and perhaps check back later!

Anyway! Thanks for being patient everyone, as well as the fairly positive-ish neutral reaction to my new rule concerning asks for updates! It's a lot less stressful thinking about which fics to update now that I have a hard line. I'm afraid the personal clash between pathological demand avoidance and people pleasing is incredibly uncomfortable to grapple with at the best of times. And it leaves me feeling like either a raging bitch or a doormat 😬

I'm hoping to get some writing done soon but with inventory in full swing tomorrow I won't be surprised if I just pass the fuck out when I get home. Istg I opened cult of the lamb for a quick sesh and next thing I knew it was 9 (my bad entirely. I know damn well that game is very hard to put down- always one last thing I can do before going to bed but it's never just one is it???)

Speaking of which! I gotta go to sleep now lol

#one piece #platonic yandere #oh sweet child of mine #how our seeds grow #mittens update

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sweeethinny · 2 years

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Jilytober - Day 31

Writing letters to the other - day thirty one

ok we finally reached the end there on the first day I really didn't expect to be able to write for every day, but I'm so glad I did!!! I hope you liked it as much as I did, and soon I'll update the list with every day and maybe put it on the AO3! thanks to @jilytoberfest for this, it was so much fun creating so much content about them! enjoy this jily friendship at Hogwarts

----

''Things are messed up around here. Mum and Tuney had a fight last night and I think Dad was annoyed that they ended up with dinner. Christmas will be tense and I'm seriously considering making an excuse and staying in my room reading and listening to music. Who knows, maybe fake an illness?

But tell me, how are you there?

Lily Evans''

''You're always invited to my house, I didn't lie when I said I wanted you here for Christmas. Dad bought Sirius a piano, so ever since we arrived, I've been forced to listen to him play—and he plays well! I'm getting a haircut tomorrow, wish me luck, I don't intend to look ugly, but if I do, will you still be my friend or will you be ashamed of me?

James Potter''

‘’I will be ashamed of you. I want to hear Sirius play, I can't imagine what he looks like playing the piano, I always thought he would prefer a guitar. Is the proposal still sup? I know it's been three days since your letter, but it's just that things are really tense around here... Petunia decided it was my fault for their fight, because mum is nervous about the whole war thing… Anyway… Maybe it's true? I don't know. But if you can't accept me, that's fine, I don't think anyone will mind too much if I'm locked in my room.

Lily Evans.''

''Sirius and I are coming to get you, pack your bags.

Ps: I didn't get ugly, I'm even more beautiful, which may seem difficult but it's true :) Ps²: How do you feel about receiving a gift? (I already bought it actually, so it's more to let you know because I know you're a little crazy about these things :))) you'll like it... I hope)

Pssssssss: He only talks about you, so please come spend Christmas with us so he looks less like a stray dog, because that's my job. We're really going to pick you up, and maybe this letter will come even after us, James would really move the world to see you happy.

James Potter & Sirius Black.''

#jily #jilytober #jilytober sweet #james x lily #my fic

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moonlightswritingandstuff · 3 months

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it's gonna hurt like hell, but we're gonna be well (i'll give you my best shot)

It's been five years since Bianca has seen Rachel is person. She just got on a plane all the way to California to see Rachel on some mysterious impulse. But Bianca's never been able to forget Rachel's smile, so maybe she can get something out of this.

read on ao3!

"Bianca?" is the first thing Rachel says when she opens the door to her wife.

"Rachel. It's been a while."

"It's been years. Why are you here?"

"I... just had to leave."

"You came across the country. And why me?"

"I don't know, okay?"

"Did you do any planning?"

"Uh, sort of. But-"

"Just stay with me," Rachel says, and rolls her eyes. "I have a spare room."

"Thanks."

"Besides, it's two am in the morning. What's that for you, five am? Just go to sleep."

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, I guess."

«»

“So. Why are you here?”

Bianca takes a sip of her coffee. It’s perfect, despite the incredible specificities that she likes. “You made my coffee perfect.”

“I’m not in the habit of disappointing guests. But onto the point. Why are you here?”

“I got tired.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Everything. Being Nico and Hazel’s perfect sister. Doing everything for them.”

Choosing them over you, she doesn’t say.

“You’ve been doing it for years. What changed?”

“I don’t know," Bianca says. "Maybe it's Nico wanting children and wanting me to be the perfect aunt for them. Maybe it's that... I don't know."

Rachel nods, and there’s something different in her eyes. Softer, maybe. With an ache, Bianca realizes that’s a pale imitation of how Rachel used to look at her.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“You can stay here,” Rachel says. “We’re still legally married, after all.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel nods, her close-clipped and brightly painted nails drumming on the table in a manner that would’ve been so familiar to Bianca years ago but is now as distant as what five years and a million little mistakes could’ve created.

“What’re you doing now?” Bianca asks suddenly. It’s odd, but Bianca finds that she really does want to know what’s going on.

“Not much,” Rachel says. “My art’s gotten big, I guess. I get a decent amount of museums wanting to display my work in modern art galleries. I have a few pieces loaned out to the Tate Modern. My father’s company is now mine and I’ve been trying to get it to turn around and be… better. It’s not actually that hard to be eco-friendly. I’ve been using my influence to try to make it better.”

Bianca smiles.

“And you?” Rachel finishes, almost lamely, like she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Music’s still making me some money, but lawyering is still my main profession. I’ve been helping abuse victims — working with Percy.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good. Got married, well, eloped. Didn’t want a huge wedding. Or one at all. His social work is doing well, too.”

“Oh, I never took Annabeth as someone who didn’t want a wedding.”

“He didn’t marry Annabeth.”

“Oh, really? I always thought it would be her.”

“Me, too. Up until the moment they broke up, four years ago.”

“So, who’s he married to?”

“One of Drew’s coworkers when she was doing the solo at the Phillharmonic Orchestra a few years back. Plays the cello. She’s a lot like Annabeth in some ways and a lot unlike her in others.”

“I’m glad he’s happy. What about Drew?”

“She’s the only person who knew I was leaving. She’s doing great.”

“Being called one of the best violinists in the world, hey?”

“Yeah. I’m proud. And what’s going on with you?”

Rachel sips at her tea. “Mostly what I said. Katie and Travis are living their happily-ever-after. Two kids, now.”

“That’s nice for them.”

“What’s going on with you, anyway?”

“Not much. I haven’t cheated or anything.”

Rachel snorts. “I’d hardly count dating someone now as cheating, but I suppose I haven’t ‘cheated’.”

“I suppose it isn’t. We’re separated in all but name, anyway.”

“Yeah.”

The apartment smells of lavender, and Bianca doesn’t say that she still wonders what went wrong with them. Maybe it was the distance. Maybe they weren’t, aren’t, the type of couple to make it out.

Maybe, just like her, Rachel still can’t bear the idea of divorcing each other. Even after all this time. Even after all this distance.

Bianca’s never been able to forget the way Rachel smiles, after all.

«»

Bianca’s got work — she’s never been one to not plan, and there’s, unfortunately, always someone who needs to escape a terrible situation. She starts on her new case and the paperwork piles up once more. It’s not altogether terrible, and in fact, Bianca enjoys it. She’s helping people.

Rachel’s penthouse has an excellent view of the sea, and in summer, it’s as close to idyllic as it could get.

Plenty of inspiration for Rachel’s painting.

It’s just, Bianca used to be the one Rachel would sketch and paint. She remembers coming across a sketchbook of Rachel’s full of just Bianca herself, pages made entirely of pencil and nothing else of Bianca’s profile and front in loving detail.

But Bianca remembers that she used to write music about Rachel, music in which she described Rachel’s eyes and their multitudes and everything, music in which she told Rachel she’d love her no matter what — even if they had no words, Bianca likes to think they conveyed the sense of it all.

And they both know how that ended.

But what’s done is done. No use in changing what’s already happened.

“Let’s go out,” Rachel says. “You’re in California. I thought the purpose was to leave it all behind.”

“Yes, but…”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Still haven’t left the workaholic tendencies?”

“No. Work’s important.”

Rachel smiles. “It won’t kill you to get out once in a while. C’mon, let’s go.”

Bianca lets Rachel drag her outside, to some botanical, well-kept garden. It's an aching reminder of the dates they used to have, but slightly skewed. Rachel brings her sketchbook, just like always, and makes thumbnails of various flowers and displays – the lavender, the gladiolus, a butterfly Rachel stops to draw because she thinks its blue colour is lovely, and it is, especially detailed through Rachel’s coloured pencils.

"Do you still obsess over plants as much as you used to?" Rachel asks, a reminder of how well Rachel used to know Bianca. Plants weren't something Bianca talked to just anyone about.

"Yes."

"Tell me about them."

"Those are tiger lilies," Bianca says, pointing. "USDA hardiness zones three to nine, perennial. They symbolize, depending on who you ask, mercy, compassion, wealth, prosperity, courage, or pride. Originating in Asia, they bloom in late summer to early fall."

"And those ones?" Rachel asks, pointing to roses of all things.

"Those are roses. I'd suppose you know about them already."

"Tell me about them anyway."

"Usually perennial, can live in most conditions. Usually mean love, especially red roses, and yellow roses represent friendship. Briar roses and some hybrids can have aromatic scents."

And so they go through the botanical garden, Rachel sketches more, and Bianca tells her about the plants. It's so achingly familiar that Bianca gets déjà vu.

"Do you want to get food at some point?"

"It's nearing five," Bianca says. "Sure, why not."

They get takeout. It's good, and it reminds Bianca of what she used to have, back when she and Rachel were first married and lived in California. Lived where Bianca's now staying.

Bianca never should've left. But she'll admit it. She was never not going to leave.

It's been years since Bianca was a child, a decade and a half. She can admit things she couldn't earlier. And one of those is that Bianca regrets leaving Rachel for Nico and Hazel. Bianca has always prioritized her younger siblings over anything else, and it's not recent, the bitter taste that leaves in her mouth.

But Bianca's here now. With Rachel.

Maybe she should stop hiding. But it's Rachel. But there's Nico. And Hazel. And everything else she can’t say and can’t name.

«»

That night, Bianca gets a call from Nico.

"Drew told me that you up and left for California."

"I did. Did you just notice? It's been a few days since I left."

"We don't talk that often, Bianca."

He's lying. Bianca and Nico talk every other day. He's just not used to Bianca doing something this impulsive. He's just not used to Bianca doing something for herself. And he doesn't even realize it.

He never has, she notes, with no shortage of bitterness.

"I suppose not."

"Why did you leave?" Nico's voice is angry, but it's a little grainy through the phone, and if Bianca tries hard enough, she can pretend that it isn’t Nico saying this. That it isn’t her little brother.

"I don't know."

"And Rachel? You haven't talked in years!"

"We talked five minutes ago."

"Bianca-"

"Hold it, Nico."

She hangs up. Puts her phone aside. She can't deal with this right now.

Nico calls again. The apartment's quiet, Rachel's out for a late-night painting class she teaches. The phone rings, a fake sounding noise that reverberates across the empty apartment. Nico's contact reads 'baby brother' because it pisses Nico off and Bianca is so, so tired.

Hazel will call soon, as soon as Nico gives up getting her to listen to him. Hazel will call because Nico will tell her to. Hazel will call because she's concerned about Bianca.

Drew is too, Bianca knows. But Drew knows Bianca, better than Bianca knows herself. Drew only smiled and told Bianca to go for it when Bianca told her she was leaving.

Drew knows exactly how Bianca feels about Rachel.

Bianca could really go for a chat with her.

But on cue, the minute Nico's calls stop coming, Hazel's start.

Bianca puts her phone on silent, puts it in her bag, and continues working on her case. She's getting the case declared self-defence if she dies trying.

Bianca's good at this. She always has been. She's suffered through too much research and too much deliberation to not be.

But just as Bianca starts the get back into her work, the door opens, and Rachel comes in, singing.

It's an old song, certainly. One Bianca remembers Rachel loving.

Rachel's always had a pretty voice. Bianca's always been an alto, dipping into contralto, but Rachel has a high soprano. Bianca would be lying to say she didn't miss it all the time.

Bianca would be lying to say she didn't miss Rachel all the time.

Suddenly, Rachel's singing is brought to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, I forgot you're here," Rachel says sheepishly.

"It's fine," Bianca says. “You’re not used to me here.”

“I suppose not.”

Rachel hums, taking her hair out of the band that barely kept it together anyways.

Bianca goes back to her work, and a few minutes later, Rachel places the most perfect cup of tea on Bianca’s desk, just the way she likes it. Mint tea with a generous amount of lavender honey.

Well, Bianca hasn’t drunk her tea with lavender honey since… since she felt actually married to Rachel.

“Thanks for the tea,” Bianca says. “It’s perfect.”

Bianca can hear the smile in Rachel’s voice. “I know.”

«»

The next day, Bianca goes shopping. She figures she should get something for Rachel. After all, she has to put up with Bianca.

She first stops at a candle store. Rachel loves candles, Bianca remembers distantly — she used to get Rachel candleholders. Floral scented, lavender. Her favourites. Well, the years must have changed things, but Bianca still loves her lavender honey, and her coffee that precise way.

And then she goes to a florist.

Rachel’s favourite flowers are carnations, heliotrope, and forget-me-nots. Bianca decides to go with pink carnations, purple heliotrope, and blue forget-me-nots, along with white yarrow. She hopes it’ll make Rachel happy. She always likes flowers. As a last minute decision, Bianca adds lavender to the bunch.

"Got someone you're thinking of?" the florist asks, her almost luminous green eyes (that distantly remind Bianca of Rachel) lighting up and a smirk decorating her face.

"Sort of," Bianca replies, looking down at her name plate. Lou Ellen, it reads.

So she walks back to the apartment, putting in the code, up to the top floor. With her family's money, Rachel easily affords the penthouse.

It's odd. This is so familiar. Bianca used to do this same thing every day.

And now she lives in New York, across the country.

Bianca loves New York more than she ever loved California. But she can't say that she misses New York.

Rachel fits better in California then when they were in university in New York, she thinks, with a sudden pang. They left for California for a reason.

But the elevator dings and Bianca arrives at the top floor, walking to their door and opening it. Rachel's cooking something, the smell weighing down the air. The scene is so unbearably domestic, just like how they used to be.

Rachel turns when Bianca arrives, cooking momentarily forgotten. "Oh! Flowers? And candles?"

"Kind of like a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift," Bianca explains.

Rachel smiles. "I love them. But you didn't have to get it for me. I wouldn't... not put up with you."

Bianca smiles back, and she goes to the cabinet to get a vase worthy of them. The kitchen is still organized the way that it used to be, five years ago. The déjà vu grows more poignant.

"I'm almost done dinner," Rachel says. "It's chicken. Mostly easy."

"Thanks," Bianca says, because she feels like she has to. "It's fine. Chicken’s great."

And it stirs up a memory. Second date, Bianca got sick, so Rachel came over to her terrible student living and made chicken, of all things. Maria, Bianca’s mother, hated chicken, for whatever reason, so it was the first time Bianca really had chicken.

Until that day with Rachel.

Bianca will admit, she doesn’t like chicken all that much.

But Rachel’s already hosting, and Bianca doesn’t really want to protest.

“Dinner is ready,” Rachel says, softly, as if she’s afraid of disturbing Bianca.

“Thanks," Bianca replies, putting her things away, all the paper back in its folders and into her four-inch binder.

When Rachel serves the food, dinner turns into a quiet affair. It's not awkward — thank the sea and stars — but it is silent. The sunset streams through the windows, and Rachel is still so beautiful in the golden light.

Gold suits her.

Gold suits Rachel, unlike Bianca, whose complexion has always left more for silver than for gold. Gold suits Rachel the way that green does.

Bianca's reminded of their wedding dresses. Bianca wore all black and silver, Rachel in white and gold. It was a little pointless, a little fanciful, but it made great pictures and greater happiness.

But that is far behind her now. That's far behind both of them.

The fresh flowers Bianca got Rachel are on the table, as beautiful as they will ever be. The almond-like scent of heliotrope is faint, the clove-like carnations likewise, but the lavender is pungent compared to them, and not only for the flowers, but also from the fact that Rachel burns the candle Bianca got her that afternoon.

It's in an old candleholder, and it is almost familiar. Well, it is, it's just that Bianca hasn't seen it since... five years ago. But Bianca, in the deep recesses of her memory, remembers it. It was a one-year anniversary gift, painted cream and accented with lavender flowers. Bianca supposes Rachel decided to match them.

But it's so eerily similar to how things used to be. Bianca is sitting and eating in a meal strangely reminiscent of the ones that they used to have before she left.

Bianca could write a piece about this. She can already picture a string quartet — soft violin and soothing cello and viola to balance it all out. Or a piano trio, with a piano and a violin and a cello.

She looks up at Rachel, only to see Rachel looking at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" Bianca asks, because, in all honesty, Bianca cannot think of another reason.

"Oh, no," Rachel says, and looks away. "It's nothing."

«»

The next day, Bianca calls Drew. Drew's voice is grainy through the phone, but by every god to have ever existed, Bianca misses her.

"So. How's Rachel?"

"She's good."

"There's more to the story, I'm sure."

"You know me so well."

"Of course I do, hon. We've been friends for how many years?"

"Too many."

"You sell me short. Anyway, what is going on? Nico and Hazel are in panic mode because you're responding to precisely none of their calls."

"I don't want to."

"Good for you — honestly. Put yourself first for once. Not your career, and definitely not your siblings."

“I can’t just… not take care of them.”

“Sure you can. They’re adults. You can rekindle your relationship with your wife.”

“She’s not really my…”

“Anyone can see you wish she really was,” Drew replies. “Besides, everyone’s fine. Go get your marital bliss or whatever.”

Bianca blushes. “Drew. Tanaka.”

“Bianca. Di. Angelo.”

“I don't... She doesn't..."

"Sure she doesn't. If you can't do everything again, just be friends. Trust me. It'll be better."

"Thanks, Drew."

"And call Hazel. She's better about this than Nico is, you know."

"Fine."

"I have to go — practice is in thirty minutes, and I still need to get there."

"See you."

"Cya. Hope you get it sorted out."

"Thanks."

The phone clicks off. Drew's busy, she always has been. She travels for her soloing work – everyone wants the best violinist in the world – and Bianca and her catch up when they can. Drew’s home base is New York, but Bianca hopes that, if she is to stay in California, that Drew can get a position here for a while.

Bianca pauses. Thinks about Drew's advice. She's usually right about these things – relationships come so easy to her. But Drew hasn't seen Rachel in years, either. But she has seen Hazel recently.

Bianca knows Hazel should be free around now. She picks up the phone, and dials Hazel's number.

Hazel picks up on the second rung. "Bianca? Oh my, we were so worried. Nico and I, that is. This is so unlike you."

"Hi, Hazel. Everything's fine. I'm just..."

"You miss Rachel."

"Yeah." Bianca doesn't have the energy — or the will — to tell Hazel the truth.

"Nico says hi, so does Lavinia. We miss you, but if it makes you happier, stay in California. I'm just... surprised that you would do this."

"I didn't expect it of myself either."

Bianca can hear Hazel's smile on her voice. "The most unexpected is sometimes the best. That being said, nothing much has changed, if anything truly ever changes."

"When have you gotten philosophical on me?"

"Since getting the philosophy degree, obviously."

"Going for the doctorate?"

"Obviously. Lavinia makes enough money that I don't have to worry about it — and from what we have from Father, it's fine. Plus, I could be a professor!”

"That's good. I'll... probably be back soon."

"We miss you."

"I miss all of you, too."

"Have fun down in California, Bianca. I'll see you whenever you come back."

"I'll see you then, too."

The phone clicks off, and Bianca sighs. She hates that she doesn't know what to say to Hazel. She hates that she doesn't know what to say to Rachel. She hates that Drew was right.

Drew's voice rings in her head as it says, "I'm always right."

Bianca snorts to herself. She'd counter with that one time in university when Drew bombed a test, but Drew's not here, and Bianca just has the silent apartment to herself.

One of Rachel's sketchbooks lies on the kitchen table. Bianca recognizes it — it's the one that Rachel brought when they went to the botanical garden.

Bianca, on some odd whim, opens it. She knows she shouldn’t – artists’ work should be their own. But she can’t help herself.

The first page is lovingly detailed drawings of lavender, beautiful and as realistic, and different flowers decorate the pages after it, until one page gives Bianca a pause.

It's herself. It's Bianca, in rendered radiance. The drawing of herself has a small smile on her face as she looks down. Her bangs hang over her face and her hair is in a ponytail. It's achingly real, and Bianca sees herself in it.

Is this how Rachel sees her? She doesn't know, but Bianca feels like she's intruding on a private moment.

She closes the sketchbook, but its drawing bothers her for the rest of the day, for some inexplicable reason that Bianca cannot name.

«»

Bianca makes breakfast the next day. She's not the best cook in the world, but at least she's better than Nico. And her father was never one to cook (and neither was her stepmother, come to think of it), so Bianca would cook, and then Hazel, who was always better than her.

Pancakes were always a family favourite, especially when their parents would go away, and it would just be Bianca, Nico, and Hazel.

Bianca remembers that Rachel also loves pancakes.

Or, she did. But Bianca's pretty sure everyone loves pancakes. So.

As Bianca makes the pancakes, she admires the apartment around her. Rachel's made a dedication to paint all of the walls, as it seems — she started when Bianca still lived with her. Back, a million years ago, when they still lived together. There's flowers along one wall, abstract shapes along another, some fabric pinned to create a beautiful mural of some kind of abstractness with some things that look oddly familiar to Bianca.

Everything here feels so Rachel that Bianca being there feels a violation of the space in itself.

But there are things that remind Bianca of herself, too. Things that Rachel hasn't bothered to get rid of in the years since Bianca's been gone.

The kitchen's still organized the exact same way. There's still a stupid smiley face made with Posca paint pens on one of the backing tiles, a heart with Bianca's signature curved tails, next to one of Rachel's little anatomically realistic hearts (because Rachel couldn't do anything halfway, and Bianca dared her as a joke).

The kitchen tiles were the first that they decided to do that on, and some of the paint has chipped. But Bianca's stupid little doodles that don't even look good sit right next to Rachel's masterpieces. They'd laugh and paint and cry all the same.

It used to be so easy. Bianca didn't care because it was Rachel and that meant everything and nothing all the same.

"Bianca?" Rachel asks groggily, from the door to her bedroom.

"I'm making pancakes."

"Thanks."

"Of course."

The pancakes are done soon enough. Time is no longer an issue to Bianca, for whatever reason. But with her case soon drawing to a close, Bianca's slightly afraid of having to go back to New York.

The realization that she doesn't want to go back to New York is an epiphany Bianca never thought would happen. The realization that she wants to stay with Rachel is even more of one.

But Bianca has a week. A week before she leaves and everything goes back to how it impossibly was before.

That weighs bitterly on her tongue, like the coating of forgotten pomegranate seeds, fermented as to invoke disgust.

"Bianca?" Rachel asks. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"About what?"

Now Bianca just needs to come up with a convincing lie. "A hot dog is a sandwich."

"Oh, really? I think that categorizing things in categories like that is inherently ambiguous."

"It may be, but categorizing things helps bring peace of mind."

"Stuffing things into categories just makes the boxes too big."

Bianca admits that it's kind of nice to argue with Rachel again, about silly and meaningless things.

«»

The court case will take longer than Bianca expects, as is obvious from the get-go. Bianca has the evidence, though, but the prosecution is much more adamant than Bianca thought it'd be.

Never mind that. Bianca is not altogether terrible at this. She's definitely not the best, but she's good, and she's determined. Every case takes a lot out of her — her faith in humanity, for one — but in the end, it's always worth it.

Is anything ever not?

(Bianca knows seeing Rachel again is worth it. Bianca also, impossibly, knows leaving her was worth it, too.)

But she's at court for most of the day, going home (she shudders at how easily Rachel's apartment has become her home once more), cooking dinner (it's the least she can do), and talking to Rachel, sometimes long into the night.

And so her week goes.

The flowers Bianca bought wilt a little, their smell waning as Bianca's time in California draws to a close. Conversation comes easily now, and Bianca would be lying if she said it wasn't comfortable, if she said that leaving wouldn't hurt.

(Bianca won't admit it, but she's been falling love with Rachel all over again.)

But the week passes too fast, too quickly, and suddenly the case is done (and won) and Bianca is set to leave in a few days' time.

"You're leaving," Rachel states, as only she can, a day before Bianca leaves. The lavender candle is burning, and it smells like lavender throughout the apartment.

"I've got to go back to New York," Bianca says, willing herself not to cry. This isn't sad. Rachel will move on, just like she did before. Rachel hasn't been falling in love with Bianca all over again.

"What if," Rachel hesitates, and Bianca doesn't dare hope, "I don't want you to leave?"

"What?"

"Sorry, just ignore it," Rachel says, all in a hurry, like the words are a fire that catches too quickly.

"I'm not going to," Bianca replies, as if that could change anything. "I'll tell you a secret. I don't want to leave, either."

"Then don't."

"I won't."

That afternoon, Bianca cancels her flight and stays with Rachel.

«»

They don't talk about it. They don't talk about how Bianca decided to start another case, to stay. They don't talk about how Rachel didn't want her to leave. They talk around it, anything else, because Bianca isn't quite sure she's ready for that conversation and she doubts Rachel is either.

But Bianca knows they have to talk about it eventually.

She doesn't want to. Instead, she calls Drew.

"I'm not going back," Bianca says. "Rachel and I agree — I'm staying in California."

"No duh," Drew says. "That's great, though. Glad you're staying with Rachel — chase your own happiness."

"How do I tell Hazel and Nico?"

"Text message, or whatever. You've got to tell them, but it'll be fine. Let's focus on you and Rachel, though. Back together?"

"No."

Bianca can hear Drew's sigh through the phone, through the static. "Just admit it. You're in love with her, she's probably in love with you. She wanted you to stay."

"We haven't talked about it."

"Hon. You're never going to if you don't do it as soon as possible. You're going to be in the 'pining roommates' stage forever. And you’re married! I don't want to be hard on you, but please."

"I know," Bianca says, hoping Drew can hear her rolling her eyes all the way in New York. "What do you know of romance anyway?"

"My mother writes romance novels for a living. They're incredibly lucrative."

"That means nothing. You would rather drink glass than read one of her novels."

"Would you rather I get your auntie Hera on call?"

"No! That would be even worse!"

Drew laughs. "What I'm saying is, just give it a chance. If it doesn't work out, you come back to New York. Why keep waiting? You've been waiting for this for five years. You can't keep waiting because eventually Nico might have another accident, or Hazel might, or they both want you back, and you don't know how to not help you siblings constantly. Just do it for yourself."

"I didn't ask to be psychoanalyzed."

"I'm your best friend. It's my job."

Bianca sighs. "I'll talk to her."

"Good."

"How's your newest piece?"

"I hate Paganini," Drew announces. "I always have, I always will. They want me to do a show, with like one piano accompaniment, at Carnegie Hall. I would rather kill myself."

"You're not called the best violinist in the world for nothing, you know."

"Yeah, but I've been doing his Variations on God Save the Queen for three days now and I want to resurrect and kill him."

"And just how good are you so far?"

"I've started memorizing it," Drew mutters, as if ashamed.

"Exactly. You're insane."

"So was Paganini."

Bianca pauses, hoping Drew can hear her raised eyebrow in the pause.

"Shut up," Drew says. "Anyway, go call Nico or Hazel or text them or whatever."

"Drew."

"Bianca."

"Fine."

"Goodbye!" Drew calls, before hanging up, "Remember to tell your siblings!"

The phone clicks off, and Bianca is left in the apartment, the smell of lavender seeping into the air.

She sighs. Drew's right, as seems to be all too often recently, and she calls Hazel.

It takes three rings of hollow sound for Hazel to pick up.

"Hey, Bianca," Hazel says. "You're at the airport?"

"Actually," Bianca wills herself not to cry, "I'm staying in California."

"With Rachel?"

"With Rachel."

"That's good. See you at Christmastime, or sometime soon?"

"When I can."

"I'll tell Nico," Hazel says suddenly. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks."

"Of course. Have fun with Rachel."

"I will."

Hazel hangs up. It's odd — it was a short call, but there was so much there. Hazel doesn't sound mad, but then again, she has always been good at concealing her emotions.

Bianca knows Nico's going to be upset. But she'll stay anyways. Suddenly, a country away, Bianca doesn’t care about Nico’s emotions as much as she cares about Rachel’s presence. Which is odd because she wants to start over with Rachel.

But Bianca also knows, in the back of her mind, that that may never happen. But Bianca has always been one to want to be given life in all its pain and beauty.

«»

Bianca buys flowers for Rachel again, as the other ones go to waste. Blue cumins, blue hyacinths, white baby's breath, white daisies, and purple lavender. She can't help but hope that Rachel will like it.

Rachel wants you to stay, the annoying voice in Bianca's head that sounds suspiciously like Drew whispers. She'll be delighted in anything you get her.

Bianca ignores that voice, and stresses anyway.

Because she's bringing these flowers as a reminder of what they need to talk about. She's bringing these flowers to hopefully soften the blow that Bianca still loves Rachel.

So she goes back to the apartment with flowers, in a bouquet. Jane Austen put it best when she said I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever, and so on. Especially, I have loved none but you.

But Bianca is no writer, no artist. Unlike Rachel, Bianca has never been able to draw inspiration from the world, and turn it to silvery honey on paper. Music has always been easier. Bianca doesn't even write lyrics. It's all violet and flute and piano and whatever else catches her fancy — things Drew and her siblings Valentina and Mitchell can play, but that no one can sing.

Maybe when this is all over, Bianca can write a piece for it. Maybe a piano trio. Or a string quartet. Something about Rachel and her. That sounds about right — it can end in heartbreak or romance, depending on how Rachel response, Bianca supposes.

But never mind that.

She arrives at the apartment a little after when she means to. Bianca got the flowers just before dinner, and Rachel and her decided to go out that day, anyway.

Her palms are sweaty, it's like a first date, but slightly to the left. Rachel's as beautiful as ever, a little nervous, though, her hand fiddling with her dress. Bianca's still able to read Rachel well after all these years, but she still wonders why Rachel's nervous at all.

They get Chinese food, the kind that's really, really good, but only because Rachel knows where to go. She takes Bianca to a place that is almost achingly familiar, and the old Chinese lady behind the counter smiles at Rachel and Bianca. Her name's... Eleanor, some recess of Bianca's mind reminds her.

"You're back," she says, nodding at Bianca.

"I am," Bianca says, smiling back.

The food's great, and conversation ends up filling the air between Rachel and Bianca. They're still putting off the big conversation to come.

Never mind that. The food's great.

"I was thinking that maybe you'd like to help paint the new walls?" Rachel asks. "I'd like you to."

"I am altogether terrible at art, but I'd love to help."

Rachel smiles. "Also. Do you want to have dinner with Katie and Travis at some point? Their two kids will be there, but I think that you need to be re-introduced."

"Of course."

They're putting it off. Rachel knows. Bianca knows. Maybe it's because they don't want to have that conversation and all it entails. Maybe it's because Rachel doesn't want to break Bianca's heart again. But whatever it is, Bianca feels even worse by the time that they leave the restaurant and head back.

Or, well, they don't. Instead, Rachel takes Bianca to an oceanside boardwalk. It's late, and there are no stars, but the city lights are a good enough substitute. It smells like lavender.

"We, uh, need to talk about something," Rachel says.

"Yeah."

The stagnancy hangs in the air. Unlike before, Bianca decides to do something about it.

"I'm still in love with you," she says, all out in a rush, like the words are spilling from the sky in fat rain droplets that come one after the other.

"Thank any and every god," Rachel breathes.

"Sorry?"

"I was about to say the same thing."

Bianca grins, and suddenly she can't stop laughing.

"Why did this take so long?"

"I don't know."

"I never should have left."

"Well, you can remedy that now."

"Really?"

"Just kiss me."

And so Bianca does. It's not perfect, but it's been years, and so it's as perfect as it could be.

«»

Bianca doesn’t stop smiling, even as she wakes up.

She slept late, and Rachel's already gone, an early commitment for her art. Just so she doesn't worry, there's a little note in Rachel's curvy handwriting on the bedside table. Hope it wasn't too jarring waking up. I'll be back around eleven for lunch! — Rachel (P.S. we probably still need to have a conversation, but I don't think the direction it goes will be a surprise.), it reads.

Bianca smiles at it, and the clock reads 9:36. She has an hour and a half before Rachel comes back, and she can't stop smiling.

Bianca doesn't usually eat breakfast, just a cup of coffee, and she decides to call Drew.

"Bianca?" Drew says, over the phone. "What's up?"

"Rachel and I talked," Bianca replies, trying to keep the childish giddiness out of her voice.

"Oh, great. How was it?"

"Great! We still need to have a bigger conversation about what we're doing now, but..."

Bianca can hear Drew smiling. "Great. I told you it'd happen."

"You were right."

"I'm always right, hon."

"Remember that time you lost two truths and a lie, badly?"

"Shut up. Congrats, though. Want me to tell your siblings?"

"No, that would be terrible. I'll tell them, I promise."

"Good. I'm having lunch with Valentina very soon, though, so I have to go, but you're telling me all the details later."

"Talk to you later."

"Absolutely."

The phone clicks off, and Bianca smiles. Maybe that's what Drew and her relationship will be reduced to now — short calls made to update each other on small things. Bianca can live with that. Bianca can live with a lot of things.

But it's around twelve thirty in New York right now — Drew has always liked late lunches — and Hazel and Nico are both bound to be busy, so Bianca holds off calling them.

It's odd. It's almost like a cycle. Bianca was born in Italy, but she soon came to New York, and then California for her law degree. Then she married Rachel and stayed here, until Nico's accident, in which she went back to New York.

And now she's in California. The two cities that could tell Bianca's life story are Los Angeles and New York City, in equal and opposite measures.

But Bianca wouldn't trade her life for anything, now.

And she needs to call Nico. Because he's her little brother, and no matter how upset she gets with him, and no matter how upset he gets with her, Nico is Bianca's only full sibling. That's not to say she isn't close with Hazel, but there are some things that Nico understands that Hazel cannot — like emigrating from Italy. Like the memories of their mother that Bianca finds comforting.

Bianca thinks Maria would've liked Rachel. She always has.

«»

Rachel comes home with flowers. Bianca’s favourite, lavender, and flowerless southernwood and blue salvia and baby’s breath to tie it all together.

“Figured I should get you flowers, too,” she says, smiling almost sheepishly, if Bianca tilts her head slightly and lets herself believe it.

Bianca takes the flowers and puts them into a vase. “I thought I was supposed to be the one to bring flowers.”

“Hey now, I can’t offer you that advantage. I also need to flaunt my wonderful taste in flowers.”

“Naturally,” Bianca replies. “Alternate weeks?”

“Alternate weeks,” Rachel agrees, then pauses. Bianca lets her take her time. “Speaking of, we’re… doing this?”

“Trying again?”

“Yeah.”

“We are,” Bianca says. “Or, I hope we are.”

“We are.”

“Promise I won’t leave again.”

“You better not.”

Bianca laughs, Rachel joining her, and she can smell the lavender.

#pjo #hoo #toa #pjo hoo toa #bianca di angelo #rachel elizabeth dare #drew tanaka #hazel levesque #rachianca #rachel elizabeth dare x bianca di angelo #bianca di angelo x rachel elizabeth dare #fanfiction #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo

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nocaptainonthisship · 8 months

Text

twenty questions for fic writers

thanks for the tag @wyrd-syster and @bad-surprise!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9, as of this moment, but 10 by the end of the week.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Just over 85k which feels both low and absurdly high.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively, Rings of Power, though I've also got a Captain Swan one-shot, and dabbled briefly with Reylo.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(Artanis) -- my beloved. In which Halbrand is an international superstar, and Galadriel is the girl who broke his heart.

To Make A Queen -- the beginning of it all. I wanted to write a one-shot to remove the haladriel brain rot. It became a two-shot. 11 months later, we're here.

it will come back -- my longest complete work to date. I am immeasurably fond of it, and desire never to read another word of it again.

once, i belonged to you(and twice i was free) -- the rapunzel inspired dead-dove. in which galadriel is a princess locked in a tower, and halbrand is her jailor.

A Kingdom They Became -- what started as my own personal breakdown about my chronic pain became possibly the work I am proudest of to date. I am still overwhelmed by the response to this fic.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Eh. I certainly try to. However, my brain does a thing, you see, where 24 hours after I post something to ao3, the door is closed and my brain considers that fic officially DONE. After that point, responding to comments is a much steeper uphill battle. That being said- I do read and savor every single one of them.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hands down, its It Will Come Back. I had *intended* to write a happy ending, but the closer I got to the end, the more I realized that a happy ending would not have been satisfying. I'm incredibly proud of the ending I wrote, but it definitely hits the angst pretty hard.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Dangerous Creatures -- silly little aussie farm-life fluff. (But its haladriel, so Gal still kills something.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. I have- up to this point, anyway- been incredibly lucky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, but what kind?? Still figuring that one out, so for now I'll say, "Whatever kind I can manage on any given day."

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't. I might in the future, but I do have a hard time taking crossovers seriously as a reader- I imagine that feeling would be far worse as a writer.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, thank god.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but maybe one day!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Cowritten- no. I am a beta on a fic (this is not a come-on* in any way shape or form by the lovely @ophidion) which is a process I've more than once compared to being a midwife helping someone bring new life into the world.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

All time fave seems like a great way to get me to change my mind tomorrow(no, I'm not commitment-phobic, you are!) so I'll just say I like pretty, bitey girls and bad men who want to change but don't know how. In any permutation.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Everything that is out there currently, I am confident I will finish. The things I've thus far kept to myself? Only time will tell.

16. What are your writing strengths?

This question feels like a personal attack. Yikes. I think- I hope- the way I write sweeps you up like a raging river, uses rhythm and verbiage to transport the reader entirely into a different world. I'm good at the mechanics behind making you *feel* something, of manipulating an emotion to transport you inside what a character is feeling.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Speed. They say you shouldn't care about your first draft, because you can always fix it later. Well, jokes on them, I NEVER fix it later, so I damn well better do a decent job on my first pass. This makes me slow, and makes the thesaurus app on my phone one of my top used.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I do not do this, other than perhaps a words here or there(and that word is almost always going to be a pet name I make no apologies.) I think it has it's time and place, but it can also pull you out of the story entirely.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lost (Skate Lives, bby!) beginning wayyy back in the summer of 2005. I was 12, so I thank the gods every days that lost-forum is dead and I never cross posted to ffn. (I also wrote for twilight back in the day, but we don't talk about that.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

The A Kingdom, An Empire, A Home series has, I think, my most beautiful writing to date, and despite being incredibly difficult to write(or perhaps because of it) it is also the most satisfying. It is a complex exploration of pain, redemption, and the complicated feelings towards parenthood. If I traveled back in time to just a year ago and showed past!cap that prose, I don't know that she would believe herself capable of it. Turns out she is wrong, and there is only better to come.

tagging: @alicuntismswrites, @lisenberry, @pursuitseternal, @hazelmaines, @mostlydriedmango, @maironite

(I do not know who has already done this, sorry!)

(Also, if you've tagged me in one of these games at any point in the last couple months and I've ignored: I'm sorry, don't hate me. My brain has been a mess, and these sometimes seem intensely overwhelming.)

#tag game #about me #my fic #cap shouts into the void: the void says hey whats your problem??

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substituted-shinigami · 6 months

Text

Learning to Breathe

(aka Please Remember To Put On Your Oxygen Mask Before Assisting Others)

Characters: Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, and some Fourth Division OCs, (RenRuki)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, some Angst, some Humor, Family

Rated: T (for mentions of medical tools such as needles and depictions of anxiety, but nothing is graphic or even really overly described. This story is more about the emotions than the medical drama)

Story Summary: Turns out purple eyes and short stature aren’t the only things that run in Hisana’s family, illness does as well. As Rukia and Renji try to help each other navigate through this new storm in their lives, will they remember to take time to breathe? (Rukia gets the same disease that killed Hisana (Bloodlines AU), Post TYBW, Post renruki engagement)

Click the link to read below or click here to read the story from the beginning on AO3!

(1/7)

Prologue: Boarding Call

(AO3 chapter link)

Chapter Summary: Good morning passengers. We are now boarding flight 50S to Anxiety Seireitei City. Please remember to store all of your baggage in the carry-on compartment above your head, so that it will not be revealed until the end of the trip. Thank you, and have a pleasant flight! (A prologue in which Rukia and Renji get a diagnosis.)

It had been such a peaceful morning…

"Pleasantly surprised to see you this morning, Sister,” Byakuya had said rather fondly to her as she entered the dining room that morning, “But do you not usually leave for the Thirteenth by this time?”

"Normally, yes," Rukia had agreed as she sat down at the table, "But I'm actually only working a half day today. I have my yearly physical at the Fourth this morning, so I’m going into the office late. I'm trying to get it done and out of the way before the wedding."

"A wise decision," Byakuya nodded.

"Speaking of which, after my appointment, I'm stealing your lieutenant for lunch," Rukia continued between bites of kyuri no tsukemono. She was having trouble not shoveling the whole thing into her mouth. The fresh but sour taste of the pickled ginger and cucumbers, the mild kick from the sprinkling of chili, these were the kinds of flavors that she loved in the morning. Their palate, a perfect pairing of coolness and heat, served to invigorated and inspired her! Plus they were tasty too, "The bar we have chosen for the wedding reception has some dishes they would like us to taste for the event. Afterwards I'll go back to work in the afternoon, followed by going to the seamstress in the evening to get the measurements for my dress."

“Indeed? You are quite busy as of late,” Byakuya replied as he sipped his tea, “Well, if you’re done with your appointment early, do come by the office anyway. I would say so that we can chat, but considering how Abarai gets when he waits for you, I doubt I'll get a word in."

"Oh? What do you mean?" Rukia asked, a little surprised. Byakuya put down his tea cup, and gave his sister a withering look.

"Sister, he is unbearable whenever he waits for you. Between the foot tapping, and the sighing, and the constant checking of that infernal communication device all you young shinigami carry around…” Rukia rolled her eyes at him.

“...A soul pager, Niisama?”

“Yes, that. Anyway, it’s a wonder he gets any paperwork done at all! If I thought marrying you two would get him to stop, I would move up the wedding to tomorrow, but I’m sure that it will just make him worse.” Rukia chuckled fondly in response.

“Well, I will be sure to speak to him about it.”

“Please do,” Byakuya said, as he picked up his chopsticks, “But enough about my insufferable vice captain and your incurable fiance, tell me about-” They continued to talk amiably for the rest of the morning.

A simple routine check-up. That’s what it should have been…

The tech taking her spiritual pressure made a face at the monitor.

“What is it?” Rukia asked in a mildly amused tone, “I know I’ve always been a bit weird, but I didn’t think that my spiritual pressure was that strange!” The tech didn’t laugh, however.

“Not sure, something seems off…” he murmured more to himself than to her as he stared intently at the monitor, “Hold on, I’m gonna grab the nurse.” He grabbed the nurse, who also looked at the monitor, and then immediately left to grab the Relief Team Leader.

“Hanataro,” Rukia addressed the Fourth Division’s Third Seat as he peered at the monitor with a voice she hoped didn’t betray her growing trepidation, "What is going on? You know I don’t want to rush you, but as I told you earlier, my schedule is pretty packed today,” she gave him a mischievous look, “If you let me leave early, I promise to bring you back some cake from the tasting I’m going to!”

“Ah… Sorry, Rukia… But cake or no, there is something about your reiatsu that seems…off. We are going to need to run some tests to be sure. Probably even draw some labs…" but as he said it, Rukia's eyes went wide and her body went cold and stiff.

"I…I see…" she barely got out, as her hands involuntarily balled into fists.

Hanataro looked up and smiled at her kindly, "Don't worry, Rukia, I'll handle it."

"Thank you…" Rukia replied, relaxing just the tiniest bit. Unfortunately, the situation did not improve.

“We’re not positive of anything yet, Rukia, but your reiatsu doesn’t seem to be flowing or filtering normally, so we feel it’s best to monitor the situation," Fourth Division Captain Isane had said when they admitted her.

Rukia had already texted Renji to let him know she would be late for lunch. She thought it best that she text him again. He was there in minutes, sprinting into the room.

"Rukia!!!"

She had been laying in the bed, propped up by some pillows, when he had arrived. When she saw him, she sat up straight and gave him a little smile and a wave.

"Hey, Renji! What’s up?"

"That’s my line!!!!" Renji put his hands on her shoulders, "What happened? Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?!"

Rukia reached up her hands to gently hold on to Renji’s wrists, "I'm fine, Renji. Don't worry, it's just a precaution," she dismissed casually, before smirking up at him teasingly, "Although my shoulders kind of hurt now."

"Dang it, Rukia! This isn't a joke!" Renji exploded as he let go of her shoulders. But he immediately deflated and slumped down in the chair next to her bed, "I was so worried, I…" Rukia took a hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"I know. I’m sorry, Renji. I didn't mean to scare you."

Renji bent his head down so that it touched hers, "Don't apologize, idiot. Just feel better soon, ‘kay?"

"Okay,” Rukia replied, tilting her head up so that their noses touched.

"I love you…” he whispered to her as he squeezed her hand, “...so much…"

"I know… I love you too," she whispered back.

They continued to stay, just like this, sitting close, whispering soothing words to each other, when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a large thump by the door. Rukia peered around her tall fiance to see Byakuya clumsily trying to fix the vase of flowers that had been set on the end table by the entrance. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh, Nii-sama! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she said. She gave him a kind smile, before bowing, "Thank you for visiting me!"

Byakuya turned away from the offending plant towards his sister, but didn't manage to step any closer into the room. Instead he stuck his hands in his sleeves and asked, "How…are you feeling, Rukia?"

"I'm alright," she began. Renji gave her a pointed look, "Honest! I don't feel any different. If they hadn’t protested so much, I wouldn't have let them keep me at all!" Byakuya regarded her silently, almost sadly, before tearing his eyes away from her.

"I'm…glad you chose to listen to them," he told her quietly.

“Yeah!” Renji agreed, turning back towards her, “No breaking out of here, you hear?” He squeezed her hand again, “I know hospitals suck, but I’ll be here whenever I physically can. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed, “And thank you, both of you, but like they said, this is just a precaution. I’m sure they’ll let me out by the end of the day!"

The Fourth did not release Rukia by the end of that day, or for the rest of that week, but eventually, the diagnosis did come in. CRVS, also known as Chronic Reiatsu Vent Stenosis, a rare reiatsu vent disease that tended to run in families, and the same disease…the same disease that killed her sister, Hisana.

And just like that, everything changed…

#bleach #renruki #fanfiction #renji abarai #rukia kuchiki #byakuya kuchiki #post tybw #learning to breathe #L2B #bloodlines au #hurt/comfort #some angst #some humor #family #wcabw #wcabw season 1 multi-chapter fic

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this-is-krikkit · 1 year

Note

Hey Sunshine 💜💜💜

As I didn't annoy you yet today, I'm here to:

1/ remind you that I exist & I can be a pain in the ass in case you forgot 😈

2/ request 13 "Don't move" for the Drabble Prompts post 📝

3/ send you a hug 🫂

See ya!

Mwah 😘

VV !! 😏😉 thank you for the request 🤗

1/ i can't forget that you exist, i love you too much for that ♥️♥️ and you're never annoying 😘

2/ i technically don't have to honor that promise since my choice lost, but i couldn't resist writing it down anyway… and I'd already used that line before you even sent in the ask, so it feels like the stars were aligned for me to post whatever the f this is!!

3/ hugging you right back ♥️🥰 and i really hope you like this!!

send me prompts and i'll write a drabble

lingua (ao3 link)

Tags: modern au, nsfw, nsfw use of piercings, afab levi ackerman, amab hange zoë, t4t, trans levihan, don't like don't read, he/him pronouns for Levi, she/her pronouns for Hange, porn with feelings, don't do this at home (no really don't you're supposed to wait longer)

"Hey, pretty boy," Hange singsongs under her breath when she enters Levi's studio, the entire one room apartment bathed in a gorgeous sunset orange at this late hour of the day.

As she predicted, he's still out cold from his previous night shift as a nurse, and she hesitates as she closes the door as quietly as possible. It's hard not to feel guilty at the thought of waking him up, but she's got two major excuses she thinks will make it worth it.

The first one is silly, idiotic even, and if Levi doesn't approve, will turn into a total disaster of a surprise.

The second is slightly embarrassing. Hange's historical thesis has been keeping her way too busy lately, and both money and the ER team schedule have been so tight that Levi has needed to work double the usual amount of additional hours, which resulted in them not seeing each other for over a couple of weeks now. And okay, she's got that other trivial mission in mind for tonight, but if she's being honest, this kind of a gap between shared moments simply isn't something she can stand for a day longer. It has been eating away at her for a solid week now, and she realized today that she just missed him to fucking much not to cut her afternoon studying session short, promising herself to start earlier tomorrow morning, and sneak into Levi's apartment –using the key he'd pretended to have forgotten at her place, barely two months into their still blossoming relationship.

She takes off her shoes and jacket, throwing them on his beloved worn out leather chair in the corner of the room, easily dismissing the twinge of worry she'd felt about the earful she's definitely going to get for that later, before she goes to lie down next to him on his sofa bed. She lightly brushes the longest strands of his hair away from his eyes and looks down at his gorgeous, peacefully sleeping face, unable to resist kissing him lightly on the nose and chuckling when it crinkles in reply.

"The fuck you doing here, Four-eyes?" he asks without opening his eyes, voice barely audible through its sleepy grogginess.

He sounds as angry and grumpy as he always would to a stranger's ear, but his arms wrap around her body and drag her on top of him anyway, his hands traveling up and down her back and lightly scratching along her spine like he knows she loves.

"Couldn't stand to be cooped up in my cave like a hermit anymore, so I decided to escape and come see my boyfriend," she replies, only pecking his lips once before sliding down to kiss her way to his neck.

She pauses there, inhaling his usual comforting scent and losing herself in the enticing warm drowsiness he's cocooned into and almost deciding to fall asleep here and there -when did she sleep last, again, anyway? she can't recall- but she's got something to do, so she tears herself away from this heavenly spot and drops kisses downards until she reaches the years old scars on his chest.

"Tch, I was sleeping. So annoying," Levi complains, even as his hips immediately roll and start seeking friction against Hange's body.

But she's got a plan, a serious plan to surprise him with that new piercing she's so psyched over, and not even her growing arousal will deter her from it, she mentally scolds herself -no matter how uncomfortable her jeans are starting to feel and how much parts of her are begging her to respond to his movements right now.

"Is this annoying?" she asks, wrapping her lips around one of his nipple and only letting the tip of her tongue wet it, before moving to play with the other one the exact same way.

"Yes, it is," Levi speaks up, sounding much more awake now, glaring down at her. "You know how much I hate it when you tease.”

Hange's brain comes up with a dozen counterexamples to that statement, but she lets it slide.

"Relax, babe," she chuckles, leaving another trail of kisses down his belly, "I've got a surprise for you."

She hooks her fingers in his underwear's elastic and slides it down his legs when he obediently lifts his hips up to help her out. She takes a moment to allow her hands to roam back up his limbs, marveling at the powerful muscles she can feel right under his skin.

"I don't like surprises," he lies again, just as Hange finally settles between his thighs, her short nails still digging into the skin of his hips as her mouth hovers over him.

"Oh, you don't?" she asks, faking surprise and feigning to go and unhook one of his legs like she's about to get away. "Never mind then, I'll go–

"Don't move," he warns, using the force of his legs to push on her back and keep her where she is.

Hange grins at the lust in his voice and lowers her face enough that her mouth can part his lower lips gently, and a low moan escapes her through the intimate kiss when she realizes how wet he is already.

"Damn, what were you dreaming about that got you so worked up?" she wonders against him.

She's not even really asking, not when he's already panting and he somehow tastes even better than she recalled, not when she has to stop herself from ruining her big reveal by eating him out like he deserves right now, by drinking every drop of fluid his body can produce to quench her thirst and make him writhe some more beneath her newly accessorized tongue.

"You, actually," Levi confesses, sounding almost as shy as he does out of breath.

He's staring straight down and into her eyes as he says it though, looking both terrified and determined to get his point across, and Hange really doesn't know how she manages to hold back when he's pulling this brutal honesty barely hiding a mountain of vulnerability act on her -the very one she knows is too soon to reveal how it makes her heart hammer in her chest every single time she witnesses it.

Still, she somehow succeeds in reigning it in, only swallowing thickly before she replies.

"Ha! Never heard you admit that before," she half jokes.

And it's not actually untrue. She knows the physical effect she has on him, she's seen, felt and tasted it before, but Levi's hasn't been very vocal about this stuff so far –not unless they're in the middle of it and his brain gets foggy enough that he starts blabbering barely audible affectionate words to her she thinks she'll never get enough of. He's an action over words guy, much better at conveying how much he likes the way she's now slowly pushing the tip of her tongue in and out of him by threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her even closer, much more comfortable with tilting his hips towards her to try and get more of the contact he so desperately craves right now than by begging out loud for it.

"So, that's the big –fuck– surprise?" he asks between moans he can't keep in, "you driving me mad by edging me like this for hours? Cause that's hardly fucking surpri–

Hange opens her mouth wider and, before he finishes his sentence and her nerves get the better of her, lets the flat of her tongue and the hard metal of her now thirteen days old piercing come in contact with Levi's clit, lightly but firmly stroking it.

Levi startles and yelps at the unusual feeling, tugging at her hair in shock, but Hange's hands settle his hips back down before he can move again.

"Easy, easy," she chuckles, and lifts her head up high enough to proudly show him her new toy. "That's the surprise! You like?"

He freezes on the spot and stares down at her in silence, mouth agape and eyes open wide, and some of her confidence starts to wear off.

"You don't?” she asks instead, much less enthusiastic suddenly. “Shit. I'm sorry I scared you. You know how long I've wanted one of these, and I just thought this would be a funny way to show–

"You lied,” he cuts off her nervous rambling, frowning though his hand is now rubbing at her scalp gently where he pulled a little too hard before.

"What? How?”

“I'm obviously not the only reason you got out of your dorm in the last two weeks," he accuses, with a pout she almost can't tell is fake.

But there's a playful glint to his eyes that she's getting more and more familiar with as she spends more time with this relaxed, open side of him she loves so much, and she decides to mess with him right back.

"Who says I didn't do it myself?" she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

His entire demeanor changes then, so fast she startles when he sits up and angles her head higher and away from where he needs her the most. He takes a deep breath and settles his free hand on her jaw to keep her mouth open, carefully studying the piece of jewelry.

"Hange Natsu Zoë, for the sake of your immune system and my sanity,” he starts as he looks back up and into her eyes, “you better swear to me that you did not pierce your own fucking tongue."

Hange barks out a laugh at the seriousness in his tone, shaking her head free and pushing him hard enough that he lies back down.

"Truth be told, I watched a couple of Youtube tutorials on the topic," she admits when she's back into position, gently and effortlessly sliding two of her fingers into him, relishing in the shiver she can feel spreading through his body at the smooth intrusion -and how well it works to make him forget whatever he was going to retort in reply. "But it didn't seem worth the risk to end up in the ER while you were on triage duty."

Levi clicks his tongue at her, but it turns into a hiss when she puts her lips over his clit and lightly sucks on it, twirling her piercing around it once it's trapped inside her mouth.

She releases it right when she can tell Levi was nearing his peak, and wordlessly apologizes by hooking and thrusting her fingers faster and faster in and out of him. She alternates between rubbing either the metal piercing and the muscle of her tongue on him, careful not too put too much pressure as he tends to get sensitive.

But Levi doesn't seem to remember that, and he cants his hips closer to her mouth still, his powerful thighs squeezing her head between them, stronger and stronger as she quickens the pace, her mouth and hand working in tandem as she ignores the building pain in her jaw and the need to breathe.

He comes with a loud strangled cry that vaguely resembles her name, and she almost loses focus as she realizes that. She doesn't stop swirling her tongue over him, avoiding his clit and gathering every drop of wetness she can feel leaking out of him to drink it hungrily. Her fingers fight against his squeezing walls to keep pushing against that sweet spot inside of him, drawing out his orgasm and making his entire body shake as he rides the tide.

"Fucking hell," she hears him sigh when he finally releases the pressure around her head, his legs falling heavily on each side of her body onto the mattress.

Hange takes a deep breath in when she's free, wipes her nose, chin and fingers on the sheets and grins up at him and his blushed, fucked-out face. He lazily reaches down and she complies, dragging herself upwards until they're face to face.

He kisses her without needing to think about it like he used to in the early stages of their relationship. His tongue ventures into her mouth immediately, languidly exploring and eager to play with the new addition, and Hange regretfully parts from that exciting enthusiasm when he tugs a little too forcefully at it.

"Careful! It's still sensitive. This shit needs like two months to heal properly."

Levi frowns again at that, and Hange has to bite her lips to stop herself from commenting on just how adorable he looks, trying to look all strict and serious when half of his brain is clearly not completely functional yet.

“Were you even supposed to do that so soon?" he worries, cupping her face into his hands.

It's almost too gentle a moment to ruin it, but Hange's never been one to refuse that kind of a challenge.

“Was it that bad? You know, you have to tell me if you don't like–

The rest of her sentence is muffled behind the hand he's just shoved against her mouth to keep her quiet. She loses tracks of whatever she was going to say anyway when she looks down at him in forced silence, at his rosy cheeks and nose, at his parted lips, at his dilated pupils and the odd determination she can see growing in his eyes.

“I love it,” he whispers softer than she's ever heard him speak, not even glancing down at her mouth.

He removes his hand, thumb caressing her upper lip as he goes, and she feels herself mirroring the gorgeous, easy smile that show on his own face, unable to tell if she's more frustrated or exhilarated at that maybe hint that he could have been talking about something other than her oral skills.

#levihan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #hange zoë #levihan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #my stuff #mutuals #asks #youre ackermine #hange's piercings #squad denial #trans levihan #trans levi ackerman #trans hange zoë #t4t levihan

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