#I cannot stress enough that this whole fic was supposed to be SHORT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jmbringitonworld · 2 years

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Unexpected Benefits of Becoming a Swamp Witch (2)

AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there

Chapter 1

Finally, here's the promised fluff!

At over 12k words, this is, by quite a bit, my longest ever chapter. If I wasn't so determined to have this be the final chapter, I definitely would've spilt it up, because this was a chore to get through. It feels like I've been writing this forever, and I've honestly gotten just a little bit sick of it by this point. I also think this chapter might've driven me just the tiniest bit insane, but that's fine. I'm just SO glad to have finally finished it!

I've got a cold right now, and my head hurts, so I'm not sure exactly how I feel about this chapter. But I'm pretty sure that if my head were clearer, I'd be incredibly proud of what I've managed to get out. This was a lot of hard work, and, personally, I feel like it's paid of. Of course, you, the reader, are perfectly entitled to feel differently. I'll leave it up to you to decide, but I hope that this chapter was worth the wait, and that you enjoy it.

Skull and Forest God Au belong to @llamagoddessofficial

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Chapter 2: Living with the Consequences

I was wrong. Very wrong.

His interest in me did not, in fact, diminish in the following days, months, or even years. Quite the contrary – his feelings for me only grew, exponentially, over time.

And slowly, subtly, surprisingly... so did mine.

~~~

It was getting late, and my two familiars had left to go hunting, so I decided to put off all thoughts of the infatuated Wetland God, and what I would do about him, ‘til the next day. The tree hollow wasn’t the most luxurious of bedrooms, but it was cushioned on all sides by an abundance of pillows and blankets, so I would at least be comfortable and warm throughout the night. Besides, I’d slept in rougher spots than this during my travels, and I had honestly been expecting far worse for my first few weeks here, until I could build my own witch’s cottage.

Trying to ignore Skull’s besotted expression, I turned my back to him and dug through my satchel, searching for some rations I’d packed for my dinner. My hands fell upon a large, wrapped package, still warm and smelling strongly of honey. I gave a start, as I recalled the honey cake I’d baked, as an offering to the Wetland God. With all the excitement and confusion of the day, I’d completely forgotten to give it to him.

Daring a peek over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Skull’s red eyelight, shining brightly in the growing gloom of the evening, its pupil still heart-shaped. His mouth was stretched in a wide smile, soft and sappy, in spite of the wickedly-sharp teeth lining his jaws.

I looked back at the cake, feeling that crimson gaze continuing to burn a hole in my back. If I gave Skull the cake now, he might take it as a sign of my ‘affections’. My brows furrowed, indecision gripping my mind. It wouldn’t do to encourage the deity’s attention, flattering though it may be. But still...

I chanced another glance at him. He was still staring at me, adoration written all across his skull and radiating from his magic. His face brightened when he noticed my gaze, his magic buzzing excitedly in the air. I hastily looked away.

He’d definitely be happy to receive my offering. I pursed my lips, as I imagined the joyful expression he’d likely make, how much more electrified his magic would become. Given the horror stories I’d been told by the townsfolk, I was certain that Skull hadn’t received an offering in years, if not centuries. He really would be happy if I were to give him one now.

I sighed heavily, my shoulders falling, before I drew myself back up, my face set with determination. Skull had shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived in his domain. The very least I could do, was to show him a bit of kindness in return, and give him the cake that I’d already baked for him. Firming my resolve, I grabbed the honey cake with both hands and marched straight toward him.

Skull shifted from foot to foot as I approached him, looking for all the world like a gigantic, skeletal puppy, eager for his owner’s attention. I cleared my throat and held out the cake, uncovering it to show him what I’d brought him.

“I baked this for you, Skull, as an offering. It’s a honey cake. I hope it pleases you.” I offered him a polite smile, showing none of the doubts plaguing my thoughts, and braced myself for what I assumed would be an overzealous reaction, given how he’d acted so far.

But I received no such reaction. In fact, I hardly received any reaction at all.

Skull stared at my cake with a strangely blank look, the widening of his eyelight being the only indication of the shock he seemed to be experiencing. His mouth opened, but after a few seconds without a word being said, it closed again, only to reopen several heartbeats later.

After a minute of watching Skull’s muted gawking at my cake, I could stand the awkward silence no longer. “What’s wrong? Do-... do you not like the cake?”

That finally got a reaction, as Skull’s head snapped toward me. “NO!... no... i... i... i love it... so much... it... thank you... i... thank... you...”

Then, to my utter horror, large tears started gathering along the corners of Skull’s eye sockets, eventually tipping over and dripping down his skull. Panic clawed at my chest, as the God of the Wetland continued to cry, a low, keening whine filling the air.

I shifted the cake to one arm, and used the other to stroke Skull’s wet muzzle. “There, there...” I murmured to him, as comfortingly as I could, with only the slightest edge of panic to my voice. “Oh dear, please don’t cry, sweetheart...! It’s all right, there’s no need for tears. Please, Skull, eat this cake. I baked it especially for you!”

I held the cake out once more, a pleading smile on my face. Skull’s tears finally seemed to slow down, although they didn’t stop completely. He sniffed loudly, then nudged me, very gently, with the tip of his snout.

“i can’t... eat this... it’s a... gift... from you... it’s too... precious... to eat... i will... cherish it... forever...” he insisted, voice as wobbly as his red eyelight.

I huffed a sigh. “It’s a cake. It’s meant to be eaten! That’s why I baked it.” I barely held back an eyeroll, exasperation leaking into my voice.

However, Skull refused to budge. The tears still steadily falling down his skull didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon, so out of desperation, I finally told him, “Fine! I’ll bake you more cakes! If you eat this one and cheer up, then I will definitely bake you all the honey cakes you want in the future. Okay? Please?”

That seemed to give him pause. Skull stood in silence for a few seconds, contemplating my offer, before he finally nodded his head. “all... right... if that’s what... you want... and if you’ll... give me... more... you will... give me more... right...?”

I instantly nodded to him. “Absolutely! Lots more cake, just for you! And anything else you want me to cook for you!”

In hindsight, that was probably a reckless vow to make, one that could easily be taken advantage of. Still, Skull seemed satisfied, and his weeping finally ceased. He opened his mouth wide and looked at me expectantly. Getting the message, I tossed the entire cake into Skull’s gaping maw, and watched it snap shut. I neither saw nor heard any chewing, but the Wetland God made several appreciative sounds, which soon devolved into more purring.

Crisis averted, I sighed, my shoulders sagging. I’d come dangerously close to making a promise I wasn’t fully certain I’d be able to keep, and I’d probably only reinforced Skull’s troublesome expectations of me and our relationship. I was really beginning to regret offering that stupid cake to him.

And yet... as Skull continued to purr, his magic humming in contentment, I couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in my chest. An involuntary smile curled onto my face, at the deity’s blissful expression. As I’d expected, he definitely was happy to receive my offering.

~~~

The next morning, I awoke to the beautiful singing of songbirds. Snuggled in warm blankets and soft pillows, I yawned, languidly stretching out my body. Feeling refreshed and well rested, I opened my eyes, ready to greet the new day.

And was greeted, instead, by Skull’s massive head, staring at me from the hollow’s entrance, his single ruby eyelight fixed unblinkingly on my face.

I suppressed a flinch, as memories of the previous day came flooding back to me. Right. I had yet another admirer to deal with. One I couldn’t dismiss as easily as I could all of the previous ones. Forcing away the urge to bury my head beneath my blanket and go right back to sleep, I dragged myself out of my cosy nest and got up.

Skull perked up, leaning his head toward me to nuzzle me, with a gentleness belying his tremendous size. The glow of his red eyelight softened, beginning to shimmer, the pupil once again becoming heart-shaped.

Reflexively, I reached out to pet his muzzle, receiving a purr in return. I probably shouldn’t have been indulging the Wetland God like this, but something about his earnest desire for my affection was too endearing for me to resist. Skull let out several cute little chirps, in between his constant purring, and unable to help myself, I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his wide snout as best as I could. The purring only intensified at the hug.

“Good morning, Skull,” I mumbled against his bones. I didn’t ask him whether he’d been stood there, staring at me all night, just silently watching me sleep. I was afraid of the answer.

“yes... it is!... such a... very... very good... morning... with you... here with me...” he rumbled back, his deep, gravelly voice managing to sound incredibly tender, and full of joy. “i’ve been... all alone... for so... so long... but not... anymore... not now that... i have you...” He beamed at me, his eyelight practically sparkling in its socket. “i’m so... happy... i love you... so much... my wife... my mate... my love...”

He sounded so sincere, so genuine, as he spoke of his ‘love’ for me, that I couldn’t prevent heat from spreading across my cheeks. I pressed my face to Skull’s, trying to hide the flush in my cheeks, feeling more embarrassed than I had in a very long time. I’d never blushed before, like some shy, simpering girl-child. It was undignified. Mortifying. And utterly unbecoming of a powerful sorceress.

Stepping away from Skull, I turned my back to him and cast my eyes all around me for something to focus on, beside the sad, pitiful whine of a lovesick Forest God. However, there was nothing to see in the tree hollow, except for the piles of blankets and pillows, and the various little human trinkets strewn about the place. This simple den was also unbefitting of a powerful sorceress.

Mind made up, I faced Skull again, and announced my intentions. “Skull, while your nest is very, uh, charming, it’s too small and basic for a witch like me to live and work in. I need a proper home. Would you happen to know of a spot where I may construct for myself a witch’s cottage?”

The Wetland God didn’t look too happy with my request. He fidgeted, pawing lightly at the thick tree roots, eyelight dimming, and let out an anxious-sounding whine. “but... nest is... for mate... you can’t go... somewhere else... mate must... stay in... our nest...!”

His fidgeting got worse, and a few of the flowers on his legs and horns wilted. I bit my lip, unsure how to convince him to let me leave, without him getting too upset. Forest Gods were creatures of instinct, first and foremost, and the last thing I wanted was to trigger Skull’s more possessive instincts. Suddenly, he lifted his head, his eyelight shining brightly with hope.

“i can... make nest... better...for you...!” he eagerly proposed. “i can... make it bigger... can change it... for you...!”

I hesitated, feeling sceptical about his idea, uncertain whether his magic was stable enough for such complicated alterations to the giant tree, but his pleading expression was hard to deny. With a resigned sigh, I nodded my head.

“Very well, I accept your offer,” I conceded, to which he beamed at me, his eyelight almost glittering within his eye socket. “I’ll assist you with my own magic, of course. Together, we should hopefully be able to fashion a suitable house out of this tree.”

I tried to inject as much confidence into my voice as I could, if only to dispel my own doubts. Skull looked excited and relieved, shifting his considerable weight from foot to foot, his large head swaying slightly.

“yes...! together...!” he agreed, very enthusiastically.

Then, tossing his head back, Skull let out an ear-splittingly loud bellow, shaking the ground and the trees with the force of his roar, and causing the water to ripple outwards. I covered my ears, shrinking back and away from him.

The Wetland God’s magical aura spread out from him, filling the air, and coating the surrounding area, concentrating on the giant tree in particular. As the ancient and powerful Nature Magic seeped into the tree, it started growing, its branches lengthening and its trunk thickening, the hollow expanding along with it.

I retreated to Skull’s side, to observe the transformation. It wasn’t... exactly what I was hoping for... But it was a start. Filled with determination, I sent out my own magic, entwining it very carefully with Skull’s, and guided his wild magic to where I needed it to go. Skull’s magic responded eagerly, if clumsily, to my direction, and together, we slowly shaped the tree into a form more suitable for my needs.

I smiled to myself. Yes, Skull and I would be able to make this tree into a home. Together.

And over the next several days, we set about doing just that.

It took a lot of time, work, and dedication, but the two of us devoted ourselves completely to the lengthy and arduous task of transforming the giant tree into a treehouse (or rather, a tree-cottage). At the end of the day, I was often magically drained, both from having to guide Skull’s chaotic and untamed magic, and from having to cast various spells for the more delicate and finicky adjustments, as well as physically exhausted, from the manual jobs that magic could not accomplish. But I was also incredibly proud of our achievement.

We were making steady progress, and I knew that soon, much sooner than I had anticipated, I would have my forever home.

~~~

A cottage was not all that I required, however. At my request, Skull raised a sizeable chunk of land above the water, beside the den, to serve as my garden. The soil there was fertile and saturated in potent Nature Magic, so anything that was planted in it was sure to thrive. On top of the usual fruits and vegetables, I’d also planted various flowers and herbs for potion-making.

Additionally, Skull kept encouraging moths, bees, and other pollinators to visit my garden. The bees, in particular, gave me an idea of how I could express my gratitude to the Wetland God, for all of his invaluable help. It took me most of an afternoon, but I managed to craft a large, wooden apiary. Then, I used an insect charm to lure a queen honey bee into settling inside it.

After a few of days, and many enchantments, I had a rapidly growing colony of bees, to help pollinate my garden, and to produce honey, which I then used to bake cakes and other sweet treats for Skull. I had told him that I would bake him more honey cakes, after all. Thankfully, his reactions to my offerings weren’t as alarming as his first one, even if he was no less delighted, each time I gave him one. Moreover, I also discovered that the Wetland God was especially fond of warm, freshly-baked bread, soaked in honey.

Occasionally, though, I’d come across a flower in my garden which I was certain I hadn’t planted myself. They were always vibrantly colourful, but were otherwise completely useless to me and had no beneficial properties whatsoever. It seemed obvious to me that Skull had grown them, likely as an attempt to please me. While I did appreciate his thoughtfulness, I didn’t want useless flowers taking up room in my garden, so I removed them each time I spotted one.

Nevertheless, I didn’t have the heart to just toss away Skull’s gifts. I could only too easily picture the look of heartbreak he’d give me, and it made my chest ache, for reasons I couldn’t explain. It was frustrating, and almost made me want to throw away the flowers, just to spite the feeling. However, I merely put Skull’s flowers in one of my taller chalices, one made out of clear crystal. I placed the makeshift flower vase by one of the windows I’d recently installed in the side of the tree, and it made for an aesthetically pleasing sight, if nothing else.

It didn’t take long for me to run out of space for the flowers, though, and I had to get a little creative about where to stuff anymore I kept finding. I was sorely tempted to ask Skull to stop growing flowers I didn’t want in my garden, but the thought of his disappointed expression made me hold my tongue. It was just a minor inconvenience, anyhow, and certainly not worth complaining to an Old God about, especially not one as emotional as Skull.

One day, however, one of Skull’s flowers did manage to catch my eye. It was a rare blossom, and toxic if consumed, but its pollen was used in many regenerative potions, so I decided to let it stay in my garden. I even gathered some of its seeds, to grow more of this valuable specimen. Skull had evidently noticed my interest in this particular flower, as the next morning, I found more of them growing in my garden.

From then on, each time I showed any interest in a specific flower, by the following day, more of them would have appeared. This then extended to any herbs or fungi I found in the swamp, and brought home with me. Furthermore, whenever I caught an insect or other small critter for my potions, or collected ingredients from the local wildlife, such as those alligator teeth I’d been eyeing that first day, I’d come across even more of them afterwards, as I explored the swamp.

Skull was clearly always paying attention to me, and his attentiveness warmed my heart more than I cared to admit. And he was never overt or demonstrative with these gifts, either. While he was very open about his feelings for me, and never hesitated to declare his love for me or to nuzzle me, calling me his “wife” and “mate”, his gifts to me were always subtle, and he never drew attention to them, as if he were shy about giving them to me directly.

And I never thanked him openly, either. Despite appreciating his gifts more than I ever had anyone else’s, the thought of expressing my gratitude to him so plainly, so sincerely, left me feeling a little too... vulnerable. So instead, I baked him more cakes. And biscuits. And pies. And whatever else I thought he might enjoy.

And each time I would give them to him, he’d have the most heartfelt look of joy and wonder on his face, in spite of his lack of facial muscles, and his magic would thrum so happily, so excitedly, that it felt like an even greater gift than all of the flowers in my garden.

~~~

The plants and other potions ingredients weren’t the only present Skull would leave for me, however.

The Wetland God kept coaxing pretty insects and colourful birds to the area around my home. While Artemis enjoyed playing with the insects, especially the dragonflies, much to their distress, Hermes didn’t take kindly to the other birds showing off on what he now considered his territory, and never failed to chase them all away the moment he spotted one.

Skull seemed more than a little downhearted about that. But he never complained, or tried to stop my familiars, and instead, kept attracting more visually appealing wildlife to my home, in the hopes that I would appreciate them. Well, I appreciated the effort, at least. For being such a fearsome and often violent Forest God, who had killed countless humans in the past several centuries, he could be surprisingly sweet.

Besides his other, natural gifts, Skull also started leaving me shiny trinkets and glittering jewellery. I was initially baffled as to where he could’ve possibly gotten these man-made objects from, before discovering the answer from one such present.

One of the rings was especially ornate, with a large, glimmering gemstone in the centre, surrounded by smaller, clear jewels, which I presumed to be diamonds. More interestingly, though, I noticed that it bore an inscription on the inside, which read “To R, with everlasting love, C”. I realised, then, that Skull had taken all of these items off of the intruders he’d drowned in the bog.

I shrugged, and tied a string to the ring, hanging it up from a nearby branch, where it caught the sunlight and sparkled magnificently. Waste not, want not, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like these items’ original owners would need their things anymore.

Skull looked pleased, when he noticed that I’d made use of his gift. I found more jewellery the next day. It took a while to wash off the mud and tar still stuck to them, but they made very beautiful decorations for my new home.

~~~

One thing I couldn’t help but notice, regarding Skull, was that throughout my time in the swamp, I’d often spot him conversing with alligators, or various marsh birds. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, obviously, and it left me intrigued.

Hermes was the one to enlighten me, when I voiced my curiosity. He’s asking them for advice. On how to woo you.

Well that was a surprise.

And also... rather adorable.

Sitting on the lip of wood at the entrance to my home, I glanced over at Skull. He seemed to be watching very intently, as a heron cawed loudly at him, spreading its wings and extending its neck, displaying its plumage, and snapping its bill rather aggressively. I stifled a laugh as Skull proceeded to rip a branch off of a nearby tree, and presented it to the heron, who then nodded at him, apparently deeming the Wetland God’s efforts satisfactory.

I shook my head, unable to keep the smile off of my face, as fondness settled itself in my heart. He really was adorable, sometimes.

Still smiling, I turned to my familiars. “Has Skull ever come to you two for help, or advice on how to, heh, win my heart?” I asked them, although internally, I suspected I already knew the answer. As well as exactly how much help Skull would’ve received from them.

Hermes bristled his feathers. He has. I refused. I would never betray Mistress’s secrets.

Artemis didn’t even bother to look up, as she groomed herself meticulously. He did... I ignored him...

I snorted, my smile turning wry. Just as I thought. No help whatsoever.

But then I paused, as a curious thought came to me. What would it take to win my heart? Countless people had tried, for most of my life, all without success. Not a single person had come even close to earning my affections. I knew, then, what didn’t work. But I’d never given a thought as to what would.

My brows furrowed, as it suddenly hit me that I had no idea what would make me fall in love with someone, no idea what would be able to finally melt the walls of ice I’d erected around my heart.

A shadow suddenly fell over me and I looked up.

Skull was standing in front of me, just outside the entrance (thankfully, without the tree branch, stars knew what I would do with it). I was getting much better at reading his expressions, and I could tell that he looked troubled. His magical aura was tinged with want and frustration and worry.

I reached up to pet his snout, dragging my nails gently along hard bone, and he calmed down immediately, his magic settling into a pleasant hum. “What’s wrong, Skull?”

The giant creature let out a low, unhappy sound, and pressed his nose into my touch. “want to hold you... want to hug you... want to cuddle... soft wife... but can’t... like this... too big... might hurt you...”

I wanted to coo at him, because that was so cute, and so like him, but I managed to restrain myself. Instead, I gave him a commiserating smile and pet him harder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You are just a bit too big for cuddles, I’m afraid.”

His face fell and, unable to resist the urge, I leaned forward to place a kiss to the end of his snout.

His red eyelight lit up like a bonfire and his magic buzzed. The tension in his gaze intensified considerably, and he seemed to be focusing very hard on something. I could sense his magic condensing, his vast, powerful aura compressing and compacting in on itself. I gave a start, as Skull’s form shimmered, and then gradually began to shrink and mutate.

When everything had settled, Skull stood before me, not as a gigantic, monstrous Wetland God, but as something a lot smaller, and lot more... humanoid.

I gazed in awe at Skull’s new form.

His magic was too unstable for him to assume a fully human form, so instead, he appeared to be a huge, hulking, humanoid skeleton. His bones sported many chips and cracks, including a particularly big, jagged hole on top of his skull, a testament to his damaged psyche, but he was still altogether whole, and in one single, solid piece. The clothes he wore were ripped and ragged, their colour faded, but looked very soft, and even a little fluffy.

Skull’s expression was strained, his stance awkward, but the smile he gave me was tentatively hopeful. “it’s... hard... for me to... contain... my magic... in such a... small body... but now i can... hug you... please?... wife??”

There was nothing I could say to such an earnest request, besides, “Of course you can, dear.”

His expression brightened immensely, his entire body practically lighting up with joy, and I spread my arms invitingly. “Come here, Skull.”

Without wasting a single second, he stumbled towards me and wrapped his big arms around me, drawing me close to his broad chest and nuzzling the top of my head. Despite being much smaller than before, he still easily dwarfed me, and I was almost smothered by his hug. Still, I couldn’t find it in me to complain, or pull away.

His embrace was tight, and so very new and unfamiliar to me, but it was surprisingly gentle, and warm, and soft. Pressed up against him like this, I felt small, and delicate, but so, so precious.

With his magic brushing against me, radiating tenderness and affection, his rumbling purrs vibrating through me, and his strong, solid body all around me, I felt myself relax, leaning back into his hold. I practically melted in Skull’s arms, a delicious warmth seeping into my heart.

I felt so cherished, so loved. It was a wonderful feeling. One I never wanted to let go off.

~~~

Eventually, all of mine and Skull’s hard work paid off, and my tree-cottage was finally completed.

The original hollow had been expanded into a spacious, circular living room, complete with a fully-functional kitchen and dining area. Some stairs along the wall led to a second floor, which I’d designated as my study, and my potion-brewing space. The walls were all fully lined with shelves, completely taken up by either potion ingredients, magical instruments, or ancient tomes, as were the many desks and tables spread out wherever possible. A massive cauldron took pride of place in the centre. Another set of stairs was squeezed in amongst all of the magical paraphernalia, leading up to my bedroom, which also served as my observatory.

All in all, I was extremely satisfied with what the both of us had managed to accomplish, in such a short amount of time.

To celebrate, I baked another honey cake. Skull enjoyed the cake, while I enjoyed having a proper home, at long last. Even my familiars were pleased with our new living quarters.

It finally felt like the beginning of a promising, peaceful new life, the kind I’d always been longing for. And, for the first time since I’d stepped foot in the wetlands, I could finally say with complete confidence that I’d made the right choice, all along.

I was... hopeful. And... happy. Skull was happy, too.

The future was looking bright.

~~~

Now that I’d fully settled into life in the swamp, and completed construction on my tree-cottage, I decided it was time I got myself officially registered with the local Mage’s Guild, so that I could begin accepting clients and contracts again. A witch needed to earn a living after all, and I was getting bored and restless, without anything pressing to do.

Skull was predictably upset about my leaving, but I’d managed to convince him that it was important to me, and, after many, many reassurances that no, I wasn’t leaving him forever, and yes, I would definitely return to him, the clingy deity finally relented and allowed me to leave.

He still kept begging me to reconsider, though. I hadn’t thought a dog skull could look that sad and pitiful, but Skull always managed to surprise me, in the most unexpected ways. Truthfully, it was almost enough to make me give in to his pleas, but I firmed my resolve and pushed on.

The Old God escorted me out of his wetland, moping the entire way, and howled miserably when I finally stepped outside of his territory, and flew off into the horizon on my broom. His mournful wails followed me for a long time.

~~~

The headquarters of the Mage’s Guild were, naturally, within an ancient and massive castle, centred around a tall and imposing Sorcerer’s Tower. The accumulated, residual magic of generations upon generations of sorcerers saturated the entire area, sinking into the ground, and seeping into the rune-covered stone walls of the castle. You could practically taste the magic in the air.

It was a heady feeling, being in such a remarkable place.

Given what an eminent witch my mother had been, I was instantly welcomed into the Guild, and directed to go present myself officially to the Guild’s Master, while my familiars were taken to be registered in the Magical Menagerie.

The Guildmaster was a mage of very few words, and shrouded in mystery. They were widely regarded as being a sorcerer of considerable skill and power, second only to my late mother, and had quickly risen to the top of the Guild within only a handful of years. While their achievements were universally acclaimed, precious little was known about them personally, beyond the fact that they’d forsaken much in their pursuit of arcane and esoteric knowledge.

Even their own name.

They were also the only human, in the entire world, whom I respected, and even admired.

~~~

My registration was completed swiftly and efficiently, as was expected of someone as competent as the Guildmaster. They spoke coolly, and without inflection in their voice, as they questioned me on my magical abilities and specific talents. That, coupled with their calm, impassive demeanour, gave very little away regarding their thoughts.

It was honestly a bit intimidating, being in their presence.

But also, incredibly fascinating.

When the interview came to an end, I stared pensively at them, as they gathered all of their materials, with precise, economical movements.

“Have you ever been in love?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

I bit my lip, shocked at myself. What had possessed me to ask the Guildmaster such a personal question? And why on the subject of love, of all things?

The slight widening of their eyes, and the stuttering of their movements, were the only indications that the Guildmaster had heard me. They carried on with their task, as before, putting away all of their things in various trunks and desk drawers. As always, their inscrutable countenance, and deep, impenetrable eyes, gave nothing away.

The silence stretched on, until it got very uncomfortable, and just as I was about to open my mouth to apologise and change the subject, the Guildmaster finally gave me an answer. And it wasn’t the one I’d been expecting.

“Once. Briefly. Years ago,” they revealed, their voice as emotionless as ever, despite the subject matter. “But we had... differing priorities. So we parted ways.”

To say that that came as a surprise to me would be an understatement. The Guildmaster was well-known as an individual singularly focused on the pursuit of knowledge, who cared very little for anything not relating to their magical studies. They’d discarded all earthly attachments, and had immersed themself so fully in their research and their craft, that it was rumoured that they were now more magical spirit, than flesh-and-blood human.

Moreover, mages were solitary people by nature, generally choosing to remain isolated from the mundane for our own safety, and only coming together with fellow sorcerers to conduct trade, or to exchange knowledge we deemed important enough to share with the wider world. We otherwise kept mostly to ourselves, passing on our craft and family magics from mother to daughter, or from father to son.

I would never have guessed that one of the most mysterious and reclusive sorcerers in the world, would have ever sought companionship, let alone love. I honestly thought they were beyond such needs, or desires. Although, it seemed that, in the end, they were.

“Do you... ever regret it?... Any of it?” I couldn’t help but ask the Guildmaster, my voice quiet and unusually hesitant.

For a split second, I could’ve sworn I saw a brief flash of emotion flit across their face, but it was gone before I could be sure. I dismissed the thought. It was probably nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

“Regrets are pointless,” they affirmed, voice even as ever. “To dwell on the past, is to squander the present, and to sacrifice the future.”

They fell silent, and I thought our discussion over. But suddenly, they turned to me and fixed me with an oddly serious, and meaningful stare. “Which is why, no matter what you do, no matter what you choose, above all else, make sure that you do not regret your decisions.”

Unable to do anything else, I nodded. Seemingly satisfied with my response, they turned away, and the conversation ended there.

~~~

With all of my business with the Guild concluded, I prepared to take my leave, anxious to return home again. New witch’s licence in hand, I went to collect my two familiars from the Menagerie, and then retrieved my broom. Just before departing, however, the Guildmaster themself came to see me off.

“I am glad for the chance to have met you,” they told me, catching me off guard. I truly hadn’t thought that they would care about my presence here, one way or another. I still didn’t have quite the same reputation my mother had, after all. “You look well. And you seem happy. Good. It is what your mother would have wanted.”

And with those final, perplexing words, the Guildmaster disappeared back into the central Tower. I stared after them for a while, unsure what to think about our bizarre interaction, before I shook my head, banishing the encounter from my mind, and sat myself on my broomstick. Once Artemis was snuggled safely in my bag, and Hermes was securely perched on my hat, I then rushed us home, as fast as my broom could carry us.

I had a lonely husband to return to.

When I finally reached the Wetland, I kept flying, eager to get back to my home as quickly as possible. As I soared over the wetlands, though, I saw that most of the greenery had withered, and much of the landscape had been taken over by bog once more. Not a single flower remained. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, at seeing how much my presence had clearly been missed.

Skull was there to greet me, before I had even made it to our tree-cottage nest. He called out to me, a sharp, high keen, his magic filled with excitement and overwhelming relief. I descended at once, and hoped off my broom, landing right on top of his massive head. Without pause, I immediately crouched down and threw my arms around him, pressing my lips to his skull in a firm kiss.

The air crackled and sparked with his magic, like electricity, sending tingles down my spine. Tiny flowers bloomed across Skull’s antlers, along his legs, and on the trees all around us.

“never... leave me... again...” he begged me, his voice trembling with emotion. “please... please don’t... ever leave me... alone... please... promise me that... you won’t... please...”

There were a million things I could say to that. But, for the first time in my life, I listened to my heart. “I won’t, Skull. I promise.”

His answering smile was all I needed, to know that this was one decision that I definitely would not regret.

~~~

There was one last, major decision left for me to make. A decision that would change my life more than any other I’d ever made. A decision that I could not afford to regret.

With a steaming cup of herbal tea in hand, I took a seat in front of the largest table in my study, and observed the ruby-red stone sat upon it with a critical eye. It was a rather innocuous-looking rock, about the size of my fist, transparent and glass-like, and coloured a deep, dark red. The average, non-magical human would probably assume it was nothing more than a hunk of coloured glass. But anyone with any magical ability whatsoever would be able to tell, at a glance, exactly what this stone was, and just how precious it truly was.

This was a Philosopher’s Stone.

A stone capable of transmuting base metals into gold, and which could produce the Elixir of Life, a mystical, miraculous potion able to cure any illness, heal any injury, and which could grant the drinker eternal life and youth.

It was, perhaps, my mother’s greatest achievement, or, at least, one of them, and was certainly her Magnum Opus as an alchemist. She’d dedicated years of her life to creating this legendary artefact, and when she’d finally succeeded, it had earned her untold fame within the magical community, since previously, only three other people had ever managed to create one. Mother had even gone on to share many of her findings with the scholars and researchers at the Mage’s Guild, in the hopes of furthering magekind’s understanding of alchemy, and its vast and innumerable possibilities.

She’d taken the Stone with her when she’d left the Guild, to go live a quiet life in an enchanted forest, after becoming pregnant with me, and I’d inherited it when she’d passed away. Neither of us had ever used it, though. We’d both been competent enough witches to accomplish all that we wanted to, without it. Mother hadn’t created the Philosopher’s Stone out of any great need or desire for its incredible properties. She’d simply done it to prove that she could.

But now, I did have a use for it.

A noise from outside drew my attention to one of the windows. With one last glance to the Stone, I tore my eyes away from it, and stood up. My feet carried me over to the window, and I looked outside, my lips automatically tilting up into a smile at the sight below.

Skull was returning from his patrol of the outer edges of his territory, and the swamp’s residents were welcoming him back. Hermes was hovering above him, having accompanied him on his patrol, but when my avian familiar spotted me, he gave a sharp cry to the Wetland God, before flying towards me. I hastily opened the window, just in time for Hermes to swoop in. He circled the room a few times, before finally landing atop one of the bookshelves.

Looking out the window again, I saw that Skull had noticed me as well. His happy expression was plain to see, even from this distance, so I waved to him. He called back to me, his deep, powerful voice making the water ripple, the leaves tremble, and my heart shudder in my chest. I gave him another wave, and a smile, before retreating, back to the Philosopher’s Stone.

I still had a decision to make.

Much had changed since I’d first stepped foot in the wetlands. I now had a home, a proper witch’s cottage to call my own, and I even got on fairly well with all of my new furry, feathery, and scaly neighbours, mostly thanks to Skull’s influence. All in all, I’d settled into life in the swamp far better than I’d ever dared hope for. This place was my home, and I never wanted to leave here.

Even my familiars had settled surprisingly well into their new life in the swamp. While Hermes still chased away any birds who dared venture too close to our home, he’d come to accept Skull as my mate, and even joined the Wetland God on his patrols. I’d often see the tan owl flying beside Skull, or perching himself on the deity’s huge horns.

Artemis, on the other hand, still hadn’t warmed up to Skull, and was content to simply ignore him most of the time. I’d assured a dejected Skull that it wasn’t anything personal, and that the black cat was just very independent, and preferred to keep to herself. Heck, she still wasn’t overly friendly with me, her master.

My feline familiar had finally grown to like the wetlands, however. When she was not curled up on a pillow at home, Missy was often out wandering the swamp, exploring her new territory, usually on the back of whatever poor alligator she’d somehow managed to bully into giving her a ride. While the humans were terrified of the God of the Black Wetland, it was my own black cat whom those actually living in the wetland had grown to fear.

But by far the most significant change, was my relationship with Skull.

I’d originally believed that Skull’s feelings for me were nothing more than a temporary infatuation, brought on solely by his crushing loneliness, and his desperate desire for companionship and love. The deity had been all alone, for centuries, after all. It was no wonder he’d gotten so attached to me, so quickly. But I’d assumed that once the novelty of my presence had worn off, his feelings for me would fade away and disappear.

But I had eventually realised how wrong I was.

The gigantic God of the Wetland had only grown more affectionate towards me over time, which was saying something, considering how obsessively he doted on me ever since we met. He was caring, attentive, thoughtful, and the most devoted creature imaginable. His love for me was evident in every action he took for me, every word he said to me, and every look he gave me. All of my doubts as to the sincerity of his feelings for me had long since vanished, in the face of his unwavering devotion to me. I was loved, and I knew it.

As for my own feelings towards him... they’d evolved, in ways I could not have anticipated. I’d grown to appreciate Skull, and all that he did for me, and cherished his fondness for me. I... cared for him... more than I ever thought possible. More than I ever thought I was even capable of, in all honesty. He made me feel things I never thought I could – warm things, gentle things, tender, soft things. Emotions both terrible and wonderful.

Without my realising, Skull had managed to sneak his way into my heart, and had made it his own.

Heavy footsteps from the floor below alerted me to my guest. I abandoned my musings, and made my way to the ground floor of my home, to go greet my husband.

Skull had once again taken his smaller, humanoid skeleton form, despite how difficult it was for him to maintain, so that he could enter my home safely. He was clearly here for more cuddles. And I was more than happy to oblige him.

As soon as Skull caught sight of me, his face lit up and he beamed at me. His movements awkward, and clumsy, in such an uncomfortable body, he stumbled towards me, arms wide open to receive me. I met him halfway, all but throwing myself into his embrace. Skull’s strong, thick arms encircled me, drawing my close, and pressing me tightly to his clothed rib cage. I wrapped my own arms around him, and smiled up at him.

“Welcome back, dear,” I greeted him, in a warm, tender voice I reserved just for him.

Skull’s already wide smile widened further, his single red eyelight shining brightly. He leaned his head down to nuzzle his face into my hair, low, rumbling purrs echoing from deep inside his chest.

“i... missed you... wife...” he mumbled into my hair, so close to my ear it sent pleasant shivers down my spine.

“I missed you too, husband,” I murmured back, removing one arm from around him, to raise it up to Skull’s face. I placed my hand on his cheekbone, my thumb rubbing gentle circles on his hard bones, and Skull eagerly leaned into my touch.

“you’re so... soft... and warm... and perfect... you smell... so nice... i love you...” he purred into my hand, the pupil of his eyelight becoming heart-shaped with adoration.

My smile softened, an impossibly tender feeling warming my heart, and spreading throughout my chest.

“I love you, too,” I whispered to him, and before he could react, I pulled his head down towards mine, leaning my own face up in tandem, and pressed my lips to his.

Skull froze, his entire body going still and rigid, before his arms tightened around me. Sharp phalanges dug into my skin, almost to the point of pain, but the skeletal deity managed to restrain himself just enough to avoid harming me. With a fierceness that took my breath away, Skull deepened our kiss, his mouth moving against mine with a passion I hadn’t known he was capable of. Small, colourful flowers bloomed all across his body, covering up every crack and every hole scarring his bones, and even filling up the large one on his skull.

As I closed my eyes, and surrendered myself to the emotions swelling within my chest, and the love in Skull’s kiss, I knew that I’d already made my decision. And that I wouldn’t regret it.

I had promised Skull that I would never leave him, after all.

~~~

Time passed, as it always did. But since it no longer affected me, I paid it no mind, and focused instead, on the joy of living.

My life now was peaceful, blissful; sometimes tranquil, sometimes exciting, but always satisfying. My days were full of love, and happiness, like I’d never known, nor dared to dream of.

I was happy. My mate, and husband, was happy. My familiars were happy. Even our wetland home was flourishing, thanks to Skull’s steadily improving mental health, and his overflowing positive emotions.

Everything was perfect, and it seemed like it always would be.

I truly believed that I was living my best life, and that there was nothing at all that could make it better.

...

And then I became pregnant.

~~~

Discovering that we were going to be parents was more than a little overwhelming. For the both of us. Skull had been all alone, without anyone, for centuries, and I wasn’t much better in that regard, either. Neither of us were very confident that we would be up to the challenge of raising a child.

Those early days were tumultuous. Skull’s instincts went haywire, and he frenziedly tried to make our nest as safe and as comfortable as possible. He added even more pillows and blankets to the tree-cottage, until I could barely walk in my own home, and temporarily banished all of the alligators from the swamp. While Skull knew, on an intellectual level, that the poor reptiles would never hurt me, his protective instincts would not allow any large predators anywhere near me, his mate, while I was with child. The alligators were, understandably, very upset, but had begrudgingly obeyed.

Consequently, the marsh and bog had become even more dangerous for humans to traverse, even as both became more vibrant and alive, thanks to Skull’s huge increase of positive emotions.

Not that I was able to appreciate any of that, however. Given my delicate state, I wasn’t allowed to leave the heart of the swamp. I’d expected that, truthfully, but it was nonetheless mildly annoying. While I had rarely travelled far from the swamp to begin with, I still missed being able to collect potions ingredients, travelling the wetlands with my mate, either riding on his head, or with Skull trailing close behind me like a baby duckling. But a Forest God’s natural instincts could not be denied.

There was one major benefit to my pregnancy, though – Skull made a real effort to use his smaller, humanoid form more often, in spite of how uncomfortable it was for him. Our cuddles were becoming more and more frequent, which more than made up for everything. Being able to hold my husband close to my chest, and feel his arms around me, was worth any inconvenience I had to put up with.

My tree-cottage had also undergone some notable changes. Skull and I had constructed an extra room, attached to the main living area on the ground floor, which would serve as our child’s bedroom. It wasn’t very aesthetically pleasing, and made the giant tree look lopsided at the bottom, but I didn’t want our child to have to pass through the potentially dangerous study/potions area, just to reach their bedroom.

Skull had already started stuffing piles of blankets and pillows inside the new baby room, leaving barely any room for the child’s cot. I let him, reasoning that it was better that he do so there, than elsewhere in the cottage. I’d had to put my foot down, when my mate had tried to blanket my study.

Besides the living arrangements, preparing for our new arrival came with some rather... interesting challenges. All owing to the fact that neither of us knew what species our child would be.

This was because, while mages were considered humans, we were, technically, actually a sub-species of human. As such, we differed from ordinary, non-magical humans in a variety of ways, most notably our ability to use magic. Another difference was that, whether or not a child born to a mage was one themself, all depended on both the magical parent’s biological sex, as well as the child’s.

To be precise, a female child born to a witch would always be a witch, and a male child born to a wizard would always be a wizard (barring any future decision to change one’s sex). Otherwise, the child would be of the same species as their non-mage parent. In my case, that meant that I would either have a witch daughter, or a Forest God son. And neither of us would know until much later on in the pregnancy. For now, though, it was a mystery.

The prospect of my impending motherhood was both terrifying... and exciting.

Furthermore, as my pregnancy progressed, and the life within my womb kept growing, unknown emotions started taking root inside my heart. Feelings of love, both soft and tender, yet also powerful and all-consuming, swept over me with a ferocity which threw me off guard. I never thought that I would feel so completely and utterly devoted to, and protective of, a person who hadn’t even been born yet.

But as my belly swelled with new life, so too did my heart swell with emotion, as I fell more and more in love with this impossibly tiny, and precious creature I had yet to meet. And I wasn’t the only one caught in our baby’s spell.

Skull adored our child from the very moment he became aware of their existence. Despite how overwhelmed he was, and how out of our depths we both were, he was still beyond overjoyed to become a father. The Wetland God was completely obsessed with the tiny life growing inside me, and would frequently stare at my belly in wonder, as if not quite fully able to believe that there was a child in there, his child. It made him all the more endearing in my eyes.

Whenever he was in his humanoid form, Skull would place his hands so delicately, so hesitantly on my belly, and just leave them there, for as long as I would let him, desperately trying to feel his baby growing within me, and be as close to them as he could. And when the baby started to move, those touches became near constant. As inconvenient as it was, having Skull practically glued to my belly, seeing his face light up with pure joy and awe, each time our baby kicked, was more than worth it.

My husband also became even more attentive than ever, and did everything in his power to see that my needs were met. He kept making sure that I was comfortable, and happy, panicking whenever my “morning” (ha!) sickness acted up, and almost never left my side if he could help it. If there was something I wanted, he would try his best to get it for me, and had even learned to cook very simple meals, helping me around the house and the garden, whenever and however possible.

As for the things he couldn’t do, my familiars were more than capable of handling those. Both Missy and Hermes were frequently sent out to go fetch whatever food I was currently craving, with a note, a small bag, and some money clutched in their mouth or talons. Hermes was particularly adept at this, given how he was always the one who delivered the potions I brewed, to my clients.

Whenever my familiars weren’t out getting me supplies, they were either hovering protectively at my side, or were hanging out in the baby room, eagerly awaiting the little one’s arrival. Both had taken a keen interest in my child, even the normally aloof Artemis, and had appointed themselves my baby’s future protectors. A duty they both took very seriously. It was reassuring, knowing that I could always count on their support.

All in all, my pregnancy was progressing relatively smoothly, and all of us were greatly looking forward to welcoming the baby into our lives. We all already loved the child, so much, and yet we knew that our love for them would only grow stronger as time passed.

~~~

With all of these changes happening in my life, the one I least expected was how I’d begun to think about my mother again. I hadn’t thought about her much, if at all, ever since arriving in the wetlands, but now that I was about to become a mother myself, my mind would often turn to my own, late mother.

They weren’t even born yet, but I already loved my child with every fibre of my being. There was absolutely nothing that I wouldn’t do for their sake, and I was constantly thinking of ways I could ensure that they would live a healthy, happy life. I wanted only the best for my baby, and would do anything to achieve that.

All of a sudden, I could understand how my mother must’ve felt, when she was pregnant with me.

I could understand, only too well, just how desperate she must’ve been to make sure that I would not suffer the same fate as her. I could sympathise, only too keenly, with her fervent wish to see me loved and admired, by those who had hated and feared her. It was with startling clarity, that I could see exactly why she did what she did. A mother’s love was a powerful, and terrifying thing indeed.

And with that understanding, came a willingness to forgive.

The resentment I’d held in my heart, all these years, finally started to fade away.

I was finally ready to talk to my mother.

And so, on the night of the next new moon, at precisely midnight, I performed the ritual to summon Mother’s spirit from the afterlife, and bind it to her skull.

When it was done, I stepped back, and took a deep, fortifying breath, steeling myself for what was sure to be a very trying experience. It was never easy, talking to Mother, and I hadn’t done so in years. I was more nervous than I thought I would be.

When the hollow sockets of Mother’s skull lit up, those eyelights travelled around the room for a few tense seconds, before eventually settling on me.

“So, you’ve finally decided to talk to me, have you? Well, better late than never, I suppose.”

I reflexively hunched my shoulders at the chastising tone of her familiar voice, feeling like a young child once more, being scolded by her mother. I stood up straighter in defiance of that feeling, trying to dismiss it from my mind and my heart. I was an adult now, and soon to be a mother myself.

“It has, indeed, been a while, Mother.” I inclined my head to her, in acknowledgment. “I’ve been... busy, since last we spoke.”

Mother’s eyelights roved across my form, coming to a halt on my protruding abdomen. Her eye sockets widened.

“So I can see! It seems you’ve finally deigned to let someone touch you. Will wonders never cease?”

I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to rub my forehead, and soothe the ache I could feel building behind my brow. Instead, I raised my hand and gestured to Skull, who stood anxiously by the tree-cottage's entrance, his massive head peeking inside.

“Mother, I’d like to introduce you to my husband, the Forest God of these wetlands.”

Skull bowed his head in greeting, giving Mother a rather nervous-looking smile.

“hello... mate’s mother... nice to... meet you...”

Absolutely gigantic, monstrous-looking, shrouded in the darkness of a moonless night sky, and illuminated only by the glow of fireflies, and the crimson light of his eye, Skull made for quite the intimidating sight. But Mother only gave him a dismissive “hm” in response, her eyelights flitting across his features, before they returned to me.

“I’m not surprised, honestly,” she sniffed. I could practically see the shrug she was unable to give. “I always knew you’d never fall for an ordinary human.”

I had nothing to say to that, really.

Mother then turned her attention back to Skull.

“So then, what’s your name, big fella?” she asked him, her tone more casual than it had any right to be.

“Mother!” I hissed at her. “You can’t just ask that of a Forest God! It’s rude!”

The animated skull raised one of her brows, looking utterly unrepentant.

“So what?” she retorted, unabashedly. “What’s he going to do? Kill me harder? Is there another level of ‘dead’ I didn’t know about? If so, I’d like to see it. Should be an interesting experience.”

I sighed heavily, feeling my shoulders sag. This was going to be a long night. Turning to Skull, I gave my husband an apologetic look.

“Sorry about Mother. Please pay her no mind, love.”

I heard Mother harrumph behind me, but I ignored her, focusing only on my mate’s face, looking for any sign that my mother’s words had upset or angered him. But I found none. Instead, Skull was staring at Mother with what was unmistakably awe written all across his features.

“mate’s mother is... brave... and... spirited...” he remarked, sounding impressed. He then turned his head towards me. “just like... you...”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about such a comparison.

Mother gave Skull a broad, toothy grin.

“Yep. Girl’s always been headstrong and wilful, just like her mother,” she practically boasted.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, either.

Then Mother’s grin turned wry.

“It's a real wonder she’s never gotten herself into any serious trouble yet. As far as I’m aware of, at least.”

I was sure how to feel about that, however.

Affronted, I glared at Mother.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that not a single person I’ve met has ever had a bad word to say about me!”

Mother looked decidedly unimpressed.

“Of course not. They’re all too mesmerised by your beauty,” she rebutted. “A beauty I gave you, no less.”

The reminder of what had always been more of a curse to me, than a gift, stung. I shot her a baleful glare.

“I’m more than just a pretty face. So much more,” I insisted, tone carefully flat. Internally seething, I crossed my arms, my fingernails digging into my skin. “I’ve already made quite the name for myself, and the Mage’s Guild were most impressed with my talents.”

Mother snorted.

“Pah! The Mage’s Guild! That lot are nothing but a bunch of bootlickers and stuffy bookworms,” she sniffed, tone full of mocking condescension.

I bristled, offended on the Guild’s behalf, even though, secretly, I’d thought much the same about them myself.

“How dare you, Mother! The Guild is a prestigious institution!”

Mother rolled her eyelights. “Prestigious my arse.”

I gasped, utterly appalled at her foul language. “Watch your tongue, Mother!”

She shot me an incredulous look. “I haven’t got one, you daft child.”

At this point, I was about ready to hurl Mother’s skull out the window, and pray that it sank to the very bottom of the swamp, but I managed to restrain myself. Just.

Then, Mother’s eye sockets narrowed.

“Say, is that miserable old wanker still in charge?” she enquired, the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice.

My jaw dropped, as I gave her a scandalised look.

“Mother! You can’t talk about the Guildmaster that way!”

But she only scowled – an especially unnerving expression given that she was nothing but a skull.

“Bah! They’re nothing special,” she sneered, derision clear in her expression and her tone. “None of that lot are, in the Guild. In any Guild. I’ve been to many, all around the world, but they’re all the same, each one full of nothing but useless cretins. I was glad to be rid of them, when I left.”

Her shameless and irreverent behaviour was more than I could bear, especially not with a baby on the way, as well as with my sweet and soft-hearted husband having to play witness to it all. Abandoning my self-restraint and all pretence of decorum, I buried my head in my hands, letting out the biggest, long-suffering groan I could.

Skull nudged me, ever so gently, making soft, worried sounds, and I uncovered my head, to stroke his snout comfortingly, wanting to ease his concerns. His big, red eyelight gazed at me consideringly, assessing if I was truly all right, and I gave him my best reassuring smile, which seemed to satisfy him.

Meanwhile, my mother was giving me her own, scrutinising look. Her eye sockets narrowed in concentration, as her eyelights scanned me, something sharp and calculating in her gaze.

“I see you’ve managed to find a use for my old paperweight,” she remarked blandly.

I ran a hand over my face, massaging my temple in aggravation.

“Mother, the Philosopher’s Stone is a valuable artefact of unparalleled importance! It should not be used as a mere paperweight!”

But as usual, my protests fell on deaf ears. Mother was as impertinent as always.

“Well it’s not like that lousy rock was good for much else. Besides, it’s really bloody heavy! I could hardly lift the damn thing!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, mentally counting to ten, as I took deep, calming breaths. From within my womb, my child gave a hard kick, successfully dragging my attention away from my infuriating mother, and towards my darling baby. I rubbed my belly, trying to soothe my child back to sleep, and felt them settle down once more.

Skull nudged me again, more insistently, concern shining in his face and emanating from his magic.

“are you... okay...? is baby... okay...? can i... help...?” he asked me softly.

My husband’s earnest concern and care for me never failed to warm my heart. I smiled back at him, running my hands along his muzzle in gentle caresses.

“I’m fine, thank you, Skull,” I assured him.

He leaned into my touch, as desperate for affection as ever, and I couldn’t help but indulge his adorable, needy side, with more pets and a kiss to the end of his snout.

Sadly, the tender moment was ruined, and my attention was ripped away from my sweet, loving mate, and pulled back to my irritating mother, when she spoke up once again.

“Oh, so that’s his name, is it? Skull? A little uninspired, but I suppose it’ll do.”

I was close to tearing my hair out in frustration and exasperation.

“Mother! Please! Skull is both my husband and a Forest God. Try to show him at least some respect!” I practically pleaded with her, for all the good I knew it’d do.

Mother raised a browbone at me, completely unaffected by either my words or my tone.

“The living show the dead respect, not the other way around, you silly child. Besides, Skull is my son-in-law, and I’ll not treat him any differently than I would any other family member.”

Skull’s eyelight lit up like a beacon, even as the edges got fuzzy. He appeared to be on the verge of tears, as he gave Mother the most heartfelt look of wonder and gratitude.

“mate’s mother... accepts... me...?” he mumbled, voice low, and thick with emotion. “i’m... so... happy... thank... you...”

I was a little stunned at how Skull had managed to only see the positive in what my mother had said, but more than anything, I was relieved. So long as my beloved was happy, I could overlook the rest.

Even Mother seemed a little taken aback. She blinked, her eye sockets slightly wide, before she collected herself.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she told him, voice uncharacteristically sincere. “I can tell that you make my daughter happy, and that’s all I could ask for.”

The hard edges of her skull seemed to soften, and she smiled at me, one of her very rare, genuine smiles.

“I’m glad that you have someone who loves you, especially during this difficult time. I’m glad that you aren’t alone, like I was.”

That left me truly speechless. I honestly had no idea how to respond to such heartfelt words, coming from my mother of all people.

“I- I-, um...uh... Thank you, Mother...” I eventually forced out, fiddling with my fingers, and shyly averting my eyes, unable to meet my mother’s gaze.

It was sobering, being reminded of how much hardship my mother had had to endure. As far as I could tell, she’d always been alone. When I was a child, I’d never once seen her be close with anyone, and there was never any sign of her having any friends or lovers, let alone a spouse. The only companionship she had, was myself and her familiars, a black cat, a sparrowhawk, and a viper.

As a child, I’d occasionally wondered about my father. But my mother’s stony expression, whenever he was mentioned, had stayed my tongue. It wasn’t worth dredging up unpleasant memories, just to sate my meagre curiosity. My father wasn’t around, and that was all that mattered, in the end.

But now that I was about to become a mother myself, I realised how fortunate I truly was. I was grateful that I would have Skull’s love and support to rely on. I was thankful that our child would have both parents to nurture, care for, and protect them. Words could not express how much I appreciated how blessed I was, to love and be loved in return.

As if to confirm my thoughts, Skull nuzzled me, purrs reverberating from deep within his massive chest.

“not alone... never alone... you have me... always...” he promised me, tone overflowing with adoration and devotion. “i love you... i love you so... so much... i will be... with you... forever... i will... never leave... you... my precious mate... never...”

Familiar warmth flooded my chest, my heart constricting with a love of unfathomable depth. I hugged my husband’s huge head as close to me as I could, and pressed several lingering kisses to his snout.

“I love you too, Skull,” I whispered against his face. “And I’ll never leave you either. We’ll always be together.”

The Wetland God let out a deep, guttural, grating sound.

“yes... together... forever...” he agreed, the pupil of his single eyelight transforming into a little heart, as he smiled lovingly at me.

Watching our affectionate display, Mother’s lipless mouth curled into a sly grin.

“Oh, so it’s that kind of relationship.”

Drawing back slightly from my husband, I frowned harshly at my mother.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, Mother, stop it! This instant!” I bit out, through gritted teeth.

Mother chuckled, a teasing glint in her eyelights.

“Now, now, child, don’t fret, I won’t judge."

“Mother!!”

~~~

The sun was low in the sky, only just starting to dip below the horizon, dying everything a soft pinkish-orange hue. As our surroundings darkened, fireflies began making their appearance, their soft glow blending in with the will-o'-the-wisps shyly peeking out from behind the trees – an increasingly common sight, now that Skull was no longer the same violent, lonely Bog God he was before I arrived. The air was filled with the buzzing of insects, the distant croaking of frogs, and the gentle sloshing of water, as some aquatic creature broke though the surface.

It reminded me of when I first arrived in the swamp, hoping to make my home there.

The peaceful atmosphere filled me with the sweetest nostalgia, and I reclined back in Skull’s arms, sinking further into my husband’s embrace behind me. In response, the transformed deity’s arms tightened around me, his hands continuing to stroke my swollen belly, as he began purring once more. His magic practically sang, as it caressed me on all sides, echoing all of my mate’s love and happiness. Our baby also seemed to be relaxing, only giving the occasional kick to remind us of their presence.

Artemis was curled up on my lap, fast asleep, whereas Hermes was perched above us, on a nearby branch, keeping his usual vigil, regardless of how safe we were, in the very heart of Skull’s territory. Mother’s skull had been brought outside, and placed on the edge of the lip of wood at the entrance to my tree-cottage, where we were all resting. For once, Mother was blissfully silent, as she admired the beautiful scenery, and enjoyed the quiet tranquillity of the misty swamp at dusk.

My hands came up to settle atop Skull’s on my abdomen, lacing our fingers together. Skull gave my hands the very gentlest of squeezes, ever mindful of his great strength, and nuzzled his face into my hair. I could feel him take several deep breaths, likely inhaling my scent, and his purring got a little louder and deeper.

I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, or what challenges life would throw at us, but for this one moment in time, all was well. I was surrounded by my family – surrounded by all that I loved in this world. And I would hold this moment in my heart forever, and cherish it for the rest of my life.

...

~~~~~

...

Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, and the cutest little button nose. My daughter was perfect.

I was exhausted. I was in pain. But I had never been happier.

After nine months of carrying her in my womb, and many hours spent bringing her into the world, I finally held my daughter in my arms.

I was utterly entranced, as I gazed down at her with all the love in my heart and soul, feeling indescribable warmth flood through my entire body. She was so perfect.

My daughter was, for all intents and purposes, a human – a witch, like me. But her Forest God blood would likely affect her magical core in unpredictable ways. She would almost certainly have powerful, if highly unstable magic, just like her father. It would be up to me to teach her the discipline and control necessary to harness that wild, chaotic magic.

She would definitely have a very difficult path ahead of her, if she wished to master her magic, as I, and my mother, had. But if becoming a great witch was something that she wanted, then she would always have my support, and I would do all in my power to help her, in any way I could. And even if she had no interest in developing her abilities to their full potential, she would still, always have my love and support.

As well as her father’s.

Skull was hovering by my bedside, very clearly wanting to come closer, but seemingly too afraid to do so. His magic was a turbulent tornado of emotions; fear, excitement, hope, joy, love, all warring together in his soul, as he gazed down at our baby. I knew he was too overwhelmed by his emotions, to be able to hold our daughter, and would need some time to calm himself down, so I just cradled our child close and made sure that Skull had a clear view of her.

The Wetland God was almost entirely covered in tiny, vibrantly colourful flowers. While his brilliantly glittering red eyelight was fully focused on the newborn baby in my arms, his other eye socket was bursting with little marsh flowers. Furthermore, there was a veritable bouquet sprouting out of the gaping hole in his skull, and, all in all, my mate was practically a living flower sculpture. He was adorable.

I looked back down at my daughter. They both were.

I was so lucky, so blessed, to have such a wonderful family.

My life hadn’t been easy, and the road to getting to this point had been long and winding, and fraught with many obstacles. But I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Every choice I’d made may not have been the best one, but they all, eventually, led me to here, to this moment, and I was glad for it. This moment was easily the happiest of my entire life, and was more than worth every single hardship I’d ever suffered. I had no regrets whatsoever, not anymore.

Choosing to become a swamp witch really had been the best decision of my entire life.

_______________________________________________

There's only the epilogue left, but it's mostly a just a fun little bonus chapter for those who've read and enjoyed "Good Girl Needs Kiss", so this fic is basically finished now.

I really wish my head were a little less fuzzy and achy, so that I could actually think clearly and give this fic the send-off I feel it deserves, but this cold has been dragging on for a bit, and I've been writing this for too long and am way too impatient to finally get it out. I've had a lot of fun writing this, but I'm happy to put it mostly behind me, and finally move onto something else. I'm not sure when the epilogue will be out, maybe soon if I'm really impatient, or maybe not if I want a break.

By either way, I'm taking it easy for a bit. Once the epilogue's done, though, I'm definitely going to be focusing on more Frans stuff, because I really miss writing it.

=> Epilogue

#JMB writes #skull x reader #forest god au #forest god skull #reader is a witch #skull is baby #they both get lots of love and cuddles #fluff #so much fluff #more characters!#who don't get as much screen time as I'd like #but also too much at the same time #why did every single part of this chapter take twice as long to write as it should've??#I cannot stress enough that this whole fic was supposed to be SHORT

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girlgenius1111 · 1 month

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please part 2

alexia x reader [the cover pic is completely unrelated to the fic except for that fact that she looks so incredibly snuggly here.] short little blurb post please... aftercare + conversation :)

You’d pulled out and shifted the both of you around so that Alexia was settled on top of your, cheek resting on your chest, waiting for her grip on you to slacken, when you felt the first tear drop hit your skin. You’d been lazily running your nails over the blonde’s back, but you lifted your head at the feeling, looking down at her. Her eyes were screwed shut, like she was in pain, and her lip was quivering.

“Alexia,” you sighed. “Talk to me, please.”

“Can you get me some water?” She whispered, not opening her eyes.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” You slid out from under her, pretending for her sake that you didn’t hear the low whine that involuntarily left her.

You threw some shorts and a t-shirt on, one that was too large to be yours and headed to the kitchen. You returned with a glass of water, handing it to her, watching carefully as she sat up and drank the whole glass, before slumping back into the bed.

You then dampened a small towel, and returned to Alexia to clean her up. You were gentle, and the water had been warm, yet the blonde still shuddered at the sensation. Her eyes were open, now, and red rimmed, following you around the room as you got her a sweatshirt and underwear to put on, handing them to her and gently nudging her towards the bathroom. She went easily, although her legs shook slightly, and you took the time to quickly change the sheets. You grabbed her favorite blanket from the living room, and when you returned, she was curled up on the bed, and she looked to be crying again. You were wondering if this whole thing had been a mistake, you’d misunderstood what she’d needed, and let her talk you into an unhealthy coping mechanism, when she sat up and looked at you.

“Come to bed please?” Alexia asked. You nodded, sending her a small smile you hoped to be reassuring. Once you were on the bed next to her, she tugged you down, tucking both of you under the blanket, and burying her face in your chest. The hood of her sweatshirt was pulled up, and the only sign you had that she was, in fact, crying, was the slight shake of her shoulders, and the tight grip her hand had your shirt in.

“My love, are you okay? Did we go too far?” You asked finally, scratching lightly at her scalp over her hood.

“No, mi amor, you were perfect.” Alexia promised, pushing herself closer to you as if to prove her point. All it did was make you more worried; you were normally the clingy one.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I think something is wrong with me,” she mumbled, her voice thick with tears. “I do not feel right.”

You teared up yourself hearing those words leaving her mouth, not quite sure what she meant, but absolutely convinced that it was true. Alexia hadn’t been herself recently.

“What doesn’t feel right?” You asked, keeping your voice low and soothing, as if you were going to scare her away.

“I am so stressed. I feel like I am falling apart and I do not know why.”

“Baby, you don’t know why? You’ve been running yourself ragged the past few months. It was bound to catch up with you; being Barça’s captain and Spain’s captain? Coming back from a second knee surgery? The shitshow surrounding your renewal? That is a lot for anyone, Lex.”

Alexia nodded somewhat impatiently. “Sí, but it has never felt like this before. I am used to pressure and stress but this feels different. I am so tired, amor. I need a break.”

“Take a break, then, Alexia. No one would fault you for that.”

“No, I cannot. I cannot.” Alexia said, sitting up off of you and resting her head in her hands. You sat up too, brushing her hair back out of her face.

“Why can’t you?”

“I am Alexia Putellas. I do not take breaks. I do not get anxious or stressed. I am supposed to be able to handle all this, be good enough to handle it all but I am not. I am not good enough anymore.”

And there it was. The core of the issue; that Alexia, your perfect, sweet, Alexia didn’t feel that she was good enough anymore. If she wasn’t so upset, it would have been comical to you, because she was the closest to perfection you’d ever seen a person get.

“Ale,” you began, but she cut you off.

“Do not tell me I am, I know it is not true. I have been so focused on everything but you these last few months, I do not know why you are still with me. I am not good enough for you either,” she cried, though her hand reached blindly for yours, like she needed to feel you next to her. As if she was grasping at what she thought to be the end of your relationship.

“Alexia, look at me please.” You asked softly, waiting until she turned her head to face you before you spoke. You placed your hand on her cheek, trying to prepare yourself for her inevitable reaction to what you were about to say. “You need help, baby. More help than I can give you. I wish I could say the right thing, and make you believe that you’re good enough, for me, for football, for everyone. Because you are, Alexia. You are the best person I know. And feeling like this isn’t okay. It isn’t normal for you. And I don’t know why it’s happening, if you’re burnt out, or the years of pushing yourself to the brink are finally catching up to you, but I don’t think you can solve this on your own.”

She looked at you with a more open expression than you expected, which made you feel both better and worse at the same time. If she would agree to get help, that was good, really good. It also meant that she was feeling a lot worse than she would ever admit. The fear in her eyes was clear, and your chest ached at the thought of her feeling so horrible, and saying nothing about it.

“I think you are right.” She said eventually. “I have been trying to fix it for months, and it has not worked.”

“I’m really proud of you, Ale. I know this isn’t easy for you. And asking for help isn’t easy, but you did, and I am so proud of you. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti.”

Alexia blinked back a few more tears, squeezing your hand tightly in hers. “I could not do any of this without you, mi amor,” she said softly. She looked like she had more to say, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she shook her head.

“What?” You asked, and she sighed, wishing you weren’t so observant. Or maybe wishing she wasn’t so obvious.

When she spoke, her voice shook and cracked, like it wasn’t sure it could take your answer.

“If I never play again like I used to. Would you still love me?”

You hated how intrinsically Alexia tied her self worth to football. How she felt herself only worthy of love if she was playing well.

“Alexia, sometimes you don’t use your brain. I would love you if you never played in another match again. If you never scored another goal, or won another trophy. You will, I’m sure of it. But I don’t love you because you’re Alexia Putellas. I love you because you are my sweet Ale. Who loves her mom more than anything, would kill for her sister. Who hates bananas but buys them anyway because I like them. Who cries when she sees videos of cute dogs, and who likes to sleep practically on top of me even when it’s hot. Who makes me feel loved every single day. I love you, Alexia. More than I love your talent and your achievements. You are more than enough for me without all that.”

The force of the hug Alexia tackled you with knocked you back into the pillows. She held you tightly against her, only murmuring a soft and heavily accented, “thank you” in your ear. You hummed in response, settling into the pillows and pressing a delicate kiss to the side of Alexia’s head. It was quiet in the room for a while, until she abruptly sat up off you a few minutes later, an earnest smile on her face as she traced a finger faintly over your forehead.

“I am going to marry you someday.” She said, so definitively that for a minute, all you could do was blink at her.

“What?” You spluttered. You’d never really talked about marriage with Alexia. You were content to have her for as long as you were able.

“Me voy a casar contigo algún día. I do not have a ring, and I do not have a plan. But I will. Just so you do not make other plans.” She smirked, leaning down to peck your cheek a few times. She was blushing, looking at you with so much love, it left you fighting back tears.

“I guess I'll have to decline all those offers I have, then.” You joked, but the words were so choked up, Alexia only chuckled slightly, pulling you into another bone crushing hug.

“Good. Because you are mine.” She murmured.

You were pretty content with that, honestly. Being hers.

-----

short but i hope this was what everyone was looking for :)

#alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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louisianaspell · 1 year

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April Bangtan Fic Rec

🔪 Dark fics: These fics/series contain scenes and plots that can be triggering! Please make sure you read all the warnings, tags, and authors note before reading!

🔥 Smut: These fics contain sexual situations, 18+up only!

Sing Along (ao3)

It was love at first hearing. From the first time they heard you singing, they couldn't get enough of your voice. Then they met you and realised they couldn't get enough of you as a whole (Series Warning: 🔥)

Before I Leave You

Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who’s clearly been through some shit) [Series Warning: 🔥]

Late Bloomer (ao3)

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor— until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything [Series Warning: 🔥]

Love (ao3)

Namjoon's your ex-husband, the man who committed even though he didn't really want to. So why is he still hanging around now that you're over? (Series Warning: 🔥)

9 Months to Fall in Love

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it. Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way… (Series Warning: 🔥)

Starlight, Star Bright (ao3)

An exhausted Prince Seokjin, eldest son of the King Bangtan is at the end of a grueling tour of state visits. However, as tired as he is of travelling, he dreads the endless questions about when he'll take on more royal duties (and a wife) that he'll be forced to endure when he returns to the palace even more. So when the opportunity to escape for a short time presents itself, he grabs it without hesitation. But what happens when what starts as a brief distraction from the stress of his ever growing list of responsibilities begins turning into something more?

Greedy

Being a loner never bothered Yoongi, until now. Until you. [Series Warning: 🔥]

My Sunshine

You were only supposed to be a temporary therapist

The Centre Cannot Hold (ao3)

Taehyung is bored, bored with his friends and bored with his life. So what will happen when he meets someone who captures his interest? Taehyung can’t make his mind up if it’s friendship he wants or something more… all he knows is when he finds it, he has no intention of letting it go (Series Warning: 🔥)

This Is Us

After fighting to be in a relationship with jungkook, you begin to wonder if it's all worth it (Series Warning: 🔥)

#bts fic rec #fic rec #april bangtan fic rec #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #kim namjoon fic rec #kim seokjin fic rec #min yoongi fic rec #jung hoseok fic rec #park jimin fic rec #kim taehyung fic rec #jeon jungkook fic rec

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sergeantxbuckyxboy · 5 years

Text

by the way my blog title isn’t a joke or exaggeration okay my love for marvel is so shallow. we’re talking lovingly-crafted, fine-tuned depths of shallowcity. i have no standards when it comes to the quality, and genuinely Do Not Care what happens on screen, whether it’s amazing (which is nice!) or the worst thing ever produced, or somewhere in between.

i was 14 when this all started and only got into it for Loki and while i’ve come to love all the other characters (even/especially Cap, who was the one i was least interested in back then!) i still don’t ...at all... watch this stuff for the plot.

it’s entirely the characters, premise, and memes that i’m here for and to me the fanfiction/joke potential is the Good Stuff because that’s always going to be less limited and more in tune with what i like.

sooooo yeah i do enjoy occasionally bitching about writing/storytelling but for the most part i really don’t care. the movies are good fun, the onscreen chemistry is fantastic and i like a lot of the acting, plus many of the characters are quite good-looking which, at the end of the day? is about all i could ask for in a movie. sometimes the movies are even Really Very Good!

i’m also not into negativity at all. i know the characters all have their flaws and i know the writing is often far from perfect and i know the actors are far from perfect and i know there’s discourse on every possible angle but

tl;dr yeah no i’m genuinely just here for a laugh and 100% just cherry-pick the movies for the parts i like to make my silly headcanon/fanic/jokey pies with while vigorously ignoring anything and everything that displeases me. the fanfic/plot ideas are the main course, and the movies/series are just bonus material.

#loki is still one of my most favorites but i've come down from 14yo!me's ''loki is an uwu innocent bby'' opinion #he's a fun character #him and Buck and Peter Parker are the ones i'd read/write fanfic about with them as the focus/pov character #Steve is more ''i just like to look at him''#as i said i'm deeply shallow in this fandom #i also love shuri and t'challa and the whole wakanda squad #i'm here mostly for combinations of characters #but even more than that i'm just here to post the dumbest stuff i possibly can #in my world the whole MCU is just an occasionally heartwarming comedy #with a dash of debilitating angst exactly when i want it and at no other time #this was supposed to be a short post but i'm the least succinct person so #i bet with the post being this long you thought i actually had something to say #but no it's basically 'idc what happens onscreen im just here for pretty characters and fics about them'#i mean it might be worth noting that my range of content for either production or consumption is in the pg-13 range #and severely asexual even in my ships #like i cannot stress enough that i'm just here for a) dumb stuff b) sickening fluff and c) stuff that makes me cry #oh and silly shenanigans that's it's own category #i am talking Way Too Much Here

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

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A Day Well-Spent

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: It's like... fluff to the extreme

Warnings: mention of guns

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N has just moved to Brooklyn and doesn't know how things are there. Bucky Barnes runs things around Brooklyn but what happens when they meet? Will she run away or will she still shoot her shot?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, first of all, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. also i think im obsessed with mob fics????? chile anyways so... enjoy!

---

"Ready to go, sweetie?"

"You know it, babe," Y/N grinned at her friend, Clarice. The two, on their way to work, had stopped by a coffee shop for their daily dose of caffeine. As they walked out of the café, Clarice turned to Y/N. "Finish your story! What did Brad say to you after that?!" Clarice reminded her and Y/N giggled.

"Oh, he was just too sweet! But not my type, ya know what I mean? I didn't know how to turn him down," she sighed. "Poor guy. If he had approached me…" Y/N lightly shoved her friend. "I have his number, should I pass it on?" Clarice turned to Y/N, wide eyed. "Darling, you're too good to me," she spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Y/N burst out laughing. She had moved from another part of the country to Brooklyn for education; along with attending college, she was also working as a waitress at a nice little restaurant. That was how she met Clarice, her being another waitress at said restaurant. The two became fast friends.

Clarice was a few years older than Y/N, a single mother with a 4 year old son. Her son was extremely cute. As Y/N continued laughing, she didn't notice how her friend stopped in her tracks. Clarice was busy staring at the huge hunk of a man a few feet ahead of Y/N, standing in the middle of the pavement with his phone held to his ear, his back to them.

Bucky Barnes.

That man was James Buchanan Barnes, the King of Brooklyn. He ran the whole damn city along with his mob; very important and influential. On top of that? He was hot-headed, easily got angry and people knew what happened when he got angry. Except Y/N. Y/N didn't even know who he was.

As Y/N neared Bucky, still laughing for some reason, Clarice thought of calling out to her. And alert him of their presence? No way! "Clarice, you know I love it when you do your acc—" All of a sudden, Y/N collided into a soft wall, spilling her coffee all over it. Opening her eyes, she found out that it was no wall; instead, she had collided straight into a person.

And drenched his back with coffee.

He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit and Y/N immediately felt guilty. "Oh my goodness, I'm so fucking sorry!" she blurted out as Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to look at her. His men, who were loitering around, had her surrounded as they pointed their guns at her. But she didn't notice.

She was busy staring at Bucky, her jaw slightly dropped. Hot damn, he is good looking, she thought to herself. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she snapped out of a daydream. He had a stern expression on his face and she realized she messed up. He's someone important. Then she started apologizing profusely.

Bucky simply stared at her, taking in her features as he gave her a once-over. She's new, he realized, not from Brooklyn. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he chuckled and she immediately shut up, offering him a timid smile. "I really am sorry, I feel like a total ass. That suit looks expensive, sir, is there any way I can help? Maybe pay for dry cleaning?"

"Do you know who I am?" he instead asked and her brows furrowed. "Oh Lord, am I supposed to know?! One mess up after another…" she grumbled and Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. My name is Bucky Barnes, you may call me Bucky." At this point, even his men were surprised, lowering their guns.

Clarice was still standing there and one of the men caught her eye. He nodded his head towards Y/N and Clarice gave him an unsure smile. He sauntered over to her. "She's with you?" he asked and Clarice groaned, dropping her head. "She's new to Brooklyn, and has no idea who he is. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

The man smiled at her. "No worries, looks like the boss isn't gonna hurt her. I'm Sam, by the way." Clarice gave him a shy smile. Sam was also very good-looking. "I'm Clarice, nice to meet you." Better to remain on the good side of the mob. Back to Y/N and Bucky… "Bucky, that's a good name. Short for anything?"

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. It had been years, years since someone outside of the mob had spoken to him so freely and without fear. It felt nice and refreshing, even more so because Y/N was super gorgeous. "James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Named after a president, huh?"

"You making fun of my name now, doll?" he smirked slyly. "Oh no no, I wouldn't dare," she flirted easily, "My name is Y/N. I still feel bad about ruining your suit, you won't even take the money…" Bucky waved her off. "First, Y/N is a wonderful name. Second, you don't need to worry your pretty head over me, this suit can easily be replaced."

"Then how about this? A coffee. My treat. It'll make me feel better," she insisted. Bucky raised a quick brow, thinking that he would be the one to ask her out but oh well, this works too. "Let's call it a date, shall we?" he purred, taking a step closer to her. She didn't back off. "If you'd like," she grinned up at him.

He couldn't help but grin back. "Excellent. Then how about you put your number in my phone and I pick you up next Sunday at 7 pm?" He thrust his phone into her hand and Y/N swore she heard someone gasping in the background. Bucky Barnes was a very private person but here he was now; handing his phone to a stranger.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back, smiling. "I'll await your call." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to go now, so I'll see you later. Say hello to your friend from my side. Sam! Stop flirting, man, we gotta go!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see his friend flirting with Clarice.

She laughed and turned back to Bucky, who was already looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll see you next Sunday, Mr Barnes. Again, sorry for the suit!" He waved his arm in dismissal and got into the car, throwing her one last blowing kiss before zooming off. Y/N walked back to Clarice, who was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"I know the hell you didn't just do that."

"Did I do something wrong?" Y/N frowned. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin bloomed on Clarice's face. "Do you even know who you're going to go on a date with next Sunday?!" Y/N blinked. "Is he someone important?" Clarice made a sound of indignation. "Important? Bitch, he's the Kingpin! The King of Brooklyn! A mob boss!"

Y/N's eyes went wide. "No way," she scoffed. "Yes way! Ask anyone! He runs things around here, babe. It was fun to see him all soft, though, he's kinda hot-headed and hard to impress. Even women stay away from him. And now you two are going on a date?! If this relationship does not end in a marriage I'm suing."

Y/N flushed slightly and punched Clarice on the shoulder. "Clair, we haven't even gone on one date." Clarice shrugged. "A girl can dream. Oh, your children will be the most beautiful! Did you see his right hand man, though?! Mamma mia! Said his name was Sam Wilson, I got his number!" The two reached their workplace.

Inside Bucky's car, he was still smiling, lost in thoughts. "So, that chick, huh," Sam spoke devilishly from the driver's seat. Bucky looked at him. "That's no way to talk about the future Mrs Barnes," he admonished and Sam chortled. "Dude, you haven't been on even one date! Slow down, chicks don't like dudes who plan out a marriage on the first date."

"But I know I'm right, so why shouldn't I plan?" Bucky shrugged. He was more than confident that Y/N was going to become his in the future. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, flirted with him… it was enough for him to become smitten with her at the first glance. "What about you and her friend, huh?"

It was Sam's turn to become flustered. "Clarice Light. Has a 4-year old son, Aaron." Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "A mother. Well-maintained looks," he commented, laughing when Sam punched him on the shoulder. "Why don't you think about your own chick and leave mine alone?"

---

Y/N frantically smoothed out her dress, checking herself in the mirror. She wore a beautiful, nude coloured bandage dress that reached mid-thigh, along with similar coloured heels. Bucky was coming to pick her up in 5 minutes. Even after finding out who he was she didn't back away, instead finding it empowering that the most important man in Brooklyn wanted to take her out on a date.

All of a sudden the bell rang, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was a huge bouquet of red roses right in front of someone's face. He then moved the bouquet to reveal his face and Y/N smiled broadly. "Bucky!" He grinned back at her. "Hi, doll! Here, an extraordinary bouquet for an equally extraordinary woman."

"You're too flattering. These roses smell amazing, thank you so much." She took the bouquet from his hands and kept it away, stepping out of the house. Bucky offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the building and towards an audacious, ridiculously expensive looking car.

"Everything about you is lavish, huh?" she teased as he ushered her into the passenger seat, sitting next to her. "Bad to have a taste for the finer things in life?" he teased right back, placing his hand on her thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel. "No, I mean, you are the Kingpin. I should expect luxury."

He glanced at her to see her grinning at him. "You found out?" She nodded. "Yup, Clarice told me as soon as you left. I don't mind though, I'm just wondering… why me?" He laughed. "Why you? Sweetheart, you are the first person aside from Sam who has talked to me so freely since… since I was 18. And you're gorgeous. So why not?"

"Again, with the flattery…"

"Just stating facts, my dear."

"Also, my friend has a crush on Sam, so do tell him to ask her out." Bucky laughed harder. It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much. "Really? He has a crush on her too! I guess I'll tell him tomorrow." Y/N looked out of the window. "Where are we going?" Bucky gently squeezed her thigh. It was clear he wasn't taking her to a café, like originally planned.

"A picnic in the park." Y/N's eyes lit up. "I love picnics!" she squealed. "Then I guess I made a good choice," Bucky chortled along. The two soon reached the park and Bucky got out of the car first, holding the door open for Y/N to step out. "A gentleman," she noted, making him grin. He then took out the picnic basket from the backseat.

Y/N laid out the classic pink and white checkered blanket that he had brought along, taking off her heels before sitting down. "Ugh, I'd have worn pants if I knew I was going to be sitting on the ground," she groaned as she somehow sat down, adjusting her dress.

"You look gorgeous in that dress though," Bucky commented, "But you don't need to worry about public indecency because it's just you and me in the park." Y/N blinked at him as he sat down, opening the basket and taking out food. "Just us? You booked the whole park?" Bucky smirked at her. "It's easy when you run things around here."

Y/N fondly shook her head. "So much effort." He winked at her. "All for you, doll, all for you." The two maintained a chat as they ate. "So, you're new here. Why did you move to Brooklyn?" Bucky asked her. "Education. I go to [Name] college, actually, and work part-time as a waitress for some additional income," she hummed. He nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Is the mob a family business or a start-up?" Bucky smiled at her boldness. "Family business, my dad used to run it before me. I was 16 when I took over." Y/N realized what must've happened and gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky returned the smile. "It's fine, he was no saint."

"No?"

"Yup, hated him actually. Used to be cruel to my mom, to me too… until he got shot. Best day of my life." Y/N gasped quietly. "Bucky! He was your father!" Bucky chuckled mercilessly. "An asshole is what he was. Geez, speaking of, my mom is gonna be so happy."

"What's her name?" Y/N took a bite of her sandwich. "Winifred. She's awesome, raised me and my sister alone, ya know? Dad was always too busy. My mom will like you, I can tell. And so will my sister." Y/N smiled at that. "A sister?" He nodded, excited to talk about his family.

"Rebecca Barnes. She's a few years younger than me, maybe your age. She goes to your college too." Y/N suddenly squealed. "You mean to tell me my best friend from college is your sister? Rebecca Barnes?!" Bucky smiled so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna tear. "You've met her?" Y/N vehemently nodded.

"She's really great, the only person kind enough to introduce herself on the first day I moved in. She was the one who showed me around campus and I found out that she mostly spent time alone because no one wanted to talk to her, her brother being involved with the bad side of law or something. But I didn't care. I still don't. She's awesome, you're awesome."

Bucky felt himself tear up at her words. "Doll, you have no idea how much that means to me." Y/N grinned at him, scooting sideways so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm serious, you know. I can't wait to tell her about this." Bucky laughed in a watery tone, pressing his lips to her temple.

The two quietly ate after that. When the food was over both of them lay down on the blanket, looking up at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful," Y/N whispered, cuddling into Bucky's side as she stared at the gibbous moon. Bucky wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Y/N laughed quietly and looked up, the same time he looked down. They met each other halfway; their lips connecting softly yet eagerly. Lost in the kiss Bucky sat up, pulling Y/N on his lap as they continued making out. Finally, after what felt like hours did they pull away, breathless. They said nothing; Bucky looked at her as if she hung the moon.

Y/N stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world. "So, when will I get a second date?" she broke the silence, leaning down to press her forehead to his. "Oh, doll, you're not getting rid of me any time soon," he shot back, laughing. Y/N giggled along and stood up.

Both of them packed their things and got into the car, Bucky offering to drive her home since it was late. So I guess it had been hours. As Bucky drove, Y/N's phone chimed. He glanced at her when she laughed. "What's so funny?" Y/N wheezed before answering.

"I've got two texts. One from Becca and one from Clarice."

Bucky couldn't stop his chuckle. "What did Becca say?" Y/N read out, "Girl, just heard you're on a date with my bro? And I— I swear if you don't become my sister in law, I'm suing." Laughter filled the car. "She really said that?" Y/N nodded. "Yup! Even Clarice, on the day we met, said the same thing! It's nuts. We just met and they're already planning a wedding."

"Speaking of, what was Clarice's message?"

"Oh nothing, just that she got back home from a date with Sam a few minutes ago."

"What?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That asshole had work today!"

"Bucky!"

All in all, it was a day well-spent.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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illogicalthinking · 3 years

Text

The Burn Within

warnings: Some NSFW language (Remus), blood/ bruises mention, hurt no comfort and self hatred

word count: 1883

authors note: for this fic i used a prompt by @just-another-ts-prompt-blog which can be found: here

hope you enjoy!

Whilst the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ sides preferred to keep their distance from each other, they had to share certain parts of Thomas’s mind. For example, they shared a common area, and the imagination was split into two separate realms, much like Roman and Remus: Whilst one contained multiple castles and kingdoms living in harmony with each other, the other was a prison of living nightmares.

However, this arrangement did not bring them any closer to each other. The light sides tried to avoid the dark sides at all costs. Remus often played pranks on the others such as swapping the sugar out for salt, spiking drinks with inedible products, and stealing utensils.

This made meal times extremely difficult to control: Virgil would hiss and hide, Patton would try and fail to diffuse the situation, Janus would watch in entertainment and Roman was never around to witness. The only side that could keep the sides from murdering each other was Logan.

Today seemed like one of those days.

“Virgil could you please come down from there, Remus did not do anything” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was far too early for this, Logan muttered to himself whilst taking a large sip of coffee from his “worlds best mum” mug.

“He walked in whilst we were making coffee, that’s more than enough reason to hide. What if he put baby powder in my drink again? I’m going to die because of him!” Virgil hissed from his place on the top of the fridge, hoodie covering his frantic eyes.

Virgil had been more paranoid than usual after the recent video. He had fallen back into his old habit of hissing at the other sides when stressed. It concerned Patton greatly.

“Oh please sunshine, there is a higher chance of me fucking a woman with 3 arms than there is me spiking your drink again, I just walked in!” Remus exclaimed as he passed Virgil on the fridge to the dining table.

“Whilst Remus vocalized his argument in a very unprofessional manner, he is right, we have been awake for approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes whereas, by the looks of it, Remus has only been awake for around 10 minutes.” Logan made sure to maintain eye contact with Virgil whilst voicing his opinion to ensure Virgil knows he’s telling the truth. “There is nothing to worry about Virgil, you are safe”

“Thanks, L”

“You're welcome, now please come down from there, it is very dangerous to be sitting in places you are not supposed to be sitting”

After the incident this morning between Virgil and Remus, Logan remained seated in the common room, his back straight against the recliner with his laptop placed on his lap. He was researching content for a Sanders side video they will be filming in the evening. He did not do this in his room due to not wanting another incident like this morning. Logan is the only side that is willing to deal with the incidents, while the other sides (particularly Janus and Roman) are too impatient and often make the situation worse.

Throughout the whole day, Logan continued to research the link between intrusive thoughts and depression. Thomas had recently been showing signs of this mental illness and Logan wanted to bring it up to him via a video. However, there was a small issue, Logan would have to have all the other sides present including Janus and Remus. He needed Janus because Thomas listened to him more than Logan (much to the latter's dismay) and Remus represented intrusive thoughts. It would only be fair to have Remus take part in a discussion about him, even if the light sides had a problem with this.

Happy with his research, Logan snapped his laptop shut. Due to none of the other sides entering the common room after this morning's incident, Logan concluded it was safe to retreat into his room because he was not needed to split up another argument yet.

To Logan's annoyance, it was time to film the video for Thomas' youtube channel. After the events of putting others first, Logan had started to dread taking part in videos. This was because Janus proved he could take his role as logic, and remain loved and respected whilst providing the necessary information Thomas needed.

“Enough of the self-loathing, Logan, now is not the time,” Logan muttered to himself as he sank down into Thomas’s living room. This evening is going to be a long one for all of the sides, especially Logan.

Logan didn’t know how much longer he could handle the arguing.

None of the other sides were listening to his facts or solutions, too busy pinning the blame on each other for Thomas’s current problem. Roman and Remus were currently swords to mace, about to start a physical fight, Janus remained by Patton’s side trying and failing to calm him down before he turned back into a frog and Virgil remained curled up on his side, his hoodie covered the majority of him but Logan could still see him shaking.

Something had to shut them up.

I will shut them up, Logan thought to himself. Logan became alarmed by the sudden aggressive thoughts. He may have a short fuse but he wasn’t usually aggressive, not without guilt eating away at him. However, this time Logan had no guilt attached to this thought and he shivered at the realisation.

This time was different he reminded himself and with that thought, Logan snapped

“Will you all shut up and listen to what I have to say for once!” Logan all but screamed at the top of his lungs, ensuring he was heard over the arguing.

The silence that came after was enough evidence for logan to continue:

“People who suffer from depression often get stuck with a single or even several intrusive thoughts that arise frequently. These types of repetitive intrusive thoughts are known as 'rumination'.”

“The whole point of me organising this stupid video was to bring this statement to Thomas’ attention and guide him with the help of Janus to seek professional help. You all arguing like a group of immature school children was not part of the script, now if you would excuse me I am going to make myself useful for once and leave” Logan huffed, glad to get that out of his system. Even after snapping, the guilt never choked him like it usually would, which disturbed him greatly.

“Logan, wait!” Virgil pleaded, but it was too late.

“I said I was leaving, now fuck off and leave me alone” Logan hissed at him, the guilt still not reaching him.

Happy with this statement. Logan sunk out of the living room back to his room, leaving six shocked and petrified individuals behind.

“What just happened?” Thomas said to nobody in particular.

“I do not know but it’s best to leave him alone, let’s just get this shit show over and done with” Virgil muttered, far too anxious about Logan to care about the video.

Logan what happened to you. Virgil thought.

When Logan rose up into his bedroom he could not hold it in anymore. All of the pent-up frustration from being ignored for months became too much for the logical side, causing him to slam his fists into the nearest wall. However, without realizing it, Logan’s fist struck a family photo of all the sides surrounding a very happy Thomas.

For some reason seeing the shattered photo frame on the floor and the glass sticking out of his broken skin caused something within him to break.

For the first time in months, Logan allowed himself to cry out all of his frustrations.

After what seemed like hours, Logan finally got up from his place on his bed. He noted that his eyes were swollen and his hand was covered in dry blood and bruises. He did not want to get up and clean his mistake, but he knew he had to because the others would ask questions and he did not want that. Logan did not want the other side’s sympathy. It was a little too late for them and Thomas to care about him but he had to stay because Thomas needed him. They needed him.

“Do they need you though, Logan? Come on, you’re just as useful as me right now and you know it.” A harsh voice sneered into the cold room. Logan immediately knew who it was.

“Be quiet Orange, no matter how much Thomas tries to push me aside, I won’t leave because I am his logic, and Thomas needs his logical side.

“Come on Logan deep down you know I am right, let me prove it to you”

“Let’s just say you were correct in your hypothesis, what happens after that?” Logan sneered. He was far too exhausted to deal with this right now, and he just wanted to sleep.

“Let me show you”

“If I trusted you I would be breaking trust with the others and Thomas and I cannot do that. Thomas’s welfare is my number one priority and I cannot cause any harm to them, no matter how much they have hurt me”

“Oh please Logan, Thomas has not given a shit about you since the beginning. Where is your video, Logan? All the other sides have an episode focused on them, even Remus! And Thomas hates the guy! Do something for yourself for once in your life and listen to me, I can make them listen to you but you have to trust me,” Orange whispered to Logan. Logan knew deep down that what orange was saying was correct, he did not just want to admit it to himself. Until now, that is.

“Fine, what do you have in mind?”

It has been approximately one hour since Logan had sunk out of the video, and Janus was getting worried. No matter how much he tried to get a hand on Logan and summon, he couldn’t. Logan was unreachable

The twins were arguing and Patton and Janus couldn't find a middle ground. Finally, they summoned Logan, needing an impartial side. But when he appears, something is different.

He was wearing a long-sleeve dress shirt, much fancier than usual. He had streaked eyeliner and his glasses were different. He was not wearing a tie.

“Logan? What happened?” Thomas asked, hesitant like he almost doesn’t want to know.

Patton had his hand to his mouth. He spoke up after a moment, “Logan, you look like… like a dark side. What did you do?”

Logan’s voice was quiet and soft like if he spoke too loud he might break. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t try to do this, I-” he cut himself off, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I have become obsolete.” His voice broke on the last word and he clamped his mouth shut.

“No, Logan!” Thomas immediately disagreed. “We need Logic!”

Logan nodded, eyes still trained on the floor. “Yes, you do need logic. But . . . you don’t want me”

And with that, Logan sank out for the second time that night, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke that soon vanished, just like he did.

The others could not do anything but feel the burn within.

What had they done?

#logan angst #logan sanders angst #logan sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #character!thomas #sanders sides

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actual-fucking-clown · 3 years

Text

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this.

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them.

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems.

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered.

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough.

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon.

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown.

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile.

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless.

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke.

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent. A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too.

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

#bnha x reader #mha xreader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #my first fic #mha #bnha

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bleachluna · 3 years

Text

Letters

Ended up skipping day 2 of @hitsukarinweek as I had no ideas for it but here’s my fic for day 3! Also on AO3

Dear Toshiro,

Can you please explain to me how the hell Soul Society managed to copy mobile phones from humans, and even put hollow tracking technology in them, but didn't make them able to send stuff across realms? I know you explained that SS phones in soul society can only contact those in soul society, and when they're here in the human world they can only contact those here, but I only realised how ridiculously stupid that is until after you left. What if there's an emergency and you need to contact someone across realms for whatever reason? Surely you need to get this fixed, I cannot believe if I want to talk to you I'm stuck writing letters like it's the 1800s. I'm even writing more formally than I expected, apparently letter writing brings it out of me and I absolutely hate it. You've gotta fix it. Not to mention I'm not a fan of leaving letters for Urahara to pass on for me, I'm not totally convinced he won't read them.

Anyway, it's been a couple of months since I saw you last. That's probably a good thing, that a captain hasn't been needed here, but I'll admit I wonder about you sometimes, I hope everything is ok on your end! I don't know what it was about turning sixteen but all of a sudden all of this stuff about trying to figure out careers is on me constantly. Yuzu figured out years ago that she wanted to go into healthcare, she took to it way back when we were kids. She was originally planning to go into nursing but her grades have improved a lot recently, she might be a doctor instead, but she's also thinking about midwifery. So there's stuff she's gotta figure out for sure, but at least she knows what area she wants to go into? I don't even have that. I mean how do you figure out what to do with the rest of your life when you're sixteen? I haven't even figured myself out yet. How did you decide to become a shinigami?

Other than that though things are ok. School is a little stressful because grades suddenly feel so much more important, but the work's manageable at least. Hollow level seems to be stable at the minute too which is great, one less thing to worry about! And Urahara improved his reiatsu blocking bracelet thing, I've had this one for almost four months and it hasn't broken so even less chance of getting eaten! Always a plus. But anyway, I hope things are good on your end as well, and that you aren't buried up to your ears in paperwork. Let me know if you ever have any plans to pop up in the human world!

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I sent this on the 22nd of June, let me know when this gets to you/when you send yours, I wanna know what sort of delivery time we're looking at here.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I don't even remotely have the skills or know-how to fix something like that, that's what the Research & Development Team is for. I agree it's a little daft that our mobile phones can't send things across realms, but I'm sure said team knows this and is likely working on it, as you said, it would be unfortunate in an emergency situation. Plus I know Urahara can be a little eccentric, but do you really think he'd read the letters? I'm sure it's fine.

It is a good thing I've not been needed, the last thing Karakura needs is more trouble and destruction. Have they managed to rebuild that major bridge you were talking about yet? Everything is alright here, or at least in my division anyway. I've been kept busy recently, a set of students graduated from the academy last month so I've had 18 new recruits to introduce to squad 10. As for the careers stuff, I honestly assumed from the work you did here and there for the clinic that you were interested in healthcare as well, I take it that's not actually the case then? Do you at least have rough ideas of the sort of thing you'd want to go into? I'm not sure I'll be much help in that respect, I can't wrap my head around half of the jobs that seem to exist in the human world. In some ways I had it easier, the choice was out of my hands. My reiatsu was getting stronger and Hyorinmaru came to me before I even knew what was happening, I needed to go to the academy to make sure my reiatsu didn't become dangerous, therefore I became a shinigami. I never had to wonder what to do with myself in terms of employment.

I'm glad to hear things are going well with you, I'm certainly glad to hear you don't have to worry as much about the bracelet breaking. Is your reiatsu still increasing? If it's stabilising that might be part of why this new bracelet is managing better. I know you're not particularly interested in getting involved with shinigami stuff, which frankly I agree with, but if your reiatsu is still increasing I do think it's worth training you to hide it properly. I am unfortunately always at least a little buried in paperwork, particularly recently with the new recruits, but it's manageable. I don't think I'll be in the human world soon, but I will let you know if I plan to.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 2nd of July, I should be handing this letter over to be sent on the 4th, schedule permitting.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Well I hope you make sure that the research team are working on it, because this really is ridiculous. And you're kidding right? I trust Urahara about as far as I can throw him, which is probably all of three feet.

The bridge is still being rebuilt, but I think they're in the last stages now thank god. All the diversions needed really messed with the traffic, maybe I can finally stop leaving the house half an hour earlier just to get to my soccer club. It's supposed to be twenty minutes max by bus and it's been taking easily twice that. Let me know if you find out which shinigami it was that released their zanpakuto on that bridge, I have some choice words for them.

An entire class of students graduated and you only got 18 newbies at the tenth? Was it a small class or is that the normal kind of numbers you see? I assumed there's like, thousands and thousands of shinigami, is there less than I thought? Is that why I only ever see you and Rukia besides the dude who's currently stationed here? And I don't know about going into healthcare, that's my whole problem! I don't know what I want. Healthcare is fine but I don't feel like it's my life purpose to go into it either so yeah, I don't know. Healthcare would be alright, sports would be cool maybe? But I don't think there's a whole lot of sports careers outside of professional (which is definitely not happening) or teaching, and I'm not convinced I'm the teacher type. I just don't seem to have this strong urge to go in a particular direction like Yuzu does. But wow, I didn't know that, you basically HAD to train to be a shinigami? I didn't know that was a thing that could happen, that your reiatsu can go that far on its own. That kind of sucks though doesn't it? That you had no choice? I hope you enjoy being a shinigami at least.

To be honest I think my reiatsu probably is still going up. I don't think it's as quick as it was before, it's settled a little bit, probably because there hasn't been much danger around recently, but I do think it's still inching up. Is that a huge issue? Obviously it became a huge issue with you so now I'm kinda nervous. I'm not gonna get kidnapped into the shinigami am I? I can train to hide my reiatsu without actually becoming a shinigami right? Frankly I trust you more on this than Urahara. And you better let me know in advance if you can, Yuzu says she wants to make you those dumplings you liked again.

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I got excited at first thinking that sending these took less than two weeks, that didn't seem that bad considering we're sending them via Urahara whenever someone comes through realms, but then your letter took almost a month to come, it arrived on the 27th :( I'm handing this letter over on the 28th.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

The Research & Development Team is not under my command, they belong to the twelfth, I cannot make sure that they're working on it, but I shall ask at the next opportunity I get. I think you're selling yourself short, I'm sure you could get at least five feet, but I do see your point, I can't say I fully trust him either, not on an individual basis anyway. I trust him to want the best for everybody, and to work towards that, but I don't think he pays attention to what that means for the individuals in the situation. More of a 'the end justifies the means' sort of person from what I've heard. And I'm afraid I have no idea who it was who damaged the bridge, but given they were fighting a powerful hollow at the time I imagine it was the correct course of action. Better on the bridge than in the middle of town.

I get the impression there is less shinigami than you think. Most squads have just over two hundred or so members, so 18 new recruits is actually a pretty good year. As for why you only really see me or Vice-Captain Kuchiki, it's a combination of needing a strong enough shinigami to deal with the sort of problems that crop up in Karakura, while also needing said shinigami to have a vague clue on how to navigate the human world. Vice-Captain Kuchiki presumably has rather extensive knowledge having lived in the human world for months, and I've been known to visit for years so they know I'm alright with being there as well. I think it's alright to not have an idea of a 'life's purpose' when you're in your second year of high school. Maybe just pick something for now as a sort of in-between while you continue working out what it is you want? Sometimes a job is just a job after all. You could always try a career in sports and see how it goes if it interests you now, and switch later on? I'm sure you'll figure something out. I'll admit I was definitely reluctant to train as a shinigami at first, it was never something I wanted originally, so it was hard to deal with to begin with I suppose, but I don't mind it these days. It's stressful, but at least I'm doing something where I'm trying to keep people safe, that suits me well enough.

Unfortunately yes, in my case my reiatsu continuously going up was an issue, but I don't think it's as serious with you. Firstly, you've not got a zanpakuto knocking on your subconscious as far as I know (the telltale giveaway is weird dreams where someone/something is trying to talk to you and tell you it's name, in case you were worried about that), and the people around you aren't vulnerable. You're unlikely to cause issues with your reiatsu because everyone around you has some degree of spiritual power already. As for the other questions, I certainly hope you won't be kidnapped into the shinigami, and I don't think your brother or even Urahara would let that happen, but it's possible you'll get Soul Society's attention if it keeps going unchecked. Of course with Urahara keeping on eye on it and keeping the reiatsu blocking bracelet on you, I'd argue that it's largely taken care of and shouldn't get other shinigami on you. There isn't much shinigami training you can do without becoming a shinigami, but you can learn to withdraw and hide your reiatsu even as a human so don't worry about that. I would say to ask your brother but he's never been very good at controlling his, Urahara is your other option, or possibly Vice-Captain Kuchiki if she's around. Or if those don't work out and your reiatsu gets to a point where you're truly worried about it let me know, I'll train you in it myself if it comes to it. Also, I appreciate the thought but your sister doesn't need to go to trouble like that for me.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 17th of August. I think it's safe to say they take anywhere from over a week to just under a month to arrive each time.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Let me know what the research team says! If they say they're not working on it please heavily suggest that they do, and if they say they are working on it, please ask how long they think it'll take them. Just think how much easier communicating would be if we could just call each other. The end justifies the means is EXACTLY Urahara's vibe, which is exactly why I don't really trust him. So yeah, it wouldn't even remotely surprise me if he's been reading these the entire time, better to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around. I suppose you have a point about the bridge being a better location than in the middle of a bunch of people, I'll put up with inconvenient travel times over unnecessary death.

Only a little over two hundred per squad? There is less than I thought! That's way less than your average university over here, that's crazy! 18 newbies is good in that case, your squad must be pretty popular. And no wonder I only really ever see you or Rukia, you guys clearly need to work on getting more people up to the speed with the human world or you're gonna end up over-worked! I guess I could just go for sports now and switch later? I don't know, you kinda get it into your head that you've gotta figure out what you want and stick to it, but I guess there's nothing actually stopping me from changing paths later. Once school goes back in I'm gonna get a meeting and talk to the careers lady, see what she says. I'm glad you're alright with being a shinigami now, hopefully it isn't stressful too much of the time.

Well, I'll take your word for it, you know more than me on this but I'm still kinda wary. You're right that there's no zanpakto trying to get my attention so far at least so that's something. If I do get kidnapped by the shinigami I'm trusting you to break me back out, but yeah that is kind of the whole point of the bracelet, that it blocks off my reiatsu from others so hollows can't find me so easily (and shinigami apparently, yeesh) so hopefully this won't actually be an issue. I don't really want to ask Urahara to train me but I will if I have to I guess. Asking Rukia's a good idea though! I'll ask whenever she next pops up, she seems like she'd be good at that sort of thing, maybe that'll solve this whole situation. Or you know, you, if you happen to come sooner, whoever comes to the human world next I guess! I'd feel better knowing that I myself could do the thing the bracelet's doing. Although I do have a question, how do you do it in your sleep? Or is it not possible and you're just vulnerable a third of the time? That seems unfortunate. Also you're kidding right? Cooking is the primary way my sister shows her care and affection, if she wants to cook for you there's no stopping her so you can at least give us notice so we can get ingredients and stuff.

Best Wishes,

Karin

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I will let you know what the research team says as soon as it actually comes up. I can see your point, I suppose it is better to plan for the worst and be pleasantly surprised otherwise. Good to see you have your priorities in order, is the bridge finally finished though?

I remember being surprised by the size of your high school, I assume universities are even bigger? Must be an administrative nightmare to keep track of all those students, I feel like I can have a hard enough time with the 226 members I have. Squad 10 was surprisingly popular this year, the only other squads who had numbers like that were the sixth and the eleventh, both of which always have high numbers. We did have 'human world' classes at the academy at one point, but they ended up being scrapped a decade or so ago, any information learned was rendered almost completely obsolete within a few years, meaning the stuff the students learned was more or less useless by the time they were actually getting stationed in the human world. These days we just give a brief information pack about the human world before they leave, currently being updated semi-regularly by Vice-Captain Kuchiki. Meeting with a staff member whose job it is to deal with career pathways certainly sounds like a good idea, I hope it goes well if it hasn't already taken place.

Once again, I certainly hope Soul Society would try such a thing, it would be incredibly stupid considering I don't think your brother, who damn near took on the whole of Soul Society and pretty much came out on top, would ever let you get kidnapped in the first place. And I'm fairly sure me, a captain, breaking out someone Soul Society captured is probably considered treason of some kind, but I can promise I'll be in your corner one way or another. Not to mention, I don't think most shinigami would be prepared for you anyway, most are too used to sword combat, I don't think the average shinigami would handle your hand to hand very well. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. As for hiding your reiatsu in your sleep, generally speaking you just practice it enough that it becomes second nature, most shinigami do it subconsciously after a while, including in sleep, although nightmares and the like can interfere a little bit. Your sister has met me what, three times? She feels strongly enough to cook for me? It really is unnecessary although I'm sure the thought is kind. I did say I'd give you notice if I came to the human world though, our sensors are showing an increase in hollow activity in Karakura recently. We're currently just monitoring, we're holding off for now as it might be temporary, but if it gets worse I'm coming to monitor the situation properly and to make sure no incidents happen with the hollow increase. Judging from the current rate, if it keeps going as is I'll probably be there in two weeks or so. With any luck this letter will arrive before I do but if not, I'll make sure to meet up with you somewhere.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Your letter got here super quick, less than a week after I sent mine! Looks like there's increased shinigami activity to match the hollow activity, which boy, you're not kidding that its increased. My reiatsu's jumped up again and I couldn't tell you if it was a response to all the hollows around, or that the hollows arrived because of me. I really hope it's the former. Hopefully you'll be here soon! I think I could do with the training sooner rather than later and if I'm being honest I'd feel safer. But anyway, in response to your letter:

The bridge is actually finished! Just in time for the increased hollows to fuck it up again I'm sure! Most universities are like 10,000 to 30,000 easy, and I think some are bigger than that? So yeah, only two hundred or so shinigami per squad is insane to me. I'm pretty sure the universities have whole administrative teams just for the purpose, does your squad have an admin person at all or is it just you? When I first found out about the shinigami I didn't think I'd sit here wondering about the bureaucracy of it all but here I am. Oh wow I would've loved to sit in one of those human world classes, would've been hilarious I bet. At least you give newly stationed people something, I imagine the culture shock must be a bit much, I'm sure Rukia's information is very accurate given how much time she's spent here. And the careers meeting is actually in two days, I kinda nervous about it to be honest, but hopefully it'll be helpful.

Well I suppose when you put it that way Soul Society kidnapping me would very much be poking the bear huh? I'm extremely saddened to hear that you wouldn't commit treason for me though, what kind of friendship is this??? But I suppose I'll take comfort in you being 'in my corner one way or another', whatever that means. Does it mean in the event of soul society kidnapping me and forcing me to be a shinigami you'd immediately put me in your squad? That's the vibe I'm getting. But that's good to know about the hand to hand combat and the reiatsu withdrawing while still asleep, I'll bear those both in mind. As for your potential visit, given hollows seem to be popping up left right and centre I'm assuming you're probably coming in a week or so, I'll look out for your arrival! I get the impression this letter isn't going to get to you before you arrive in the human world but just in case it does I'll let you know, Yuzu added the dumpling ingredients onto her shopping list. That means you've gotta be at our house for at least one dinner! Consider it repayment for the training I'm gonna demand from you.

Hope you get here safe,

Karin

#hitsukarin #hitsukarinweek #hitsukarinweek2021 #toshiro hitsugaya #karin kurosaki #bleach #my writing #once again strongly recommend reading this on the blog itself or ao3 #the dash formatting is not great and this is a little under 4k

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mego42 · 3 years

Text

Shamelessly stealing @foxmagpie’s monthly rec thing without the ability to get my life together to do these on a monthly basis so, seasonal recs! So excited to see if I manage to do this again with anything remotely resembling consistency but i’ve been keeping the notes for approximately 43 years (or since ~september, whatever that means) so by god i’m gonna use them.

found my thrill - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe

Turner POV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

guys turner is SO OBSESSED with Beth and Rio

both canonically and in this fic

it’s gr9

also features a weirdly soothing and relatable cord untangling moment as a metaphor

truly disturbingly relatable turner pov tbh

relentless boomer disdain, always a plus

led to the creation of this monstrosity, not sure what kind of a monster would do that

War In My Mind - mintletters16

Backread!!!!

post-213, gorgeous character study

guaranteed to make you feEl stUfF

I really love the like, cyclical, fractured pattern of Beth’s internal monologue, it gives the whole thing a really affecting at times dreamy, at times haunted vibe

the end twist is *chef’s kiss*

mourning bells - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet

Backread!!!!

Later s2 era, Rio’s at a funeral, gets drunk and calls Beth

V short, kind of…..mmm, not sweet, but almost? Idk

It’s got a wistful sort of almost/i can be quiet with you vibe that i go extremely bonkers for

delinquents - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Lol are any of you actually not reading this yet?

g o d ch 8 where do i start

First off how ABSOLUTELY VERY DARE for the tragic angst that is delinquents!beth boland. This poor baby, this precious bean. MUST PROTEC

SHE’S TRYING HER BEST AND I LOVE HER

zero percent deserves dean’s clammy hands, no i have not forgotten, tattooed on my brain, will never forgive

I also love love love love LOVE the ruby/stan subplot happening

(and ruby’s mom!!!!!) (seriously though you write the best moms)

oh god and baby beth starting to have confusing feelings about rio?????? *chef’s kiss*

p sure i was just like, straight screaming the entire end of the chapter

the dugout is like, pure serotonin

I can’t even talk about the closet

tHe teNsiOn

thank you i will take eleventy billion

don't give it a hand, offer it a soul - medievalraven / @medievalraven

am a desperate heaux for any fic that features rio and mick friendship

you are all incredibly shocked i know

still would not be mad if this swerved into rio x mick fake dating but beth x rio is cool too i guess

Speaking of things i am a desperate heaux for: DIANE!!!!!!!!

and DATING ANNIE???????????? Blessed

honestly this fic is worth it purely for the assertion that mick watches queer eye

Why don't we go to Venus? - watermelonriddles / @bensonstablers

another grief study!

apparently i was working through some stuff in september, idk, that was like 4 years ago

considering it’s the premise of the fic, i don’t think it’s a spoiler to say this fic is canon divergent and working with the premise that rio killed beth in 302

he is uh, not coping well

extremely haunted you might say

lots of marcus and rhea which is a delight!

rhea is to good for him tbh

i said what i said

truly top notch dream (nightmare?) sequences

the conversation at the end is extremely uncalled for

drop the game - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet

Backread!!!!

Am going to die mad Beth and Rio didn’t hook up in 211 but luckily this fic scratched the itch

(temporarily, it’s a fairly permanent itch)

Bonus rec: missing scene series i wanna do bad things to you featuring 2x02 and 2x04

Viva Voce - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx

Whoops we woke up married Vegas shenanigans!!

So cute!!!!! So sexy!!!!!

What more do you want?

am desperately obsessed with how beth can’t help stalking rio

feels right, feels organic

this makes me feel a lot of stuff about how they could be without their canon garbage between them

🎶 we could’ve had it aaaaaaaaaaall 🎶

you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else) - gild_fire / @gild-and-fire

really into the use of color to illustrate beth’s emotional state, i feel like there’s a word for that but idk what it is

UNIMPORTANT

really nice job capturing beth’s inner vulnerability balanced by her outer stubbornness

am DESPERATELY into Mick playing matchmaker

more please???????

Both Sides of the Law - JoeyLee / @joeyjoeylee

LAW SCHOOL AU! I suuuuuuper love Beth and Rio here (alt pov!! a gift!!!!) I love how initially prickly they are, I love how it’s evolving into a grudging respect, I love how INCREDIBLY AND HILARIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH EACH OTHER THEY ARE and neither one of them seems to see it

listen I know we’re all already foaming at the mouth over this one but as it’s gonna go down as one of my all time favorites it bears repeating/rereccing

cannot stress enough how masterful the use of POV is here, both voices feel completely true and distinct and I love how the alternating chapters revisit, reveal and emphasize pieces of each other

i can’t talk about this fic without hyperventilating

I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU GUYS

the slow burn is going to ACTUALLY KILL ME

rip, no regrats

Earned It - wakeupflawless / @wakeupflawless

spanking

that’s it that’s the pitch

H O T

living for beth’s exit in the first chapter, rio and i are both incredibly into it

second chapter also features violently possessive Rio who cannot deal with anyone messing with his girl so if that’s your thing boy howdy get on it

shake, baby, shake - openhearts

backread!!!!!

according to my bookmarks this was a reread but ???????

must’ve read it in the fugue state that followed reading for a moment we were strangers which is gr9 and I believe I have recced it before. If not, horrible oversight, reccing it now

beth and Rio POV lead up to the bathroom break, beautifully done, low-key feel bad reccing it bc the end point of both chapters makes me want to throw things but it’s super worth it for the tEnsiOn. ENJOY

What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have - flashindie / @pynkhues

I’m assuming all of y’all are already reading this

If not OH MY GOD FIX YOUR LIVES

P I R A T E A U

I’m sorry maybe you didn’t hear me piRaTE aU

meticulously researched, brain-meltingly vibrant, already painfully sexy slow-burning PIRATE AU

god where to start okay so first off, the world-building here straight up breaks my brain, sophie’s put in the work and it SHOWS

second, the atmosphere. i’m generally a pretty like, vague mental picture sort of reader but the sensory detail here grabs you by the throat and like, forcibly hauls you in whether your brain’s wired that way or no

and hey speaking of throats if you, like me, go a little funny about the knees at the idea of beth holding a knife to rio’s throat (he’s fine, calm down), there’s a v excellent beth-in-a-barrel moment for you

oh christ and the sexy tension

it’s gonna be a race to see which slow burn takes me out first, this or law school

Stunner - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Another high school AU, this time with baby Rio absolutely head over heels for his older sister’s bff

stunner!Rio has an emotional earnestness about him that I feel like delinquents!Rio has already outgrown and it’s so SWEET I can’t get enough

Desperately cute!!!!!!

alL he waNts iS foR beTh tO bE hiS girL

also unreasonably angsty???????

ANN ARBOR IS NOT THAT FAR MEGAN

A Heart's A Heavy Burden - tooshyforthis / @bathroombreaks

Howl’s Moving Castle AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Howl’s!!!!!!!!!!!

perfect opp to roast Rio for being a Dramatique Heaux

and it’s gonna be 9 chapters?????? H Y P E

author’s note boldly presumes I did not know I needed this AU when the reality is I did in fact know I needed this AU, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to deliver

so blessed

author also claims to not be team nose stud and yet it features prominently in all its magnificent glory

what is the truth dot gif

A Bit of a Stretch - septiembre / @septiembur

SO????? CUTE?????????

would be on this list for Rio calling Beth E alone tbh

really really really really really love this Rio POV of being settled into a relationship with Beth

It manages to be sweetly domestic af while still holding the edge that makes brio brio which is a neat trick

@septiembur may be a witch

beth’s approach to getting rio to do yoga with her is hilarious and exactly right, canon-typical amounts of subtlety

1000000/10

Post Break-Up Sex - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs

stg this was called Hit Shuffle

no matter

h O T

with a side of damn i’ve made some questionable choices in my life haven’t i introspection

(no regrats tho)

(esp not with this fic)

not the point of the fic by a long shot but i’m also extremely obsessed with Weed Eddie, so real

She drains my soul... she drains it not - niham87 / @niham87

ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT

am a complete sucker for paranormal world building that satirizes bureaucracy

Is that a trope? If so that’s my favorite

I did it. I’m picking a single favorite. You know what that is growth dot gif

ANYWAY i love the concept, i love the humor, i love beth instantly clicking with annie

I love her and mick’s sort of grudging professional courtesy

Love beth as a champion of environmental responsibility and all of the underworld being like …...okay??

cannot wait to see where this goes

Nine-Tenths - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

sometimes i think about rio putting beth’s hair in a ponytail and have to go lie down

science please explain why this rUinS mE

wait hold on i skipped ahead

HEY KIDS DO YOU LIKE UNBEARABLY CUTE DOMESTIC TENDERNESS

opens with rio sleepily holding beth’s hand to his heart so that’s the kind of thing you’ll be dealing with

uGH theY’RE sO CUTe

idk why precisely but rio adding hair ties to his bracelet collection is my undoing every time

Missed Call - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Rio doesn’t come home from a job when he’s supposed to. Beth (and I!!!!!!!) slowly loses her mind

Truly a masterpiece of rising tension

Will literally never forgive her for calling this light angst

I was SO STRESSED OUT

The first person to point out there was an author’s note at the beginning I obvs didn’t read is getting blocked

crush - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Listen even though this is centered around two OCs, they are OCs FROM a (n iconic) brio fic AND Beth, Ruby and Rio all make cameos (I mean, Rio’s pretty present since he lives in Mar’s mind rent free bc they are THE SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE BEST OF FRIENDS so idk if i’d call it a cameo but whatever)

and even if it didn’t feature any official GG characters I’d still rec is bc that’s mY SON AND this fic is TOO CUTE

I have so many feelings over mar and rio growing up and not knowing how to cope with girls becoming a Thing in their life and how it affects their friendship and mar feeling left behind but (SPOILERS) at the end of the story rio starts feeling that too and it’s so poignant knowing how that’s going to continue in delinquents

while mar may be my son, i also claim elena’s #1 stan status

before you’re like meg you’re only reccing it bc it’s a bday present ask yourselves do i really strike you as the kind of person that wouldn’t be equally obnoxious about this either way?

truly cannot fathom how hard i have fallen for these OCs i don’t normally do that

@foxmagpie is definitely a witch

The Ottoman - Niham87 / @niham87

look i will be the first to admit that i don’t go near as bonkers over the ottoman line in 308 as y’all do

(don’t get me wrong, i love it!!! I love that he laughs and i love that she’s pleased it just doesn’t hit my lose my whole mind button like idk, the dubby or the 306 convo, idk why)

BUT i v v v much love the context this delightful Rio POV pwp gives it

am also absolutely feral for 209 missing scene fic

and anything that captures the complexity of Rio’s s3 feelings for Beth and how twisted they’ve become

so this scratches a bunch of itches, is what i’m trying to say

Bet On It - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

That’s what my brain does when I think about Beth and Rio meeting in ch 1

am DESPERATELY OBSESSED WITH the tension between the two of them in this fic

I love how it plays with the ways they have to rely on but don’t trust each other

plus FAKE DATING and BED SHARING (fair warning hasn’t happened yet but the set up is there)

originally supposed to be 2 chapters, already up to 4, prayer circle it goes on forever

do you like drugs (tonight) - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe

v important focus on hydration, other fic should take note

extremely about the use of cut to and then flashback to enhance the ‘we were on drugs’ vibe

speaking of, beth and rio absolutely would take ecstasy to prove they are fun bc they are the exact kind of idiots that would peer pressure themselves

so glad beth kept her purse, got a bit stressed there for a second, clutches in that kind of circumstance are A Risk

not that i would know

FLAWLESS USE OF VOICEMAIL TBH

really love the ongoing denial that they are remotely into each other while proceeding to demonstrate how they are in fact, extremely into each other, great vibe

rio dances

I know my brain broke too

mmmm bacon

Navigate A Broken Path - flashindie / @pynkhues

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

I have a long standing tradition of getting unreasonably obsessed with side characters so i’m not like, entirely surprised by how obsessed i am with both Mick and Mary Pat but i never in a million years considered them as a ship

AND Y E T

they fit????? so perfectly?????? It’s amazing how she developes them individually enough that i look at them together and think ah yes this makes perfect sense for both characters

and they’re such an amazing foil to Beth and Rio?

can ships have foils? do i know what a foil is?

unimportant

GUYS you dON’T uNDERStAN d

hell i don’t understand

how absolutely very dare you make me care about YET ANOTHER set of gg ‘verse children

do not read this fic if you have no interest in feelings you zero percent asked for

wHA t hAPPeNED iN aLASkA?????????

A Moment’s Silence - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs

*makes sign of the cross*

y’all are gonna make me rediscover religion

extremely appreciate the author’s note approach to backstory top notch prioritization

listen it’s basically 3k of beth deep throating rio idk what more you need me to say about it

it is…..good stuff

bless the kinkmeme or fest whatever we’re calling it

praise - civillove / @blainesebastian

I mean you had me at “three times rio calls beth a good girl and one time he really means it”

ephemeral rio

I left that note for myself in here in the middle of the night and haven’t the foggiest what i was thinking but i stand by it none the less

okay okay i think i know what i meant, this fic (as do all of my fav civillove brio fics) has this sort of like, liminal, in the quiet moments feel to them that makes the moments and feelings somehow feel like i’m catching a glimpse of something secret and precious???

idk i just really like it okay

Heart and Soul - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo

oh look more unbearably sweet domestic tenderness, this time to music

thank you ma’am for my life

rio remembers beth used to play piano and gets her one and revoltingly cute shenanigans result

also hilarity

and sexiness

this fic has it all, truly

shout out to mick who sees no reason to keep rio’s feelings to himself

good girls tumblr fic - prettylittlementirosa / @hypermania

cheating and reccing a whole series

It’s my list and i can do what i wanna

stop crying about it, it’s four fics and they’re all AMAZING absolutely impossible to pick a fav

truly flawless characterization, next level ability to capture evocative mood, cannot get enough

three’s a crowd: who knew ballroom dancing while dean watches and grinds his teeth could be so sexy

(trick question everything about that premise sounds A++++ and boy howdy does it live up)

feel it on the way home: rio tries to break up with beth, it goes about as well as you’d expect

(thE angSty tenSioN)

i want to play the game: [from the floor] i’m still not ready to talk about it

(rio/turner, missing scene, 10000000% a taste of what went down in that hotel room)

june after dark: pitch perfect annie pov, really really love the take that Annie is the baby whisperer, can’t fully explain why but it feels incredibly right

(ANNIE X NANCY COULD WORK SO WELL YOU GUYS)

#fingers crossed these links are right i did not double check #i like to live on the edge #truly mind boggling amount of fluff on this list i surprised myself on that one #no i will not at any point get my shit together enough to write out thoughtful commentary this is a shit posting blog first last and always #fic recs #gg fic #nbc good girls #i'll come up with a tag for these if i ever do them again #check back 37 years from now #or ~~~~~~march #whatever that means

77 notes · View notes

stutterfly · 5 years

Text

Swipe Right 01 | Context Switch | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Fic Summary: Jungkook wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was and you don’t want to admit that he had you fooled. You quickly discover he has a lot more to offer than exchanging pleasantries and awkward small talk. In fact, he never seems to shut up.

For the better part of a year, he’s held your irritation hostage, never passing up an opportunity to deliver savage one-liners at your expense. When he discovers you’re on Tinder, he turns up the brattiness factor and intentionally seeks you out. Who knows? Maybe if you gave him a chance he could charm the pants right off of you. Then again, maybe he’s just a fuckboy.

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, like cannot stress enough Fuckboy Jungkook but gets soft later, dirty jokes, talk nerdy to me, PUNS, friendship feels, sexual tension, Jin being bad at copying Mario’s accent, Namjoon being bad at accents

CW: panic attacks, filthy language, this whole chapter is setup so like nothing too bad i dont think???

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (1/?- Ongoing) Do not repost. masterlist // next chapter

(A/N: This is part of my “Activate Your SIMcard” series. Each member of BTS has their own AU in which IT/TechSupport/NerdReader gets dating help/advice and ends up falling in love with them instead. As with a dating sim, the same characters are utilized--same professions, similar scenario placement-- but different interactions/pathways lead to different romances. ~Anyway here’s the Jungkook route.~ The Namjoon route, “Love Bytes” is currently in the works.)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Nerves wrack your stomach as you make your way down the hall, clinging to the man beside you. His strides seem gigantic next to yours and you find yourself struggling to keep up with him. “Stop walking so fast, Namjoon.”

The man laughs, but slows his pace just enough to allow you to walk side-by-side. “Sorry. I’m just excited for you to meet them.”

Digging your fingernails into the flesh of his elbow, you swallow hard. It’s been a couple months since the young English professor stumbled into your life holding the pieces of some very expensive, very shattered college property. State of the art technology, brand new, busted in less than a week of his arrival. He’d get the biggest chew-out of his life if he presented it to your boss, and you were too sympathetic to let that happen.

While you’d willingly paid for the whole thing out of pocket to cover for the newbie, it had definitely put a strain on your finances and what little social life you had. Within a week he’d worked up a repayment plan than spanned the course of a year. He even started buying you a coffee every Friday as an apology for how long it was going to take.

After a few months of bonding over kung-fu movies, life before Namjoon’s friendship seemed like a distant past, a hazy dream. It was natural that your new bestie wanted to grow your pitiful social circle. But there was a reason you didn’t let people get close to you. The fact that Namjoon had slipped past your defenses so fast made him an anomaly worth dissecting for scientific discovery.

Just the thought of having to now socialize with people you don’t know has your temperature boiling and your head spinning.

He attempts to tug his elbow away from you, and you stumble forward, keeping your death grip on him. “I know, but talking to people isn’t exactly my strong suit. Are you sure it’s best I meet all six at once?”

“You’ve already met Jimin,” he begins, clawing at your hand with long, veiny fingers until you release your hold on him, “but he’s not coming tonight, so don’t worry... you can relax a little.”

Your face twists into a sour grimace as you try to sputter out a response. “I-Pfft. I mean. Jimin’s a model. His face is on billboards and shit. Like… how is that supposed to not be intimidating?”

“Jimin is the world’s biggest sweetheart,” he laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets as you continue down the hallway. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. I have a feeling you two will get along fine once you stop being so shy.”

You huff and tick your jaw a few times before wringing your hands together. Maybe.

“Anyway. Taehyung is out of town on business, but you can meet him another time. He’s kind of quiet when meeting new people too. Hoseok and Yoongi texted they might be a little late. It’ll just be Jin and Jungkook you’re meeting now. And it’ll be just the four of us for a bit.”

A deep breath escapes you as you hook your elbow with his. “Okay. I just… I’m nervous.”

He stops at the door at the end of the hall and looks down at you. “Give them a chance. If you’re still feeling bad in an hour, then we’ll leave, and I’ll hang out with y’all separately from now on. Deal?”

You eye his extended palm peeking out from beneath the crook of your twined elbows before a smile creeps across your face. You shake his hand. He always knows what to say. “Deal.”

As Namjoon knocks, you leave the comfort of his side, realizing how your anxious clinging might be mistaken for a romantic gesture. You begin to shrink back, trying to hide in his shadow before the door opens. You’re about halfway there when a young, well-built man appears, prominent leg muscles bulging from beneath his basketball shorts as he props the door open with his foot. There’s a cup of instant noodles in his hands, and you’re pretty sure at least half of its contents are dangling from his mouth.

The scent of garlic and rosemary drifts into your nostrils, and you freeze as you cower behind Namjoon, realizing how long it’s been since you last had a decent home-cooked meal. You were promised free food so maybe it won't be so bad after all.

“Ah, Namjoon,” he greets and gestures with his head towards the domicile. “Come in--Oh!”

He chokes a chunk of noodles back into the paper cup as he notices your figure standing behind the tall man.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N,” Namjoon says, stepping to the side and pushing you out into the light of the apartment “I told you she was coming tonight, remember?”

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes widen and he pumps a fist into his chest a few times as he tries to get the remnants of spicy noodles dislodged from the back of his throat. Namjoon sent a bunch of texts this week making sure it was cool to bring someone to hangout night since he’d made a friend at work and wanted everyone to meet them. The way the texts were worded definitely didn’t give any indication that the friend he was bringing tonight was a woman. Maybe they did. Maybe he should have read more of them.

The muscular man before you holds the remaining food in his cheeks and waves bashfully with two fingers as he swallows. "Jungkook," he mumbles, as if the name itself is introduction enough and all but sprints from the room.

Seconds later, a new voice shrieks out from the other room. “What are you doing eating that?! Dinner will be ready soon! Jungkookie if you don’t put that down--!”

A dull smacking sound accompanies the clattering of silverware and plates. You swallow hard, trying to think about anything other than the way the young man had rushed out of the room at just the sight of you. Maybe you’re just that ugly.

“Hey! I’ll eat! I’ll eat! I promise!” Jungkook cries out. His voice drops an octave. “Namjoon is here.” Their conversation becomes indiscernible, but you can’t shake the feeling that you are definitely the subject of their quiet discussion.

You throw a worried glance in Namjoon's direction. "Did I do something wrong?" your voice is hushed as you work your sneakers off, trying to hold in the crazy amount of anxiety that threatens to unscrew the top of your head and send your brain exploding into the ceiling.

Namjoon shakes his head, unbothered by his friend’s odd behavior. "Honestly, I texted him a bunch this week to make sure it was cool and I got one-word replies so I'm wondering if he even read them." He bites his lip and spares a glance back at you, knowing he probably should have kept that to himself.

"Oh," your heart sinks into your stomach and threatens to fall out your butt as you straighten your spine. "If that's the case, should I... leave?"

"Leaf?!" A bright green piece of lettuce is thrust into your face. "How about a whole salad? You can't go before you try it! It's unbe-leaf-able."

You blink in rapid succession, trying to stifle a laugh at the cackle emanating from the man whose bony fingers are holding the lettuce. It sounds like a... windshield wiper? A giggle slips out, stronger than your will to keep it tucked behind your lips, and it only seems to make the grin on his face stretch impossibly wider. Heavy shoulders rise and fall with his laughter, causing the bright pink apron across his chest to wrinkle.

Namjoon groans. "This is--"

"Now do you smell that delicious flavor in the air? Because this just a taste of what you will find at my amazing restaurant 'Heart and Seoul'," he announces, cutting off the man beside you as he clutches the lettuce to his chest with eyes closed. "Where I give you a piece of my heart and soul... Some refer to me as Worldwide Handsome, others call me the God of Cookery. Some call me an angel and believe I fell from heaven." He bows with a flourish and takes your hand in his. "But you can call me..." He finally looks at you, a dark smoulder in his features that sets your cheeks on fire. "Later?"

He seals your fate with a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. Your jaw, which has been hanging open for some time, finally decides to snap itself shut.

"This is Seokjin, and he's going back into the kitchen to finish making dinner." Namjoon is already ushering his friend back towards the kitchen and chiding him as you purse your lips together to hide the smile spreading across your face. Did you just stumble into some alternate universe where all of the men you meet are ridiculously good-looking?

"It's nice to meet you, Seokjin," you call after them before letting your eyes wander around the room.

Paintings line the walls and photos sit on the bookshelf in the corner. As you approach the shelf to get a closer look, you realize those aren't books, but video games. There must be hundreds. Don't people use cloud storage for most of their games now? Your eyes curiously scan the photos on the top shelf. The man who had introduced himself as Jungkook is in all of them. There's another man in a couple that you don't recognize, but his gaze is piercing and cold when he's not smiling. You're able to pick Jimin and Namjoon out in a few, but it feels like looking at a family photo. Everyone seems so close; it makes you envious.

You lick your lips and can't help but admire the collection of video games underneath. You crouch to get a better look at the ones lining the bottom shelf. You're surprised to see there are games for all types of consoles: PS4, XboxOne, Switch, WiiU, Nintendo DS, SuperNintendo, PlaystationVita, PC... The list keeps going. Jealousy spikes your gut as you note a Mass Effect "SSV Normandy" ship figurine on the shelf above your head. You eye it with wonder and pride as your memories flood with the hours you spent playing the trilogy. Your fingers reach out to brush against the raised letters on the side of the ship.

"Have you played Mass Effect?" a quiet voice asks from behind you.

You jump in place and spin on the balls of your feet in a fluid motion that nearly sends you careening into the basketball shorts in front of you. Surprised by how close Jungkook is standing, you gasp and stumble back into the bookshelf, causing it to wobble and bring some of the frames filled with photos tumbling down onto your head. You wait for the impact but it never comes.

As you look up, Jungkook has several frames balanced on his arms and between his fingers, carefully maneuvering them away from you and back onto the shelf. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Namjoon told me you liked video games too and I saw you looking at the Normandy and I thought maybe you've played it. Ah, I'm sorry."

It's hard to miss the crestfallen way he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the floor once he places all the photos back on the shelf. You're still in shock that he caught everything before it smacked you in the head, but you force yourself to respond anyway. "No, it's okay. I'm just a jumpy person. It's my fault. I'm just glad I didn't break anything. I'm... asari? Get it? 'Cause like, I'm sorry... but also hot blue alien chicks, am I right?"

He smiles wide and laughs softly as he offers to help you up. As you take hold of his hand, you're quickly thrust to your feet with an ease you weren’t quite expecting. You steady yourself by reaching out to grip his arm, a movement you reverse the moment you feel the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt.

"Thanks," you mumble. Feeling his hand tense around yours, you take it back and twiddle your fingers. "So what decisions did you make? Renegade or Paragon? Rachni Queen? Samara's mission? Quarian and Geth dispute? Genophage?" You pause only to take a breath. "If you let Wrex die, we can't be friends."

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a relaxed smile. “Of course not. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

You allow a relieved sigh to pass your lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful after all.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You must have made a good impression that night. It’s been nearly a month and Namjoon’s friends have started pulling you into their group texts and Saturday night plans. This had been fine by you since you rarely had anything going on. Honestly it was kind of nice to be included.

While you still don’t exactly know everyone, you feel fairly comfortable talking with your new friends. Seokjin is absolutely hilarious. He’s so full of himself that his cockiness rides the line between charming and annoying; it’s hard to decide which aspect overwhelms his personality more. But you know that you find him irrefutably, irritatingly attractive because of it.

Jungkook is still polite and rather gentlemanly towards you. Your conversation about Mass Effect was enough to tide over any residual awkwardness regarding your initial meeting. He’s just a muscular, nerdy introvert who seems genuinely nice. However, Namjoon insists that Jungkook is still hiding a louder, brattier side when you’re around. He’s got this theory that since you’re a friend of a friend, Jungkook is holding back his usual antics for some reason. The harmless little crush you’ve developed on him has you secretly holding out hope that it’s because he wants to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’ve considered asking Jin what he thinks, but that man has no tact and honestly you’re afraid he’d just ask Jungkook with you standing right there.

Hoseok is a ball of smiling energy, one who has been begging you to visit his dance studio. It’s hard to say no, but you’ve managed for this long because of the very real possibility that you won’t be able to do anything but stare at the dazzling way he moves. He seems to take pride in his ability to make others feel good and absolutely beams when he’s the cause of his friends’ happiness. You can easily see yourself talking to him without Namjoon around to act as a buffer, which is amazing for someone with your level of social anxiety.

Yoongi is quiet, but when he speaks his words are sharp with purpose. Some people might mistake that for coldness, but you can tell he has good intentions and a soft heart underneath. His pointed remarks in the group interrogations have poked fun at you, but never in a condescending or cruel manner. And it’s certainly not in the way you see him absolutely roast the others. Maybe he’s taking it easy on you.

Jimin is still so beautiful to look at it devastates you, leaving a flustered, stuttering mess behind every time he leaves. Now that he’s become aware of the effect he has on you, he’s been testing the waters of your friendship with some teasing that borderlines flirtation. But you have a feeling he’s just screwing with you because he finds it funny to see you squirm. You’re hoping to build the confidence to dish it back some day.

Taehyung has been a little standoff-ish, but Namjoon had already warned you about that. You wonder if it’s because he’s a hundred times richer than you’ll ever be. Despite seeming like he’s in a different social class, he still seems deeply fond of his friends, and relatively down-to-earth. He’s a bit quirky, but he’s an artist, so you expect that kind of thing.

Namjoon says that he’s known almost all of them since college, so he’s been able to absorb most of the discomfort associated with meeting new people. He’s sweet, and more relatable than you originally would have thought for an English professor. He’s kind of like a pillar that you never knew your life had been missing. And now that he’s got your back, you can’t go back.

The smell of coffee pervades the air as you skim an article on your phone regarding the latest Halloween skins for Overwatch. You’re supposed to be meeting Namjoon here but Seokjin, and Jimin showed up and have been chatting about their plans for the weekend. Apparently they throw a Halloween party every year and it’s Jimin’s turn to host. Seokjin is supposedly in charge of planning the decorations due to his love for theatrics and has been discussing the possibility of a haunted house walkthrough. You smile at the thought of Seokjin popping out of the shadows to drop fake spiderwebs on people. It sounds like the kind of thing he’d get off to.

Namjoon flops down on the couch next to you. “You’re coming, right?”

You’re broken from your thoughts as you scroll further down the page. “E-Excuse me?”

“The Halloween party. You coming?”

You look up from your phone, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I mean… I don’t want to intrude on your group thing.”

“You’re not intruding!” Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon’s voices all stack upon each other and you’re taken aback by the sound.

Jin frantically scrambles to make you feel included. “Y/N, we just assumed you were coming. Of course you’re invited! You can help me get everything set up for the scary walkthrough. Please come.”

“Don’t give her work to do that you should have already figured out,” Jimin hisses before sending a warm smile your way. “I’ll text you the address later. It’s a costume party so make sure to dress up!”

Your bottom lip unconsciously protrudes in a pout as you pass a discouraging look Namjoon’s way. “What are you going as?”

He gives you a heartfelt, dimpled smile. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says with the worst british accent you’ve ever heard in your life. “World’s greatest detective.” He drops his accent and starts gushing. “The tweed suit is fairly iconic and most people will recognize the costume so I think it’s a safe option. Originally, I was going to go as Judge Di but Jimin kept telling me no one would get it. It would take some research to really get a feel for how he’d dress, but I’d be willing to put in the work.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Judge Dee? Like…. Judge... Ju...dy?” you trail off in confusion, immediately regretting your decision to ask.

Jimin throws his hands up as if this is the proof he’s needed to convince his friend that he’s wrong. “You see? I told you no one knows who that is.”

“Judge---! Really?!” Namjoon looks like he’s about to go off, but he shakes his head and sighs. “You know what? It’s okay. I look really good in a tweed suit. That’s all that matters.” He finished his statement by gesturing towards his chest.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re such a dork.” You turn your attention to the others and raise your eyebrows at them. “What about you two?”

Jimin drags his teeth over his lip and shyly smiles. “I’m going as Iron Man. Tae’s been helping me build my costume for a while now.”

“Jungkookie and I are going as Luigi and Mario,” Jin proudly states he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while tenting his fingers. “I’m Mario, of course, since everyone knows he’s the best.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds like you, Seokjin.”

“What will you come as?” he questions with a smirk, cocking a mischievous eyebrow at you.

“Well...” you hesitate, knowing that most costume shops will be sold out of anything interesting or slutty; at this point your options are limited unless you want to be a Crayola shit brown crayon. “I’m not sure yet,” you mumble, scratching your cheek sheepishly. “I only found out just now so I don’t have anything ready. I usually go over Jennie’s place, hand out candy in my pajamas and watch scary movies, so I don’t know if I should bail on her like that.”

Solid excuse. Great job, brain. Really. Can I sound like more of a loser?

“She can come too,” Jimin offers with a thoughtful tilt of his head and a warm smile. “It’s a very open party. Lots of people will be coming and going, so it’s no trouble if you want to invite more of your other friends, if that makes you comfortable.”

Other friends. Like you have more than this group and Jennie. You’re going to just pretend like you didn’t hear that part. You can already hear her shrieking at you to say you’ll be there. She loves dressing up and would be more than happy to exchange a night of handing out candy for a night of partying. You suppose you can always get some vampire teeth and dab some fake blood on your mouth, but it feels like a cop-out. It’s a solid back-up plan at the very least.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you murmur with a fleeting look of panic directed at Namjoon.

He offers a sympathetic smile and pats your shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t come. I’m just saying there will be free food.”

Your spine straightens and you perk up.

“Free food?” The words on you’re about to utter spill from a different source. A chin drops into the space between Namjoon’s shoulder and yours. Jungkook’s hair is still wet, but thankfully it’s not long enough to brush against your skin. The soft, sweet, almost floral scent of his body wash wafts into your nose as you turn your head to look at him. You surmise he’s come directly from work if he’s showering in the late afternoon. You internally swat the butterflies playing with your ribcage, trying to remember how to act normal.

Jungkook smiles sweetly, his eyes nearly closing with how high his cheekbones have risen. “Where is this food?”

“At the Halloween party,” Namjoon comments with a dismissing wave of his hand. “I was just telling Y/N that she’ll miss out if she doesn’t come.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and drops his smile as his surprised stare pierces your periphery. “Oh, you’re not coming?”

“I was thinking about it.” You immediately feel the need to defend yourself. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“So don’t wear--” Jungkook catches himself before the word anything comes out. “A costume,” he finishes simply, straightening his spine and clearing his throat. “I mean we can make an exception. No one’s gonna kick you out.”

A devilish grin spreads across Seokjin’s features. “I’m sure I can help you find a pink dress and crown if you’d like to be our lovely Princess Peach. We can give each other items.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at his friend and Jin stares back with anticipation, waiting for him to make the mushroom joke he clearly set him up for. Jungkook purses his lips and quietly regards you. As the moment passes, Jin’s brow furrows and he crosses his arms in a huff, wishing that he’d said it instead. It’s been too long since you’ve blushed for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll show up in a leotard, spiked collar, and fishnets as Bowsette instead.” You nearly snort at your own joke.

Jungkook and Jin spill their surprise over one another.

“Whaa? Really?” Jin’s mouth hangs open, the image already permanently searing its way into his brain.

“You what?” Jungkook clamps his hands over the edge of the couch, hulking figure looming over you.

While Jimin and Namjoon are both oblivious what a Bowsette is, the words “spiked collar and fishnets” have certainly grabbed their attention as well.

You blink a few times, realizing how serious everyone has become as you sputter out a nervous laugh. “Kidding, guys. Kidding.”

Jin tuts in disappointment, slinking back into his chair. Jimin simply smiles. Namjoon breathes a relieved sigh. Jungkook starts walking away, distracted by the signage on the counter promoting a cinnamon chocolate chip milkshake.

“Besides, I’m more of a…” A lightbulb flicks on in your head and the thought comes spilling out your mouth before you can process it. “Oh, I have a cosplay from the gaming convention I went to a year ago. Maybe I can wear that.”

All three men lean forward, suddenly very interested in the concept of you using a cosplay as a Halloween costume. Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction just as he extends his hand to give his money to the cashier, but he drops it prematurely, sending coins scattering across the counter.

The sound causes all of you to look over at him and he quickly turns back to the cashier. She raises her eyebrows at him as he scrambles to recover all of the money for her. His ears turn bright red from the attention and you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes, cringing at the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the thought of swapping places.

Spinning back to face the others, you find Jin and Jimin on the edge of their seats, staring at you. Namjoon blinks at you and tilts his head expectantly. “You were saying?” he prods. “Something about an anime costume?”

Suddenly you’re embarrassed for yourself rather than Jungkook. “Don’t be weird, Joonie. It’s just a Princess Zelda cosplay.” You scratch your cheek in contemplation, murmuring, “Actually, I don’t even know if it still fits since I’ve gained some weight since then.”

Namjoon pats your shoulder assuringly. “Ah you’re fine. Don’t worry too much about it, ok?”

“He’s right. Just bring your smile, cutie,” Jimin says encouragingly.

You blush at the nickname and grin in response. He said it innocently enough, but you get the feeling that you reacted exactly as he had hoped because he exchanges a smug smirk with Seokjin. “See? Bring that.”

“Ah, you guys are embarrassing me,” you mumble, diving back into the article on your phone. “I’ll talk to Jennie about it later.”

Jungkook listens carefully as he tongues his cheek and waits for his drink to arrive at the counter. Are you really going to show up in that? He pulls out his phone and starts skimming amazon. There’s no way he can pass up the opportunity, regardless of what’s at stake.

A familiar veiny hand sets the drink down on the counter, and he outstretches his palm. “Service was good, yeah?”

Jungkook looks up from the checkout page and locks eyes with Yoongi. He scoops a large portion of whipped cream from beneath the lid and pops it in his mouth thoughtfully, smacking his lips as he washes it down with a sip through his straw. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, but remains silent.

“Hmm, I’ve had better. Maybe if I had some more whipped cream?” Jungkook suggests as he tilts his cup forward and gives it the tiniest shake, shit-eating grin strewn across his features.

Unblinking, Yoongi squirts a puff of cream into the top of the container before loudly setting the can on the counter. Satisfied, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and fishes out some money for a generous tip. “See this is why you’re my favorite barista. You always make it just how I like it.”

Yoongi forces a smile as he stuffs the cash into the half-filled tip jar. “The Java Stop values your patronage, customer.”

He catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s phone screen before the younger man snatches it from the counter and walks away. What the hell is he up to?

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You curse your past self for choosing Zelda’s outfit from Twilight Princess rather than Breath of the Wild; style over comfort rarely is a good choice, but it’s a choice you often repeat without forethought. It’s tighter than you remember, and not just because there’s a corset sewn into the chestpiece. As you sit in the passenger’s seat of Jennie’s Civic, you fidget with the hem of your dress. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reaches over and slaps your hand.

“Stop it. You look great.”

You rub the back of your wrist and pout, knowing it does nothing to change her mind. You eye her tattered dress, wishing you could pull off something so slutty with the same confidence she does. White contacts make her look even more ethereal than she normally does. Natural waves and curls poke out from beneath the bent witch’s hat atop her head and you can’t help but admire her beauty.

“I look like a nerd,” you say, feeling shittier the longer you compare yourself to her. It’s not her fault. You’re just insecure and wish that you could be more like her rather than the you that you are.

“You are a nerd,” she laughs. “What’s wrong with that?”

You smile. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know why I’m so worried about it. It’s not like I’m gonna be getting laid any time soon. This costume solidifies it.” Negativity is something you’re used to dosing yourself with, but you know it’s an action you need to work at correcting.

“Hey if no one wants to fuck you in a Zelda costume, do they even deserve to fuck you?” Jennie asks, wagging her pointer at the ceiling as if scolding some invisible source above. “I don’t fucking think so.” She tuts for a second. “So speaking of… Which ones are off limits?”

You scoff and stiffen in your seat, trying to play dumb. “What? What’s off limits?”

“Y/N,” she starts in an accusatory tone. “I’m sure there will be lots of hot people there, but I’m talking about seven hot people in particular. Now if they came up to me and said ‘hey Jennie you so fine you wanna suck all seven of our dicks?’ I’d be like hell yeah I’ma suck all seven dicks. Get in a circle and let me at ‘em.”

You smack your hand to your forehead, wishing you could purge that image from your brain.

“Now I’m just saying in this hypothetical situation that I would never turn down going down on any of them if they asked. Unless I remembered that one time you told me you were crushing, maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t suck that particular dick.”

“We’re about to go see these people. I don’t want to be thinking about this while sipping my drinks across from Seokjin. That man can smell fear, shame, and insecurity,” you mumble, looking out the window at the trees lining the side of the road.

“So that’s why we get it out now before we get there. Can’t possibly slip out if you’ve already got it out of your system,” she explains with a confident smirk.

You cross your arms and give yourself a moment to truly think about the seven men. You certainly find all of them attractive, but crossing that line might make things weird. But maybe, hypothetically… “I don’t know… They’re all pretty hot in their own way…”

“You’ve got to be attracted to one more than the others,” she prods. “Come on, Y/N. Which one does it for you?”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you sigh. “I guess…” You subconsciously lick your lips and give it a few seconds before the memory of falling picture frames surfaces in your mind. An embarrassed smile flickers across your face as you give your quiet, honest answer. “J-Jeon… Jungkook.”

“The young one!” Her mouth falls open. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel excitedly and spares a delightful, yet surprised look at you for a fraction of a second before her eyes return to the road. “Really? I never would have guessed. But I haven’t talked to him much honestly. Doesn’t he work at that nerdy-looking gym you almost joined? What was it, Iron Kingdom? You could always sign up for personal training. Ya know, get some one-on-one time with those muscles...”

“He’ll think I’m dumb for not knowing how to do anything,” you mumble. “Besides that’s not why.”

You shake your head and pause to start counting the list on your fingers. “Okay so he’s got muscles, a cute laugh, he likes video games, he literally always smells so fucking good, he has a great smile, he’s nice, and like he’s so mature for his age. I’m so surprised.”

“I mean from the few times I’ve seen him, I thought for sure he’d be a tool and a major shithead,” she admits.

“I know, but seriously don’t judge a book by its cover. He’s been so chill and respectful and has made me feel so welcome over the last few weeks. None of that fuckboy shit you’d expect to get with younger guys like, he doesn’t talk over me, no mansplaining, he looks me in the eyes and not at my tits, and listens when I say something, even if it’s just me talking about my day.” You pause, registering the words you just said. “Wow, the bar is really low, isn’t it?”

“Sad, but true.” She nods, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard. It’s says you’re nearly there, but it’s kind of further out from the city than you’d both been expecting.

She laughs, mulling over everything you’ve said. “He seems kinda shy. You probably need to make the first move. Maybe you should tell him you have a big fat crush on him. Tell him you wanna hold his hand. Do you think he’d blush? I bet he would. I bet he has a cute flustered face. You should totally do it.”

Recalling the way his ears turned red at the cafe causes you to purse your lips, but the action can’t hide the smile curling at the corners of your mouth. So you have a little crush on Jungkook. Who wouldn’t? He’s practically flawless and totally swoon-worthy. Your heart races as you imagine his reaction to your outfit. Would he be taken aback by how good you look as one of the hottest, most iconic female characters in gaming history? He’s a huge geek so you know there’s a possibility that he could appreciate it. Sweaty fingers work their way down your wig, carefully smoothing out any loose strands. You hope he does.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Walking into Jimin’s place feels like entering a mansion. He told you that he lives with two other people from the same modeling agency, but you didn’t realize how big the place would be. Seokjin’s ability to gather this many decorations and display them with such attention to ambiance is certainly a feat worthy of praise. You find yourself lost in the orange and yellow lights that border each doorway and drape along the walls. Their soft glow is comforting as you walk down the dim hallway, exploring the house just enough to find the table filled with fruits and snacks.

Jungkook is nowhere to be seen and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you sip punch out of a red plastic cup, filling a plate with an excessive amount of strawberries, peaches, and other sweet fruits. Contrary to your previous belief that admission would mean freedom from the thoughts swirling in your brain, uttering the words out loud has made you paranoid that everyone now knows about your secret crush. You’re hoping that drinking will remove the worry from your brain, so you do your best to down the liquid fast and refill your cup.

Jennie immediately hit it off with one of Jimin’s roommates moments after walking in. You’re envious because holy fuck that guy is tall and jacked, and he’s wearing a Captain America outfit. Jennie is about to make out with Captain America and you’re gulping down spiked punch from a little plastic cup. You appreciate being able to silently agree to split, but know that you have each other’s back if either of you were to suddenly express interest in leaving, even if Captain America is balls deep.

She’s an extrovert. She loves socializing. Tossing a strawberry into your mouth, you eye the table of snacks again. You don’t. You love food. Food or sex would be a tough toss-up for you depending on the menu, and in this situation food definitely wins. There’s a buffet table of appetizers looping around the room and into the kitchen. It doesn’t get much better than this, especially knowing it was catered by Seokjin’s restaurant.

You remove a glove and tuck it beneath your armpit as you stuff your face full of sweet treats and survey the amount of people on the dance-floor. There are a good amount of people here --some with ludicrous costumes-- and it makes you feel better about being able to blend in.

You had arrived fashionably late only because Jennie may have passed the house a few times, thinking this place couldn't possibly be it. A hand skates around the periphery of your vision and you frown as it attempts to surreptitiously claim a peach slice from your plate. Following the hand to its owner, you find a smile quickly claiming your mouth in place of the previous sour grimace.

"There's plenty of peaches left over there," you say, pointing to the table of snacks beside you.

"Mmm," Namjoon hums as he pockets the fruit in his cheek. "But this pile is better. I can deduce that you've already picked out the best pieces, Zelda."

You look him over from head to toe, examining the details of his tweed suit. You hate to admit he's looking dapper as fuck in this outfit. Despite often wearing three-piece suits to work, you rarely have time to stop and really appreciate just how flattering they are on his frame. Your eyes settle on the dark brown silk carefully knotted around his neck. "Don't you get sick of wearing ties?"

His eyes widen and he blinks at you as if you'd just told him that he sat in some gum. "Do you think I should have gone with the bow-tie? I spent hours weighing the pros and cons to both and which would be more quintessential to the whole ensemble. Did I make the wrong choice?"

You open your mouth to respond, meaning to allay his concerns and tell him that he looks fine, but he interrupts rather quickly. "You know what, don't say anything. I brought the bow-tie as a backup. It's upstairs in the guest bedroom. I'll go put it on."

You grab his arm just as he's about to leave, noting the plate full of chicken wings precariously balanced on one hand. "Namjoon. Chill. Your tie looks fine. I was only asking because I would strangle myself if I wore one all the time. Now gimme some of that chicken."

His eyes dart from you to the plate in his hand and his anxiety seems to visibly melt away, replaced with a soft smile. "I'm overthinking again, huh?"

The words have never come easier than they do now. "No shit, Sherlock."

At that he offers a laugh. "How about a trade? I share the wings for access to the princess's treasury of peaches."

"Deal," you agree with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows up and down. "Wanna people-watch with me?"

He nods enthusiastically as he tosses a handful of fresh fruit directly from your plate into his mouth. "I was gonna wander aimlessly and socialize but this sounds way better."

"Glad we're on the same page," you murmur into the chicken wing at your lips, sucking the sauce off of it and scanning the room for any particular eye-catching costumes.

The flash of red, flowing satin catches your eye. Is someone wearing a bathrobe? Seriously? The taste of hot buffalo sauce causes your lips to tingle as you note the soft, fuzzy edges of the robe. It looks comfy, actually.

You elbow Namjoon in the ribs, directing his attention to the slender, black-haired figure gliding across the room. Namjoon opens his mouth as if to identify the stranger, but the flourish of the robe beats him to it. As the material spins, you catch a glimpse of tan skin peeking out from the chest, long legs exposed as he reaches for the sash at his waist.

The silk billows as it comes undone, cascading to the floor like a river of crimson. There's no mistaking it. You're now staring at the nearly nude, half-painted body of Kim Taehyung. You can't help the way you jaw drops open at the sight of so much skin being flaunted seemingly without a care in the world. Namjoon's hand flies up to cover your eyes, as if he's going to spare you the sight you've already taken in. Now that you've seen Taehyung in a thong, there's no going back.

Sauce-covered fingers pry his away from your eyes just in time to meet the piercing gaze of the man across the room. Is it mirth or anger that graces his features? It's hard to tell with a paintbrush trapped in the box his teeth make. He takes lazy strides across the room as you struggle to keep your eyes off the unforgiving fabric outlining every last curve of his dick. It's not until he's closer that you notice the thin belts crossing his hips, which appear to be holding six tubes of paint, three strapped to each side like gun-holsters. You have to admit they frame his crotch rather nicely.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to keep your eyes trained on his face. He carefully takes the paintbrush out from between his teeth and extends it to you. "Draw something pretty on me, Y/N. You too, Joon. Tonight I'm a human canvas on display for the universe."

Your eyebrow quirks as you exchange a look with Namjoon and set your plate down. "You know people are just going to draw a bunch of dicks on you, right?"

He scoffs, waving off your concerns. "Don't be so negative. I will have a beautiful mural by the end of the night. Mark my words."

"I think you're putting too much trust in the goodness of human nature," Namjoon comments, his lips pressing together in an attempt to hide the amused grin that is quickly spreading across his features.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side and leans forward with a lopsided grin. You're afraid he's about to get even closer and whisper some dirty secret into your ear. Instead he asks in a breathy, low tone, "Princess Zelda wouldn't draw such dirty things on me, would she?"

Twirling the thick handle of the paintbrush between your fingers, your eyes dip to the paints secured at his waist. His eyes chase the trail yours make down his side and his delight splits his mouth into a goofy grin. "Oh. Help yourself." He gestures to the colors available with a sweep of his hands just above his hips. "Feel free to use your fingers instead.” He pauses when your mouth falls open slightly. “You know, to paint... Just be careful what you grab, Princess," he jokes.

Removing your other glove with your teeth, you drape them over your shoulder and reach out for the tube of yellow paint, trying to hide the way your hand trembles. He looks down and smiles as the cold paint touches his skin. Before long you have the faint shape of 3 triangles at the center of his chest.

“How fitting,” he murmurs, offering an amused hum as you fill in the last triangle with a glob of yellow that threatens to run down his torso.

“Oops, sorry,” you apologize, moving to tap the brush against the excess, but he grabs your wrist before the bristles can make contact with his skin again.

“That’s alright. Let it do what it does. I like it like this,” he says, watching the clump of paint slowly slide down his midriff. “Besides I’m sure someone else can use it.”

“Like Sherlock!” you suggest, holding the paintbrush out for your companion.

Namjoon takes it begrudgingly and uses the excess yellow to draw a small smiley face beside the triforce symbol.

“Cute,” Taehyung laughs as he takes the paintbrush back from Namjoon. “I love it. Thanks guys.”

Just as he turns to find his next artist, a long object bars his path, pressing against his chest just above the collarbone. You follow the shape of the bar to its owner, revealing a grinning Hoseok clad in an officer’s uniform.

“That’s a bold choice Taehyungie,” he says, securing the faux nightstick into a loop at his waist. “Just make sure you keep that thing on…” He gestures to the small bit of material at Taehyung’s crotch and holds up a pair of handcuffs with his index finger before continuing, “or I’ll have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

“Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know,” Namjoon says, even as he’s reaching out to touch the shiny metal. “Wait. Where did you get these? Are they real?”

You squint at the device in Namjoon’s hands, looking for the safety release latch like the cheap pair you bought to use with your ex. You don’t see it. That can only mean that these are the kind where losing the keys would have real consequences. But you’re not about to out yourself as the kinky freak you are, so you bring your nearly forgotten drink to your lips and guzzle what’s left in the cup.

As the empty plastic hits the table, your eyes happen to trail across the room and land on a crowd of people gathering around a very impressive, fully-lit Iron Man costume. Jimin seems to be soaking the attention up as the crowd grows ever larger. The massive room has begun to diminish in size, and it’s as though the once comforting lights are now wilting and closing in on you, threatening to strangle the air from your lungs. The adrenalin spiking your veins is telling you it’s time to seek the comfort of open space and solitude. Fast.

You duck beneath Namjoon and Hoseok’s arms, carefully sidestepping around Taehyung to avoid brushing against the wet paint on his skin. “I’m gonna get some air. Try not to get cuffed, Sherlock,” you manage to joke with a smile before turning on your heels and booking it from the room.

If anyone responds to your joke or even acknowledges your exit at all, it’s lost on your ears. Sweat beads on the back of your neck as you hastily attempt to make your way down the hall. If you can just get outside, you can breathe. You’ll be fine. You know it.

Warm bodies clutter the path to your freedom and you can’t help but feel more and more breathless by the never-ending apologies spewing from your mouth as you squeeze past each blockade. You don’t feel like yourself, even as you speak. Taking in sharp, greedy breaths like this isn’t helping. Why is this place so devoid of oxygen? Your body moves on autopilot, seeing the faces of the people you pass, but not feeling their eyes on you.

You float out of the front door, your head as light as a feather, but your eyelids feel like they’ve been anchored. You’re positive you’re about to gracefully glide down the front steps, legs becoming amorphous blobs beneath you that will surely allow you to fly. Just as you’re leaning into the momentum of gravity, two pairs of hands steady your shoulders and criss-cross around your midriff.

“Deep breaths,” Jennie’s voice briefly cuts through the ringing in your ears.

“Do you need to sit down?” The other voice spills into your eardrum as a rushed whisper, one that’s dripping with concern.

Huh? You work on steadying your breathing instead of trying to answer.

“What did she drink?” the familiar voice asks Jennie, the brief flicker of panic quashed by the evenness of his tone. “How much has she had?”

“Relax, Yoongi. Not even our lightweight champion gets drunk that fast,” Jennie reassures him as they help you seat yourself on the top step. “Are you familiar with panic attacks?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and nods silently, backing up to give you some space.

“Jennie. I’m fine now. Thank you,” you mumble, shaking your head and regaining your sense of self. “I’m glad you have my back.”

“Of course. I saw you in the hall and I just knew.”

You jump when you meet the gaze of her white, eerie contacts, which causes both her and Yoongi to laugh. You look up at Yoongi. He shoves his hands into his pockets, long flowing shirt obscuring any flesh poking out from beneath it.

“Hey, you’re not dressed up,” you blurt, realizing he’s sporting a very goth, natural Yoongi look.

He scoffs before bending at the waist and baring his teeth. A single vampire fang is affixed to one of his canines.

You tilt your head like a dog hearing a strange noise. “What, only one fang?”

“Just as dangerous, princess,” he warns with a smirk, standing up straight.

You swear you see a wink, but then again maybe you’re imagining it. You have been known to exaggerate things in your head. Still your stomach somersaults and you focus your attention on Jennie. “I’m okay. I think I’m gonna chill out here for a bit. Get back in there and dance with… god what was his name? Jackson? Jae-beom?”

“Jin-young,” she corrects before biting her lip and glancing back towards the house.

“Go. Hottie McYoungie won’t wait forever,” you tease and point your thumb over at the man hovering above you. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine with toothless over here.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the nickname but nods at Jennie. The answer seems to be satisfactory and she gifts you with a tight hug. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Now go get laid.” You whisper to her before playfully pushing her back. Before you know it she’s scrambling up the steps and slips back inside, tattered dress swinging wildly with the sway of her hips, revealing just enough of her fishnet-clad thighs to draw Yoongi’s attention. There’s a fraction of a second where he wets his lips as he watches her go, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. You don’t have time to tease because his dark eyes fall to you.

“Is there anything I can do?” His face is stoic but you can hear the sincerity in his tone.

“Wanna take a walk with me? I’d like to keep away from the big crowd.”

“I know the perfect place,” he says, hopping down from the steps and offering you his hand.

You take it with a smile and rise to your feet, carefully moving down the steps as you dust off your butt. The night air is a bit chilly and you start to work your gloves back up your arms to fight the goosebumps forming there.

That’s when you hear it. You want to misread the sound for a flute, recorder, oboe, or even someone’s radio, but you know those are all incorrect assumptions. It’s an ocarina: an ocarina playing a crude rendition of the opening to ‘Gas Pedal.’

Turning slowly, nothing can prepare you for the sight before you. Jungkook stands on the top step of the porch dressed in a green cap and tunic, tan leggings, and the ugliest dark brown boots you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the ocarina nestled between his lips, slowly descending each step with a roll of his hips that accentuates the definition of muscles behind the thin material hugging the shape of his legs.

Your eyes are wide, mouth falling open in surprise. “Jungkook?”

As he jumps down the last step he stops the tune and cups the ocarina in his hands, bowing slightly. “Princess.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, biting back the intimidated voice in your head that’s telling you you’re being picked on.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks in a low tone, a crooked smile crossing his features as he takes a few tempered steps towards you.

You swallow. How are you supposed to answer that? You take a deep breath, trying to drive off the urge to run as he advances on you. Yoongi takes a few steps back and folds an arm over his torso, cupping his elbow as he brings a knuckle to rest against his mouth with intrigue. He couldn’t hold out for one more day? Should I step in? He brings his weight to the front of his foot, ready to diffuse the situation.

“It looks like you’re trying to fuck with me.” You stand your ground, clasping your gloved fingers and calmly resting them against your dress in true Zelda fashion.

Yoongi’s weight shifts back, retracting the step he had taken. A direct accusation isn’t exactly something he would have expected from you, but he finds himself pleased nonetheless. He certainly chose a difficult target this time.

Jungkook gets close enough that you can see the tick of his jaw and the part of his lips as he drags his eyes across your form, settling on the cleavage created by your corset. “Some of those words were right.” He pauses, leaning to whisper against the shell of your ear. “Can you guess which ones, Princess?”

Heat consumes your face as his posture straightens. He doesn’t budge past the space he’s already claimed as his, but he doesn’t move forward again to invade yours. He watches, basking in the full on show your face puts on for his own entertainment. First comes the confusion, next realization, and then shame.

It’s hard to tell if he’s coming onto you or picking on you. You swallow, throat growing drier by the second. “You knew I was coming as Zelda. Weren’t you coming as something else?”

He throws his head back enough to feign exasperation while keeping his eyes trained on you. “Come on. You don’t like my costume?”

Instead of giving you time to answer, he brings the ocarina back to his lips and blows an obnoxious amount of air through the hollow space inside, producing a piercing rendition of ‘Talk Dirty to Me.’

Your shoulders raise as you inhale, suppressing the irritation bubbling within your belly. You wince, turning your head as a particularly shrill note escapes the instrument. Yoongi’s expression sours as he plugs both ears with his fingers.

Jungkook immediately stops playing and offers a sheepish grin. “Oops. I learned that one for you. Maybe I need more practice. Do you want to help me?” He briefly pauses to wet his lips, presenting the ocarina to you. “I can show you how to blow.”

You grind your teeth as your jaw ticks back and forth a few times before answering, “No thanks.”

Yoongi silently tents his fingers over his forehead and tries to massage the secondhand embarrassment from his skull. This is a trainwreck waiting to explode and at this point there’s no looking away.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you as he stuffs the ocarina into a small brown pouch hanging from the flimsy belt at his waist. “Ah. Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to insult you. You’ve probably already mastered the art. Hah. Maybe you could show me a thing or two?”

Unable to form a proper response, your lips purse as the wheels in your head spin. Say something clever. Think of a comeback. Something. Come on. But here you stand, mind blanking for even the simplest of clapbacks. You’re having trouble coming to terms with the fact that your innocent little crush on the once “sweet” Kookie has come crumbling down with his facade, leaving your chest aching with the humiliation of your naivety.

He looks you over, admiring the artistry in the gown you’ve lovingly crafted. For a moment he’s lost in the embroidery stitched into the sash swaying in the breeze of a chilly October night. “I love your…” he trails off, eyes darting across your shape to capture every last detail of your attire.

He pays special mind to the gems adorned at your hips, and the heavy-looking chain belt which links the sash to your dress. He marvels over the color and velvet texture chosen for the purple corset at your torso. The sheer attention to detail and craftsmanship in your costume stuns him into silence for half a second.

His eyes reach the perky mounds of flesh peeking over the top of the corset. Miraculously his voice resurfaces. “...costume.”

The way his dark eyes linger on your chest isn’t lost on you. Your cheeks burn in the cool air, despite the goosebumps littering your arms. You cross your arms over your chest, higher than you normally would to combat his lurid gaze. The green hat atop his head folds over itself as he cocks to one side. Dark, hungry eyes snap to yours, voicelessly pouting at your blockade. For a split second a guilty excitement pulses through you, but you’ll be damned if you’re the cause of an obviously already inflated ego.

“You never said what you think of mine,” he prods. His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he slowly runs his hands along his torso, as if feeling himself up is going to sway your opinion.

You tell yourself not to fall for it, that he’s playing you for a fool right now. Still, your jaw is tight as your eyes helplessly follow the flow of his fingers down his body. His pinky purposefully catches on the flimsy pleather strap acting as the belt at his waist. An impish grin spreads across his face as he notes the way your chest stutters out the breath you’d unknowingly held. Satisfied, his hands continue their languid journey down his body. Your eyes are glued to the way he traces the contours of his thighs.

Finally his fingers dig into the meat of his those muscles and you feel the need to look away before answering. “I hate it.”

He sighs. “Hate is a strong word. Are you sure that’s how you really feel? Why don’t you look at me when you say that?”

Strengthening your resolve, you force your eyes back to his smug face. Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover how you’re feeling at this point. Biting back tears, you swallow hard and do your best to remain composed. Here he stands, a crooked smile amplifying the air of arrogance surrounding him. He’s playing you. He’s been playing you this whole time hasn’t he?

“I don’t even know who you really are, do I?” your voice cracks, only adding to your humiliation.

“I’m the bad guy. Duh.” With that he cackles as he pulls the ocarina from his pouch, proceeding to play the melody from ‘Bad Guy.’

You spin on your heels and storm past Yoongi, the blood rushing through your ears in a distraught rage, drowning out the bitter sound of the notes. A pang of guilt strikes the half-assed vampire as he stares at his friend. “One more day. You couldn’t make one more day?”

Jungkook shrugs, making his way back up the stairs. “If you see Hobi, tell him I’ll have his money tomorrow.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Dragging your hands across your face, you keep your gaze cast towards the ground.

How fucking idiotic, how self-absorbed have you been to assume that he’s been nice because he likes you and not because he was playing some game with you? He's probably just been waiting for an opportunity like this and you fell right into his trap. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder and you spin, ready to deck the person you assume to be Jungkook. Yoongi's eyebrows raise as you stand poised to punch. He ducks to the side just in time. As you realize your mistake, it's too late. The momentum brings you forward.

His arms come up around you in a soft embrace, one that you're quick to return. "It's just me," he mumbles, kneading his thumb against your back. "...Sorry."

You bury your face into his shoulder, allowing the tiara to slip from your head and hit the soft ground with a dull thud. Why is he apologizing? He didn't do anything wrong. You want to tell him that, but any sound you make might bring about a slew of tears you've been holding back. Instead you just squeeze your arms around him even tighter.

He awkwardly pats your back a few times, not quite knowing what to do with the hug that's lasting longer than anticipated. Sensing his discomfort, you pull away and adjust your wig as you offer an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

A figure approaches, bending down to pick up the forgotten adornment. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub the dirt off the tiara. Jin carefully places it on your head. "A princess should have a crown."

You look him over, noting the giant overalls, red newsboy cap and hideous fake mustache. You can't help but laugh as he forces a hard blink and puckers his lips, alternating lifting sides of his mouth so the mustache comically tweaks itself in a seesaw motion. "I like your costume," you manage between giggles.

He grins back, donning an over-the-top Italian accent. "I a-like-a yours too! A beautiful costume for a beautiful a-woman."

"Please stop," Yoongi groans.

Jin ignores him, fiddling with the corner of his mustache. "I don't-a know where my brother went. I think he's a-scared of the haunted mansion."

You roll your eyes at the joke. That's right. Jungkook was supposed to be Luigi. "He's busy playing a dick for the night."

A look of realization washes over him and he nods, puffing out air through overly inflated cheeks. "Hmm. You know what might-a make you feel better? Helping me scare-a the pants off of people!"

He folds his elbow and holds it out for you, tempting you to lace yours around it. Channeling your bruised ego and hurt feelings into scaring people for fun? That might just work. You feed your elbow through the crook in his. "Zelda and Mario working together."

Jin laughs. "The dream-a team!" He makes a motion to skip towards the outer entrance to the basement that he's dressed up with spiderwebs and a large, hand-made sign that says "MARIO'S GHOST HOUSE." Beside the entrance is a giant blown-up decoration of King Boo, its pink tongue flapping in the breeze.

As you're tugged in the direction of his creation, he stops abruptly. "Oh, we haven't had that many people though. So we have to make the few that come through count!"

Yoongi's eyes light up. "Hey. I’ve got an idea. I’ll get you a the best customer. But you have to really scare him. I promise it will make your night."

Puzzled, you furrow your brows and tilt your head. “Okay…?”

Jin grins like a maniac as Yoongi makes his way towards the front of the house. “Come on. I’ll show you the best spots to hide.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About twenty minutes have passed since Yoongi left in search of his promised customer. Only a few people have wandered in. You have to admit it’s therapeutic to watch people scream and jump when you bang on the false walls within the maze Jin has somehow constructed in this basement. Watching people run up the final stairs to safety leaves you with a feeling of satisfaction, always giving Jin a prideful high-five before returning to the beginning to await more guests.

“Ah! My-a new-a guests!” you hear Jin enthusiastically greet the latest people to stop at the entrance. “Are you a-ready to have fun?”

There’s some hushed whispering that you can’t quite make out from your hiding place within the set.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Yoongi chides loudly. “Seokjin made this. Do you really think it’s that scary?”

“P-Pussy?” Hoseok stares wide-eyed at his friend and scoffs. “Don’t be rude. I just know Seokjin. It will be worse than whatever I think”

Is that Hobi? You were kind of hoping Yoongi would get Jungkook to walk through. Knowing what you do now though, you have no doubt that Jungkook would be unphased by something like this. All you can hear in your head is the echo of his obnoxious laughter and a pang of hurt slices through your heart. God, you’re so stupid.

Yoongi points to the Boo’s tongue flapping in the wind. “It will be like that, probably. It’s silly to be so afraid.”

Hoseok bounces from foot to foot in uncertainty. Even a police uniform can’t steel his spine or guarantee safety. “Why should I do this to myself?”

Yoongi sighs. “I’ll help you look at new places and… help you move. I’ll even be your roommate if the rent is too high.”

Hoseok is beaming. How long has he been asking for help searching? Jin looks from one man to the other, hiding the subtle smile beneath his mustache. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t go in so easily, that something had to be offered up, but he really didn’t expect Yoongi to go so far.

Hoseok points at Jin. “You’re my witness. I go through this and he’s my roommate.”

“If the rent is too high only,” Yoongi tries to reason, but it’s too late. Hoseok has heard what he wants to hear. He grabs his friend and marches into the depths of the basement.

Immediately you bang the walls on their journey down, feeling Jin rush past you to set up for the next scare. Hobi screams. “Never mind! Never mind!”

Yoongi scoffs, dragging his friend forward. “Come on, officer.”

You listen for their footsteps as you circle the walls behind the maze. Hobi’s frantic yelling breaks through the room, slipping into loud curses. You pull your glove up and wait, peeking through the hole you’re hoping he’ll get close enough to. Even shrouded in shadows, Yoongi’s form peeks out from around the corner.

“Don’t think about the dark,” Yoongi says, slowly shuffling towards the wall with Hoseok crouched behind him, using him as a shield from any more scares. “Think about how you bet Jungkook he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get in Y/N’s pants, not even for one month.”

You freeze. Yoongi knows you can hear him, right? He has to know.

“Think about how well he was doing. You would have been cleaning his house tomorrow. Maid Hobi, bound by servitude.”

“I know…” Hoseok groans. “It would have been awful. He’s so messy! I wouldn’t even be getting paid! What was I thinking?”

“But instead, he bet you a month’s rent that he could,” Yoongi continues loudly. “He blew it tonight for the chance to dress up as Link and tease Zelda. He only had one more day.”

“He’s a dumbass,” Hobi comments with a nod, turning to look at the ceiling and making sure nothing is going to drop down on him.

You swallow, taking in the revelation Yoongi has just bestowed upon you. All this time you had spent thinking Jungkook was a sweet gentleman was actually due to Hoseok making a bet with him? You would rather have known Jungkook was a dick straight up because now the innocent, harmless crush you have on him feels so dirty and foul that you wish you could swipe it from existence.

It’s Jungkook’s fault. He lied. He pretended. You know this. But still you can’t help but partially blame Hobi for the bitter taste in your mouth. As Yoongi passes, you reach out, letting your fingers swipe down Hobi’s forearm and retract through the hole in the wall as he lets out a high-pitched scream.

“Hoseok, get off.” Yoongi tries to push away the man climbing onto his back.

“Something grabbed me! Something grabbed me!” Hoseok wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist and huddles close to his neck pointing. “Over there! It grabbed me from over there!”

“Let’s keep moving, then.”

“No! No more! I’m standing right here until the sun comes up.”

“How is it standing if your feet aren’t touching the ground? I won’t carry you all night,” Yoongi says, adjusting his stance to compensate for the weight on his back.

“You will, too,” he pouts.

Jin helps you position a furry spider decoration above them, slowly dangling it lower until it finally hits Hoseok’s shoulder. The wail that escapes this grown ass man almost makes you feel bad. Almost. He swats the creature into darkness as he spurs Yoongi on by digging his heels into his belly. “Get me out of here! Please!”

Jin’s shoulders move up and down with the sound of his laughter as he slaps your hand in victory. Scaring Hobi made you feel a little better at least.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The party has died down quite a bit and at this point Jimin has been passing you far too many drinks as he and Namjoon regale you with tales from college. Namjoon is clearly feeling toasty, laughing like a dork at every memory Jimin brings up. Apparently they were roommates and Jimin has a liberal arts degree from four years of being undecided.

Your head lolls around to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, your backs pressed against the bottom of the couch as Jimin sits cross-legged in sweats and a t-shirt on the floor before you, his costume laying discarded beside him. He’s spinning his latest story of how Namjoon had accidentally thrown up on some girl he really liked. Yoongi silently lays on the couch behind you, smirking with his eyes closed. You can’t tell if he’s sleeping or just relaxing as you struggle to stand, using Namjoon’s shoulder as leverage to prop yourself up.

“Bathroom?” you ask distractedly, searching the room like a door will appear if you look hard enough.

Jimin smiles pointing at the doorway across the room. “Go out that door, take a left down the hall. It’ll be on your right.”

Your head dips a bit as you try to take in the directions. Namjoon looks up at you as you stumble forward, clearly off-balance. “Do you need some help, geeksquad?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, hating the nickname he’s given you from work. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink my drink.” You narrow your eyes at Jimin and he blinks at you in surprise, like you’ve accused him of such a heinous, unthinkable crime.

Rounding the corner, you pass a grinning Taehyung being led upstairs by a cute girl in a red beret, black and white striped shirt, and miniskirt with suspenders. Art hoe? Mime? It’s hard to tell what her costume might be. While his skin is covered in a beautiful mess of colors, your tri-force symbol still stands untouched at the center of his chest. You smile as you watch him climb the steps, clearly distracted. But as his back is revealed, your eyes widen at the sight of a mural of painted dicks. Well. At least he can’t see them.

You walk down the hall for what feels like an eternity, passing a few closed doors on either side. Maybe you should try one? Knocking on the one closest to you once, the door swings in and you lose your balance, not expecting it to open.

“What took you so long? I almost came without you.” The voice is pouty and low, somewhat familiar. He gasps when he realizes you’re not the person he’s been waiting for.

You stumble forward, falling to your knees and catching the bed frame before your face smacks into the wood. As graceful as you can manage, you pull yourself up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realize it was open and I was just looking for the---” The will to speak leaves you as soon as you see him.

A very sweaty, very naked Jungkook crosses his arms and he leans back expectantly, smushing the pillows behind him into the headboard. Your eyes take in the pleased expression on his face, quickly scanning the muscles of his folded arms, his chiseled abs, his bulging legs. The pointy green hat he had been wearing earlier tents across his sculpted hips and pelvis, thankfully obscuring any shape hidden beneath it.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he says, licking his lips as he watches your form tremble, practically falling apart in front of him before adding, “...Princess.”

A devilish grin overtakes him at the sight of you spinning around a little too fast, staggering towards the door and holding onto the frame for dear life. “I hoped I wouldn’t see you again tonight.”

“I can’t say it isn’t a nice surprise. You don’t have to leave,” he coaxes. “Do you wanna see my Master Sword?”

“Grow up!” You make sure to slam the door shut behind you. You hate him so fucking much it hurts.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Jennie, how could I be so wrong about him?” you sigh, dropping your forehead against the kitchen table. It’s been three weeks since you’ve talked to him, but it’s still the only thing you can think about.

Jennie takes a sip from her beer. “Sweetie, you’re not good at reading liars. Maybe you should look at some dating apps. You could get good read quick.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you whine into the coated wood. “Why can’t people just be nice?”

“Because. People suck. Come on, Y/N. Jungkook ain’t worth the headache. Drink with me. I’ll show you how Tinder works. It’s not so bad.”

When you don’t say anything, she tugs your chair across the floor, dragging your form close to hers and setting her phone down on the table. You peek out at the screen as you raise your head and rest it on a lazy elbow.

“Swipe right on the hotties. Swipe left on the fuckboys and losers. Jungkook? He’s a swipe left. But look at all these good ones on here. These are all swipe righties.”

You nod as she goes through a few profiles and begin downloading the app on your phone. Maybe she’s onto something.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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hoodedwing · 3 years

Text

Scarred Hands

Summary: Jason helps everyone through bad days.

Characters: Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Bruce, Alfred

Warnings : Major Character Death mentions, breakdowns, mourning over a character, i think there’s swearing too (but all my fics would have some swear in it though)

Additional Notes: Just wanted Dick to lose his shit with Bruce I guess and Jason just tags a long and becomes good ole’ big bro

Word Count: 1,294 words

***

He can't press the button.

It sits nicely in his hand, fitted perfectly. The number pad worn with age and most likely, had seen better days. The screen cover or what was left of it was peeling at the edges.

Damian had a better phone, way better.

Why did he still hold on to this phone then? What was the attraction, the strange magic that pulled him to this point where he his finger is still hovered over the button?

Press # for emergencies

The automated voice message said it again, familiarity burned at the edges. Obviously because Jason was the one who gave him the damn phone.

He gave it to his three other brothers too, not exactly give but rather sneak it into their pockets.

How he'd sneaked it, Damian had no clue.

He had a mission tomorrow which needed his full attention and he had spent the whole week staying up by doing research, compiling evidence and constant patrols.

He was tired, his brain felt heavy, darkness sweetly lingering at the edges. The ceiling light suddenly became brighter and he covered his eyes, with his free arm and hissed.

His hand accidentally presses the button and suddenly he hears a gruff voice, gentle in its own

"Demon spawn?"

Damian whimpers and turns on his side, taking the phone under his head and mumbles.

"Stop it."

"Well you called, what's up?"

He hears Damian sighing and trying to sleep so Jason listens silently. He didn't have to say anything. At one point, Damian really thought Jason had declined the call but his name was still on the caller ID.

Jason listened carefully on the phone, Damian's finally even breathing and soft, imperceptible snores. He almost smiles down at the phone.

"Night."

He whispered softly down the phone and cut it.

Tim is at Wayne Enterprises (WE)

He absolutely fucking hates it right now because a co-worker has picked out some mysterious 'flaws' and explaining to him why she thought the proposal was questionable.

He is this close to losing it while trying to tune out the woman's voice.

"This time frame is too small, I'm afraid they won't have enough time. Considering that there is a gala this evening-"

Oh fuck, there's a gala to go to tonight?

Tim almost jolts. Just to make sure he isn't hallucinating, he sneakily looks at his phone and sees a message reminding him about tonight’s Gala from Alfred.

Right on time, Alfred. Tim thought.

Tim sighs, places a hand on his head as the woman continues with her mock speech. Luckily for him, her phone rang and she left the room.

Tim slid a deadbolt into the damn door after that.

Peace

He blinks and sees the world in double and rubs his eyes again. He lies quietly on the table for awhile.

His hand was in his coast's pocket, he tried to find his phone but accidentally found the other one.

"What-"

Tim quizzically stares at it, trying to make sense of this mess. The phone was old, he knew. Less advanced equalled to less apps to contact from. These kind are favoured by mercenaries or assassins, it was easier to remove your trail, fast.

That meant only one possibility.

Jason

Tim allows a moment to appreciate Jason's skill. How he had slid it into his pocket, he didn't know and he's impressed.

He picks around the phone, trying to figure out whether it was bugged (because Jason is creative, he managed to get Tim to sleep once just by a lethal and calculated mark by a transquilizer.)

His finger accidentally presses #

"Yeah?"

Oh shit, where's the end call button?

"Tim?"

The gruff voice was coloured with a tinge of audible concern, distant sounds of grappling hooks and gunfire was heard.

"Uh-"

Tim has no idea what to say to him, that he accidentally pressed a button because he was too damn curious and could get Jason killed again because his attention is also diverted to him?

"I..I'm so sorry-"

"Bad day, Timmy?"

Okay, now he's also a mind reader. Lazarus does strange things to you.

"No"

"Liar"

He's a polygraph now? I can't believe this

"Timmy, if it's stress at work or there's dead ends, you better drag your ass to the alleyway outside. I'm there."

Tim decides that it wasn't a bad idea, what's the harm in meeting him?

Probably being stabbed by a batarang and becoming a headline Wayne Enterprises CEO found murdered by a child's toy or Timothy Jackson Drake found impaled by a strange contraption, are there aliens coming? Is this a sign?

Tim politely excuses himself and leaves the office, he exits and turns left to walk another ten minutes. People walking by gave him small smiles obviously because he's a business figure.

He walks another ten minutes and reaches the alleyway, he kicks off his pointed dress shoes and sits, resting his feet at one side.

"Those shoes sure hurt, you better buy new ones soon Timbers."

Tim stood up surprised and almost stumbled back, a pair of firm hands grasp around his waist, too tight for his good.

It leaves Tim breathless and he kneels over slightly from the sudden. Jason lifts him slowly and places him on his lap. Tim fumbles and leans his head against Jason's figure and slowly sinks in.

Into the comfort.

He doesn't know he's fallen asleep until he wakes up in his own bed with warm food beside him.

Dick cannot dare.

Dick is supposed to be the glue of the family, he's supposed to be the one that's keeping his shit together.

But he can't.

Bruce is fucking dead, his (adoptive) dad is dead. Gone.

And he can't even get up, he's lying on his bed, absolutely miserable, not even taking calls from Barbara.

In short, he's cut out his entire connection with the world. He's skipped patrol with Tim and Damian for a whole week, he's stopped watching his shows and eating his food.

He's tired.

He doesn't know why, all the energy is sucked out of him. He cannot seem to push himself up.

Not yet.

Until this big lump of human is outside his room and watches him lie in his thoughts. The man seemed familiar.

And he enters.

"Dickie, what the hell?"

Jason puts his hand on Dick, who's eyes are red from a recent bout of crying. He gives Dick a glass of cold water.

"Look at me."

His firm hands grip Dick's leaner muscled shoulders and he reluctantly looks. Jason could see he looks worse up close.

Breakdowns suck, a lot.

"Dick, you gotta move on. I know-"

"You don't know Bruce."

He simply states, eyes staring ahead. He's telling the truth, or maybe not.

Jason had seen the various shades of Bruce. Caring and the next second, colder than ever. So Dick was so, so wrong about his answer.

"Hating someone doesn't mean I don't know him Dick. He meant a lot to you, I'm not invalidating your grief, I need you to grieve properly. You gotta get back someday, Blüdhaven needs some ass kicking."

Dick smiles with tear-stained cheeks and Jason hugs him suddenly, because he's been in the same position before. He's caught himself in a breakdown before but no one ever held the broken pieces while he cried himself to sleep.

He knew how Dick felt.

"Take your time Dickie, I'll take over for you for now till you're okay."

Dick smiles thinly and sits, watching Jason wear back his boots to leave through the window but not without wiping away his fingerprints.

Jason leaves quietly, hoping Dick wouldn't mind his sudden disappearance. He couldn't afford to stay for long.

There's no rest for the weary.

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helbramstrauma · 3 years

Text

Anxiety and Dancing

Atsumu x GN!Reader

This is Atsumu's fic for the dance thing I'm doing. Here is the headcanon for it. And got to the Haikyu x Dancers tag to see everything in the series.

You haven’t seen Atsumu all day, but you know he has seen you, the blinding stage lights make it impossible to make out anyone in the audience but you cannot mistake Atsumu’s cheer. He always makes the people around him question his sanity, which is valid, but it is still charming to know how much he loves you- even though he needs to stop or else they are going to stop letting him in. Today you are on stage three times, you have a solo, group, and trio- and frankly, you are terrified- someone in the other trio that was supposed to go got sick so your company put in an old routine.

You were not prepared for this at all, you are running through the counts in your head before you hear them call your number and you meet your partner's center stage. Luckily you are not the lead in this number so it takes the pressure off of you a little bit but you are still terrified, you lock eye contact with one of the judges before the music starts to play.

Just have fun, no one is going to blame you for messing up a dance you haven’t practiced in over a month, at least no one should. However this is dance, it is cutthroat and you know that if this doesn’t do well that means pain until the next competition. You know if you keep in this mindset it will lead to you making a horrific mistake, however, you are slowly losing track of your breaths until in the crowd you hear it, “That’s my girlfriend” it isn’t shouted, though it was certainly meant to be quieter than Atsumu intended- he doesn’t know his volume. Even though that is a little embarrassing you breathe out one last time and the music starts, and your mind is clear.

Once you are backstage you are rushed into the changing room, with a little confusion you hear your teacher start talking to the group. “As we know this competition tends to throw curveballs and this time they have added an improv level,” you sharply exhale shutting your eyes praying that you’ll get to leave the competition in one piece, “Since someone has a big supporter in the audience, Y/n, you’ll be entering” at this point you just blackout, at least it was passive-aggressive rather than regular aggressive. Although your first instinct was fear- the more it settles in the more enthusiastic you get. This is a big opportunity, of course, if you botch it, you will never hear the end of it.

You put on some pink tights and a standard black leotard with some spare shorts you had to make you identifiable to the judges, when you get to the stage door they put a large sticker that says 47 on your back and front.

The music begins to play and you let your body move, attempting to find places to put tricks, when the music stops everyone stands at attention facing the judges. A couple of minutes pass while the judges discuss, not a word is spoken through the entire building- including from your loud mouth boyfriend. After a while, they start saying numbers asking them to leave, but 47 was not mentioned.

A different song begins to play, you take a mental note- there are about 40 girls on stage and the largest number you can find is 77. With that you expect them to ask 10-15 girls to leave the next round before, and there will be another round of that before the music becomes unpredictable or fast-paced. More rounds end before there are about 15 girls. The music stops, and your heartbeat follows shortly after, “Numbers 3,7, 28, 47” you ignore the rest of the numbers before they give more instructions, “Step back” with a pause that makes the sweat build up on your palms they finally continue, “Those in the front row please exit the stage”. Everyone in the back row visibly became less tense after that. Eventually, it is withered down to three, when the judges take extra long to deliberate, “Number 47 step forward” Your heart starts to speed up, did you just win? “Please exit the stage, good job”.

Although you didn’t win the improv segment your teacher was still satisfied with the results. After a short break, you are back on stage with the lights beating down on you, you just wish you were not required to wear the company’s jacket.

“Now for senior Trio’s” the numbers keep going up but it does not place. After they announced 4th, you knew the chances of you winning would be slim- you try to hide your disappointment as you mask it with your stage smile. Your number was later announced in the gold group- meaning that practice is going to be rough for a while. Just smile through the pain. The group dance placed, although it was 8th it is still cushioning and a success none of the less. You are prepared to leave when they start announcing solo placements, that is when it became surreal. Solo’s were the first numbers to perform and frankly with the amount of stress you just endured you forgot you had one, however it doesn’t place in the senior division. Your brain cannot even comprehend the punishments that you will have to endure, that is until you are snapped out of your dark thoughts when you hear a cheer and your friend motions you to walk up to the judge.

You are handed your trophy and you bow, until the applause ceases, once you sit down you look at the inscribed part that says, Best Overall Solo. You won the competition, well the solo division overall- but it is like the best award you can get. Now things are surreal, you’ve taken 2nd before in your age group, not even first but now you earned the trophy saying you performed the best solo in the whole competition.

All of your faults of the day seem to fade away at that moment, but not nearly as much as when you are back in Atsumu’s arms. He is waiting in the foyer as always, holding like two dozen roses- where does he even have the money for that. “You looked beautiful out there,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Now let me see the trophy,” he says looking for it.

“You should know that you don’t get it immediately- they need to engrave my name in it,” you explain, “you should know this, how many trophies do you have”

He dramatically scoffs and looks away to hide his embarrassment, “Well mine were preselected, and all of the other ones go to the team”. That makes sense but you are still going to tease him about it for not knowing.

However, once you are at his house you immediately lay down on his bed, simply not wanting to have your legs hold up your body anymore. You hear Atsumu enter the room and immediately start laughing at you, “You almost make me happy that I lost the coin toss for the top bunk. Instead of responding you turn on your side and open your arms, and he gets the memo. He picks you up and places you on his lap before laying back, allowing you space for you to wrap your arms around his back and burrow into his chest more. You start to ease yourself to sleep when you hear Atsumu speak up, “You can’t sleep in your leotard” he sits up and goes to his dresser, and throws a tee-shirt at your face. After you change you go back to your previous condition, this time opting to immediately shut your eyes. That is until your eyes shoot open when you feel the familiar sensation of Atsumu’s lips on your neck, holding back a whine you can feel him take some of your skin in between his teeth. When he pulls back, he admires the reddish-purple mark he left on your skin, “I get to leave these again since you don’t have a competition for another two months” he chuckles slightly before connecting both of your lips quickly before falling on your stomach when he hears the door open.

“Tsumu you idiot, I know y/n is here, I’m just not nice enough to take the couch” You hear Osumu yell at his twin before climbing the ladder to reach his bed, “And if I even think you are doing anything- I’ll cut your d-”

“We get it”

#anime #haikuu #haikyu x dancers #haikyu x reader #atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #fanfiction #hq

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Note

Am I allowed to place in a request for Mr svelte tracker boi Demetri? I need my greek boi fix. 😅😂 My stimming (due to my slight autism and anxiety) has been kinda bad lately and I was wondering if you could do some headcanons on how he would be with a reader who has that going on? (For example, some of my stimming signs are restless, uncontrollable finger twitches sometimes, and sudden limb movements and facial twitches I can't control 😅) Thanks! Also, sorry if this is too touchy a subject!🙈

You most certainly are allowed and I cannot express how hard I fangirled when I realised it was you in my ask box. I played it very cool but just know I was dying inside from the moment I saw your username come up XD

TW: Mentions of anxiety and sensory overload. If that’s a little personal to you please be cautious about reading this one!

I’m incapable of writing short things it seems so it’s another long one.

Self-stimulating behaviour, known more commonly as stimming, usually involves repetitive movements and/or sounds. Though it is most often associated with autism (I know when I first saw the word stimming that was where my mind immediately went to) everybody stims in some way, shape or form to relieve stress, tension, anxiety, boredom etc. Some ways are less noticeable than others such as nail biting or finger tapping, while others can be more obvious and disruptive to your social/daily life like licking certain objects or scratching at skin.

I learned all this from doing a bit of reading before taking on this request and if you want to know more then the link to the article I read is right -----> HERE <------ ! It’s informed my ideas for this headcanon request and though I’m open to discussions about the topic to help educate myself and anyone else who wishes to learn more, what I will not tolerate is any sort of hate or discrimination based on the links to developmental disorders and mental illness that stimming has. This blog has and always will be a safe space for anyone and everyone and a little respect for one another will help keep it that way. Be kind folks!

So without further ado, how would Demetri react to you stimming I wonder?

Part 1: Headcanons below the Keep Reading Line Part 2: Teeth (fic) Part 3: Control (fic)

· He honestly wouldn’t really notice for a while because, well, humans aren’t exactly designed to be as flawless as vampires

· Impromptu nosebleeds, migraines, sneezes…they’re just glitches in a faulty system so why is the way your leg just bounced up off of the floor while your sitting any different to those other equally as involuntary things

· He’s struggling right now to, after all he just met his very human mate and it’s quite overwhelming for him to have to adapt to all these new feelings and situations he finds himself in, but he deals because he can

· Some days, you just…can’t

· Getting attacked by a man with some bizarre fascination with your neck is bad enough but being whisked away by strangers is somehow even worse. At least in the first scenario once it’s over it’s over, now you’re just living an anxious person’s nightmare in a new place full of new people

· Volterra was beautiful, but it wasn’t home. No cosy apartment, no neighbours cat to feed, no monotonous shifts at work…

· Actually, most of the time you’re left utterly alone to navigate an unfamiliar castle, and the times you aren’t alone is when there’s a man claiming to be your eternal lover in front of you

· Try to convince me this man doesn’t rip the band aid off and profess his love for you with dramatic flair just TRY

· Your days are filled with endless boredom where you’re doing nothing at all until someone checks on you, and then fight or flight kicks in because oh HELLO Mr Vampire guard are you here to give me lunch or kill me?

· Demetri had thought that perhaps you were okay with that, since you hadn’t really outwardly reacted beyond the way your cheek twitched up into a smirk once or twice as he spoke. Hell, you’d even winked at him…right?

· You did that a lot so he really genuinely thought that maybe you were just trying to flirt with him, build a relationship with him. Your constant little winks and the way your fingers twitched when he was nearby, like you so desperately wanted to reach out to him…

· It took a few weeks before he realised how wrong he was

· You’d reached for a sip of water and your arm had just whipped outward from your body

+ You’d absolutely drenched him with your entire glass of water and could only stare in abject horror wondering what the supposed vampire would do next, since you’d interrupted him rather smugly detailing his plans for your first date

· Silence

· There was just silence

· It only made your anxiety worse and the muscles in your face just spasmed without your permission and - god did you just smirk at him again, oh no

+ “I’m glad one of us finds this amusing. If you did not like the idea there were other ways to tell me so.”

· You almost want to cry from sheer embarrassment at this point because the date really had sounded like it could be fun and now you’d just straight up thrown water in his face like he’d insulted you in the worst way imaginable

· So you come clean and tell him about your stimming

· He’s really worried at first because autism? Anxiety he’s heard of but autism sounds very dangerous, are you dying? You’re probably dying. He’s going to lose his mate –

· Another involuntary finger twitch from you forces him to calm down because your anxious enough without his worrying on top, so he kind of brushes it off and makes no big deal out of it

· Squeezes your hand and kisses your forehead to try and reassure you all is forgiven, even if he does have to go change a very expensive looking designer shirt and god you’re so sorry

· Of course, that kind of makes it worse for you because anxiety brain is activated and your 99.9999% sure he’s actually furious with you still and has only pretended to forget it while he’s plotting his revenge

· You see him late at night when you struggle to fall and stay asleep, reading in the low lamplight at his desk across the room, his laptop propped open and a notebook before him but you’re too scared still to ask what it is he’s reading so intently (probably good suggestions on places to bury your body welp)

· It’s a complete surprise to you therefore when he does take you out on that date he promised you not two weeks later

· He’s chosen a nice overcast day so he’s in the least conspicuous clothing he owns

+ Demetri’s least conspicuous clothes still consist of the most chic and expensive brands you know of and he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the quaint little market stalls he’s brought you to see

· Despite the gloomy weather the people of Volterra are out in full force though, swarming the market stalls and chattering and laughing as flashes of gold and silver from jewelry hit your eyes, bright coloured fabrics following

· It’s all just too much

· There’s people everywhere and so much noise, so many colours and lights and people brushing past you…

· Your fingers clench tight around his, his hand immersed in a glove to keep his freezing skin from chilling you too much

· He squeezes back lightly, eyes shifting to glance down at you with the kindest smile on his lips

+ “Keep squeezing my hand whilst we find somewhere quieter to stand.”

· Your fingers seemed to take turns pressing into his rock solid skin, an odd sort of comfort coming from the fact you know you can press down hard and he won’t so much as register the sensation, and Demetri squeezes back, just firm enough he knows you can feel the pressure of his palm on yours

· He takes you to a quiet little side road where the noise is much more faded and there is so much free space around you you feel like you can finally breathe again

· He still hasn’t stopped squeezing your hand, taking turns with you as you take some steady breaths and try to focus your senses a bit, one thing you can feel, two things you can see, three you can smell...

· “I hope you can forgive me, I did not expect the market to be so busy today with the weather like this.”

· His apology takes you completely by surprise because how would he even know you struggled with crowds? You barely know each other?

· Seeing your surprise Demetri rather sheepishly admits as to what exactly he’s been reading all those nights you’ve seen him at his desk, and you’re a little overwhelmed to realise he’s been reading about you

· Medical journals, mummyblogs, charity websites and more, if it had any information about autism and stimming he’s browsed through it and taken copious amounts of notes, observing you religiously to see what might be relevant to you and how he can help · + “I read somewhere you self-stimulate to calm yourself when you are anxious or your senses feel overwhelmed, is that what happened?” “Well, yes, actually, I…I…”

“And did it help? Taking you away from the source of stress and letting you squeeze my hand like that?”

· It had actually, you felt much calmer and Demetri’s obvious acceptance and willingness to help you manage your stimming and anxiety today were one of the first little moments you fell in love with him, looking back on it

· He didn’t stop there either. Together you sat down and made a list of all the things that you found most often triggered your stimming, and all of the things that brought you joy so he could figure out things to avoid and things you might like for your future dates

· Within hours of arriving home you’d gotten a whole new daily routine set up so you weren’t left to languish and wonder what was going to happen next

· Three days later an express shipment of your favourite smelling scented candles arrived alongside a Bluetooth speaker, supplies Demetri insisted were necessary for nice calming baths on the days your anxiety was playing up

· He started doing mindfulness practices with you in the evenings

· He never touched the volume controls for his laptop, speaker or TV, leaving it to you to control the volume so you could set it to a level you were comfortable with, and he religiously policed the noise on his floor to + “Where are you going? The movie just started…” “To tell Felix to turn his music down.” “You’re vampiring again Metri, I can’t even hear that.”

· When he signed you up for Yoga and meditation classes at a centre in town you drew the line and told him he was going overboard, but bless him he had tried

· Overall he’s a solid 15/10 for effort, even if some ideas are still experimental - you’re enjoying the deep pressure massages a lot though – and he sometimes goes a bit mother-hen trying to get you out of situations he thinks you’ll struggle with, when actually you’re coping just fine today

· You love him dearly for it

#twilight #twilight headcanon #demetri volturi #volturi headcanon #stimming #autism #tw anxiety #tw sensory overload #the volturi #twilight fanfiction #I tried my best so I hope this is okay #Demetri is totally the type to go overboard and try absolutely anything to make you comfortable

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airi-p4 · 4 years

Text

You can’t

New short fic! It’s a Juleka centric Lukanette fic with angst and fluff (?)

Summary: Juleka is not willing to accept the possibility of her brother Luka and Marinette dating, even if she wishes for her brother’s happiness.

As usual, there’s art included. This time at the end.

Thanks to @livrever for the check!

Ao3

___________________________________________

“You can’t. You can’t like Marinette”

It was unusual for Juleka to be against anything related to her brother, but the words that had just left his mouth were too much to assimilate. She couldn’t agree with him no matter what.

“Why not?”

On the other hand, Luka stayed as quiet as always, gently strumming the strings of his acoustic guitar, intending to understand his sister’s reasons, but with his resolution set.

“Because she is my friend. And she is in love with Adrien. You will only be heartbroken”

“I know that”

“Then why? There are plenty of girls and boys around! Why does it have to be Marinette? It could be anyone else!”

“It can’t be anyone else. It has to be Marinette”

Juleka was mad at her brother’s answer and at how calm he still remained. Why was he doing this to her? She didn’t want her dear brother to be hurt, or her friendship with Marinette to be compromised. Why couldn’t he understand it?

“No, you can’t. You can’t do this to me. How can I support the girl’s plans to set Adrien and Marinette after knowing your feelings? How I’m supposed to encourage you when I’m aware of her feelings? How can I root for Adrienette when I know it’s going to break your heart? I’m not a good liar and I can’t be a good friend either knowing that”

“You don’t need to think of any of that. It’s my feelings. I’ll take care of them”

“How can you say that? You’re my brother and I love you. You’ve been always by my side, helping me, encouraging me… I want to do the same with you, but I can’t. Not as long as it’s Marinette”

“You don’t need to do anything, Jules. I’ll manage whatever comes. I’ll be happy if Marinette is happy with Adrien or anyone else”

Juleka could only get even angrier at her brother’s almost unnoticeable soft smile.

“But what about your happiness, Luka? I want you to be happy! I don’t think you can be fully happy with this”

“I’ll be happy if she is happy. I mean it”

“You should go after someone else. Someone who is not Marinette. I would be able to encourage you then. But now…”

“It can only be Marinette”

She tried to understand him, but his answers only made it even more difficult for her to accept it.

“But why!?”

“For the same reason you think it can only be Rose for you”

“It’s not the same!”

“It is. We can’t control what we feel. And I can’t control my love for Marinette. I’m not expecting her to reciprocate my feelings. I’ll feel full as long as she keeps smiling happily. Don’t you feel the same about Rose?”

“No…”

“Rose keeps talking about how cool Prince Ali is but you are still happy just being by her side. Isn’t it enough?”

“No, it’s not. I can’t help it but be jealous… I can’t say I’m truly happy…”

“Yet you keep smiling when she’s by your side. To the point you can overlook her crush on Prince Ali”

Juleka knew he was right. But she didn’t want to accept this reality. Not her brother’s, at least.

“We are talking about you, not me. I wish you hadn’t tell me… I hate this feeling”

“You are free to hate me, if you feel this way. But that won’t change my feelings… it doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry for compromising your friendship with Marinette”

“I can’t hate you. But I can’t support you either. I’m sorry...”

“It’s OK. Thank you for trying”

Juleka set the separation between Luka’s and her part of the room in order to avoid seeing and talking to him any further. She was going to fall asleep while giving the whole conversation a thought, yes, but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to accept it no matter how much time she spent thinking about it.

_____________

“Girls… I’ve decided to stop pursuing Adrien”

Marinette’s words stabbed Juleka’s heart as sharply as a knife.

“Why?” She asked.

“I don’t think I have feelings for him anymore”

Marinette sounded convinced. But Juleka couldn’t help it to think it was because of her attitude towards her after knowing his brother’s feelings. Her thoughts left her mouth without thinking.

“Is it because I failed my part to support you?”

“No Juleka, that’s not it” Marinette seemed surprised, but sure about her resolve.

“Then what is it?” Juleka insisted. She really didn’t want to be the reason of Marinette’s unhappiness.

“It’s… it’s Luka. I’m sorry Juleka I was meant to tell you sooner but…”

The blush on Marinette cheeks as she talked about her brother triggered something inside her. Something that was surely giving her not pleasant vibrations.

“What are you talking about?” she asked her friend, while the rest of the girls just listened to them in silence, surprised of both of their friend’s extremely rare argument. There was a vivid honest flame in Marinette’s eyes as she spoke, convinced of what she was saying.

“I love him. I have for a while. I can’t deny my feelings for him anymore”

Marinette’s confession left all her friends astonished, including Juleka. But unlike the rest of them, who were already celebrating Marinette’s new love, the purple-haired girl wasn’t happy about her words and remained silent. Rose was the first to speak to her.

“Isn’t it good, Juleka?” the blond cute girl said, giggling happily.

“Yes! Good choice!” encouraged Alya and Alix.

But Juleka’s words, said almost in a silent voice at first, and louder one second time, broke all the fun.

“You can’t”

“What?” all the girls reacted in unison.

“You can’t. You can’t love him” Stated Juleka, replying to their question.

“Why not?” asked Rose, Alya insisting too.

“Yeah, why not, girl?”

Before answering, Juleka stood up and looked at Marinette, eyes fiercely consumed with an anger, sadness and frustration she couldn’t control, pointing a finger directly to Marinette as her words darted directly to her.

“Because I know you’ll leave him at some point. And I don’t want you to break his fragile heart”

“Luka is not fragile” Marinette said, confidently, only fueling more Juleka’s negative thoughts and anger.

“He is. More than he appears to be. Our dad… well… he left him scars in his heart that cannot be healed”

Juleka was at the verge of crying remembering her past. She didn’t want Luka to suffer ever again. And that included not letting Marinette break his heart. Juleka knew none of her friends could understand her at the moment, given the disgusted looks there were on their faces, but protecting his dear brother’s heart was something more important than any friendship for her. She couldn’t let it happen. And she wouldn’t. No matter how Alya, Rose or anyone tried to convince her.

“But Juleka, what about their feelings?”

“Rose is right, Juleka, Luka has already-”

Alya couldn’t finish when Juleka’s anger scream came out of her mouth, stamping her foot on the floor as she started taking her leave from Rose’s house.

“I said NO, are we clear!? You can't!”

“Juleka, wait!” of course, Rose tried to stop her. She had a frightened look in her face Juleka had never seen before. Just like Rose hadn’t ever seen Juleka angry before. Juleka hated it. She hated getting angry at her friends, she hated their disappointed and scared faces, she hated the idea of Marinette and Luka together and, what she hated the most was herself for not being able to manage any of her feelings.

“Juleka… I’m sorry you feel like this, but I can’t stop my feelings and I’m going to confess, even if you are against it”

Marinette never sounded this convinced when she was crushing on Adrien, so Juleka knew there was nothing she could do stop her. But that wasn’t enough. She couldn’t let go of her brother. Not to an indecisive girl like Marinette. Juleka noticed the source of her unusual confidence and stated it loudly.

“You know his feelings for you”

Marinette wasn’t surprised, in fact, she was only a little embarrassed at the fact Juleka was the sister of the boy she was in love with. She wanted to get along well with her if she and Luka were going to date. She needed her on her side if she wanted Luka be happy. She knew it was not worth it to date Luka if it ended up with their family’s good relationship falling apart. She tried to answer in full understanding, almost begging to Juleka to accept their relationship.

“I do. And I feel the same way about him. Please, I want to make you understand...”

But Juleka couldn’t take it anymore. There was a conflict of interests inside her that almost made her head explode in stress. Of course she wanted Luka to be happy. Of course she wanted Marinette to be happy too. But still couldn’t accept this form of happiness between them. She couldn’t, even if she wished she could. The pain in her heart and head only made her anger increase. She needed to be alone. To calm down. To think. Or to forget maybe. But she needed Marinette out of her vision as soon as possible, and far from her brother too.

“You can’t. Don’t you dare get close to him!”

Juleka’s scream sounded desperate to Marinette’s ears when she started running out of Rose’s house, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Juleka!! Wait! Juleka...”

Marinette tried to stop her, of course she did. But Juleka didn’t even lock gazes with her, nor look back. Strangely enough, there was no signs of regret inside her. But there was sadness and hurt coming from her friend’s denial to accept her in her family as her brother’s girlfriend.

____________

“Juleka, your brother and Marinette have started dating. Let’s go give them our blessings”

Anarka sounded genuinely happy for his son as she spoke to her sister about his first love and now girlfriend. But Juleka could only frown in anger and frustration at the sight of them happily together.

“I can’t. And you can’t either, mom” she said, looking at her feet in a mix of sadness and anger.

“Why not? They look so in love with each other… You should be happy for them!”

Captain Anarka was known for her energy, optimism and love and encouraging towards her children, so Juleka was not surprised with her answer. She knew her mother was not good at taking things seriously either, so she wasn’t optimistic about getting any backing from her to go against Luka and Marinette’s relationship. But Juleka was not happy. And she was willing to let everyone know.

“Well, I’m not. I’m not happy” she answered.

“Why not?”

Obligatory question from her mother, as expected. But she was ready to finally speak her feelings bottled inside her for days, ever since Luka confessed her he had romantic feelings for her friend. Her answer had been repeating inside her head at all times, daily, for more than a week, so she knew every single coma of it.

“I can’t because I’ve spent 2 years helping Marinette to get closer to Adrien, without being aware of Luka's feelings, hurting him without knowing it. And now, when Adrien starts dating Kagami, she just comes to Luka claiming she loves him? Were those 2 years a lie? What the hell have I been doing all this time? Going against my brother interests and helping his girlfriend get closer to another boy? How can I be called a good sister?”

“Oh, Juleka…” Anarka was sympathetic at her daughter.

“And Marinette… What does Luka even mean to her? Is he her plan B for when things with Adrien doesn’t work out? Is he just some kind of excuse not to be alone? Is she just desperate for love? Anyone’s love. Why does it have to be Luka? It could have been anyone else! She’ll only leave him heartbroken at some point… and I hate that! I don’t want to see Luka hurt. Never again”

Just like all the negative feelings and frustrated bottled up, she broke and left rivers of tears out of her big eyes. Days of contained emotions spilling out of her. Frustration, anger, sadness and fear, all together in form of salty water finally finding a way out after reaching its maximum capacity of stress. She was trembling as she cried hard, like a baby. It had been years since she cried that much, feeling like a part of herself was leaving her soul along her until recently contained waterfalls. She was embarrassing herself in front of her mother, and she hated it. She hated not being able to cope with her own emotions. For not being stronger. For being selfish… The stress was too much for her and she broke to a level she could never imagine. Seeing Juleka so broken was hurting even a tough heart like Anarka’s. Of course, she had a soft spot for her daughter, but it still was unusual for her.

“Oh, Juleka… That’s not how love work, sweetheart. You can’t choose love. It comes striking you like a tsunami, like a gale of emotions inside your heart, making you unable to keep your feet on the ground. How is anyone supposed to control that at age 14? It’s impossible. Mistakes are bound to happen. Misunderstandings too. Just take a look at them and you’ll see the love in their eyes"

"I can't" her sobbing continued, despite her efforts to stop it. Anarka hugged her daughter tightly as she spoke.

"Look, Marinette did a mistake choosing the wrong boy at first, yes. But now that she is older she is aware of her needs and true feelings. She is dating Luka because that’s what she feels. What both of them feel. Wouldn’t you be the happiest if Rose stopped talking about Prince Ali and focused only in you?”

“I… I guess so, but…” Juleka managed to say between sobbing hiccups.

"Would you think you're Rose's plan B if she did?" he mother asked.

"I don't know… maybe…"

The more she listened to her mother, the voice of wisdom of her life, along with her brother’s the more confused she became. She had been aware of her wrong way of thinking. She still was aware of how pointless it was. But still couldn’t eat her pride and accept them… But she thought her mother’s words are worth listening, as she is the voice of experience.

“I don't think you would. Because Rose already loves you very much and you are the one who has been the closest to her. She just isn't aware of her feelings yet. Just like Marinette in the past"

"..."

Juleka couldn’t speak. She wanted to believe her mother’s words so bad, she somehow stopped crying, still thinking about Luka and Marinette’s relationship. She knew she had to accept it… She knew she had. But it was too much weight on her shoulders. Too much pride to throw away. Too much negative feelings attached in form of remorse.

“C'mon, dear. Just accept their feelings and give them your blessings. That will be more than enough”

“But I can’t, mom. I’m a bad sister. And a bad friend. I couldn’t help either of them when they needed me…”

Anarka smiled at her daughter’s apologetic face, wiping the traces of the tears that remained on her face with a handkerchief Juleka ended up taking to blow her nose.

“You can do it, sweetheart. Ladybug would say it’s never too late to repair your mistakes. Your apology will be enough for them. They’ll welcome you. I’m sure of it”

“Thank you, mom… I’ll try…”

Juleka’s eyes recovered her hope for the first time in days and Anarka was relieved and happy to see how fond she was for her brother.

“My baby, you just love your brother so much, don’t you? Don’t worry, even if Luka has a girlfriend now, he won’t ever stop loving you. You’re his sister. He’ll always be there for you”

Anarka’s words shocked Jueleka. Of course she cared deeply for her brother. Very deeply. He had been her big brother forever, her father figure even. He had been her best friend, her saviour, her first love, too… He had been her everything. Even when she was starting to become a weight for him or when she was in the way for him to make friends his age… He never complained or left her side. She had been able to tell just in time she was in the way and had stopped clinged to him. But not even then Luka left her side. He let her act freely, but never hesitated to ask her about her feelings. Their sibling love was a treasure for Juleka, and maybe, just maybe, this was the reason she couldn’t accept Marinette taking part of her place… But Anarka was right. A sibling bond is unbreakable. And Luka was going to be there for her no matter what. It was her time to give him the freedom he couldn’t have because of her… Yes… it was time to swallow all the tears, are the pain, all the pride and jealousy and give the new couple her blessings. But there’s still a part of her pride that couldn’t let her agree with her mother’s words.

“That’s ridiculous… You make it sound like have a brother complex...” Juleka pouted, cursing how her enemy’s favourite word left out of her own mouth. Anarka could only giggle and kiss her precious daughter’s forehead.

“Of course, my child, of course…”

With Anarka’s arm around Juleka, hands over her shoulders, mother and daughter approached the new couple, who were teasing each other with little hand and cheek kisses, blushing and smiling. They certainly looked the happiest Juleka had ever seen either of them and she felt awful for trying to stop this happiness to bloom. Shyly, she called their names to catch their attention.

“Luka... Marinette...”

“Juleka” Both of them turned to face her, Luka’s arm around Marinette in a protective manner, but still smiling softly.

Their smiling faces made Juleka feel even more apologetic as she asked for their forgiveness in a shy and simple, but more than enough words.

“I'm sorry I was wrong. You can”

Marinette and Luka exchanged looks and their faces shined bright of happiness. Both of them jumped to hug Juleka in the most affectionate hug her brother or her friend had ever given to her, making her tear up again. She could feel loved and not even a slight of resentment against her. Changes weren’t always meant to be bad. Juleka understood, as she could feel how Marinette’s affection resembled the one from how she imagined a sister would feel like. Changes can be a happy thing too. And she couldn’t feel even more stupid for restraining this new feeling even from her own self.

But no more. She could and they could. All of them could find happiness in their new formed bond. Juleka had two sincere words she still wanted to say, even if they were already implied in how tightly she hugged the couple back. But she still wanted to say it. And she did.

“Thank you”

FIN

#my fic #airipyon #my art #airip4 #lukanette endgame #lukanette fic #lukanette #fluff #angst with happy ending #couffaine siblings #thanks for reading :D

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cicada-bones · 4 years

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 30: A Healer’s Advice

So i know its the middle of the night, but I just finished this and I had to post it! I restructured this section so that the emotional convo with Aelin was at the end of the chapter, because it works so much better for this fic. Also, I know Namonora is completely OC, but I just had to give her some kind of conclusion in the story because it’s the last time we are going to see her, and I thought it made for a nice emotional moment. You’re just gonna have to forgive me (I know I managed to make one paragraph in the book into a whole ass 3000 words. Im sorry. I hope you like it anyways).

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For hours that night they stayed up talking, adjusting their plans to accommodate the lack of reinforcements.

There was a somber moment when Rowan calmly encouraged all of the non-fighters still in the fortress to flee. Several demi-Fae exchanged worried glances, but all refused. Even Emrys wouldn’t leave, and Malakai simply said that where his mate went, he went.

Rowan didn’t know whether to be thankful or not that there wasn’t much they could change. The die had been cast, and there was no turning back now. But Rowan kept the demi-Fae captains talking anyways, distracting them from their fear.

It wasn’t until Emrys hauled a pot from beneath the kitchen sink and began banging it with a wooden spoon – demanding that they give it up for the night, that they headed off to bed. Aelin managed to catch a few hours of sleep, but Rowan lay awake, just staring up at the stone ceiling and listening to the slow, even breaths of the female at his side.

The next morning, they led almost every single demi-Fae at Mistward – those who weren’t already out delivering messages, that is – to the healers’ compound, where they helped cart the patients to safety.

They moved them to a camp set into the side of a mountain, an easily defensible cavern with enough space to set up a temporary hospital. It was dark, and a bit damp, but the healers and the wounded would be far safer here than along that exposed section of river.

It took most of the day, even with the dozens of healers and healers’ assistants to help them carry the many stretchers, cots, boxes, and baskets. And there was a seemingly endless line of patients needing assistance traversing the rocky path up to the secluded caves. Many of the wounded used crutches or were bedridden, and many more were too sick to walk unassisted for longer than a few minutes – Fae with weak hearts or lungs, with recently stitched wounds, or half-healed broken bones.

And then there were the supplies. Medical tools, salves, cloth, bandages, and herbs – clothes, books, blankets, and mountains upon mountains of food. All that needed to be carefully transported and stored.

Namonora was a frantic presence in the fringes of Rowan’s vision, flitting in and out of his view throughout the day. One moment, she was assisting a stumbling female over a particularly uneven bit of earth, the next she was organizing piles of books into ‘stay,’ ‘storage,’ and ‘leave,’ piles, according to levels of usefulness. Another, Rowan caught her chastising a rowdy group of young demi-Fae, clearly students, and corralling them into separating piles of patient uniforms into ‘clean’ and ‘dirty,’ and folding them neatly into burlap sacks. In yet another, he found her instructing a harassed-looking assistant on the proper way to pack sets of scalpels “without cutting off the fingers of some unsuspecting healer!”

It wasn’t until evening that Rowan caught a quiet moment with her, when much of the chaos had died down. Even after everything had been moved from the compound and into the cavern, the demi-Fae from Mistward stayed to help the healers organize the camp into a functional structure, and help the wounded settle into their temporary home.

Luca and Emrys had assisted with dinner, whipping up a meal from the dry rations now filling the makeshift pantry, using a convenient rock shelf to prepare the soup that they were now ladling into dozens of bowls. Bas was laughing enthusiastically with a group of injured men from Wendlyn in a secluded corner, exchanging bawdy jokes and generally lightening the dour mood. Aelin was wandering through the rows of cots lighting candles and torches, occasionally giving a soft touch and a smile to those who seemed quiet, or lost.

Namonora was now standing cross-armed near the entrance to the cave, her eyes surveying the company critically. Rowan sidled up beside her, and together they looked over the motley group, stress furrowing both their brows.

After a few long moments, Namonora sighed and turned to face Rowan. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

Rowan frowned. The messages sent to the healers and the other fortresses had been short and to the point, purposefully neglecting to explain much of what they had learned about the dark creatures.

So Rowan told her. He explained how Aelin had discovered their hiding place in the caves, how she realized the connection between the stench and the creature she had faced in the palace in Adarlan. How Rowan had discovered the creatures hidden at the back of the soldier’s camp, and what he learned there. How they had escaped.

Namonora’s eyes darkened as he spoke, her face tightening. When he got to the battle between the creature and the skinwalkers, she paled. “So you are sure it is dead then?”

Rowan sighed. “There was no body.”

“So you cannot be sure.”

“No, we cannot. But I don’t see how it could have survived.”

Namonora looked back over her patients, her healers. All these people she was responsible for. “I was right. Adarlan is breeding monsters in the Dead Islands.” Her voice was cold and hard.

Rowan nodded slowly. “So it seems.”

“Do you know how they can be killed?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I have only guesses.”

Namonora turned sharply to look at him, but she didn’t say anything more. After a heavy pause, she asked, “Are some of your people going to stay here with us? We would be happy to shelter as many as needed.”

“Yes, a few of the non-fighters were going to stay, and we were planning on leaving a small group of guards as well.”

“Good. That is good.” Her voice trailed off.

“Is Paynor still here?”

“No. We discharged him two weeks ago, and he went off to rejoin his naval company. He’s probably fighting at Wendlyn’s northern border as we speak.”

The disdain of a healer filled her voice. A few months ago, Rowan might have thought lesser of her for it. But now…

“Then let us hope their outlook is better than ours.” He was surprised at the layer of sarcasm that darkened his tone.

Her eyes widened. “Is it really that bad?”

The question was earnest. And Rowan knew that he couldn’t avoid it.

“When we could be sure of reinforcements, I knew we had a shot.”

“And now?”

“Now, we will fight as hard as we can. And let the dice fall where they may.”

Silence.

Sorrow leeched into the healer’s lily-mint-and-rain flavored scent, and the two of them turned once again to look over the churning, rippling mass of people before them. Mortals, demi-Fae, and Fae, all working together, helping one another.

Rowan’s eyes automatically sought out a golden head of hair, and found Aelin sitting at the end of a child’s cot. The girl looked pale, and gaunt, but her eyes were bright. A small smile warmed Aelin’s face as they talked quietly with each other.

Aelin raised her hand, and flames began to wrap around her fingers, leafy vines blossoming over her knuckles. The girl started slightly, but Aelin only took her fingers in her own, letting the flaming vines slowly creep over their joined hands to curl around the girl’s wrists as well. They began to sprout into golden blooms, each petal curving and undulating in an invisible breeze.

Rowan could hear the child’s delighted laugh from all the way across the cavern.

“And what will her place be, in the battle to come?”

Rowan realized with a slight shock that Namonora had also been watching Aelin and the girl. Had been watching him watch them. He quickly collected himself. “The princess is an accomplished fighter - she will do whatever is required of her,” Rowan replied simply.

But Namonora seemed unsatisfied. “I can feel the touch of her power from here.”

Rowan nodded vaguely.

“A mighty gift.”

She was prodding, seeking answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to give. Rowan just pursed his lips, jerking his head once.

“Such a gift could only have been bestowed by the gods.” She turned back to face Aelin, face tight. “A demi-Fae princess, with power enough to remake the world.”

Rowan remained silent, his face expressionless.

“A rare thing, that. Priceless.”

Rowan was sure that her eyes must be boring holes into the back of his head by now. Still, he kept his silence.

Her teeth clacked together. “Do you know what our Queen intends to do with this precious gift?”

A pause. “I doubt, Head Healer, that I would tell you, even if I knew.” Rowan’s voice was measured, cautious.

A huff of breath. “A courtly answer, if ever I heard one, your highness.”

Rowan snorted.

“Still – if you both survive, you must take her to Doranelle?”

Rowans silence served as answer in itself.

Namonora sighed. “The thought of those powers, colliding...” she shivered slightly. “I suppose you won’t tell me what the princess intends, either?”

Rowan just sighed.

“I figured.”

“What will be, will be, Head Healer. There’s not much in our power to stop it.”

“I never would have thought you to be so defeatist.” A cold frown. “You must do whatever you can. She must survive.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond.

There was a short pause, but then: “You cannot let that girl die.”

Namonora’s voice had become low and intense. Rowan turned to face her, but didn’t say anything. He was surprised to see that instead of anger or reproach, her face was filled with a deep concern.

Rowan sent the old female a questioning look, but she only answered it with yet more evasiveness. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I became a healer?”

Rowan slowly shook his head.

“I met Queen Maeve once. As a child. She found me.”

The healer’s voice relaxed, preparing to tell a long and familiar story. By contrast, Rowan found himself tensing, his muscles stiffening with unease.

“I grew up on the streets of Doranelle. I am full Fae, but still, my parents abandoned me. It took years, but eventually I found out that my father had gotten my mother with child, and then abandoned her. My mother had a very hard labor, and she died giving birth to me. A nursemary took care of me through babyhood, but eventually the money ran out, and she abandoned me too.” A wry frown.

“I lived among groups of demi-Fae children, moving between empty homes and abandoned buildings - scrounging for food and stealing coin where we could. With my gift, I learned how to draw water from the earth, and others were drawn to me, and to the small amount of safety I could offer. I had no idea that another life was possible.”

Rowan found himself interested against his will. It was so similar, and yet so different from Lorcan’s upbringing.

“One day, in my late teens or perhaps early twenties, I stole from the wrong person. A lord of some kind, I never learned his name. Guards came after me, and they broke apart the small group I was living with at the time. They killed one of my friends.”

Namonora’s voice broke, and Rowan shifted in discomfort. Unsure just exactly where she was taking this story, why she felt the need to tell it to him.

“Then they hauled me to the palace, jailed me, and sentenced me to six months’ hard labor. In the textile mills in Kerrcian.” A swallow. “I began to plot my escape. They didn’t know I had a gift. I was untrained, so it was small and easily hidden. I sharpened my water into blades, and began to cut at the bars they held me in. But of course, I was discovered within days, and they covered my hands in iron gloves.

“Only now they knew I had a gift of healing, and everything changed. Queen Maeve sent for me. I can still remember the way my hands shook as I walked through the stone hallways and into the throne room…” She trailed off, her eyes far away.

“She listened as I told my story, listened to my complaints and my excuses. But just when I expected her to render judgement, to punish me for my theft and my desperation, she began to tell me a story of her own.”

Namonora’s face clouded over, in anger or fear or hate, Rowan was not sure.

“She told me a story of evil men, and a narrow escape. Of violence and power and corruption and abuse. I do not know how much of it was true, if any. And I don’t know why she decided to tell it to me. But I remember what Maeve said once she finished.” A deep breath.

“She told me that we should accept the vileness. That instead of trying to change the wicked, instead of trying to fix or heal or learn, we must make ourselves more powerful. That the only way to right the wrongs done to us, is to ensure that they suffered in kind.

“She told me that she would do all she could to win. All she could to protect herself. And to take the revenge she thought herself owed.”

Namonora’s voice was as ice.

“Before she let me go that day, our Queen said that I would owe her for this. That one day, she would call in this debt of mine. I promised her I would do as she asked, then she sent me away to be trained. To learn the healing arts, hidden away in the compound astride the capital city.”

Rowan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the healer, couldn’t help the dread that pooled in his stomach as he began to suspect what was coming next…

“I learned well, and years passed. The work was difficult, and yet those were the safest and most comfortable years I had yet experienced. Though always, the shadow of that debt hung over me, a cat just waiting to pounce. And then, nearly a decade later, she sent for me once more.

“Even though I was no longer that scared little girl, even though I had learned and grown and become an accomplished healer, it was no different this time than the last. My hands still trembled as I walked through those granite hallways, and I can still remember the way my heartbeat pounded in my eardrums.

“And my fear was not unwarranted.”

Rowan felt the dread begin to curdle in his gut.

“Maeve wanted to ask me to become her personal healer, to be by her side and protect her always. She wanted me to swear the blood oath. To be her slave.” A deep breath. “I declined her offer.”

Rowan’s gaze fixed to the floor.

“So that is why I am here, Prince. Despite my many accomplishments. Why I have been banished to the fringes. I refused to do her bidding, and she punished me accordingly.”

Namonora raised her arms to Rowan, and pulled up the long sleeves of her linen gown – revealing ancient, mottled scars. The remnants of deep burns.

“Maeve controls through fear. And she does whatever she can to best serve her own interests, regardless of the harm. Even by defeating and subjugating her enemies before they even become so.” She lowered her arms, letting the sleeves pool once more to cover the old injuries. Her gaze was a stone thrown at his face.

“You know this prince; you have been doing this for her for centuries now. But this girl, this princess...she is different. She could be something different.”

Rowan turned his eyes away, but Namonora was undeterred.

“You must protect her. Even if you have to sacrifice the whole of the fortress to do so, you must keep her safe. This fight doesn’t matter – war is coming. And it is bigger than a fortress in the mists of Doranelle.”

Her voice was insistent. “You must save her, But not for you. Not for your own happiness. The world turns on that child’s fingertips, and I think you know it. Do not forget what your queen has done for power.”

There was a pause, but then Rowan raised his head to see Aelin and the girl, across the way, laughing with each other. Bright. Warm.

He turned to face Namonora, and he nodded.

···

They spent the rest of the evening back at the fortress, discussing their plans for the next few days. They had left Emrys, along with a selection of sentries and few other older demi-Fae who would not be able to fight, with the healers. Rowan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forget the look on Malakai’s face as he walked away from his mate.

Darkness fell, the moon rose, and soon he and Aelin were making their way to bed. Within a minute of entering their rooms, Aelin was undressed and flopping into bed, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

Instead of joining her, Rowan turned to the washbasin, peeling off his shirt and beginning to clean the seat and grime from his limbs. “You did well helping me plan tonight.”

Her reply was wry. “You sound surprised.”

Rowan wiped his face, then leaned against the dresser, bracing his hands against either end. The wood groaned in protest.

Everything had changed between them, and yet absolutely nothing had.

Rowan began to turn back to face her, but his eyes were caught by a golden glint. Aelin had left Goldryn casually leaning against the bedpost, its ruby smoldering in the dim light. Rowan ran a finger across the hit.

What a flimsy shield he had given her. Namonora’s words swirled in his mind, and he wished, wished with everything he had, that he could protect her. Could keep her safe.

Rowan let go of the dresser and approached the bed. “I sent word,” he said, the words slipping from his lips as if by accident. “To my…cadre, as you like to call them.”

Aelin’s face tightened, almost imperceptibly. “When?”

“A few days ago. I don’t know where they all are or whether they’ll arrive in time. Maeve might not let them come – or some of them might not even ask her. They can be…unpredictable. And it may be that I just get the order to return to Doranelle, and – ”

“You actually called for aid?” She cut off his babbling.

His eyes narrowed. I just said that I did.

She stood, and he retreated a step. What changed your mind?

Some things are worth the risk.

This time, he didn’t back away as Aelin took another step towards him. And another. Her face was filled with some deep emotion, a well so dark he could not see the bottom.

Her words were ragged. “I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”

Rowan turned away from her before she could see the way his face twisted, before she could read the words that would surely be obvious there.

Because it didn’t matter. Even if they survived, when they went to Doranelle, she would walk out of Maeve’s realm alone.

And it hurt.

Her words wormed inside him and ached and festered and itched.

Hurt even more because he knew that under different circumstances, in a different life, he would be filled with joy. And love. And happiness and every other hopeful and tragic and heart-wrenching emotion you feel when you’re accepted by another person for exactly who you are.

Rowan stood there, listening as Aelin rustled the covers, getting herself settled in for sleep. He collected himself, then padded over to join her.

As he settled into bed beside her, it almost seemed as though she relaxed into his form. Her breaths coming more even, and her lithe body falling comfortably still.

But they did not touch, and all night Rowan knew he would feel the pressure of that hollow ache, that need to wrap his arms around her, to feel her skin on his and know that she was still alive.

To believe that perhaps, she could be his. As he was already hers.

...

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