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xtruss · 5 months

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Art by Mawhyah Milton. Source photo of Sandra Day O'Connor: National Archives and Records Administration

Sandra Day O’Connor’s Journey to Supreme Court Justice

How the Arizona Lawyer became one of the Most Powerful Women in America.

— August 11, 2021 | Kirstin Butler

In the late 1970s, Sandra Day O’Connor, then a judge for the Maricopa County Superior Court in Arizona, wrote a note to herself. “Don’t let fate take over,” it said in her neat cursive script. “You can influence your destiny.” In August 1979, she would have that opportunity. Warren Burger, then Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, traveled to her home state for a judicial conference in Flagstaff. Burger’s chief of staff had asked local contacts to suggest a pastime for his boss following the conference. The result was a houseboat excursion on Lake Powell with a group of legally savvy friends. O’Connor and her husband, both lawyers by training and fixtures on the Arizona social scene, were invited. And so she found herself, in late summer, floating on a manmade reservoir with the country’s preeminent judge for three days.

We just had a fabulous time,” O’Connor recalled later. “Sometimes we would sit in inner tubes and float in the lake, and sometimes we’d fish, and sometimes we’d just sit on the houseboat as we went along. It was a great trip.” Most significantly for O’Connor’s career, she and Burger talked. Each night, O’Connor and “the Chief,” as he liked to be called, stayed up well past midnight comparing notes on politics and the law.

Afterward, Burger became one of her boosters. In order to raise her profile in the legal community, he had her added to the Anglo-American Legal Exchange, a prestigious annual get-together for American and British jurists. When O’Connor attended the gathering the following summer, the reunion was fond. “I was glad to see him,” she recorded in a diary. “He is warm and friendly.” By then, her own professional standing had risen another level. In December 1979, Arizona’s governor selected O’Connor to be a judge on the state’s Court of Appeals. As Arizona’s second-highest court (above it remained only the state’s federal Court of Appeals), the new position gave O’Connor more national visibility, particularly within the very small cadre of female Republican judges. It was the promotion to this role that brought her to the attention of an even more prominent person.

During his 1980 presidential campaign, Ronald Reagan grew concerned that he lagged his opponent Jimmy Carter in polls with female voters. Two weeks before Election Day, Reagan announced that he would nominate a woman to one of the first Supreme Court vacancies of his hopeful administration. The president had only been in office a few months when then-Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart gave notice, privately, that he planned to step down. The U.S. Attorney General’s office in turn began a furtive search for Stewart’s replacement.

Attorney General William French Smith kept a short list of contenders on the back of a message slip on his desk in the Justice Department. O’Connor’s name was on this exclusive roster of potential woman justices. She was the least well-known of the group. But in addition to Burger’s stamp of approval, she had another judge on the High Court in her corner. Justice William Rehnquist and O’Connor had been contemporaries at Stanford Law School in the early 1950s, even dating for a period. He lobbied for her appointment from behind the scenes.

The formal invitation came on June 25, 1981. When Attorney General Smith asked whether O’Connor would travel to Washington, D.C. for an interview, she replied, mischievously: “I assume you’re calling about secretarial work?” A younger O’Connor had queried dozens of California law firms for a position upon her graduation from Stanford but came up hard against the legal profession’s sexism. Her only interview came from a firm where Smith was previously a partner, Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher. Her interviewer there asked her how well she could type.

Sandra Day O'Connor meeting with President Ronald Reagan in the White House Rose Garden, July 15, 1981. White House Photographic Collection, Ronald Reagan Presidential Library, National Archives

O’Connor met President Reagan in the Oval Office several days later. Her knack for befriending powerful men once again served her well. “She puts you at ease," a participant in the meeting remarked to TIME magazine. "She's a real charmer."

The nomination was hers. The President officially announced her appointment to the Supreme Court on July 7. “She is truly a person for all seasons,” he told an audience of reporters in the White House briefing room, “possessing those unique qualities of temperament, fairness, intellectual capacity and devotion to the public good which have characterized the 101 brethren who have preceded her."

One hurdle remained before she could become Justice number 102: the confirmation hearings. O’Connor put herself through rigorous training preparations. Over five days, she met with 39 senators in advance of the hearings, paying special visits to potential political opponents. Then, over the next two months, she crammed with the intensity of a first-year law school student. None of her judicial appointments to date had required knowledge of constitutional law, and O’Connor had an abundance of remedial learning to do. Her preparations even included a visit, before the confirmation hearings began, to the chamber where they would be held. As a result she knew what to expect two days later: Dozens of cameras were already trained where she would be seated, the focus of the room.

Sandra Day O'Connor fields an inquiry during her confirmation hearings, Sept 9, 1981. MediaPunch Inc./Alamy Stock Photo

Her hearings before the Senate Judiciary Committee were the first of any Supreme Court nominee’s to be broadcast live on television, and tens of millions tuned in. O’Connor’s interrogators attempted, time and again over three days, to probe her on the most controversial issue surrounding her nomination: What was her stance on the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision legalizing abortion? She answered adroitly, alternating among circumspection, evasion and in-depth legalistic analysis. “Through three days of hearings,” TIME commented after their conclusion, “O'Connor retained total control of the proceedings.” Her Senate confirmation was unanimous at 99 votes to 0.

On September 25, 1981, O’Connor raised her right hand and repeated the oath for incoming members of the Supreme Court, read aloud to her by “the Chief,” now her senior-most colleague. In becoming the court’s first female judge, O’Connor had been master of her own destiny. Now, and over the next 24 years, she would influence the destiny of an entire nation.

#Sandra Day O’Connor #Journey to The Supreme Court of the United States 🇺🇸#Arizona Lawyer #President Ronald Reagan #NOVA | PBS

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mangoisms · 6 months

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omg i hadn’t even thought about the hierarchy of needs in that way, it actually makes a lot of sense, but yeah that’s actually a really good idea thank you! and yeah thank you so much for the help i really appreciate it, i’ve been just having like a ton of fun connecting certain characters to psych so yeah. also i will definitely give those a read! i think they’ll fit really well with the stuff i’ve already got too, and i needed more examples to do you also just saved me like an hour of searching so i am forever indebted to you 🙏🏼. i’ll definitely elaborate on that more in the project and let you know how i do lolol.

and since we’re doing memory rn (thank god we moved past the anatomy stuff. eugh. anyways. ) i connected tim’s recollection of the night dicks parents died in a lonely place of dying to arousal theory, and flashbulb memory, since he said he had nightmares about it which in my opinion was a pretty solid connection so i’m fairly confident i’ll get those points

but yeah i have seen some jason and babs stuff here and there and it’s just?? odd. but like i don’t dislike it enough to not read something that has it lol so yeah i’ll check those out! ALSO off topic but i saw something once about bruce and babs?? like they were kissing. and stuff. which is??? um??? it was animated but i have no idea what it was but i did not like it 😭

totally meant to answer this earlier so sorry!!! but!! here i am <3

of course! super happy to help! it's kind of niche really HAHA talking about psych and the bats, so it is very fun to do it!

glad you're having a better time in class now too!!! i had registration for the spring this week and we had like. three options for our singular elective and all of them kind of sucked so i had to go with human cognition which i am Very Scared about but a classmate whose advisor is the prof for the class says his classes are easy/the prof is nice so i am hopeful 🤞 that it will be ok 😭

that's really neat though!!! i have to be honest i had to google some of that it has been Very Long since i had my intro class... super cool though!!! i hope you get points for that too hehe it certainly sounds like a good connection!

i was thinking of bruce and lifespan perspective theory (in developmental psych ^_^ since i'm taking that class rn), there's something called multifinality and equifinality. multifinality is usually when people have similar backgrounds but it is still possible for them to end up in very different places or with different outcomes. equifinality is sort of the opposite, where different initial conditions or experiences can lead to similar outcomes or developmental trajectories.

i think there's something to be said about equifinality and bruce losing his parents at a young age and being defined by that, then becoming the batman as a result of it, then you look at tim who, initially, had both of his parents, became robin, then lost his mom, and then lost his dad, and ultimately wound up as an orphan too. they started in very different places and ended up in similar ones.

i wanted to use dick and bruce for multifinality (similar beginnings and all) but i do wonder if their outcomes are that different... you know what i am going to go with, yeah, they are different, dick deserves that much HAHA i won't say he's turned out like bruce, i don't think he has LOL

anyway kind of got carried away with that but YEAH. god i should've brought that up in class. anyway LMAO

no yeah three jokers is questionable in quality i only re-read it for the pretty art HAHA. and oooh yeah i've heard about that... it is SO weird... babs i'm gonna get u out of there i swear...

ANYWAY! good luck with everything <333

#inbox #anonymous

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clancy2001 · 6 months

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Week 14 Thoughts

The semester is done! At the end of not just this semester but my degree as a whole! I was so glad I got to take part in this class, playing games has always been a passion of mine and to learn some of steps in game development as part of my degree has been so interesting and lead me to want to develop games in my spare time.

Working on the playtesting report has been great, as I've been fortunate to have three great group members in Umang, Samantha and Hannah who have all contributed to the final result. They each brought different skills and ideas to the table which made development fun.

Having my sister and her boyfriend playtest my game was very cool as my sister has completed a bachelor of games herself while her partner likes to play games in his spare time as well. It was very satisfying to finally finish our prototype and get testing with a cool progression of levels starting in a grass level then sand level then two spooky levels to finish. Halloween was the overall theme of our game as the player controls a pumpkin person who has escaped an evil witch and must reach the end while collecting as many points as possible.

It was fun developing a platformer as platformers would be my favourite genre of games so to see the inner workings of what makes them tick per say has been fascinating. With any project like this there are things to reflect and look back on with obvious things like "I wish I started sooner!" or "I wish I wasn't working on this at 11pm at night" with any university student. However, in terms of reflecting on the game itself I think making more levels would've been fun and perhaps fleshing out the existing levels as they are at the moment just about one screen each. Perhaps having secret rooms unlocked with the invisible platforms leading to them would've been cool. More enemies or rather enemies specifically themed to each level would've been good too but the functionality and difference between our enemies was good. Except I would've liked if the small blob actually did something rather than sit still and would've been better for our players but we had an idea of it being hard to spot that you must be careful for but perhaps was not the right execution of that idea.

I've grown to appreciate playtesting as an important step of the development lifecycle as I always perceived playtesting as this final piece of the puzzle akin to beta testing simply to find bugs. However, if done correctly and involving the right people it can extend to being part of this iterative design process where new ideas come up watching the game be played or from player feedback.

Again I'm very glad I did this class as an elective and want to thank the teaching team for a great first experience with game development as while I had done IGB180 last semester as an elective that was more analysis than development. I certainly want to work on making my own games as a hobby and maybe one day I'll return to university and complete a Bachelor of Games.

#igb220

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reasoningdaily · 8 months

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Allegations of election fraud against two Georgia election workers who became the subjects of a Trump-backed conspiracy theory in the aftermath of the 2020 election were found to be "false and unsubstantiated," according to an investigative report released Tuesday by the Georgia Elections Board. Ruby Freeman and her daughter, Wandrea "Shaye" Moss, both former election workers from Fulton County, faced threats of violence from conspiracy theorists after their election-night conduct on a polling place livestream proliferated online among right-wing election deniers who believed Donald Trump won the 2020 election.

In one video clip, online commentators accused Freeman of handling a suitcase of fraudulent or stolen ballots.

Former Georgia election workers Ruby Freeman, left, and her daughter Shaye Moss appear on the ABC News program Impact x Nightline, Nov. 3, 2022.

ABC News

Another clip showed Freeman handing her daughter a small item, imperceptible on the grainy livestream footage, that led some online commentators to accuse the two of exchanging a USB drive, which was allegedly meant to somehow manipulate votes. Freeman said it was just ginger mints that she kept in her purse.

The following week, Trump's personal attorney, Rudy Giuliani, appeared before a committee of the Georgia state legislature to advocate for their intervention in the electoral college certification -- and told the legislators that a video circulating online showed "Ruby Freeman and Shaye Freeman Moss ... quite obviously surreptitiously passing around USB ports, as if they're vials of heroin or cocaine."

Testifying last year in the House select committee's Jan. 6 hearings, Freeman said, "I've lost my name and I've lost my reputation, I've lost my sense of security, all because a group of people starting with No. 45 and his ally Rudy Giuliani decided to scapegoat me and my daughter Shaye, to push their own lies about how the presidential election was stolen."

Freeman told ABC News' Terry Moran that she subsequently received so much harassment from conspiracy theorists that she was forced to pack up and leave the suburban Atlanta home where she lived for 20 years.

As part of their probe, Georgia Elections Board investigators interviewed a social media user who "admitted he created a fake account and confirmed the content that was posted on the account was fake," the new report said.

Von DuBose, the attorney representing Freeman and Moss, said in a statement following the release of the report, "This serves as further evidence that Ms. Freeman and Ms. Moss -- while doing their patriotic duty and serving their community -- were simply collateral damage in a coordinated effort to undermine the results of the 2020 presidential election."

"Lies about Ms. Freeman and Ms. Moss have been proven false over and over again, and those who perpetuate them should be held accountable," DuBose said. "We are glad the State Election Board finally put this issue to rest," Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger said in a statement.

"False claims and knowingly false allegations made against these election workers have done tremendous harm," Raffensperger said. "Election workers deserve our praise for being on the front lines."

#Georgia poll workers accused in Trump-backed conspiracy theories cleared of election fraud allegations #Ruby Freeman #Shay Moss

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k00289086 · 1 year

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PROJECT STATEMENT

ELECTIVES: FASHION, PHOTOGRAPHY, GRAPHIC DESIGN

For the movement project i chose SUNSETS basically the movement of sun all day from sunset to sunrise. In the start i was little confused to choose this i started as the environment as everyday whats happening around us from day to night. But later on i decided to choose sun as movement instead of whole lot of things, which ofcourse i can't make in project so many things. So the movement of sun all day along sunrise to sunsets, I personally like sunsets a lot so this was my favourite part to work on it on above 3 Electives.

FASHION: I started my first 2 weeks in fashion and at the first i chose flower theme because last year i work on flower theme in my fashion workshops and i was confused how to take movement of sun in my fashion workshops so i made some sketches and other stuff related to flowers in the first workshop. But Later on i changed into Sun when i got enough ideas on how to develop project.

PHOTOGRAPHY: In this one i got whole lots of ideas but at the start i learned the basic techniques of using Lens based cameras and how they work. I try to take some shots of sun in the workshop by creating my own sun from random lights which came out amazing results as i wanted. The only thing i didn't like was pinhole Photography because it took a whole while to get one black and white photo as it have to go through so many procedures and i feel like technology have went so far that no one wants to use these old techniques of taking photos where we can click photo in one second.

GRAPHIC DESIGN: The last one GDC i didn't worked a lot in it because the main thing is to use photoshop and in the first workshop it took me 6 hours for just the very basic detail of using it and still i failed a lot. i couldn't get what i want but i'm glad that i tried my best and learn how to use it. i did some artist research and overall it wasn't too bad. The main thing is once you know how to use Adobe Photoshop then you can create anything you want.

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kenzotayko · 2 years

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Tumindig.

It is exactly 8:30 P.M, in a pretty heavy night of May 10. Just as yesterday, more or less 60 million Filipinos have casted their votes and chose the outcome of our next 6 years. Honestly, as a youth who have been forged hope into the light of a good governance, it was quite disappointing and at the same time infuriating that they have chosen those who are not politically-bounded over those who already proved themselves capable to lead towards recovery.

Though, the transmission of votes are not yet completed, to be exact - 98.09% have already been transmitted back to the commission. It was a major upset for not just the “Kakampinks” (supporters of VP Leni Robredo & Sen. Kiko Pangilinan) but also the Philippines. The victory is as clear as water for the side of Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., a namesake, the son of the late dictator and authoritarian, Ferdinand Marcos Sr.

Honestly, yesterday, I am just feeling heavy after seeing the result. I never knew that was the feeling of heartbreak. It was not something romantical, but with lime light hope for the country to have a better and efficient governance. We wasted another leader that is as unusual as diamond, probably, it would take long time to see another Leni Robredo & Kiko Pangilinan alike in politics.

Actually, I am not frustrated by VP Leni’s defeat, but the ignorant choice of the people. I actually think that we are evolving backwards as time past. Nightmares of the decades are slowly turning into fake glories of days and those who raped the country will once again bring back to power.

They never know the consequence of their actions. Others invalidate the feelings and opinions of us, youth. Saying that we shouldn’t be messing up with this election, since we are not yet voters. With all of these, one thing is for sure, they are too egoistic, pathetic, and naïve to understand the situation. Sorry for my words, I just felt that this was the right thing and place to air my concern. I hope you we get through along with this.

This election is the most historic post-EDSA event yet. It is a do-or-die for the Filipinos. Actually, I don’t even know why are they attacking the opposition instead of helping them with one shared goal. I guess they haven’t realized that this battle is between the Marcoses (including their cronies) and Filipino people. The only aim of the Marcoses is for them to go back to the Malacañang, which Toni Gonzaga explicitly stated as Bongbong’s home. How cool is that?

I totally understand that the “sin of the father, is not the sin of the son.” However, this can’t be applicable to this one since Bongbong benefitted from billions of pesos they’ve stole from the funds of the people, which supposedly for the future generation, which is currently us. He also faces multiple cases of corruption and graft which currently is not being tackled about since they are too soft spoken to act. I mean what’s the point of our system if we will not filter these things out?

The other 9 candidates for presidents are way better than Marcos, I dare you to prove me wrong. I mean he is the worst candidate (by far) to ever run to the highest position of the land. He never attended debates and interview from mass-press. He never gave any platforms for the next 6 years. There were no echoing accomplishments from when he was serving back then. The only promise that he gives is unity (No, it can’t be the answer to everything). Come on guys, how come almost 32 million of 65 voted him? It is just too unacceptable.

As I have said before and I will probably say it for couple of times, this is the most infamous elections that I have experienced so far. Things were pretty rigged. I indirectly experienced, but I felt the frustrations of those 2 million Filipinos who fight in EDSA just to restore the democracy and freedom to the people.

With all of these disreputable events, I believe that our life must go on. We should not let them affect our burning passion for change. I am quite glad that I am already on my last part of the grief process. I guess, the only things that could keep us moving forward is to accept things and just hope for the best. I just wish I was wrong and they are correct, I just so wish that the newly elected officials would bring most of what we expect.

Of course, I will not forget this memorable experience that I would definitely bring forever. I am proud and loud that I took a stand for what is right and just. In my little own ways I have fought for good governance. This is something that I will not get tired of telling my grandchild. Amidst of those odds, I stood and did the best thing I could ever done.

To VP Leni Robredo & Sen. Kiko Pangilinan & My fellow Filipinos, the fight is not yet over, this is just the start. Let us not forget what we learned - “Radikal ang Magmahal.”

If there anything that I could be proud of is that

Ako ay tumindig, namulat, at hindi namuli pasisiil.

(Mabuhay ang Pilipinas)

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merakiui · 3 years

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May I please have some platonic comfort headcanons about Diluc finding out the verbally abusive domestic situation his young worker in the tavern is having? Like the young worker has dead eyes but tries to hide their situation behind a smile. You can ignore this if you wish!

Platonic Comfort with Diluc HCs

cw: descriptions of verbal/domestic abuse

You’ve had a rough day filled with many unexpected disasters. You woke up to the stove on fire because your parent had forgotten about the food; then when you were busy cleaning up after another family member, who berated you about many things, you were handed a grocery list and forced to gather everything with your own money.

Along with that, you could hardly carry everything on the list and you ended up taking two trips between your house and the market. And when you got home, a harsh scolding was in order, which left you on edge for the rest of that afternoon.

You aren’t sure why you haven’t moved out yet. You’re of age to support yourself, but it would be difficult to live away from your family for a number of reasons. For one, the lot of you are tight on money so everyone who can work works in order to scrounge up enough to pay for utilities, rent, groceries, and any other necessary fees.

The only time you can relax is when you aren’t at home, but even relaxation is a rarity. You had to get a job as soon as you became eligible to work and so you chose something relatively close, which just so happened to be the tavern Diluc runs.

You didn’t actually know of Diluc before you were hired, but you are familiar with the business he owns. Your first conversation was awkward and if you could go back in time and redo your interview you would.

But he seemed charmed by your good-natured personality and drive to constantly do your best, so you were hired on the spot. It was an impulsive decision on Diluc’s part, but he’s glad he chose you because you’ve proven to be quite the diligent worker.

Night shifts aren’t the best thing in the world, but you enjoy them because it allows you to spend time away from your home and the toxic situation that looms between you and your parent.

Perhaps it’s because of the terrible luck you’ve had all day, which causes your mind to wander between shouting matches and insults spewed in the heat of the moment. As a result, you fumble orders, lose track of who wanted what, and nearly almost spill alcohol all over yourself and the customers.

Even your coworkers are worried on your behalf; you’ve never been this clumsy before and even though it’s hours before your break one of them offers to cover for you.

Now you’re sitting alone on the second floor of the tavern, in a dimly lit corner with your head lowered onto the table. Most, if not all, of the customers are confined to the first floor, where they can delight in one another’s chatter and the melodic hum of a bard.

The setting is lively enough, yet you feel absolutely miserable. You wish you could just sleep the rest of this day away. Your tips are less than what they were last night and that’ll definitely be another reason for your parent to yell at you. As if you’re to blame for their financial situation.

The floor creaks under the weight of footsteps, but you don’t lift your head. You hardly register the person slipping into the chair across from you, sliding a plate of cheese and crackers and a drink your way.

“You should eat. It won’t help if you’re working on an empty stomach.” It’s Diluc, your boss, and your head pops off of the table while you struggle to apologize. He holds up a hand to stop you, nudging the plate closer towards you. “Go on. It’s on the house.”

“Okay... Thank you.” You take a sip from the glass; it’s grape juice. “If you’re here to fire me, I understand. I haven’t been doing my best here and if we get any complaints it’s because of me. I’m really sorry for—“

“I’m not here to fire you. We all have our bad days. The least I can do is provide some form of help.” Diluc is pleased to watch you snack and calm down, memories of this day slowly crawling to the back of your mind.

“I want to make it up to you, but I don’t know how. If you want to take money out of my pay, go ahead. It’s what I get for being so unfocused tonight.”

He frowns at your words, shaking his head in disagreement. “It’s obvious you’ve had a difficult night. Why don’t you take this time to get yourself together? I’ll have someone take care of your work for the time being.”

“But that would make me useless! I don’t want to sit here when I’m perfectly okay. I can work. I will work,” you protest after shoveling another cracker into your mouth.

“Are you okay?” The question catches you off guard and you’re enticed into spilling the truth; you’re not okay. You’re stressed and tired and so sick of everything. A smile forces its way onto your face despite the groggy look in your eyes.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Diluc sighs. “You’re not obligated to come in here with a smile. I don’t mind what mood you’re in as long as it doesn’t compromise your work ethic. But you’ve been doing your best since I hired you. There hasn’t been a day where I was unhappy with your work. It’s all right to take a break every now and then, so don’t feel pressured to hide your feelings.”

You’re struck dumb by his words. You’ve shared conversation with Diluc before, but he’s never said anything of this nature to you before. So maybe you can blame your teary eyes on this bad day, oddly comforted to know that he cares.

“You...” You’re wiping at your eyes, refusing to cry in front of your boss. “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say. Honestly. This—you don’t know how much better that makes me feel.”

He’s compelled to smile. You’ve always been a hard worker, but sometimes you push yourself a little too hard. “Take all the time you need up here. We’ve got plenty of staff downstairs.”

“If you say so...” It doesn’t feel right to accept such kindness, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need this. “Again, thank you.”

“If you’d like to be alone, I’ll leave. But if you would prefer some company, I could stay for a few minutes. Whatever will help you feel better.”

You could elect to keep to yourself, but you’re worried your thoughts will eat you alive if they’re left with you. So you accept the latter of his offer, quietly saying, “I hope you don’t mind...”

“Of course not. I could use a little company myself. It’s been a tiring day.”

“Was it that bard again? The one with the braids?” you joke and when his eyelid twitches, you can’t contain your laughter. “He’s like a cat! You feed it a bowl of milk once and suddenly it thinks that bowl will be there every day.”

Diluc quirks a small, barely visible smile at that, content with the fact that your mood is already beginning to improve. “I suppose he is rather troublesome like that.”

You’re smiling again, but this time it’s one filled with genuine amusement. And Diluc’s happy to see that. He hopes that whatever it is you’re going through won’t last forever, but with the way you yawn and rub at your eyes he can’t help but worry.

He gets up and makes his way to the staircase. But before he disappears down the steps, he looks at you and says, “If there’s something bothering you, you can always tell me. I’ll do what I can to help. So don’t burden yourself, okay?”

Words fail you in this moment and you’re reduced to a nodding mess, tears threatening to fall again. You couldn’t have asked for a better boss.

#tw: verbal abuse #tw: domestic abuse #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact diluc #diluc x reader #diluc headcanons #diluc hcs #diluc #genshin impact diluc x reader #diluc x reader headcanons #diluc x reader hcs

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Change of Heart

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen )

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Preserve had originally been an isolated island about 50 miles off the coast of the mainland. Over the decades, the land had been expanded with man made floats serving to support the extra buildings and complexes that cropped up to cater to the small human population that stuck around to help out.

The wolves still kept to the interiors, most of them having built huge cottage-villas which could house the entire pack, territories marked out clearly to avoid disputes. A few of the very traditional ones lived on the huge mountains that lined the northern end, opting to stay in their wolf-forms most of the time.

The island itself was beautiful, rich vegetation , a thriving fauna and a landscape that was lined with beautifully stark cliffs up high and private little coves and beaches scattered below.

Taehyung and his daughter lived on a beautiful beach side villa, which had its own vegetable garden , a staff of over 8 to take care of everything, a private jetty for trips to the mainland and a helipad/ airstrip.

True to his word, Taehyung did not stay around most days. He was busy with his campaign and I spent the first week recovering. The doctor visited everyday and by the end of the week, most of the internal injuries were healing well, the pain well managed with meds.

Luna had moved into my room, pretty much and I spent the days with her curled into my side, reading from her favorite books, stopping when she encountered a particularly difficult word, ebony eyes turning to mine for help. We read countless books, and she introduced me to all her best friends : Mr. Ted the bear, Kihyun the bunny and Momo the panda. The stuffed animals had a small baby carrier of their own and she liked carting them all around the house.

“She was really pretty. Mama....” Luna whispered one night, as we lay curled on the window seat in my room, a fur throw covering us up as we stared out into the rocky beach far below.

I felt my heart lurch in shared grief.

“Was she? What else do you remember about her....?” I asked softly.

“Her scent. “ Luna said quickly. “ She smelled just like you. Like home and fresh cookies with sugar sprinkles. And rainy puddles you can jump in.”

I bit my lips, mindful that Luna was just listing her favorite things. I didn’t know much about how weres scented other weres or humans. But i supposed it made sense that her mother’s scent should remind her of things that offered her comfort and joy.

But her next words threw me for a loop.

“Daddy didn’t like her much....” She said suddenly and I felt my throat close up .

“Oh-Oh?” I was genuinely shocked. Taehyung had looked devastated when he had told me about his wife’s passing....

Luna shook her head.

“My friend from school, Mina? Her mommy’s still alive and her daddy likes her. They kiss and stay in the same room. Mommy and Daddy never kissed. Mommy lived on the east wing.... That’s on the other side. Near the rose gardens.”

I bit my lips, feeling incredibly guilty for some reason. This information felt somehow private and not for stranger’s ears. I didn’t want Luna to get into trouble for saying this to me .

“I miss her sometimes. I’m glad you’re here.” She sniffled and i felt my heart crack in two. The girl was replacing her mom with me, I thought miserably. I couldn’t in good conscience let this happen.

But as the days stretched into weeks, with Taehyung out and busy most of the time, i couldn’t bring myself to leave. Luna did appear to be calmer, more grounded and happier with me around. She liked staying close to me, at touching distance and she often buried her nose into my neck, sniffing till I had to gently pry her off.

Although, absent physically, Taehyung called every day. He facetimed his daughter twice at least and I got a call every night at exactly nine. It was usually curt and formal but he did tell me what he was upto.

“The elections are coming up soon.... I need to work a bit more on the immediate reforms we’re planning to launch...I won’t be available this week, Luna’s keeping well?”

“Yes, she is. We made a modern recreation of red riding hood and the wolf today with play dough.”

Silence.

“Interesting choice of fairy tale, Mi Rae ssi...” He drawled.

I flushed at how my name sounded in that voice.

“It’s a bit different plot wise. In this case, the granny is just a meanie who likes to order Red about and the wolf is the one who rescues her.” I grinned.

He chuckled amicably.

“Bit of a stretch , that. But I’m glad you’re happy. I didn’t want to pressure you too much and i know its asking way too much of you . But Ms. Lee says that Luna is happier than she’s ever been and I do believe you’re the one I have to thank for that. “

I bit my lips. I wanted to tell him that Luna was getting way too attached. That I was afraid of what would happen when it was time for me to leave, but already i could hear voices in the background, people calling for his attention and I remembered that he was doing something important.

He was trying to build a better world for his little girl.

In the long run, all of this would be for Luna’s benefit only.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

it had been nearly a month since I’d last seen Taehyung . A whole three months since I’d moved into his villa. My paycheck as a nanny was three times what I was paid as a lab tech. But I hadn’t stopped working at the research facility either. I spent the days there, when Luna was busy with her school work . The vaccine had been successful but somehow, my father’s company had pulled some sort of nonsense with the patenting and not everyone had got the shorts.

I stared out into the murky blue waters as they crashed into the jagged black rocks that lined the private beach. The huge bay windows in the living space offered an unfettered view of the rocky beach.

Next to me, Luna was pretty much bouncing around, trying to find all her beach day toys. I watched her fondly, feeling something squeeze my heart when I thought about not seeing her again. The elections were done, the results were due any day now and Taehyung had already told me that he was looking to end this arrangement soon.

Luna had a mind like no other. A vibrantly curious child with the most incredible questions, it was clear that she adored her father more than anything else in the world. In the evenings, she liked to play near the small water inlet that fed into the Ocean. The water was shallow, barely an inch or so deep, the terrain covered in small smooth pebbles in every shade of brown of grey.

Luna and I spent most of the weekends exploring the small beach around the villa, foraging around in the coves while her caregiver watched me covertly from a distance. She clearly didn’t trust me much, but I tried not to let it get to me.

I wasn’t here to stay. Taehyung had sent me a mail the previous week, letting me know that I was no longer had to babysit, because he was planning to move to Seoul himself. He would be renting out a condominium there and hiring a full time nanny.

And that was fine. it wasn’t like i hadn’t seen that coming. I had a life of my own and i had to get back to it. My cottage near the research facility was fixed now and I was looking forward to getting back to my life, no matter how much it hurt to leave Luna behind.

I was a little upset that he had sent an impersonal mail to me instead of talking to me in person. Or maybe spoken about it over the phone at least. But I knew that he was just trying to make it easier for me to cut all ties.

Okay, fine, maybe I was a little bit bitter that Taehyung hadn’t even offered to hire me to take care of Luna . I wasn’t qualified , yes, but so far Luna had been a dream to stay with. She was so inquisitive and bright, so full of sunshine and happiness.

After three months of her unconditional love for me, the idea of not coming home to her vibrant laugh and endless giggles, it just felt so painful.

“Rae Rae, let’s gooooo....” Her voice broke me out of my thoughts . Despite endless protests from Ms. Lee, Luna insisted on calling me Rae Rae and I found it adorable.

I jumped a little, hastily moving to grab the sunscreen, the hat and gloves. While Luna did heal quickly courtesy her wolf-y genes, she was also incredibly prone to sunburn. The first few times, she had promptly shifted into her wolf form when i tried to put it on her, snipping my fingers angrily. The chemical was supposed to be unscented but her sensitive nose had clearly picked it up anyway.

It took a lot of bribing with delicious meat patties and steak bites, for the girl to shift back and let me apply it on her.

But now she was comfortable with letting me apply it on her when we went to the beach.

She picked up her backpack, a baby blue fur lined affair with twin bunny ears near the handle , and the small tote bag full of her collection of seashells and skipped out of the room happily. I finished packing the rest of her beach stuff : towels, napkins, hair pins and a change of clothes just in case.

We were just climbing down the huge stairwell, when Taehyung’s voice rang through the foyer, startling me badly. i hadn’t seen him in a long time and against my better judgement I almost half ran back to put some make up on at least. I probably looked like an ogre with smeared sunscreen and my hair uncombed and in a bun.

“Lu - Lu? Baby???” He called out, his deep voice pretty much reverberating off the walls .

“DAAAADAAAAAA”

I watched her almost tumble headlong the stairs in her rush to get into her father’s arms and I hung back, letting them have their reunion.

I waited till Taehyung called out for me, before moving to greet him as well.

The first thing that stuck me was how incredibly handsome he looked, hair now fully black, swept straight back from his forehead. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a loose black shirt, buttons undone to show the lines of his pecs and a pair of dangly earrings caught the light as he turned to stare at me.

“Mi Rae ssi....i see you’re all ready for Beach day?” He grinned softly.

There was something radiant about him, a definite lack of anxiety. He looked relaxed almost.

“You won?” i blurted out. “ You won didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s eyes glinted .

“Its not officially announced yet, but yes, the Commission called me today . They think I’ve won by a landslide.

Before I could rethink my impulse, I flung myself into his arms, genuinely thrilled beyond belief.

“RThat’s so incredible, Taehyung ssi...i’m so happy for you and-”

“Tae? Should I get the other suitcase?”

The female voice made me jolt, and I pulled away, arm still arapped around his neck, intensely aware of his hands on my waist.

Three feet away from us , stood an incredibly beautiful young woman. She was almost as tall as Tae, probably the same age as him and her eyes flashed red when she looked at me.

I flinched, stepping back like i’d been scalded.

“Just leave it sweetheart, one of my men will get it. Come meet my little girl.” Taehyung said casually, shooting me one brief intense look of.....anger? annoyance? I couldn’t figure it out.

Sweetheart? did he just call her-

Luna had shuffled to hide behind my legs now, her fingers gripping my waist as she refused to greet the newcomer.

“Luna, this is Ms Jihyun. She’s a very good friend of mine.”

Jihyun dropped to her knees, eyes flashing red again as she smiled a tight lipped smile.

“Hello, Luna. How are you doing?” She said seriously. Luna’s grip on me tightened.

“She’s a little shy.” I choked out, trying to tamp down the rising sense of heartbreak. No. i had actively fought against feeling this way. Every night here, I had told myself that I would not think about Kim Taehyung. Admiring him for what he did , for how hard he worked for his kind....that was one thing ....but this. This was madness.

Taehyung reached out around me to lift Luna up into her arms.

“How about we go to the beach with Jihyun and Ms Lee today?” He said casually, holding his hand out to me.

I almost did something stupid, like press my hand into his before realizing that he was asking for the bag i had over my shoulders. Wordlessly, I handed it over.

“I want to go with Rae Rae....” Luna said sharply, lips jutting out in a petulant little pout.

“Well, Appa and Ms. Rae need to talk about something and once we’re done, I’ll join you there okay?” He ruffled her hair softly and then gently placed her back down.

Luna gave me an imploring look.

“Are you leaving me?” Her lips wobbled.

I shook my head instinctively.

“Of course not baby, I’ll be right there. Just a few minutes, okay? Don't forget your sunscreen.” I smiled and Luna pouted again but moved to Ms. Lee’s side hesitantly.

Taehyung waited till the three of them began leaving before turning to me.

“Thank you.” He said quietly , gaze moving to me with the same intensity, and this time I knew what he was doing. He was trying to gauge what I was thinking and I remembered, weakly that Alpha wolves could sometimes sense moods, changes in a person’s body temperatures and things like that. It wasn’t like mind reading or anything but a perceptive enough werewolf could definitely guess what kind of mood someone was in.

I fought to keep my face neutral. There wasn’t much I could do about how clammy and cold my entire body had gone after meeting Jihyun. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess why I didn’t l;ike Jihyun there.

“It’s not you.” He said gently.

I swallowed.

“Sorry?”

“You’re beautiful. If we were.... the same kind of people.....I wouldn’t be saying this. But because of who we are.... I’m going to say it. It’s not a good idea.” He whispered.

I flushed, feeling like my entire body had been dipped in ice cold water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said evenly.

He hummed.

“If you leave today, there’s a job waiting for you in the Research Center. It’s a level up from what you’re doing right now. I’ve asked them to put up extra security around your cabin and I’ve talked with the wolves here. No one will come anywhere near you. “

I nodded bleakly.

“Thank you.” I said quietly.

“You’re going to forget me and Luna in a few weeks. And I would rather that things end now, before Luna becomes more attached.”

I nodded.

“Can i talk to her before I leave?” I asked softly.

He hesitated.

“I don’t.... I mean, I would rather not have Jihyun be present for that. She’s.... well she’s someone I’m getting to know and she may feel -”

I wanted to kick myself in the face for ever having agreed to this whole thing.

“I understand. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to get the rest of my stuff and to say goodbye to Luna.” I said shortly.

Before he could reply, I brushed past him and ran up to my room. I had to get out of here as soon as I could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luna cried inconsolably and I was eternally grateful that no one else was there when I carefully unpacked the huge carton of snacks and toys , I’d packed for her. Taehyung had made things a little easier, by telling Luna that it wasn’t me who was leaving but it would be them. They were going to a new place so they would be leaving me behind because I had stuff to do here.

“I’m not going to be gone completely. I’m going to come visit you as often as I can alright and look....” I pulled out the small phone I’d brought her.

She stopped sniffling and held her hand out. I placed the flip phone in her hands.

“Theres just two numbers there. See the picture of the wolf? Thats daddy..... And see the one with the flower.....that’s me. If you want to talk to either of us, all you need to do is press this button.”

Luna hesitated.

“Daddy said, I can’t have any phones.” She said hesitantly. What a wonderful child, i thought fondly.

“Yes, but this isn’t the kind of phone that could hurt your eyes. It’s just a talking phone. Besides, your daddy already knows and he’s okay with it.” I smiled.

She nodded, turning the little device over and over in her hands.

“Daddy say’s we’re going to the city. Why don’t you want to come?” She said angrily and i sighed.

“Its not that I don’t want to come, baby. It’s just that my home is here. I help take care of the little pups here remember? Some of them get sick and I help make them better....” I smiled, ruffling her hair.

She nodded.

“Good girl...Now how about we go see the sandcastle you built yesterday...? See if it’s still there?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life went on and I found myself busy enough to not dwell on Taehyung too much. The vaccines were rolling out much faster now and most of the cases were milder . i spent the days in the research center and went home to my cozy cabin. Taehyung had been true to his word an an electric fence ran around the perimeter , twelve feet tall . A security guard stayed near the gate at all times, a beta werewolf named Minjun.

Two weeks after Taehyung had moved out of the island, a distraction arrived in the form of one Jeon Jungkook . He was a year younger than me and finishing his internship before becoming a radiologist. He was smart , handsome and an alpha wolf with a deceptively cute bunny like smile.

Jungkook liked following me around when we had free time and I found his incessant noona , noona...endearing. But I was also not an idiot.

Jungkook was looking for a fuck buddy and I was convenient. The only female in the research center. Werewolves didn’t do one night stands with each other, because being intimate always left a scent and it would make things messy. So weres generally went to humans for no strings attached sex.

It wasn’t that I minded , but a part of me was terrified i would do something stupid. Like call him Taehyung in the middle of us fucking.

But of course, stupid decisions were my forte.

So I did end up sleeping with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, you look miserable.” Jimin commented mildly, as I stumbled forward to the counter. I hadn’t slept much the previous night and had nearly missed the ferry to the mainland in the morning.

“I’m fine oppa. Just frazzled. Give me something strong but sweet...” I begged, riffling through my bag for my wallet. Outside, the rain poured in torrents. I was still dripping water from my hair and my jacket, although I’d been out of the rain for a whole five minutes.

“Taehyung’s been asking about you....Why don’t you pick his calls?” Jimin said casually and I flinched.

“I did pick his calls. a couple of times....” I muttered .

That had been a whole experience. Taehyung had called me two weeks back, frothing at the mouth about something.

Apparently, Ji Hyun the lovely girlfriend that Kim Taehyung like flaunting all over town, was also the older sister on one Jeon Jungkook. And because we had had sex the previous night, Jungkook had smelled like me when he visited Taehyung and Ji hyun. Even Luna had picked up on the scent.

How on earth was i supposed to know?

Taehyung had been so furious that I’d hung up the phone midway through.

“And, what happened?”

I shrugged.

“And then I got busy. Why? I’ve been talking to Luna... I even met her a couple of times. It’s not like I have any other reason to talk to him.... “ I protested.

Jimin hummed.

“He’s still seeing that model. Jeon Ji hyun? I heard her brother works in the Research center?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, sliding my drink across the counter. I stepped out of the line but stayed near the counter, staring at him. Damn it. Had Taehyung actually told Jimin about it?

“Jungkook? Yeah. He’s a doctor... He’s doing his MD , radiology and he’s here for exposure , apparently...”

“Alpha?” Jimin continued flitting about, making orders but his tone held a note of sympathy.

I shrugged.

“Yeah, he is. But we don’t talk much. We went out one night but then he’s been aloof ever since.” I shrugged again hoping that Jimin was buying my nonchalant act. i still didn’t know how much he knew.

Jungkook was a nice guy and I was a little peeved that he didn’t seem to want anything more than a friends with benefits thing. But that had less to do with him and more to do with the fact that men, in general, never seemed to consider me as a potential girlfriend.

But then, the poor guy was in probably the most crucial part of his education. Relationships were probably the farthest thing from his mind.

Jimin stopped when the last customer in the line left. He stared at me.

“Taehyung told me Luna called you one morning and Jungkook picked the phone.”

I froze.

“What?!” I hissed, completely thrown. This, I hadn’t known.

“You went out? With Jungkook? And he stayed over , I’m guessing....I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you guys did not play Jenga all night?” He glared at me. I flushed.

“Fine. We slept together. We are sleeping together....its just consensual sex between two willing parties, . It’s no big deal.” I said flippantly.

“You don’t think that’s why Taehyung has been calling you? That’s his potential brother in law right there. It’s too messy. I think you should stop. ” He frowned.

I rolled my eyes.

“Listen it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going to marry Jungkook okay? I’m not going to be calling Taehyung my brother in law either. Its not going to happen. i just had this...stupid king of crush on him and he knew about it. He turned me down too, did he tell you that. He told me him and I were too different.... meaning I wasn’t a were so he wouldn’t consider being with someone like me. ”

Jimin groaned.

“you know why he feels that way. Don’t make this about you. It’s not personal.”

“Then why is it spilling into my personal life? I have no obligation to him. I can sleep with who I want.....”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Taehyung’s a were. He’s not going to see it that way.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn how he sees it, I’m having sex with a handsome young man who is attracted to me. That’s a good time, right there and I’m not going to stop having a good time just because it offends Taehyung’s delicate sensibilities.” I snapped.

Jimin shrugged.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I went back to my cabin that evening, I found Minjun missing from his usual place near the gate. The gate was still locked so I didn’t think too much about it, merely slotting the rusty old key into the huge lock and prying it open.

I made my way to the door, opening it carefully.

i nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw who was there.

“what the- Seo Joon?” I said in disbelief, stumbling back when the tall alpha stumbled to his feet from where he was lounging on the couch.

“Well, look who’s here....if it isn’t the slutty little bitch who wants to sleep her way through every were on the island....First Taehyung and now Jungkook.....you sure know who to pick, huh.....? All powerful, influential wolves..... “ He slurred.

I stared at him. This wasn’t good. I turned on my heel, ready to run back out but he was faster than me. I groaned when he slammed into my back pinning me to the door with so much force that the wood splintered,.

While my bruised ribs had healed, they still hurt a bit. And the force of his actions left my mind reeling from the pain.

“Get off me!! “ I screamed, “ MINJUN!!!!! MINJUN HELP!!!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WHORING BITCH!!!”

He slapped me right across the face, the strength of it sending me crashing into the side table. I whimpered as I tried to get on my feet, fingers fumbling for my phone .

“it was you wasn’t it? I was supposed to be the deputy minister.... Taehyung’s supposed to be my fucking friend. instead i got fired like some lowly runt ...... It was you wasn’t it? you convinced him that humans are our fucking friends....”

I shook my head, frantic.

“No...i swear I’ve not spoken to Taehyung...i didn’t say anything... Seo Joon please don’t...” I screamed when he reached down and grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“Maybe I should fuck you too....since that's the thing people seem to be doing these days....Its because of your father isn’t it? That bastard has been all over the news, talking these past few weeks about how his precious daughter is doing a lot of work for the welfare of wolves....Maybe I should fuck his daughter too.... ” He began, reaching for my blouse.

I barely registered the nonsense about my father before a loud sound broke through the din.

The door swung open and the sound of gunfire made me scream.

I stared at the door only to see the security guard staring at us with wide eyes.

Minjun , panicked and completely overwhelmed , had blindly opened fire on both of us.

I felt the touch of the bullet to my shoulder, before the blinding explosion of pain.

But he seemed to have hit Seo Joon as well, enough times for the were to let go of me and I crashed to floor, clutching my shoulder in agony.

The sound of gunfire had attracted more people and through the throng I heard Jungkook’s voice.

“Noona.... Mirae noona is that you----???”

“Kookie!!” I croaked out desperately. Jungkook’s eyes went wide when he saw, me, pushing his way past the other wolves before letting out a snarl. The sound seemed to make the others cower and I remembered that he was an alpha too.

I gripped his arms when he reached me.

“Don’t tell Taehyung...” I gasped out, still clutching my shoulder.

“God, what the fuck.... We need to get you out of here...” He was already dialing for the ambulance. I waited for him to finish, gasping from the pain. Fuck, it hurt like hell.

“We’re going to get you to the research center first.” Jungkook said frantically.

I nodded, stumbling to my feet when he tried to lift me up.

“It’s okay...just...get me something to …” But he was already peeling off his shirt, wadding up to press against the bleeding bullet hole .

“Hyung is going to kill Seo Joon.” He said grimly.

For once, I didn’t particularly care.

My mind raced because I hadn’t thought about my father in years.

What did that tyrant want with me now??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Me trying to finish all my fics and not lose my mind in the process :’(

#taehyung #taehyung fics #taehyung sm #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung x y/n #bts x oc #bts werewolf au #taehyung werewolf au

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 3,960)

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

Part Ten: Wilbur II

Wilbur wakes the morning of the election as President of L’Manberg, and he ends the evening of the election as President of L’Manberg, voted back into office by due democratic process.

There are things in between, of course. He reads out the results for all the SMP members to hear, as well as for those who have been following the event from different servers. He makes a speech, promises protection and safety for his citizens, promises renewed growth and prosperity and above all else, freedom from tyranny. He makes a good case for it all, he’s fairly sure, though he forgets the words that he speaks as soon as he leaves his podium.

There’s a bit of a celebration, after. Impromptu, unplanned, but those are the best kind. They all pitch in, scrounge up food and drink and games to play for when they get a bit tipsy, and it’s good.

He smiles through it.

He smiles when Tubbo claps him on the back, hooting and hollering. He smiles when Niki runs up to him and throws her arms around him in an embrace, even though she was running against him. He smiles when Eret sidles up to him, murmuring congratulations and briefly pressing his hand. He even smiles when a few citizens of the Greater SMP come to join in, Sapnap and Punz and Ponk and Karl. He smiles and smiles and smiles, and why shouldn’t he smile?

This is what he wanted. To know that his people continue to have faith in him, that they still believe him best for the job. To hold on to power, but to do it the right way. To be given full permission to assure the safety and freedom of those he loves, and the land that he has made.

The smile only slips twice.

Once: meeting Fundy’s eyes across the way. Fundy breaks his gaze just as quickly, glancing to the side, and he doesn’t come to speak with him. He’s not sure what to do about that. He’s not so blind as to not notice the tension that’s sprung into place between them lately, though he still can’t ascertain its origin. And it’s only gotten worse now, of course—but what did Fundy expect, that he would just let him commit voter fraud? He’s disappointed in his actions, and he can’t disguise that. Shouldn’t have to disguise that, because Fundy ought to know that wasn’t the right thing to do. But that means that his son steers clear of him. And he’ll admit that it hurts. Both for that, and for the fact that Fundy would do such a thing in the first place.

So the smile slips, when no one is looking.

But that is once, and twice comes now: Tommy bounding up to him, grin bright and wild, eyes shining with a light that he hasn’t seen there in—too long. Far, far too long. That light has been present all day, ever since he stepped up to the podium and announced the results, and Tommy let out a whoop and a holler and pumped his fist into the air like he was trying to punch the daylight from the sky, and it was so very Tommy that in that moment, he could feel nothing but relief. In general, Tommy’s seemed very relaxed. Celebratory, jubilant. As he should be.

And now, here he is, beaming, staring him in the face, gripping his arms. Eyes shining.

“How we feeling, big man?” he asks, loud and carefree, and it’s obvious from the way that he asks that he expects a certain kind of answer. Wilbur is more than happy to give it to him. He reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Tommy ducks away, but even that scowl doesn’t last for long.

“I’m on top of the world,” he says, and feels his own smile widen. For the first time in a while, he can look at Tommy and not feel pressing worry, not feel a tightness in his chest and a certainty in his bones that something is very, very wrong, that something has happened, and that in some way, he has failed. “We fucking did it, man.”

“We sure fucking did!” Tommy crows. “You and me, best fucking—best fucking day ever. We’re gonna make sure that L’Manberg’s the best country in the literal history of everything. And you’ll be the best president.”

“Of course I will,” he says. “That’s why they’ve elected me.”

Tommy nods sagely. Still grinning. Still bright-eyed. “It’s all going to be alright,” he says, voice lowering just a little. He sounds so very sincere. “Everything’s actually gonna be alright. You’re gonna do so great. You’re gonna do great, right?”

Of course he will. He will not settle for anything less. This duty has been entrusted to him once again, and he will not let his city fail, nor his people fall. He is the one they look to. He built this nation, and he must protect it. He will be great. He has more than just his own hopes riding on his back, and anything less than greatness is unacceptable, both for his own sake and for that of everyone else, for his own legacy and for the seeds planted in the present.

“We’re gonna do great,” he says. “You and I, and all of us.”

“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, and glances around him, at the celebration, still under full swing. Quackity has somehow obtained a stripper pole, and both Karl and Sapnap are looking on in great interest as he displays his talents in that area. Wilbur finds himself watching for a moment too long before tearing his gaze away. But Tommy doesn’t pay mind to any of that—which is good, because he is a child, a little baby man, and maybe he should go over to Quackity and talk about him toning it down, actually, while the minors are here—and instead brings his focus back around to him again.

“They all love you man, y’know?” Tommy says, voice going softer still. He finds his own expression gentling to match.

“They love this,” he agrees. “They love L’Manberg.”

“Because what’s not to love?” Tommy says, nodding in satisfaction. “Really, though, man. You’re gonna be alright. You’re gonna do great. No reason to worry about anything, y’know?”

“Okay, that’s a little concerning, coming from you,” he says. “Are there any shenanigans I should know about?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy says, swatting at his arm. “I’m gonna go find where Tubbo got off to. But just, have a good night, yeah, Wil? You’ve really earned it. Future’s looking up.”

“I will,” he says. “And you too, Tommy, you’ve earned this just as much as I have. Maybe even more. Go have fun.” He pauses. “And if there do happen to be any shenanigans, let me know, would you? It’s been a while since I took part in any good old-fashioned shenanigans.”

Tommy casts him one last grin, brilliant as any sunrise he’s seen. And then, he’s off, weaving through everyone else. It’s good, that he’s happy. It’s been so long since he’s seemed truly happy. It gives Wilbur hope. Whatever damage was done to him that night, when he chose to give up his discs, maybe he really will bounce back. And he’s noticed that he and Tubbo have been closer again, so maybe that will help, too. Tommy will be okay.

Then, a wave of exhaustion hits him, apparently out of nowhere, and his smile slips.

He brings it up again in the next moment. But the fatigue remains—and he supposes it makes sense. It’s been a long, rather stressful day. Perhaps it’s time he turned it in.

Niki’s the first one he finds, and she smiles at his approach. There is still an air of tension about her—lingering frustration, he imagines, at the stunt Fundy tried to pull. He believes her when she says she was unaware. But she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about him, thank goodness, because he bears her no ill will for the incident. Or even Fundy—he is disappointed to be sure, but he doesn’t love his son any less. Nothing at all could make that happen. Perhaps he ought to make sure Fundy knows that.

Later, though. When they’ve both cooled down a bit.

“Hey, Wil,” she says. “Good party, huh?”

“It is,” he says. “I’m sort of beat, though, so I think I might go hit the hay, as it were. Just wanted to tell someone before I left, in case anyone wondered.”

“Okay,” she says, and her eyes pinch around the edges a little bit. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She nods. “It’s been a long day,” she says, echoing his thoughts. “I’ll let everyone know, if they ask.” Her smile returns, full force, and she steps forward and takes his hand in hers. “Really, though, congratulations. I’m really proud of you. Anyone can see how much you care about this place, and that’s why they want you to keep leading it.”

His mouth has, unaccountably, gone slightly dry. “I do care,” he says. “But we all do. I mean, you literally made our flag. I don’t think I’ve told you enough how cool that is.”

“I wanted to,” she says simply, though she’s obviously pleased. “You don’t have to thank me for it. Every country should have a flag.”

“And every country should have someone who cares enough to sew it,” he says. “I’m glad it was you.”

“And I’m glad that this is you,” Niki replies, making a gesture toward the festivities around them, and the empty stage over to the side. Her eyes sharpen. “Even if I kind of wanted to be vice president. But you’re a good leader, Wilbur, and you’re a good man. A good friend. You deserve this. So go get some sleep, alright? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting, and she rolls her eyes, pushing him away.

“Go on,” she insists, but there is laughter in her voice and a crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and she looks happy, too. Everyone looks very happy. Even Fundy seems to be involved in things by now, and Quackity, his fiercest competition, appears to be enjoying himself.

Everyone is happy. So is he. There’s no reason at all for him not to be.

He tells himself that he’s going to go get some sleep, but his feet take him back to his office, instead. It’s empty, cast in a dim haze until he switches on the light, and just like that, the darkness is gone. His eyes flit across his desk, his chair, his shelves, all the paperwork that he’s definitely going to have to deal with, now that he knows for sure that he will continue to lead. He also has a potted plant, though he can’t quite recall who gave it to him. Might have been Tubbo, but he’s not sure.

He doesn’t sit. He goes to the window, presses himself up against it close enough to see the outside rather than his own reflection in the glass. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the country before him, and the walls are looming giants in the deepening night. He can see the cluster of lights where the others are, too, and he can see their dancing shadows, glimpses of their faces, far away echoes of their laughter.

Maybe he ought to go back. Some part of him wants to. He’s not sure why he’s holding himself away.

It’s probably because he’s tired. Because he is. Tired. Very tired.

It has been a long day.

He watches for a moment longer, and then closes his curtains, shutting out the world beyond this room. He turns to his desk, then, and his paperwork, though he’s loath to actually work on anything tonight, despite the fact that there’s a million things he could be doing. Drafting a formal missive to Dream, for instance, in light of his official election to power. Ensuring continued good standings between their nations—because as little as he likes the man, he’s not going to provoke him again, if it can be helped.

Especially not with Tommy—the way that he is. Not until he’s gotten to the bottom of that, and probably not even after.

So, he should write to Dream. He should also write to Phil. Tell him about what’s been going on. He’s been considering asking for advice on the whole Tommy situation, actually—Phil’s old as balls, so maybe he might know what to do, or even what this could be about. It’s a long shot, of course, but it’s worth a try.

Except he doesn’t particularly want to do either of those things. Not at the moment. But then, that doesn’t leave him with a whole lot of options, so why did he come here in the first place if he didn’t intend to do something? He ought to go to bed, like he said he would.

But then—

“Hey, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and he looks up, blinking. Quackity’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Somewhere along the line, he’s regained his clothes. “Knock, knock.”

“Quackity,” he says. “Good to see you. Here, come in, pull up a chair.”

Quackity quirks a brow, but that seems to be all the invitation he needs. He all but saunters in, grabbing one of the chairs and tugging it right up against the desk.

“I actually did want to speak with you at some point,” he continues.

“Then this works out, doesn’t it?” Quackity says. “I had the same idea. I figured we should clear the air or something like that. If it even needs clearing, I dunno. What do you think?”

“It certainly can’t hurt to talk,” he agrees.

“Right,” Quackity says. “Well, I guess I should start off by saying good job. Congrats on winning.” He smiles, and there’s something sharp in it, something of a challenge. Wilbur can’t say that he hates it; it’s good to be challenged, every now and then. And now, there’s less danger in it, his position secure. “Though I really gave you a run for your money, didn’t I? And Jack, of course.”

Jack’s name is added as an afterthought. He’s always had the impression that Quackity would rather have picked someone else for his running mate. But he left it fairly late, and by the time he decided that he definitely wanted one, there weren’t many people left to choose from. Tubbo wouldn’t have joined him, and Eret stayed out of the whole affair, and in terms of L’Manberg citizens, that pretty much just left Jack Manifold.

He wonders who Quackity would have chosen, if he’d had free reign of the SMP. Somehow, he’s glad that didn’t happen. Good foresight, on Tommy’s part, to add that restriction. And a good idea in general, too.

“You did,” he says with a nod. “It was a good showing. You were the one I was worried about, to be honest with you. If anyone could have beaten me, it would have been you.”

“You’re damn right,” Quackity answers. “We got close. But no cigar, I guess. There’s always next time.”

Next time. Next time.

Right. Elections are a fairly regular thing. He’ll have to do this again.

Right, no, that’s—fine. It’s fine. And it wouldn’t be for a while yet, so he doesn’t even have to think about it right now.

“But I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us,” Quackity says. He leans back in his chair, tipping it so that only two legs rest on the floor, and he regards him. “I mean, I meant what I said on the campaign trail, and I still stand by it. I don’t know that you’re taking this country in the best direction, Wilbur. I don’t know that it’s not gonna—stagnate, under you, or that Dream won’t come up and declare war again. I meant all of that. But it’s not like I don’t like you as a person, and you’ve won fair and square, so I was hoping we could put our differences behind us. Let bygones be bygones and all that.”

He’s heard everything that Quackity has to say on the matter of his leadership, and hearing it all again is a bit—irritating. But the honesty is refreshing, was then and still is now, and he’d rather these things be said to his face than whispered behind his back.

And also, there’s the fact that it’s Quackity. It was Tommy who convinced him to let him join in the first place, but the man’s grown on him, he’ll confess.

“I would have trusted you to lead,” he admits, and meets Quackity’s gaze squarely. “I disagree with you on quite a few matters, but I believe that you have L’Manberg’s best interests at heart. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge.”

He speaks nothing but the truth. Quackity is—not precisely the vision he has in mind for L’Manberg’s future. But he cares about this place, that much is obvious. So if Quackity had won, he would have bowed out gracefully, would have established himself some property and entered a graceful retirement, at—at peace. Surely at peace, all of his questions answered and his guidance unneeded. His person no longer required.

His stomach turns, a gut-churning combination of longing and revulsion flooding him, impacting him so intensely that it’s a half-second scramble to make sure that none of it shows on his face, to lock everything back down again, to be interpreted later or forgotten about, depending on his mood.

“That’s great to hear,” Quackity says. “Friends?”

Quackity sticks out his hand.

“Friends,” he agrees, and takes it.

“Fantastic,” Quackity says. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures broadly, lips twitching upward. “Niki said you were gonna get some sleep, so I’d do that before she finds out you’re not.”

He can’t help but laugh, and Quackity stands. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he says. “Good night, Quackity.”

“Night, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and turns to go. But then, he stops in the doorway, looking back. “I just gotta ask, though, why all of this? Why have an election at all? Why risk losing? If you wanted to stay in charge, why not just stay in charge? No one would’ve questioned you, but instead, you put on all of this. Just to keep a position you ended up keeping anyway.”

Ah. His mind blanks for a moment, because he doesn’t know how to describe to Quackity the fact that people were already questioning him, if he didn’t pick up on that. But surely, he must have; Quackity himself built his entire campaign around questioning him. His right to lead, his capability, his intentions. And those sentiments could not have come from nowhere.

To be honest, he’s not certain that he has the words to explain it to himself, either.

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, “in regards to your running.”

Quackity stands there for a moment. And then tilts his head.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Wilbur,” he says, and his next smile is a wry thing. “See you tomorrow.”

And then, he’s gone.

And Wilbur does know.

He is not blind to Quackity’s desire for power. His desire to do something good with it, to be sure—he’s never caught any malice in his seeking. But what he seeks is power, and there is no mistaking that. Sometimes, Wilbur looks in his eyes and sees a reflection of himself. Paler, different, slanted, but a reflection nonetheless. He has heard the siren’s call of ambition and heard it well, and he recognizes that in Quackity, and Quackity recognizes it in him.

But it’s not just about power. Not for him, anyway. Or rather, it is power, to be sure, but it’s the power to keep safe. To protect. To be free. And to build something great, something that will outlive him, something that will make him worthy of the looks in people’s eyes when they meet his. That’s what it was about. And that’s why the election mattered.

Though for a moment, he lets himself picture it: retirement. A house, with plenty of room. Time to spare, for everyone and everything. A guitar, finally tuned again. A warm summer’s day, and a crisp autumn’s evening. No pressure, few responsibilities, and an hour or several to sit under his own vine and fig tree.

But he doesn’t think he’s made for things like that, really.

And even besides, these idle speculations don’t matter. Quackity didn’t win, and he remains president of this nation. There will be no quiet retirement, not yet. There is so much work that he has to do, and he can feel all those future tasks piling on his shoulders, weights stacking on his skin, clinging like barnacles on a weathered, abandoned pier.

And it’s all alright, because it’s what he wants.

Without this, where would he stand? With himself, and with the others? They all look to him for a reason, so what would happen if that reason were gone?

No. Best not to let his mind wander down that path.

His ambitions are realized. The elections are over. His people are happy, and they still want him. They still believe he can do right by them. They are celebrating his victory even now. Tommy was smiling, and there was none of that strange, terrifying darkness in his gaze.

He has everything he wants.

He checks his communicator, idly. There’s a few messages from people on the server, those who aren’t at the party. Most are congratulatory. There’s Dream, asking for a meeting already, but he anticipated that. There’s even a few messages from people off-world, and he raises an eyebrow at those—inter-server communication costs a pretty penny, so he’s a bit surprised that Technoblade put the effort in to send a message that just says lame. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. And Schlatt’s sent him some snarky congratulations, and he supposes he should answer him, since he went through the trouble. Though he’s not going to invite him, still, no matter how nice it might be to catch up. Not until he figures out what Tommy’s problem with him is, and whether it’s solvable.

But he types out a response to both, a quick Like you can talk, Potato Man to Techno and something a bit longer and properly sarcastic to Schlatt, wincing at the cost of shooting the messages through the void, across worlds, and then sets his communicator to the side. Stares at his desk, then at the covered window. He can still hear them.

He stopped smiling at some point. He doesn’t know when.

He picks up his pen, then sets it back down again. Drags a paper closer with his index finger, and then pushes it back. Slips his hand into his pocket to find his glasses, and then brings it out again, empty of everything but dust.

There’s work to do, and he should either get started or he should go to sleep, but his brain doesn’t seem to want to get the memo. So he sits.

He’s tired. That’s why he’s in this kind of mood. He’s tired, so he’ll just sit here until he feels ready to get some true rest, and it’ll all look better in the morning. Not that it doesn’t look good now.

But he is very tired.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #quackity #nihachu #dsmp fic #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #if this fic were divided into acts #this would mark the end of act 1 :)

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writing-red · 4 years

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The Daughter of the Dog | 1

Fred Weasley x SirusBlacksDaughter!Reader

Summary: That fateful night that would wrongfully land him in Azkaban Sirius Black left his three-year-old daughter at the door of her godfather, Remus Lupin. Now as she enters her fifth year at Hogwarts she is a-fronted by her peers and their outward fear of her presence.

Warnings: bullying, cussing, slow burn relationship, bullying, asshole teachers (Snape.)

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: If y’all like this I’ll continue on with this :)

chapter one, chapter two

“Remus you can’t make me go to school this year. Everyone there already hates me, and now that dad is all over the Daily Prophet, it’ll all just be worse,” you made your case to your godfather for the hundredth time this summer since your father had broken out of Azkaban.

“Y/n, you have friends who will have your back,” Remus said, he felt terrible, and he knew you were right, but he also knew how important it was for you to be at Hogwarts. “I’ll be there, and Dumbledore and McGonagall will make sure nothing happens.”

“Gryffindor’s aren’t as nice as you think they are,” you retorted. “And I do not have friends, that’s a joke. Everyone despises me, even some of my bloody professors hate me,” you were particularly referencing Snape who’d had it out for you since your name had been called for sorting your first year.

“That’s impossible, of course, you have friends, what about the twins?” he asked, and you ignored him. It was true that you were close with Fred and George, but you felt that virtually everyone other than those two Weasley’s hated you.

“I’m glad you, dad, and Uncle James were just so popular when you went to school, and everyone just bloody loved you, but it isn’t the same for me,” you said, finally deciding you were done with the argument and storming upstairs, you knew that Remus wasn’t going to budge about his decision, but you’d put up as much of a stink as you could, and being that September 1st was only a week away you figured your case had failed.

Remus let you storm out, you were fifteen, and he understood that you were going through a lot. Not only were you a teenager and dealing with all of the joys of puberty, but you were the daughter of an assumed murderer, which couldn’t make school much fun. He could only imagine the ways your peers used that to torment you. He couldn’t forget the minuscule things James and Sirius would agonize Severus Snape over when they had been in school. On top of all that, twelve years ago, your father had left you on Remus’ doorstep with a note on your forehead that read:

‘Peter rated out James and Lily, I’m going to Godrics Hollow, if anything happens, take care of Y/n, she doesn’t have anyone else.’

He was right, your mother had died at the hands of Lucius Malfoy before your first birthday, and her parents had died long ago, Sirius didn’t want you anywhere near his parents, neither Sirius nor your mother had living siblings, and Remus was your only named Godparent. You grew up with both of your parents, and all of your family ripped away from you. You had been left only with good memories of the man the world was trying to tell you was evil and a note you had used as evidence of his innocence.

Despite everything, Remus didn’t mind having you around in the least, you were a carbon copy of your parents, just an absolute firecracker, and he loved you just as much as your parents had. While he anticipated his situation to be a problem it wasn’t, as whenever necessary, Molly Weasley would take you in for however long Remus needed. However, your third year, you took a page out of your father’s book, and while at school, you learned how to become an animagus on your own, so that when you returned home that summer, you were able to stay with your godfather though all of his sessions, and help. Remus found as you grew up that you took care of him as much as he took care of you, he was eternally grateful to have you in his life. Now, with everything going on in your life and all the trauma you had ensued, he couldn’t blame you for lashing out. He just wished he could be of more help.

You didn’t argue with Remus about going to school again, and on August 31st, you begrudgingly packed up your trunk in anticipation of your journey to Hogwarts. You and Remus lived in a house you had inherited from your mother in Burford, West Oxfordshire, it was far enough outside town to be safe for Remus, and it was protected with old magic as it had been in your family for centuries. Being that it’s only over an hour-long drive to London, Remus usually drove you to King’s Cross, but since he was going with you to Hogwarts this year, you both took an early train to London, arriving in perfect time to catch the Hogwarts Express.

When you boarded the train, you split ways with Remus as you were due in the prefect compartment so that you could do your rounds. Prefect duty was another thing you were dreading this year, you were sure that no one would be willing to listen to you considering your situation, and you genuinely had no clue why Professor McGonagall wanted you as a prefect anyways.

During your round, you found that your assumptions were correct, no one would listen to you, and you only found yourself getting angry every time you noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet with your father’s mugshot on the cover. He hadn’t aided in the murder of your Uncle James and Aunt Lily, he hadn’t a reason to, James had been his best friend. Not only that, but nobody knew half the story you and Remus knew, but of course, no one wanted to listen to you, and the only evidence you had was the note he had left on your forehead, which was, of course, deemed unreliable. You were sure Peter was out there somewhere, and you were optimistic that if you could find him, you would be able to clear your father’s name, but you had no clue where you could start.

You past by the compartment Harry, Ron, and Hermione frequented to find your godfather sleeping in the corner, that man did love his naps, although you were curious why they had chosen to sit in a compartment with a sleeping professor in it, but you brushed it off. The three had a knack for making odd decisions that never failed to land them into trouble of some sort.

You continued walking down the corridor, keeping to yourself, not finding anyone to be breaking any severe rules. You had decided that as a prefect, your policy would be that if it wasn’t happening in front of you, you wouldn’t report it. After experiencing Percy Weasley’s tyrannical rain, the last thing you wanted was to subject other students to such tyranny. You remained in your thoughts till you passed by Draco Malfoy’s compartment, where the door was wide open.

“Oi! Black!” You heard Malfoy yell as you approached his compartment. “Surprised, they let you come this year considering your murderer father is loose.”

You elected to ignore him and continue walking, biting back the insults you wanted so badly to throw back.

“Or I guess you’re nothing like your father, more the chicken type like your pathetic moth-”

You swung around, resisting the urge the pull your wand out and land a nasty jinx on the prick, “You’re one to speak Malfoy, considering your father is a cowardly murderer who hides behind money and lies. Now, if you want to lose another twenty points from Slytherin before we even arrive at Hogwarts, I suggest you keep running your mouth,” you said without breaking a sweat, silence from Malfoy and his posse following. “I thought so,” you said before continuing on your round.

You made it to the end of the train and turned around to do your final walkthrough you intended to stop into the section Remus was in and see if he had awoken. As you walked down the corridor, you noted the cold fog that rolled alongside the train, the ride to Hogwarts was rarely this cold. As you approached the compartment door, the train came to a screeching halt, and you were thrown up against the door, startling its occupants. You hurried to your feet and entered as Harry Potter opened the door.

“What’s going on?” Ron Weasley asked. You stood back against the door as the lights in the train flickered out.

“I know just as much as you do,” you said, trying your best to push aside any fear.

From his seat, Harry was giving you a weird look. Meanwhile, Ron pressed himself against the window that had begun frosting.

“Ouch, Ron, that was my foot,” Hermione complained.

Ron ignored his clumsiness, concerned with whatever he saw outside the train, “There’s something moving out there.”

With that, the lights turned on and then off again, the train rocking and ice encapsulating the carriage. No longer trusting your own legs, you rushed to take a seat on the bench Harry and Remus were on, though you kept your distance, still grimly aware of the rumours that had been flying around the train regarding your father. Although, your thoughts were stopped as the train halted again, and your breath turned to ice.

“Bloody hell! What’s happening?” Ron cried.

All of your heads turned to the carriage’s door as a lanky robed creature with a hand like that of a skeleton’s slowly eased opened the door. As it approached, you could feel nothing but true sadness echo through your body and mind. It was a coldness you felt would never leave you. The thing you recognized as a dementor entered, looming off of the ground and ignoring everything but you and Harry. The dementor paused as if unsure of which one of you was worth its time. Discerning what was happening and uncertain of what else to do, you rose to your feet to act as a barrier between Harry and the dementor. As a result of your action, and your misery now clear to the creature, it started to feed off of you. At some point, you saw a blast of bright light, but the second it and the dementor disappeared, your fainted, falling to the floor.

“Y/n, Harry?” you heard Hermione’s voice as your eyes flickered open. “Professor are they going to be alright?”

You rose to a seated position to find yourself lying on the floor, Harry on the bench above you, Ron crunched in his corner, a very concerned Hermione Granger hovering over you, and Remus ready with a bit of chocolate as always.

“Here, eat this, it’ll help,” he said as he offered you and Harry the chocolate which you graciously took.

“What was that thing that came?” Harry asked.

“It was a dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban,” He explained to Harry before looking at you, “It’s gone now,” he assured before turning back to Harry to finish answering his question. “It was searching the train for Sirius Black.”

You swallowed your bite of the chocolate quite loudly, uncomfortable with the information at hand.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a little word with the driver,” Remus rose, leaving the chocolate bar with you. “Eat, you’ll feel better.” Remus assured Harry before leaving and heading to the front of the train.

You broke the chocolate bar in half and gave it to Harry, “It does help.”

“Harry fainted just after you did,” Hermione explained. You had quickly noticed before fainting that the dementor didn’t affect Ron or Hermione half as much as it had you and Harry.

“What exactly happened?” Harry asked as he took a bite of the chocolate.

“Well, after Y/n fainted, you went rigid, we thought you were having- well a fit or something,” Ron explained.

“Dementors feed on feelings of depression and despair,” you explained.

“Is that why-”

“You felt like you could never be happy again?” you finished Ron’s thought and nodded. “Exactly.”

“But someone was screaming,” Harry said, the memory alive in his eyes. “A woman.”

“No one was screaming, Harry,” said Hermione.

“I heard screaming too,” you said, looking over at him. A silence settled over the carriage once more, causing the reality of your parentage to come crashing over you yet again. You shakily rose to your feet, not exactly well just yet. “I should be going- prefect, duty- let me know if you need anything else.” And before anyone could protest, you were out of the compartment and walking back down the train corridor.

Before you could very much think about it, you entered Fred and George’s compartment, quite unsure of where else you might have been welcome.

“Y/n!” The twins chimed when you entered.

“Sit,” Fred started

“Yeah,” George said.

“We’ve got a question for you,” they finished together.

“A question, for me? Now, what would that be?” You asked as you squeezed onto the bench in between the two despite the empty one just across from you. Although, you assumed Lee Jordan had been sitting there and was just off to use the loo as his bag was up above that spot.

“We’ll show you, but you’ve got to promise us you won’t show anybody,” George said as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“Anybody,” Fred echoed.

“I won’t show anybody, promise,” You spoke in the same playfully serious tone as the twins while George placed a blank piece of folded parchment onto your lap.

Fred placed the tip of his wand onto the map but caught your eye and held eye contact with you as he said, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” winking at you as he finished.

Before you maroon lines and lettering unfurled, curling onto the parchment.

‘The Marauders Map’

A smile found its way onto your face as you realized what was before you. Your eyes lighting up as they followed the script that started to write out names you recognized instantly.

‘Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs are proud to present,’

Your smile widened, you knew exactly what this was. Remus had told you plenty of stories of his and your fathers’ school antics, and the Marauders Map was often mentioned.

“Now, Black,” said George.

“That smile seems to say something,” said Fred.

“We’ve got a feeling,” they continued in unison. “That you know who created this masterpiece.”

You looked up at the two of them, your smile not at all lost. “What’s it to you?” you asked. Of course, you knew, but you loved messing around with them.

“Pure curiosity,” Fred smirked.

“Even if I do know who Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are, why should I tell you two?” You asked.

“Because you looove Fred,” George said, and you shot him a glare that easily could have killed him right where he sat. “Because we’re your favorite people at Hogwarts?” He said, quick to edit his sentence.

“Alright, but I want you to let me in on all of your pranks this year. Think about the benefits of having a prefect on your side,” you said, then smoothly leaning forward to allow the twins to deliberate in peace. They caught on in a matter of seconds.

“She’s not wrong,” started Fred, and he rested back against the seat.

“And she’s quite smart,” continued George, following his twin.

“And she has information we want.”

“And you do love her,” George teased his twin.

“And we can trust her,” Fred added in an attempt to ignore George’s jab at his long-standing crush.

“Alright then,” the twins said in harmony, and you all resumed your previous positions. “Who is it?” They asked you.

“Peter Pettigrew,” you started. “Remus Lupin, James Potter,” they breathed in, obviously not having expected to hear the name of Harry’s dad. “And Sirius Black.” You said, your chest swelling with pride.

“Your dad!” started Fred excitedly

“Was a marauder?” They asked at once, and you nodded.

“Well, that makes you pranking royalty,” George said and mocked a bow.

“I would say it does, now I am excited to be working with you two gentlemen this year.”

“We are honored to be in your presence, oh Queen of the Pranks,” Fred got off of his seat and turned to give you a proper bow, prompting another giggle from you, which you didn’t notice Fred blush bright red.

“Boys we have some work to do,” you said, offering your hand as you had seen Queens do before to Fred. He took your hand and gently placed a kiss on it, this time causing a soft blush to rise to your cheeks.

Your train ride continued to be full of playful banter between the four of you, the boys full of questions about your dad’s time at Hogwarts, and you were excited to answer them as best you could. Although in the end, you couldn’t help but be entirely grateful that Fred and George hadn’t written you off along with the rest of the school, even more thankful that they hadn’t also written off your dad. When you arrived at the school, you shared a carriage with the twins, Lee Jordan, and Angelina Johnson, none of whom seemed bothered by your presence. It appeared for the moment that this year wouldn’t be too bad. You expected to resume your spot on the quidditch team as a chaser along with those before you, and the pranks you had already begun planning with the twins occupied your mind.

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore caught the school’s attention as he assumed his place at the post at the top of the hall. “I have a few things to say before we become befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I’m pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Good luck, you, Professor.”

At this, the twins turned their eyes from Dumbledore to you, clearly asking if that was the Lupin you had said to be Moony of the Marauders, to which you confirmed with one nod.

“Wicked,” they said in unison, and you winked at them.

“As some of you may know, Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I’m delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!”

You, along with few others who knew and appreciated Hagrid, applauded at this news as Hagrid rose from his seat and jovially waved at the school, although he nearly toppled the staff table, sending goblets over the side of the table.

“Finally, on a more disquieting note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban. Now, whilst I’ve been assured until such a time as Sirius Black is captured.”

Whispers filled the Great Hall as you swallowed the nerves that rose in your throat as best you could

“Well we’ve got his daughter right over there. Why don’t we just give ’em her! She’s probably a murderer herself!” You heard a boy from the Slytherin table yell quite violently. His idea was supported by a few cheers from those around him and a girl who was sitting next to him following up.

“Yeah, how are we supposed to know she isn’t scheming to sneak in her murderous father to kill us all!” The girl yelled, and you could only feel yourself sinking into the bench as every Hogwarts student’s eyes were now on you.

“Oi! Pucey, watch it, or I’ll hex your ear off!” George quickly stood and yelled in your defense.

“That! Is quite enough!” Dumbledore boomed. “I will not have Miss Black questioned or judged for her being here. Anyone who wishes to contest this may bring it up directly with me.”

With that, Dumbledore continued on with his speech in particular regard to the presence of the dementors, but his words respecting you did nothing to ease the anxiety boiling in the pit of your stomach. At this point, you were wondering why you hadn’t followed in your mum’s steps and gone to Beauxbatons.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked, noting the color that had drained from your face.

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

Fred could tell you weren’t fine, and why should you be? He could feel the hostile looks coming from every corner of the room, some even coming from the professor’s table. He wanted to help in any way he could, and he knew that the most he could do is have your back for the time being.

When Dumbledore finally called this year’s feast to an end, you rose to your feet as Percy had asked you and Robert Greene, the other fifth year Gryffindor prefect, to walk the first years back to the common room.

You rose to your feet, “Your darling brother has decided I’ll be escorting the first years back to the common room, so I’ll see you back there after?” You honestly did not want to be left alone tonight and was hoping to spend more time with the twins.

“We’ll find a good spot by the fire,” George said, and you smiled at him, grateful.

You left and rounded up the first years, some of whom had no clue who you were and some who were clearly afraid of you and clung to the front of the line where Percy and Robert were. But you brushed it off. It wasn’t half as bad as Pucey calling you a murderer in front of the entire school. The walk didn’t last long, and Percy capitalized the whole thing to flaunt his power over the eleven-year-olds allowing you to remain silent and with your thoughts. You split when you made it to the common room, sure that Percy was so wrapped up in his spiel that he wouldn’t miss you.

“Black!” George wailed. “We’ve missed you dearly.”

“How could you dare to leave us for so long?” Fred cried, and you giggled at their antics, sitting on the couch next to Fred.

“I’m very, incredibly, sorry for the time I have spent away but do know that you were each on my heart and in my thoughts the entire time we were apart,” you joined in, causing Fred to laugh, which brought a shade of pink to your cheeks, recently you found how his laugh made the butterflies in your stomach ruffle their wings.

“Anyone else wanna know why Dumbledore’s let a murderer’s daughter live in our dorm?” you heard Seamus Finnigan say loudly enough for the entire common room to hear. “It makes me feel unsafe I don’t know about you.”

“Yeah if he comes to Hogwarts, this’ll be the first place he comes.”

You sharply rose to your feet and turned to face Finnigan, “Actually you’re right Finnigan, I’ve been in contact with my dad, who has been in Azkaban my entire life, planning to come to a school and kill a bunch of children. I am so so bummed you’ve found out my plan. So everyone keeps an eye open while you’re sleeping. I might just appear over your bed in the middle of the night, ready to murder you.”

As you were speaking, Fred and George stood to defend you. Meanwhile, Seamus’s face fell white with fear at your words.

“Anyways aren’t you meant to be a Gryffindor, Finnigan, aren’t you meant to be brave? Because speaking behind people’s backs is about the most cowardly thing someone can do,” you said, anger rising in you. Although, you did not notice Professor McGonagall enter as you were talking.

“She deserves to be here just as much as the rest of you,” Fred boomed to the now silent common room.

“Good evening, everyone,” McGonagall cut in. “I was planning to come up tonight to ensure that Miss Black was being respected as a peer and as a prefect although that clearly hasn’t happened,” she said, shooting a look at Seamus Finnigan. “As she just said, it is expected that you as Gryffindors conduct yourselves with bravery and with understanding for your peers. Should any of you feel that you do not have to listen to or that you are above Y/n because of her parentage, you can come to me for a detention. I will not permit any intolerance of her presence. Is that understood?”

A few people started slowly nodding, causing the rest of your housemates to nod in understanding of what Professor McGonagall had to say.

“Good, now I will be taking ten points from our house for Mr. Finnigan’s comments,” a groan fell over the room, “You shall also be meeting me for detention in my office tomorrow night at seven. However, ten points to Miss Black and ten points to Mr. Weasley for standing up for oneself and for one’s friends.” With that, Professor McGonagall left, leaving the Gryffindors in silence.

“Go about your nights,” Percy called to the house, and everyone dispersed, although you heard the drama start to circulate, no matter what McGonagall said, you knew that you would never escape the judgement of your peers.

“Merlin, and classes haven’t even started yet,” you huffed as you collapsed back onto the couch next to Fred.

“We’ve got your back, Y/n,” Fred said as he put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Promise,” you implored.

“Promise,” he assured.

chapter two

#Sirius Black's daughter #au #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #Sirius Black #Harry Potter #harry potter au #daughter of the dog

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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery.

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea.

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin.

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters.

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind.

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile.

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone.

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more?

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets.

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream.

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so.

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first.

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet.

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice.

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies.

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land.

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks.

“Hey,” Nanami says.

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow.

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?”

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you.

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh.

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches.

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket.

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange.

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace.

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?”

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges.

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face.

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean.

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his.

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out.

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home.

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work.

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it.

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?”

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror.

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor.

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa.

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt.

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions.

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind.

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be.

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?”

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless.

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen.

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school.

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!”

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways.

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark.

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?”

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip.

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?”

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion.

“It’s good!”

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like?

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper.

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively.

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return.

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper.

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank.

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

94 notes · View notes

hb-writes · 3 years

Text

My Person

Some people have been asking for some Clara and Isiah and a little something came to me while listening to ‘Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?’ by Arctic Monkeys. Once I started writing, it strayed from that a bit and I’d still consider this very much platonic but I hope you like it!

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe. It’s 1925. Clara and Isiah haven’t talked in weeks but after a drunken night filled with a break up and scrapping in Small Heath, Isiah insists on going out to Arrow House to see her.

Featuring: Clara Shelby, Isiah Jesus, Tommy Shelby, Finn Shelby, Charles Shelby

-----

Because Clara was awake far later than was wise, reading by the light of the small lamp on her bedside table when she should have been asleep, she heard the rumble of a car engine out on the front-drive, the sound distinct and seemingly louder because of the quiet that descended upon Warwickshire at this time of night.

She’d made it down only two steps when Tommy crossed the foyer, giving her a quick glance as he kept moving to the door, Clara’s eyes drawn to the gun in his hands.

“Go back to bed.”

“Who’s—?”

“Clara, get up the fucking stairs,” he answered, the words inching towards a shout.

Tommy kept walking, turning his head towards Clara once again, this time only long enough to see her lift her foot, finding enough satisfaction in that small movement that his sister would cooperate with his command.

Clara couldn’t see anything from the foyer, the hall leading to the front door much too dark, and in Tommy’s absence, she drifted down a few more steps, leaning over the rail for a better look.

She started when the front door slammed against the wall and Tommy stalked back into the room, locking eyes with Clara for a moment, shaking his head as he went to put the gun away. Clara took a few more steps before Tommy came to the bottom of the staircase.

“Who’s—?” she started.

“Is that upstairs, then?” Tommy asked, hand extended to gesture towards the spot where she stood.

Clara glanced at the placement of her feet and then back to him, shrugging. “I’m up the stairs from you.”

Their eyes pulled from one another to the boys, to Finn and Isiah, as they came through to the hall, stumbling a little, the both of them clearly a bit drunk.

“See, Finn, told ya she’d be awake,” Isiah said, pointing up to her and leaning an arm over Finn’s shoulder. “Put us off for a night with your stories, eh Clara?”

They were the first words Isiah had directed at her in weeks and Clara wasn’t sure how to respond. She had indeed passed the evening after her nephew was asleep alone in her bedroom with a book, that much was true, but it wasn’t why she’d declined Finn and Michael's invitations in the first place.

Clara cleared her throat and settled her eyes on Finn, decided on speaking to him rather than Isiah. “You two idiots had a cup too much an—”

“Enough. Charles is asleep. Get the fuck to bed,” Tommy said. “All of you.”

“We came for dinner, Tom,” Finn said. “We’re fucking starving.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow as he glanced at his younger brother. “Well now, you’ve missed that by about nine hours, Finn.”

“Chef’s probably left something,” Clara answered Tommy, taking a step. “At the very least there’s a bit of chocolate cake. I could—”

“They boys can feed themselves,” Tommy waved them on before turning to his sister. “You go back to bed. And actually do it this time, eh?”

“Why have I got to go to sleep if they haven’t?”

Tommy was growing impatient with the kids, impatient with this particular interruption to his evening because even being as close as it was to two in the morning, and regardless of whether he was usually awake at this time or not, these hours were the hours he filled with distractions entirely of his choosing. And he’d certainly not chosen to be dealing with his sister’s smart mouth and the boys’ whiskey addled brains.

He was about to give her an answer, ready to tell her that his giving an order didn’t require her to ask any questions, but they were saved from the shouting match it would have quickly devolved into by Charles’s arrival at the top of the stairs.

“Dad?”

Tommy took a deep breath, rubbing his face with one hand as he beckoned the boy forward with his other. “C’mere, my boy.”

Charles came down a few steps but never made it to his father, stopping to hug Clara’s side, her arm fitting over his shoulders.

“Who’s here?” Charles mumbled as he settled his head against her.

“It’s just Uncle Finn and Isiah,” she answered.

Charles glanced around her looking for the older boys. “Why?”

“Well, my sweet sleepy boy,” Clara squeezed him a bit as he yawned. “They came to spend the night because they want to play with you bright and early tomorrow morning,” she said. “You should wake them extra early. Lots of shouting and jumping, eh?”

Charles grinned as he looked up to her. “You think they’ll want to ride horses?”

“Hmmm, you know, I think they’d love that, Charlie. A brilliant idea.”

Charles looked to Tommy. “Can we, Dad?”

Tommy glanced at his sister, snorting a bit at her smirk, the small bit of devilment she’d shown in planting the seed in her nephew’s head, the seed which would result in a bit of hell for the boys in the morning when Charles called on them.

“We’ll see about that in the morning,” Tommy answered. “Let’s get you back off to bed.”

“Can Aunt Clara come for a story?” Charles asked.

“One story,” Tommy answered, grateful his sister didn’t fight when Charles tugged on her hand, grateful she left her arguments and defiance on the staircase.

-----

It had taken two stories to get Charles back to sleep and though Clara wasn’t tired, she hadn’t gone back to her book, instead electing to lie awake in her bed and stare at the small sliver of moonlight passing through her windows while she listened to the boys come down the hall, finally finding their way to their rooms after several moments of hushed chatter.

She was unsurprised when her door was pushed open though it was nearly an hour later. It was why she was so intent on resisting sleep, because she wasn’t just lying there with no purpose. She was waiting.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she said as Isiah came through, his eyes immediately finding hers in the dim room.

He didn’t seem so drunk now, the couple of hours and the food he’d probably consumed settling him a bit, the effects showing on his composed features.

“I want to talk.”

Clara snorted. “You came all the way out to Warwickshire for a chat?” she said. “Doesn’t your girl talk to you, Isiah?”

“She’s not my girl,” he answered.

Oh. The word was only a thought in Clara’s mind but Isiah read the understanding in her face, her lips subconsciously taking the shape needed if she were to voice it, and he twisted the knob before pushing the door closed, nothing more than a soft click sounding off as he did it.

“Well, I’m sorry to hea—”

“You’re not,” he answered. “You never even tried to like this one.”

Clara shrugged. “Either way, no reason for you and Finn to drive out here drunk. We could’ve waited, chatted about your woes with the girls of Small Heath without endangering your life and risking one of you getting arrested.”

Isiah sat down on the edge of her bed. “One of the new boys drove us.”

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.” Clara nodded, pulling her robe tighter. “But you really shouldn’t be in here. Tommy’ll kill you.”

“Will he?” Isiah asked.

Tommy hadn’t yet, though he hadn’t ever really come across Isiah and his sister together in quite that way either, every instance of them being caught together someplace her family would probably kill any other boy for being had been so innocuous that the Shelbys had nearly come to believe what the pair consistently insisted, that there was little more than a close friendship between them.

“Why is it whenever you can’t find a girl to bring home from the pub, you come find me?”

“We needed to talk.”

Clara met his eye and took a deep breath. It had been a long couple of weeks without talking to Isiah. She slid across the bed, offering him some space by the headboard. Slipping off his boots and dropping them to the floor with a solid thump, he joined her at the head of the bed, picking up the book on her nightstand and glancing at the title in the small bit of light through the window.

“So this is why you couldn’t come out with us, then?”

Clara shrugged, focused on the braid over her shoulder as she sat cross legged facing him. “Didn’t think you’d really want me there.”

Even before they’d rowed, Clara hadn’t wanted to be around the boys so much, not when all they wanted was to go out with the girls from the factory, with Millie and her friends. She’d been avoiding Isiah in general, claiming an extra bit of school work and Tommy’s insistence that she spend more time with Charles was keeping her home at Arrow House when in truth, she just wasn’t feeling up to facing him.

Clara wasn’t often like that after an argument with him, wasn’t often distant or aloof after the initial flare of emotion subsided, but then again, she was often the one who did the shouting, the one who left the other person a bit peeved or hurt, the one who needed to take the first step and do the apologizing.

And though she’d done her fair share of shouting the last time they spoke, it was Isiah’s words that stung and it was Isiah’s tone that left Clara’s heart a bit melancholy.

“You were right.” Isiah glanced at her. “What you said about Millie.”

The tightness in Clara’s chest released a bit as she took a breath.

“You won’t believe me but I am sorry, Isiah,” she said. “I know you liked this one.”

Isiah shrugged.

“Not like it’s your fault,” he said. “You tried to warn me off of her. I should have listened when you told me there was someone else. Would’ve saved myself from this.”

Isiah flexed his hand and Clara caught sight of his knuckles.

“Christ, Siah.” She leaned over him to switch on the lamp and pulled his hand into hers, looking it over.

“They’re just bruised,” he said, nonchalant, his hand left there, the fingers of his right hand draped over her palms though he flinched when she drew her thumb over the tender skin. “You should see him.”

Clara glanced up and saw the red mark on his cheek. “I hope he looks worse than you.”

“Of course he looks worse than me.”

“You shouldn’t go picking figh—”

“I didn’t,” he said. “Not that it wouldn’t have been deserved, but it was actually Millie who brought it all about. I was ready to let it be.”

“It’s good I didn’t come, then.”

Isiah raised an eyebrow.

“We’d both have bruised knuckles,” Clara answered. “I don’t know I’d have been able to stop myself.”

A light snort escaped before Isiah sucked in his bottom lip, tilting his head a bit as he met Clara’s eye. “You know, I didn’t mean what I said that day, right? I was just mad.”

“You did mean it,” Clara answered, looking away from his face, down to the hand she was still cradling in her lap. “And you were right, I suppose… Well, half right, at least. I said what I said because it was true and I didn’t want you hurt but...”

Isiah smiled. “Miss Clara Shelby, are you in love with me?”

Clara pushed his hand away and glanced up to him at the end of her eye roll. She’d wanted to say something clever in return but instead found herself just missing the warmth of his hand as she mumbled. “Siah, you’re my…”

They both struggled to find a word to describe what they were to one another, even after all this time, a decade or so of various labels unable to do them any proper justice because nothing seemed to catch all of the different elements, all of the moments, all of the meaning.

“Person?” Isiah finally said and Clara gave him a small smile.

“I suppose,” she answered, because she did suppose that was it. Isiah was her person, a little bit of everything to her, as he always had been, a bit beyond her best friend, not quite like a brother though she considered him family in every way that mattered. “Even when you’re so infuriating I’d like to have one of my brothers chuck you in the cut.”

“You’d miss me if you did,” Isiah said. “Just like I miss you when you decide to hole yourself up all the way out here.”

“You were avoiding me too.”

Isiah shrugged. “I shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I was jealous though,” she answered. “Always am when you find yourself a new girl, a new...”

Clara focused on picking at the covers of her bed.

“Person?” he said, guessing again. “You really think one of those girls could push you out?”

Clara shrugged.

“I imagine someday one of them will,” she said. “I just hope it’ll be the right one when it happens. Someone I can get on with well enough. A nice girl who’ll help keep you in line and let us stay friends.”

“Christ, Clara,” he answered, grabbing for her hand, squeezing once despite the pain it caused. “Don’t be worried about that.”

He had been annoyed when he called her jealous, put off by her constant derogatory nagging about Millie Clarke, a bit triggered by her telling him she was seeing someone behind his back.

“I never should’ve said it.” Isiah tugged on her hand. “Come here.”

Clara shifted so she was sitting beside Isiah against the pillows, her cheek resting against his chest as his arm fit over her shoulders.

“It will happen someday, Siah,” Clara said. “And it should. You’ll fall in love and things’ll change.”

“Yeah, well, whatever happens with that doesn’t change this,” he answered. “It’d be a bit of a waste, yeah? To let some girl push you out after all the nagging and sassing and trouble you’ve put me through?”

Clara elbowed him. “Don’t be a prat, Siah.”

“See what I mean?” he continued. “Why would I just toss out ten years of elbows to the stomach for a girl who doesn’t even know how to properly push me about?”

Clara glared up at him but took thing no further, settling against his chest once again.

“And I can’t imagine there’s another person on the face of this earth who looks at me like you do.”

“Like you’re an imbecile I can’t believe has made it to the age of nineteen on his own?” she answered, though that wasn’t right, not nearly close to being it, because the way Clara and Isiah looked at each other, whether it was a glare or accompanied by a laugh through crinkled eyes or with a pooling wave of tears, was something different altogether. It communicated something that no one really ever put words to, something neither of them ever really tried to describe.

“Like you’re my person,” he said. “A right pain in my arse, but my person, nonetheless. and I’m sorry for shouting at you and for not properly hearing what you were trying to tell me.”

Clara didn’t answer him right away, thinking over his words, contemplating the relief she was feeling for the first time in weeks.

“I think I’m meant to be comforting you,” she finally mumbled, her head still there against his chest. “You’re the one who’s been dumped.”

Isiah’s body rose and fell beneath her as he took a slow, deep breath and Clara looked up to watch his face though he was deliberately looking to the ceiling. Isiah played at being the cheeky womanizer, played at wanting nothing more than fun and chaos and lust but Clara knew there was a bit more to Isiah than that.

“I’m alright, Clara,” he said.

“You’re not. You’re upset. You want to talk about it?”

Isiah finally met her eye and shook his head. “Not right now. How about we just read a bit?” He reached for the book on her nightstand, holding it open between the two of them. “You can go first.”

“I don’t think you’ll like this one,” she offered. “It’s a bit romantic.”

“What’s wrong with a little romance?”

“Nothing. I just thought what with Millie and all, it might not be the best choice of material,” she said. “Seeing as you’re a bit-”

“Enough deduction. Just read to me, eh?”

“Fine, but you’ll let me know if you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Isiah nodded, shifting a bit to get more comfortable against the pillows. Isiah closed his eyes as he settled, resting them for a moment, and Clara still studied his face, continuing with her investigation in peace now that he’d closed his eyes.

Isiah squinted an eye open at her. “You gonna read that book or just sit there staring at my beautiful face all night?”

He coughed as her elbow once again found his side.

“So much for you comforting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked me throwing elbows and pushing you about.”

“I never said I liked it, just that I’m too invested at this point to go tossing you out.” Isiah sighed, rolling his eyes. “Though maybe I should reconsider, let Mickey and Finn fight it out to be my best mate. Michael’s probably as good of a reader as you, probably got more better taste in books anyway.”

“Give me that.” Clara snatched the book from him and started reading without offering a rebuttal, the two of them falling asleep atop the covers before the chapter came to a close.

-----