#poor thing is used to having a six year old and another dog to play with

[bjurnberg]

Pet sitting adventures with a dog this week:

It’s taken three days to teach her how to set down a toy so I can throw it. Because I can’t throw it if she doesn’t set it down or keeps biting my hand to grab it first.

She very desperately wants me to play fetch with her every second of the day, and would bark and whine when I refused to let her grab the toy directly out of my hand often getting bit before I could throw it (no permanent damage or blood just annoying pressure).

But she’s learning! Good dog!

#dog training #my friend’s dog #dog is so young and full of energy #and I am not #poor thing is used to having a six year old and another dog to play with #but they’re at the kid’s dad’s house this week while the mom is on vacation #and this poor puppy isn’t used to my boring ass #I got so used to pet sitting cats #I love dogs but they’re so different #bjurnberg #dog

[marlynnofmany]

The Oddest of Odd Jobs

Captain Piercing Sunlight rubbed her knuckles together, making yellow scales click. It was a more worrying sign of agitation than when Paint did it. The good captain was concerned.

“I imagine more opportunities will be posted soon,” she said, staring up at the job board. Not a single one of the posts was a request for a courier ship, or even passenger transport. It was all local stuff for this colony world. Surprising, really, since the people living here surely needed stuff they couldn’t make for themselves yet, but nobody seemed to be asking for a delivery.

“We could try the other colony,” Kavlae suggested, pointing vaguely over her shoulder while a gust of wind ruffled her head frills. With the sky-blue tone of her skin, she looked cold in the breeze, but that was normal. “I spotted a big spaceport while we were coming in.” Kavlae always noticed alternate landing sites; it was part of what made her a good pilot.

Before Captain Sunlight could reply, Zhee hissed sharply, which I’d learned was the bug-alien equivalent of a skeptical snort. “They’ll know we came from this one,” he said. “The local news said there’s feuding already.”

“What, really?” Kavlae asked while Captain Sunlight sighed deeply. “Weren’t the colonies started by the same group? They’ve got the whole planet to share, and they’re feuding?”

“Territorial species,” Zhee said with a dismissive click of his pincher arms. “Not enough food-plants to go around, apparently.”

“Keep your voice small,” warned the captain with a pointed glance at the nearest large passerby, who could crush any of us with a single hoof. Not a species to insult carelessly, or even on purpose. Six limbs, two of which were sometimes arms, lots of muscle, and even antlers. Nobody had told me the species name yet, but I was privately calling them Space Moose.

“Fine, fine,” Zhee said, folding his pinchers grumpily and glaring up at the board.

Captain Sunlight looked up as well. “Is there anything on here that looks do-able?” she asked, addressing all three of us.

I studied the grid of job posts. The rest of our crew was busy getting supplies — I hoped we weren’t about to skim over something that another person would catch. But just as I thought it, my eyes fell on a posting from a human ship.

“Oh, someone lost a dog!” I exclaimed, pointing. “They couldn’t find it before they left. That’s so sad.”

“We can keep an eye out,” Captain Sunlight said. “Our ship doesn’t have any of the fancy bio-scanners for seeking out that sort of thing.”

I read the whole post, looking for details. A three-year-old husky, male, “exceptionally fluffy,” named Matt. Which was short for Mattress. I loved him already.

“How recent is the post?” Kavlae asked.

“Just two days ago,” I said. “I hope the dog is okay. It says they last saw him at the edge of town.”

“There is a thriving ecosystem here,” Captain Sunlight reminded me gently. “The animal can surely find its way.”

“But he’ll be lonely,” I said, forlorn. Poor Mattress.

Before I could whine about it further, Zhee laughed and pointed at a different post, tapping it with one of his little wrist fingers. “Look at this. Anyone fancy being an exorcist today?” At his tap, the post unfurled a map and a sound clip. He pressed play.

A very familiar yodeling howl filled the air. Unsettling, if you were an alien herbivore. A glance at my crewmates showed that none of them recognized it either.

I grinned. “You guys, we have to be exorcists today.”

* * *

“We saw it again just last night,” said the enormous space moose, his deep voice going high with nerves. “It actually went into our shed, and no one is ready to go see if it’s gone yet.”

“I will check for you,” I assured him. Captain Sunlight was letting me take point on this job, and Zhee was doing his best to keep his sarcasm to himself. Kavlae looked nervous.

“You don’t need anything else?” the space moose asked. “Armor, weapons?”

“No, I’m pretty sure this ghost is friendly,” I said, holding up the only two things I had brought: a sheet of fish jerky and a clip-rope from the cargo bay. “At least, he should be happy to see me. But you guys stay back, okay?”

The towering behemoth was more than ready to stay behind. Several other moosey faces peered through a long window in the house nearby. They hadn’t even come outside. Captain Sunlight told Zhee and Kavlae to stay where they were, and to give the human space to work.

I looped the rope over my shoulder and approached the shed on quiet feet. The post had said the dog wasn’t aggressive, but I knew full well how unpredictable fear could make an animal. (People too, really. All the more reason for the others to hang back.)

The shed was big, more what would pass for house-sized where I was from, and it just seemed to get bigger. Plain-looking otherwise. Flat beige walls and a slanted roof, no windows. A door that stood open. A spill of pellets all over the floor, which proved to be from the torn corner of a bag like I’d seen at the market.

Grain stuff, so hopefully okay for a dog’s system, I thought, hesitating outside the doorway. As long as he didn’t eat more than his stomach can hold. Here’s hoping it tastes bad.

I cleared my throat. “Ma-att,” I singsonged. “Matt! Mattress! Here, boy!”

A rustle and a thump was all the warning I got before a very large and exceptionally fluffy dog charged out and tackled me to the ground.

The moose bellowed in panic and my crewmates shouted. Mattress licked every inch of my face, prancing and whining while I did my level best to sit up.

“It’s okay!” I called out between licks. “He’s just happy! Here, boy, do you want a treat?” I scrabbled for the jerky that I’d dropped, and managed to redirect the dog’s attention without losing a finger. I got to my feet while he tore at the jerky, tail wagging at light speed. Good thing it was the soft kind of fish jerky. At this rate, he might have hurt himself on the stiff kind.

“Are you all right?” Captain Sunlight asked from where she stood.

“I’m fine!” I said with a wave.

She and the other two had stepped away from the space moose, who seemed to be making an effort to breathe his way through a panic attack. I didn’t blame them. The poor guy looked equally likely to pick fight over flight.

Better get everybody settled, I thought, turning back to Mattress and finding the rope where it had fallen. He had a collar, thankfully. While he finished gulping down the food, I clipped the rope to his collar and wrapped the end around my hand multiple times. Then I stroked that thick fur and murmured praises.

“Is it safe?” asked the space moose in a strained voice.

“Yes, just a moment,” I said as Mattress started prancing about again. “Matt, sit.”

He sat. Huzzah. I stroked his head, and his tail thumped the ground with gusto.

“Good dog.” I took a step and tugged the leash. “Heel.”

He sprang up and trotted after me, tail wagging and tongue lolling, though with slightly less chaos-gremlin energy.

“Good boy,” I said, then led him over to where everyone waited. I didn’t get too close. “Sit,” I repeated. He sat.

The space moose was calming down admirably, though his eyes were still a little wide. “You do seem to have it well under control,” he admitted. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I told him. “This guy just wants to go home. We can handle that.”

“You have my gratitude,” the moose said. “And now, money. Extra for speed.”

Captain Sunlight handled that part, while I stroked Mattress in a subtle search for injuries or problems stuck in his fur. He returned the favor by licking my ear with far too much saliva. I tried not to grimace, and wiped it off with my sleeve. “Good dog.”

“All right, let’s get this animal to the ship,” Captain Sunlight said.

“I’ll call up the owners for you as soon as we get there,” Kavlae said, checking her pocket communicator for the phone number from the post. We’d all saved copies.

“I’m sure they will want to see their animal in the cameras,” Captain Sunlight said, turning to me. “I trust you can keep it calm inside the cabin?”

I assured her that I could. We said our goodbyes to the space moose and his family watching from the house, then headed back to the spaceport.

Mattress followed happily, though judging by the panting, he was thirsty. There probably hadn’t been much to drink in that shed, and the jerky on top of alien kibble was bound to make things worse.

“We’ll get you a bowl of water right away,” I promised him. “Okay, boy?”

Mattress looked up at me with alert ears and that particular doggy smile.

Captain Sunlight got out her own phone. “I’ll have Wio ready one for us. How big of a bowl do you need?”

“Um, just have her fill one of the smaller cookpots. He looks pretty thirsty.”

Kavlae asked from a fair distance away, “How can you tell?”

“He’s breathing hard,” I said. “With his tongue sticking out like that.”

Zhee was also giving the dog a wide berth. “Is that why it’s doing that?” he asked. “I assumed the animal was showing off its teeth for the benefit of anyone who might offer it harm.”

“No, he’s smiling!” I said. “Look at that; that’s a happy face. Just a little thirsty.”

Zhee muttered something disparaging about predators being allowed in close range. Kavlae laughed, and Captain Sunlight shook her head.

I looked from face to face. “You guys don’t keep pets, do you?” I asked. “None of you?”

“None like that,” Captain Sunlight said. “Nothing that could kill us, no.”

“He wouldn’t do that!” I said with an exaggerated ruffle of Mattress’s fur. “He’s a good dog! And look how fluffy! Such a nice soft pillow, he’d probably let you take a nap on him.”

“No thanks,” said Zhee. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“You don’t see the appeal? Do—” My smile slipped when I really looked at Zhee’s exoskeleton. “I don’t think you can fully appreciate the feel of soft fluffy things, can you?”

Zhee’s unimpressed scoffing confirmed my suspicions. I looked to Captain Sunlight, and her own scaly hands. “What about you? Not a big deal?” I didn’t wait for her answer before turning to Kavlae, the vaguely fishy humanoid with frills everywhere. “You have proper skin! Come pet this dog!”

She didn’t want to, but under my insistence and Mattress’s continued good behavior, she finally edged forward and brushed a hand across the copious floof.

“Oh, that is soft,” she said.

“See? And he is such a good boy.” I patted him some more, and he responded by licking both of us.

Kavlae yelped, pulling back.

“It’s okay,” I hurried to say. “That means he likes you.”

“Oh,” Kavlae said. She sniffed her hand, then retched. “Oh, he smells!”

I looked down at him and had to admit, “Yeah, that’s another thing dogs do.”

“To the ship!” Captain Sunlight announced. “For water, a phone call, and then a thorough cleansing! Which I’m sure our favorite animal expert can handle, yes?”

I sighed. “Yes. I won’t enjoy it, though.”

Zhee hissed a laugh. “Maybe you can take a nap on the creature afterward.”

“Maybe! Just you watch. Might have to tire him out a bit first though. I’m sure nobody would mind a game of fetch in the cargo bay, right?”

Captain Sunlight gave me a look, but she didn’t say no.

~~~

The ongoing adventures in backstory for this book! More to come.

#my writing #the Token Human #I got Mattress's name from that other post about names #a couple weeks ago #his humans absolutely have a cat named Missy too (Missile Launcher) #fun with names #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #dogs #good dogs #in spaaace #space moose

[robininthelabyrinth]

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan qiren #original characters #my fic #my fics #children's day #some untamed elements

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n, tommy, wilbur and phil

requested: yes/no

an: part 7 of the great adventures series - a rollercoaster of emotions

warnings: cursing, jokes about death (like the vlog) , didn’t proof read as its 6am sorry for any mistakes

it had been around a week since you last spoke to tubbo, the pair of you got into a heated argument and honestly you didn’t want to be anywhere near the boy. no one heard from you since you and tubbo blocked each other, ranboo would talk to you about how you need to forgive and forget and Tommy would do the same to tubbo eventually you unblocked each other however apart from that it was pretty much useless neither of you were willing to talk to the other person, it was just one of those things that needed time, soon enough you’d be friends again. at least you hoped that would be the case. later that day Wilbur sent you a message asking what time he should pick you up tomorrow not wanting to argue you let him know a time and went off to get ready for the night.

The car ride to Alton towers was pretty quiet the majority of the ride was spent playing random car games like eye spy or singing along to the radio as there was no traffic you got there rather quickly giving you longer in the park. you loved theme parks and Tommy knew this so he took the opportunity to invite you and get you out of the house, he also knew he would need the support. Phil began recording as you all made your way through the park the sky car was first so you could get to the other half of the park Tommy made it pretty clear he wasn’t the biggest fan of this and you and Wilbur didn’t help his cause by discussing the recent crash in Italy that killed a group of people, you pointed out all the rides you passed teasing Tommy whilst Wilbur interviewed him on why he wanted to hit 10 million subs, as soon as Tommy mentioned the girl from college your eyes widened and you sat trying not to laugh as Wilbur and Phil sat telling him to call her. Tommy looked at you trying to get back up but you responded by telling him you want to speak to her.

once off the sky car you stood with an arm around Tommy's shoulders as Wilbur spoke to the girl who you’re hoping is in on it and that they’re not calling up the poor girl unexpectedly. as soon as you were informed that her favourite ride was the smiler Tommy pulled you into a hug hiding his face in the crook of your neck

“Are you serious”

“you’ll be fine it’s the safest ride here...if you ignore the crash”

“y/nnnnn”

the four of you walked around the park looking for an easy rollercoaster as you make your way up to the smiler, the blade caught Wilbur's eye so the three of you made your way whilst Phil decided to stay back to record, you sat next to Tommy reassuring him that he’s going to be fine and how it can’t be that bad as a family with a young child got on the ride after you.

“if I pee myself will you laugh at me”

“yes..actually that’ll make it easier for me”

“Please don’t do that Wilbur”

“only for you y/n”

the ride started slowly however the speed soon picked up you sat laughing as Tommy went on to make references about technoblade and how he’s never going to die. soon enough the three of you began ‘singing’ the lyrics to road trip in an attempt to calm down a little bit. was it working? no. a few minutes later the ride came to an end as you made your way off of the ride you heard a child screaming about how fun it was

“awe”

“how is that six-year-old shouting I loved it”

“are we cowards”

“yes, yes you are”

you made it to Phil first and rambled on about how fun it was before Wilbur and Tommy made it to you both wanting to go home

on your journey to the next ride, Tommy pointed out claw machines and dragged you to them, Phil had a go first and didn’t win the dog Tommy wanted, you had a go determined to win however like Phil you didn’t win

“This is bullshit ill buy you a toy dog”

“Why are you never satisfied”

“Good question”

you walked away from the machines with the others Tommy complained that he was being forced to go on the rides, you pointed at the smiler and Wilbur announced you could all go on that now, the rest of the walk was pretty quiet after that. soon enough you were in the queue to go on duel, you were walking with Phil not realising that Wilbur was currently telling your best friend that he was going to die, the only reason you found out was because Tommy ran up to you asking if he was going to die

“Tommy, no who told you that... Wilbur stop laughing it’s not- it’s not funny”

“y/n you’re quite literally laughing”

you put your finger on your lips and walked off. you sat with Phil so you could have a break from Tommy screaming in your ear as soon as Tommy yelled there were guns the ride began, you weren’t the best at this ride you missed the target a few too many times than you’d like to admit, once the ride was over Tommy made the mistake of laughing about how low your score was you made eye contact with Tommy and placed your hand on his shoulder

“Tommy... you screamed at everything the entire way around. if that ride was any longer i’m afraid I’d lose my hearing”

“didn’t you also do shit Tommy”

“fuck off”

and with that you left the ride walking through the gift shop, you and Tommy were like little children picking up anything that was covered in bright colours, you and Tommy found a squishy monster and named it Clarence you ended up getting attached and Wilbur stayed with you as you paid for it whilst Phil and Tommy were leaving the shop

“Phil we lost y/n and Wilbur”

“sorry y/n got distracted”

you all continued walking to the next ride Tommy instantly got distracted by the dryer outside of the river rapids ride and spent a good few minutes asking to go into the dryer. at this point, you noticed another toy shop and ran off to that one whilst they argued with Tommy about the dryer a few minutes later you met up with them again as you began making your way to the next ride

“what I hate the most about Phil is his kindness”

“wasn’t kind enough to let me win on duel”

“I pray on his downfall”

Phil turned to you only to be met with you nodding as Tommy goes on to talk about hating his generosity

“Phil I've been thinking about you... it’s ruined my day”

“mine was ruined by Tommy screaming at stupid o clock in the morning”

“y/n it’s 12 pm”

“okay and I usually wake up at 3 pm this is early for me”

you stood in the queue for river rapids, as much as you wanted to make Tommy calm down you hated this ride and Wilbur saying there was a chance of drowning made you hate it even more

“y/n will we be fine”

“no this is horrifying I remember the incident where someone was dragged under a ride like this”

“Y/N”

“what are you two thinking about then”

“I’m thinking about the beyond”

“I’m thinking about the sweet release of death”

“you might be going there”

“no, we won’t”

you and Tommy began to panic as you got closer to the ride, Tommy announced the floor was moving which tricked your brain into believing that the floor was moving, Wilbur was still talking about you all dying in a few minutes whilst laughing at Phil trying to make him stop despite the fact he was clearly laughing. Tommy got on first as you were making your way to a seat Tommy pulled you over to him so you were sat together. a worker came over and told you all to keep your seat during the ride

“can I get off”

as soon as you finished your sentence the ride began to move making the others laugh

“ill take that as a no”

a few minutes later you forgot you were scared as you were too busy laughing about the fact that so far out of the four of you the only person getting drenched in water was Phil. this newfound confidence didn't last long the ride began going faster and you and Tommy got drenched in water

“We made it through the second most dangerous part”

“heh...”

you looked at Phil tilting your head waiting for him to confirm that Wilbur was just trying to scare you again. your thoughts were interrupted by Wilbur beginning to speak to the camera

“Alton towers is a very safe and risk-free theme park fun for all the family”

he flipped the camera so the three of you could be seen Phil was laughing Tommy had his head in his hands and you were sat with your hood over your head hiding your face so you couldn’t see what was going to happen. Phil told you to hold on but he was interrupted by Wilbur using the camera to record the four of you together again it was clear you and Tommy were not having the most fun on the ride compared to the others. the ride crashed into the small wall next to the ride causing it to jerk forward making the four of you hit your leg

“my fucking thigh”

“y/n there are children nearby”

“y/n, Tommy you two are lucky to be alive”

you and Tommy turned to face each other then looked back at Wilbur who was continuing to chant that you’re lucky to be alive clearly ignoring Phil who was telling him to stop. eventually, the ride came to an end and you all got off, Phil helped you walk around for a minute as your legs felt extremely weak after that ride

“you okay now y/n”

“yeah yeah thank you, Phil. I'm never going on that ride again”

you all made your way to the centre of the park Wilbur disappeared as you and Tommy stood begging Phil for cotton candy, your only argument being that you really wanted it

“please Phil”

“We can have a little”

“we’re growing Phil we need more than a little”

“it’s diabetes in a box”

“it’s pure joy”

“yeah it’s fun in a box let us get some”

“stop being a dick”

Wilbur came running out of a shop carrying as much cotton candy as he could shouting for you and Tommy to take some and run which you gladly did. the pair of you sat on the grass eating as much cotton candy as you could

“ITS BLUEBERRY”

“that is so sugary”

you and Tommy both grabbed a fistful of cotton candy waving it at the two adults in front of you both, resulting in Phil calling you both goblins, they both walked away leaving you two to enjoy each other’s company for a little while whilst they had a break from the pair of you screaming.

“that’s..that's Tommy and y/n”

it was almost time to face the smiler but before that, you had to conquer oblivion again this was another ride that terrified you but Tommy's reaction to the ride made you laugh for a good few minutes until you realised you were in the queue

“oh fuck. we are going to die”

“you’ll impress the girl and y/n you’ll impress tubbo”

“ill buy her flowers”

“This is a death trap” you went on first and sat a few seats away from the middle Tommy not far behind you

“if we die ill never forgive you”

“you’ll be fine”

“will we though”

“I mean”

“Tommy she was hesitant to answer that get me off this ride”

just like last time the ride started just as you finished trying to get off the ride

“y/n you really need to stop asking to get off the rides it makes them start earlier”

the way to the top of the ride was mainly just you and Tommy yelling curse words trying to stay calm

“Phil do we have to”

“Why could I not stay with Wilbur”

“awe look at the view”

“can we just stay up here- oh shit don’t look down”

“any last words”

“lovely knowing you all”

just before the ride was about to go down the drop Tommy grabbed your hand only letting go for a minute whilst you got off of the ride, as soon as you were making your way to Wilbur so you could all go on the spinball wizard ride he held your hand again keeping you close. your way to the ride was a range of Wilbur telling you all about the smiler or Tommy telling you all he was worried he was going to piss

“what the fuck is yours and Wilburs obsession with announcing you might piss on the ride”

you sat with Wilbur for this ride as he was the only person you hadn’t sat with yet and Tommy sat behind you both, you and Wilbur spent the ride screaming, yelling song lyrics or saying your goodbyes

“for lmanburg”

“Should I be worried.. you did you know create an explosion”

you spent the rest of the ride laughing before it came to an end. you all made your way to the smiler making jokes about how it’s all the girl from college wants to see him on.

“you ready Tommy”

“let’s go home”

“no”

“y/n you’re supposed to be on my team”

the four of you made your way through the gates ignoring Tommy who was yelling about it being a prison simulator, you sat at the end next to Tommy

“so this is safe”

“apart from the crashes yeah”

“y/n? is it safe?”

“it’s safe Tommy I can see you’re genuinely scared I wouldn’t lie in a time like this..maybe”

you and Wilbur agreed to become his wingmen and a few seconds later the ride began, you spent the ride laughing quietly as Tommy began confessing his love

“POGCHAMP”

“I WISH I SAT SOMEWHERE ELSE”

as soon as the ride ended you stood as a group again and called the girl from college, Wilbur practically yelled about how Tommy went on the smiler only for the girl to ask who Tommy was and how she wasn’t friends with him

“it’s okay mate”

“you okay Tommy”

you and Wilbur pulled Tommy into a hug.

a few minutes later you all made your way back to the car park as it was getting late. once in the car you handed Tommy the squishy monster you both named Clarence, Tommy screamed whilst pulling you into a hug before asking you how and when you were able to buy it. when you were halfway home you began to get a migraine Tommy pulled you into a side hug so you could rest your head on his shoulder and have a nap for the rest of the journey back home.

a few days late you received a message

tubbo: I miss you

y/n: I suppose I miss you too

tubbo: that’s good because I’m outside please let me inside

y/n: on it!!

taglist:

@l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @c1loudee

#mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt writing #mcyt imagines #mcyt imagine #mcyt x platonic reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt reader insert #mcyt x y/n #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit fluff #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #wilbur fluff #wilbur imagine #wilbur x reader #philza x you #philza x y/n #philza fluff #philza imagine #philza x reader

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck. 

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless​ @northernpunk​ @pascalesque​ @sleep-tight1​ @cheekygeek05​ @bii-aan-ckaa​ @letaliabane​ @starlightmornings​ @mouthymandalorianalso​ @supernaturalgirl​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @purplepascal042​ @asta-lily​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @missswriter​ @juletheghoul​ @pedro-pastel​ @agirllovespancakes​

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd​

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1​ @alliterative-albatross​ @absurdthirst​ @thoughtfulpandawasteland​ @wifeofdindjarin​ @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch​ @helloannbananalove​ @diogodxlot​ @pascalslittlebrat​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @pedritobalmando​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ @mamacitapascal​ @dobbyjen​ @callsigncatfish​ @feminist-violinist​ @jasmincita​ @pascalove​ @eury-dice3​ @gingaahhhh @athalien​

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

[bowlegsandbiceps]

Suptober Day 7: Young at Heart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Teen / Death!Dean & Human!Cas / Destiel / 5,073 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

It was a snowy evening in the heart of winter when Death roamed the streets of Chicago. You wouldn’t have known him from any other young man, bundled as he was in a worn leather jacket, jeans and boots but there was a certain static about him that made other pedestrians give him a wide berth. He was headed to the fire station on the corner of Hope and Clairmont, humming a Billy Joel song as he avoided slush piles and other humans alike.

He posted up against a telephone pole, making sure to breathe so any passers-by would note the cloud of air passing his lips on every exhale and assure themselves that he was human. It was the least he could do. He checked his watch, an old Timex with a cracked face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any minute now.

Across the street, a young girl hurried into view from around the corner, her arms full of a bundle. She looked up at the sign over the fire station door, looked down at her bundle, and swallowed hard. A tiny arm rose from the bundle, naked and red. The girl took it and tucked it back inside the blanket. She sniffled, setting the bundle gingerly down on the top step before backing away slowly. One step, then another her eyes remaining on the pile of blankets before her face crumpled and she turned to run, a dry sob echoing down the empty street.

Death pushed off the telephone pole and made his way leisurely across the street. The baby had started to cry, cold now without its mother to hold it and keep its limbs covered. Death looked down at it, feeling its little heartbeat slow. He crouched down, breathing directly onto the child, and knew he was likely making its final moments worse, a wretched thing like him, even if he was trying to provide a little warmth. 

Then something unexpected happened. The baby quieted and bright blue eyes opened, holding Death captive in an intense stare. Death couldn’t feel things, he mused, but if it could, surely it would have been charmed by the babe who instead of recoiling from its impending end, raised a hand toward him, beckoning.

Death raised a cautious hand, one finger hooking in that tiny fist and he was surprised at how strong it was, despite the hypothermia. The child held his gaze still, just looking not pleading or frozen in horror and Death glanced at his watch again, noting the time. He looked up at the firehouse door, the sound of laughter dulled by the heavy metal. If only the girl had knocked before she ran. Death looked back to the child, its ethereal stare snagging his again.

Death raised his hand and knocked.

#

Inside the firehouse, a number of men made an uneasy circle around the strange man holding a bundled infant. Death hadn’t meant to stay but since he’d already gone and messed with the strings of Fate he figured he might as well assure that the child was taken care of.

“You found him on our stoop?”

“Yeah, you know, I figured some poor kid musta left him. Safe harbor and all.” 

Death looked around then down at the babe who seemed to be transfixed by Death’s face. Death wondered what he saw, why he wasn’t scared. His little soul was a speck of shining light, strong and hearty though his body was frail with the beginnings of pneumonia settling in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

Death blinked and the man recoiled slightly. “Well, he was left here, and don’t you have EMTs on staff.”

One of the men seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and stepped closer. He shivered as Death transferred the baby into his arms, the brush of his hand on Death’s coat giving him a sudden vision of fire and smoke and a strange sense of vertigo as if falling through the floor. He coughed, moving to lay the child on the table and it immediately started to cry. Death hovered closer moving into the child’s line of sight and it settled down though still made discontented noises as he was poked and prodded.

“Did you see who dropped him off? A firefighter asked and Death shrugged, hands back in his pockets.

“She was young. Hurried off before I could say anything.”

The firefighter narrowed his eyes but didn’t question it. “Did she say anything? Why she was dumping him? If he had a name?”

Death paused, looking down at the boy whose eyes were on him bright blue as all newborns are but there was an electricity in them. Death laid a gentle hand on the child’s head, feeling the soft down of hair, the fragile skull.

“No,” Death said finally. “But his name,” Death smiled and the child seemed to smile back. “Is Castiel.”

“Cas-tee-what?” One of the fire fighter’s whispered to another and Death turned towards him, causing both men to step back.

“Castiel. The Angel of Thursday.” Death’s thumb swiped across the child’s forehead. “The Angel of Solitude.”

#

Death was a busy man, lots to attend to and never in the same place for very long. He worked mostly with children, preferring to be the one to usher them to the other side but as time passed he found himself returning to one place over and over. 

The child he saved had been adopted almost immediately by a couple who’d lost many children of their own. Death may have pulled a few strings with Fate but the outcome was ideal. Castiel grew up well-loved and cherished by a mother and a father who understood the great gift they’d been given. They even decided to keep his name, something that pleased Death immensely. If he gave the grandparents a few extra years because of it, well that was his business.

It was a windy day at the beginning of spring when Fate suddenly shifted and Death lighted down in Chicago once more. Castiel, climbing around on the jungle gym at the local park, his babysitter on the phone several yards away was forty-five minutes from an untimely end. Death hung back, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watched the scene play out, an older man making his way over. Death eyed the babysitter as the man approached Castiel, holding a leash and collar.

“My dog got out of her leash! Can you help me find her?” The man said, his face drawn in grief but Death saw into his heart and his rage rumbled as thunder in the distance.

“Oh no!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping down and touching the leash in the man’s hand. “I’ll help you find her. I got a dog too. His name is Marshmallow.”

The man offered his hand and Castiel took it. 

Death was there in an instant, one hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man looked up, his mouth opened in surprise and he gasped his last breath. Castiel cocked his head to the side at the man crumpled on the ground before he looked up at Death. Death could only stare back.

“What happened?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “He was a bad man. He wanted to take you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose and he looked down at the cooling body on the wood chips. “Is he going to be okay?”

Death fought a smile, eyes flicking to the reaper nearby before waving them away with the man’s wretched soul. “He’s gone to where he belongs.”

Castiel nodded and offered his hand. “Wanna swing with me?”

Death’s neck jerked in surprise but found himself carefully slotting his hand in the child’s and allowing himself to be lead off to the swing set.

“I’m Castiel. What’s your name?”

Death paused thinking back to a time when he had a name. “Dean, I think.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel looked up at him, his face dominated by large blue eyes. “Wait, you think? Don’t you know your own name?”

Death huffed. “Well, no one has used it in… a very long time.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel grabbed onto one chain of a swing and turned to sit in it. “It must be lonely, no one knowing your name.”

Death sat in the swing next to the boy and pursed his lips. “Maybe a little, but it’s not so bad. My work keeps me busy.”

Castiel kicked off with his feet and began pumping his legs, reaching higher. Death lifted his head to watch. “‘Daddy says ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ I asked him who Jack was.” Castiel let his feet drag along the ground, grinding to a halt and Death felt a smile quirk at his lips as the child’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “But he just laughed.” Castiel’s head righted itself. “Not at me though. Sometimes I’m funny and don’t realize it.”

Death surprised himself with a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind and making the group of people gathering around the corpse by the jungle gym shiver. The babysitter was still on the phone but the commotion was stealing her attention. Death turned to look at Castiel, rocking back and forth in his swing, his eyes on the horizon.

“Hey, just so you know, for next time, any stranger comes up to you asking you to go somewhere with them you kick em in the shin and scream your head off,” Death rested his palm atop the boy’s head and Castiel looked up at him, a small smile playing across his lips. “Capiche?”

Castiel gave a deep nod. “I capiche.” His eyes had found his babysitter who was now frantically searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, Death hid himself from her. “She looks really mad.”

“She’s just scared,” Death replied and Castiel looked over at him. “You wandered off and she didn’t know where you were.” And a guy dropped dead about six feet from where you were playing. 

“Castiel!” The babysitter skidded to a halt in the gravel in front of Castiel’s swing, pulling him into her arms. “You scared me.” She picked him up, hooking him on her hip. “Come on we need to go.”

The child heaved a deep sigh as if resigned to his fate. “Okay.” He twisted in her arms, looking back at Death, and gave a small smile. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye kiddo.”

The babysitter was already starting to walk away and she snorted, looking over her shoulder then at Castiel. “Who are you talking to.”

“Dean. He’s my new friend.”

Death sat smiling until they were out of sight.

#

Castiel was eight when his dog Marshmallow was going into his fifteenth year. Death generally let the new recruits handle the animals but on a scorching summer day, he found himself standing at the gate of the big craftsman on the corner where Castiel lived. He looked up at the second-story window, the one he knew to be the young boy’s who was getting bigger every day. 

They’d met many times over since that first encounter in the park and to Death’s surprise, Castiel always remembered him and knew him by name. Now seemed to be no exception, the front door opening to release Castiel into the world. His dark hair was an unruly swirl beneath the baseball cap he wore, his matching t-shirt proclaiming he played for the Mustangs, sponsored by Nally Ford. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile as he approached. Death smiled back but his eyes caught on the white ball of fluff that was attempting to make his way down the porch steps to follow the boy. 

Death let himself in the gate, striding forward and they met halfway, Castiel looking up into Death’s face while Death peered down into his. There was no fear there, no anxiety. There never had been, a wonder Death never could truly comprehend. Marshmallow gave a low growl. Death glanced down at the old dog, barely any teeth left in his head but ready to bite at the smallest provocation. That was about right.

“Marshmallow. No.” Castiel looked down at the dog then back up into the face of Death. “He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t feel good.” Castiel watched as Death crouched down, hand reaching. The growl ceased as Death’s hand hovered over the dog’s head and Castiel squatted down to pet him, hands gentle around the old dog’s ears.

“Yeah, about that,” Death began softly. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, Cas, but Marshmallow is very old.” As he said it, the dog’s eyes sank closed. Castiel rubbed his ears. 

“I know.”

Death swallowed hard, his hand moving to hover over the dog’s back and Marshmallow’s legs gave out, his body rolling to the side as he began to pant. Castiel rubbed his belly. “And when dogs get very old, well, they have to go.” Castiel looked up at him. “And when that happens, someone comes to get them.”

Castiel looked down at the dog who was panting, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He ran his fingers through the curly white fur at his side. “Not the dog catcher…”

Death chuckled. “No, no not the dog catcher. Someone who helps them make the transition to their next journey.”

Castiel continued to play with Marshmallow’s fur. “Who?”

Death licked his lips, sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “They look like ordinary folks, sometimes you can see them, other times you can’t.”

“Like you?”

Death blinked and took a moment to marvel at the feeling of surprise, something he hadn’t felt in eons. “Yes, like me.”

Castiel looked up at him, blue eyes steady but solemn. “You’re here to take him, aren’t you?”

Death swallowed hard, the sorrow in the boy’s voice cutting him deeper than tears ever could. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Castiel sniffled a bit as he looked down, petting down Marshmallow’s side. “You’ll look after him? Wherever you take him? He won’t be alone, right?”

Death placed a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and waited for a shiver that never came. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and sat down on his butt, folding his legs so they butted up against Marshmallow’s legs. “Can I have just a few more minutes?”

Death glanced at his watch and nodded. They sat there, young boy and ancient entity as the dog’s breath became more shallow. Castiel dug his fingers into the thick curls of Marshmallow’s side and folded himself in half, pressing his face to its chest. The dog fussed attempted to lick at Castiel’s ball cap. Castiel breathed in deep and Death found himself doing the same, smelling cut grass, sweat and the musky odor of an animal nearing its end.

“It’s time, Cas,” Death murmured, his voice low and Castiel lifted his head, face tear-stained now, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He placed his hands on the dog’s side, looked up at Death, and nodded. 

Death allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand, accepting the feeble lick before he carded his hand through the curls at the top of his head. Castiel’s hands that had been rising and falling with the dog’s labored breath stopped. Death curled his hand and brought it to his chest, holding it there for the feeble soul to feel safe on its journey. His other hand when to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Go get your father. He’ll help you with the ritual.”

“Can’t you stay?” Castiel asked, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and if Death had a heart it would have broken.

“I’ve gotta get Marshmallow to where he belongs.” Dean knuckled away a tear that was making its way down Castiel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Castiel lowered his head, looking at the cooling body of his beloved pet. He looked back up. “Goodbye, Dean.” 

Death was unprepared for the boy to wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze before getting up and walking back towards the house.

#

Castiel was twenty when his fate changed again and Death nearly didn’t make it in time. In the back seat of a car, driving way too fast down a dark winding road, Death appeared next to him, his face striated in moonlight. Castiel jumped, his reflexes slower with the alcohol in his veins.

“Dean?”

“Cover your face, kid.” Death muttered as he braced his feet against the seat in front of him and threw out an arm. 

When they hit the tree at 63 miles per hour Castiel’s body slammed into his arm and Death could feel the ribs break, felt the punctured lung as if it were his own. The driver was halfway through the windshield, another reaper already there to take him. Death waved them away as blood slowly filled Castiel’s lungs. 

He coughed, choking on the acrid liquid, unable to get a full breath. His hand twisted in Death’s leather jacket, tugging, blue eyes wide and for the first time Death saw fear there. He couldn’t stand it. He reached past the headrest in front of him, touched the mangled face of the boy there and he immediately stopped breathing.

“You can’t do that!” A voice sharp from outside the car and Death nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned his head to look out the window and found the small blond woman standing there with her clipboard of names. “It’s the other boy’s time, Dean.”

Death glared out at her, throwing open the door. “You got your soul. Get out of here.”

“You reaped the wrong-“

“The hell I did,” Death yelled and every animal in the forest quieted, the wind through the trees died down. 

The two of them watched as headlights appeared down the road, slowing when the driver saw the wreckage. Death and Fate stood side by side on the shoulder of the road as the good Samaritan talked to Castiel through the back window, promising him everything would be alright. 

“He’ll make it.” Death heaved a sigh, hearing the sirens in the distance.

“Just barely,” Fate muttered, consulting her clipboard. “One of these days you’re going to run out of favors.”

Death turned to look at her. “Not any time soon.”

#

It was three days later in his half-empty dorm room that Castiel attempted to take his own life. Death arrived just as Castiel kicked the chair out of the way, his body falling with an extension cord wrapped tight around his neck right into Death’s arms. A quick flick of his pocket knife and Death had freed Castiel, laying him gently down on the floor as he coughed and sobbed.

“No! Take me! I want to die!” Castiel twisted onto his knees, grabbing onto Death’s legs and hugging them tightly. “Please. I can’t take it. The guilt, it’s too much!”

Death ran his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair. “It’s not your time.”

“It was my time,” Castiel wiped at his face, fury in his eyes as he glared up at the ancient entity. “I heard you and that lady talking. She said you reaped the wrong one!”

“You hit your head pretty hard, kid.”

Castiel wiped at his face furiously, getting his trembling legs under him. “I know what you are. What you do.”

Death brought himself to his full height, leveling Castiel with his most pensive stare. “Do you?”

“I’ve always known,” Castiel spit. “And I never cared. You were always my…” Castiel trailed swallowing hard. “My friend. But this, I can’t take this Dean.”

“Why can’t you just be grateful,” Death huffed holding out his arms.

Castiel’s face went slack with shock. “You kill the man I love instead of me and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

Death’s mouth popped open, surprised again, that made twice in a single decade now. “Your… the man you loved? Wow, how did I miss that?”

“You miss a lot of things,” Castiel spit, his eyes hard.

Death rubbed his mouth. “When-“

“Since I was a child,” Castiel heaved a sigh. “Look don’t try to change the subject. I was dying already, Dean!” Castiel’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why’d you have to take him? He was everything to me. How could you not know that?”

Death rubbed the back of his neck, “Life isn’t really under my purview, kid.”

“What about love then?” Castiel got right in his face, nose to nose, and Death stood stock still. 

“I know it when I see it.”

“Then you must have been blind that night.” Castiel spun away, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. Please. Take me.”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“I told you. It’s not your time.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have some weird obsession with me?” Castiel strode right up into what a human would call their personal space. “What is it about me huh? Why me? Why don’t you latch on to some other poor bastard?”

Death swallowed hard. “I can go if you’d like.” 

Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “Stay. Go. What do I care?” He let himself fall onto his bed, face buried in his pillow while Death stood watch.

#

Death didn’t see much of Castiel after that or more like Castiel didn’t see much of him. He’d check in every now and then, saw him graduate college, move to the east coast, fall in love and get his heart broken only to fall in love again. Through it all Death stood watch, sometimes with Fate at his side, like at Castiel’s wedding.

“I could step in,” Fate murmured, an offer she wasn’t likely to make twice but Death shook his head, watching as Castiel beamed with happiness after kissing his husband.

It wasn’t long after that they met again in a hospital just north of Chicago. It was nearing midnight and no one was around. Castiel was sitting with his mother, his husband and father had gone home hours before but Castiel insisted on staying. Neither could understand why Castiel refused to leave her side but didn’t question it. Castiel was a good son who loved his mother very much. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Death hovered in the doorway. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I tried to wait for you to leave,” Death mumbled, looking down at his boots as he tapped his toe on the floor.

“Why?”

Death looked up and found Castiel’s head canted to the side, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms when we last spoke.”

Castiel looked down at his mother’s hand, so small and frail in his own. He cleared his throat. “You were right. I should have been grateful.”

“It was a callous thing to say when you were grieving.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s true.” He huffed a sigh. “But ultimately you were right. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was then. Not that kind of love anyway.” Castiel ran his thumb over the thin blue veins of his mother’s hand. “How much longer does she have?”

Death checked his watch. “We’ve got a few more minutes.”

“Then sit.”

Death did, across the bed from Castiel and took in the changes, the strands of gray in his hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth.

“You know you look exactly the same as I remember you when I was four.”

Death grinned. “All that clean living.”

Castiel snorted, a grin pulling at his own lips before it faded. “You’ll take care of her?”

Death nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel squinted, opening his mouth then closing it again. Death heaved a sigh. “Go ahead. Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

Castiel’s cheeks bloomed a lovely pink that Death would see in every sunrise from that moment on. “How’s Marshmallow?”

Death blinked. “I give you one question to ask me whatever you want and you ask about your damn dog?”

Castiel frowned. “I loved that dog.”

Death rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Marshmallow is doing great. Has lots of doggy friends.”

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Good. I hope Mom gets to see him.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“I’m ready.”

Death gave a small nod, waiting a beat to watch Castiel breath in steadily, his eyes on his mother’s face. Death reached forward, fingers brushing a white curl from her forehead before resting his palm there gently. One of the monitors began to scream. A nurse bustled in quickly, checking in and ultimately turning off the sound, standing by as the old woman took her last breaths. Death took her soul and cradled it to his chest.

“Take care of her,” Castiel whispered and Death gave him a solemn nod before he went on his way.

#

It wasn’t long after that Fate dealt Castiel another bad hand and Death had arrived to do his duty. Castiel’s husband laid prone on a hospice bed, his once strong body frail and hairless, ravaged by a disease Death hated almost more than he hated himself. Death came into the room unannounced, stood by Castiel’s side as silent tears ran down his face.

Death checked his watch.

“I can feel you.” 

Death nearly fell over in shock. Third time in as many decades. Damn.

“Don’t hide, Dean. I’ve been expecting you.”

“I tried.” Death placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I tried but I’m out of favors.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel sniffled, his own hand coming up to cover the cool one on his shoulder and Death felt the warmth as if it were the sun. “How much time do we have?”

“Couple minutes.”

Castiel nodded, leaning forward and placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. He gasped awake, eyes hazy with pain and medication but something in them still blazed when they landed on Castiel. 

“Honey, I want you to meet someone. Can you see him? Next to me.” Castiel turned, looking up at Death, and licked his dry lips. 

“Yes,” Castiel’s husband croaked. “He’s just as handsome as you said.”

Castiel let out a watery laugh, glancing up at Death who was not blushing as he reached up to rub his ear. “He’s here for you.”

Castiel’s husband nodded solemnly. “About time.”

Castiel let out a quiet sob and immediately tried to shove it back into his mouth. His husband squeezed his hand as Death squeezed his shoulder. 

“Come on now. This ain’t the end. I’ll see you. Hopefully not too soon?” Castiel’s husband lifted his brows and Death gave him a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Castiel was leaning over, pressing his forehead to his husband’s and breathing slow in his nose and out his mouth, barely hanging on. Death stepped forward, hand covering the one that Castiel held. One final gasp and then the room was silent. Castiel gave a soft cry, feeling warmth rush through him, love and light and something so bright it almost burned. And then it was gone.

Death pulled the soul close to his chest, his other hand lighting on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel glanced up into the face of Death but was immediately distracted by the small ball of light in his hand. Castiel looked up and Death nodded in answer to his question. Castiel let go of the hand in his and wrapped his arms around himself as the tears came hot and fast.

“Can you please stay?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “I need to take care of him. But I can come back.”

“Please hurry.”

#

Death wasn’t really the type to hang around any one place too long but for years after Castiel’s husband’.s transition, he found himself irrevocably drawn to Castiel. He’d always been to a certain extent but the man’s grief had worn down all his defenses, all his excuses to stay away. For once Death was welcomed into a home with open arms.

They sat on the couch and watched bad television. Death had a strange obsession with Dr. Sexy that Castiel found hilarious. Death tolerated all of Castiel’s terrible nature documentaries. It was one night as Castiel was going up the stairs to bed that he paused, looking back at Death who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I love you, Dean. You know that right?”

Death stood stock still and he’d be goddamned if it hadn’t happened again. He looked up to find Castiel just standing there on the third step, gaze just as intense as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on him as an infant. He didn’t have to say it. Neither of them did so Castiel just gave him a small smile and continued his ascent up the stairs. And that night, Death followed.

#

It was both the worst and best day of his tenure when Castiel’s time was finally up. Fate in her fussy suit with her obnoxious clipboard arrived to stand at the end of the hospital bed where Castiel lay, Death at his side. 

“No more favors. No more tricks,” Fate said softly and Death looked away from the face of his beloved, aged and creased as it was now, while his was permanently stuck as youthful and smooth. 

“Can I keep him?” Death asked, staring into the eyes of Fate and daring to hope. “I know it’s not ever been done. I know this is a one-person gig but…” Death looked back upon the only face he’d ever loved, into the only eyes that had ever truly seen him. “Just this once, can I keep him?”

Fate gave him a small smile. “Yes, Dean. He’s yours to keep.”

#

So Death and his companion were joined at the human’s crossing, bound by Fate herself to walk through eternity together. Sure they quarreled, sometimes even spending a few decades apart but the string that tethered them was unbreakable, a fact Death loved to remind his younger counterpart of. 

It’s said that when a couple dies within hours of each other they’re always accompanied by another couple, two men, handsome and young, looking more in love than any cosmic entities had a right to be.

#suptober21 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #deancas #character death #the dog dies sorry #writing by me

[the-lady-writes-what]

21. Hizashi Yamada and Shouta Aizawa

          Theme: Fox spirits/gods

          Kinks: Threesome, double penetration, biting, marking, praise kink, oral      (receiving), breeding kink (if you squint), polyamory/polyandry

Sorry this is a little late. My brain was like, I know I said I was going to make these short one-shots but how about we make them bigger? 

(The gif has nothing to do with the story, obvi)

Masterlist

You climbed up the many steps leading to the shrine. This was your last resort. The humiliation induced by your vicious ex-boyfriend still left gashes in your heart. Your curse was that you fall in love too quickly and are blind to all faults until it's too late. Your most recent misadventure in love had been so cunning, so cruel that you wasted three years of your life with a man who was, in the words of your best friends, a massive cunt. Manipulative, emotionally abusive, but the cherry on top was the rumor he spread about you having an S.T.D. you'd gotten while cheating on him. Mind you, he was the one with the sexually transmitted disease. You were spared because you hadn't slept with him in recent months. The sting was a deadly blow to your self-confidence and trust in men.

After months of battling depression and anxiety, your aunt suggested a remote village trip and visit this exact shrine. Upon arrival, you were acutely aware of all the women either paired off or visibly pregnant. You noticed this at arrival. It was small at first—a lot of couples paired off, two by two like swans. Then, when you approached the marketplace and asked for directions, you noticed how the shopkeeper was pregnant, along with her sister and sister-in-law. There weren't many single men or single women as far as you could tell. Even a male couple looked happy.

You wanted to burn this town to ashes.

It was insulting, really. You came all this way just to have happiness and love shoved in your face while you, the miserable wretch, were forced to pine. You tried not to scowl as happy couples passed you by. Keeping your eyes focused ahead of you was all you could do to avoid knocking the smiles off their faces. Now, here you were, mounting the steps to a shrine shrouded by pines and red maples. Leaves rustled on the steps, which drew your attention. Fallen leaves littered the stairs and the shrine's sacred grounds, but that seemed awfully unauspicious. Was there no groundskeeper, no shrine maiden, no priest to clear them away? As you reached half-way up the hill, you noticed the smell in the air. Not a bad smell, but it was pervasive all around. The scent invaded your senses. It smelled a lot like jasmine and patchouli. You didn't think much of it and thought it was just someone burning incense at the shrine.

Two masculine figures lounged in the garden. One looked indifferent while the other moped. The latter was blonde; it matched the protruding fox ears on his head and the fluffy, swishing tail patting his thigh. He rested his head on the lap of the former, who appeared much like him except his hair, ears, and tail were black as ink. This one wore an indifferent expression. He looked out into the garden as he made a mental list of all the things he had to do around the shrine. Weeds had encroached where they weren't wanted during the summer and now choked the garden. Fall arrived early this year and made the trees shed their leaves too soon. The steps, as well as the grounds and roof, were covered in maple leaves. The inside needed moping, shining, dusting, and replacing oil lamps. There was still the matter of the hole in the sanctuary's ceiling that needed mending. But was there any human around to do it? No. The last priest died over fifty years ago. Shouta, the black fox, and Hizashi, the blonde fox, had been left alone to answer the whims of pilgrims.

It was almost thankless work. Ensuring happy marriages, love matches, and fertility was hard work when one was forced to clean their own shrine. As long as they were tied to this spot, Hizashi and Shouta had no other choice. The only thing more embarrassing than a shrine-god having to clean up his own shrine was a homeless one.

"I'm starting to miss the old man," said Hizashi. "He was so much fun to drink with. At least he had a sense of humor. Unlike the other fuddy-duddies, they tried to send us."

A few months after the last priest's death, his congregation tried to settle another to take his place. The successor was stern and took his job too seriously for Hizashi's liking. 'He's too dull,' Hizashi used to complain. Shouta wasn't much of a fan either, but it was more due to Hizashi's constant sighs and complaints that drove him to chase the priest away. Shouta ensured that no other settled down for too long. As far as the pair was concerned, the priest who died fifty years ago was their last worthy priest.

"It's so boring and lonely up here. There's no one to play with," Hizashi complained.

Shouta rolled his eyes. Hizashi was in one of his moods again. Boredom took a toll more on him than his 'co-worker' and sometimes lover. It was easy to get bored of making love for fifty-odd years while still working a thankless job. Only occasionally did some old lady or grateful newlywed came to offer incense and drop a donation. Whenever there was money, even a scrap, either Shouta or Hizashi would venture down the hill to mingle with the humans for a little bit. Men or women often flirted with them, but they couldn't decide on a partner they could both enjoy. Instead, everyone was declined.

"Maybe we could call up Nemuri and see what she's up to?" Hizashi suggested.

Shouta gave a flat answer. "No."

Hizashi pouted and went back to his pouting.

"You're no fun," said Hizashi.

"I know." Shouta petted Hizashi's ears to placate him.

Suddenly, a shudder rippled through both of them. They looked at one another. A smile quickly spread across Hizashi's face.

"We have a visitor!" He jumped up at once and dusted himself off.

"We have visitors all the time," said Shouta, but this was a lie. Visitors became fewer after the summer once pilgrims got their desire.

"But did you feel that, Shouta? A poor, miserable, broken-hearted young woman just crossed the path of our statues, and she's heading this way. Don't you feel it? Oh, the poor dear?"

The shrine-gods knew the hearts of all those who entered. It was their specialty to work in all the matters of the heart and the bedroom. Sniffing out broken hearts was a talent they both shared, but Hizashi was the more sensitive one. A fractured heart held an aura that most humans couldn't detect by sensing it alone. Sometimes it was a trifling matter. This time, however, Hizashi felt far more significant pain. Betrayal called out to him like a widow. He hadn't even seen the woman's face but could smell her despair, hate, and ache from miles away. She needed help.

Shouta felt it too. He pitied the human and wondered what brought her to that state. His curiosity was peaked, which didn't happen very often, if at all. Her presence was a sad one, and it threatened to taint the whole shrine with her negativity. Negativity drew hungry ghosts and pesky imps like moths to a flame. All of that meant more work for him. Aside from wanting to protect what little dignity his shrine had left, it was his duty to help this miserable wretch.

"Can we introduce ourselves, Shouta?" Hizashi's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief, hope, and something else Shouta could not easily define.

Shouta weighed the pros and cons in his head. By the time he came to a decision, he could hear the woman walking into the courtyard. Her voice was carried on the autumn wind. She was curious too, likely wondering why a shrine was seemingly left abandoned and in disarray. It would be rude to let her go forlorn after a trek up the hill.

You passed under the second torii gates and a second pair of fox statues. There were no lion-dogs as you saw in most other shrines, but this one had a strong love for foxes apparently. You looked at the water in the pavilion used for ceremonial purification. You cringed at the slightly brackish water and used very little to purify your hands. As soon as you got to the nearest restroom, you were going to scrub your hands raw. Walking down the narrow path leading to the inner sanctuary, you kept noticing very odd things. The shrine was in massive disrepair with cracks, debris, and brackish water. It wasn't a complete eyesore, but something did not feel right. There was not a soul you could find; loneliness pervaded every inch of the place. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked on. You found the spot where wishers and pilgrims wrote their prayers on wooden plaques to hang them up. While there were plenty of rustling in the wind, they weren't very many. You scrawled your desire for a loving partner, happiness, and to forget the man who wounded you so deeply.

You hung the plaque alongside the three dozen blowing in the wind. You went further ahead to pay your respect at the small public shrines built on the side of the shrine's complex. There were only two buildings. One foot across, seven feet long, and six feet tall, they were impressively big for small shrines. These were the only buildings uncovered by leaves and pines branches. You marveled briefly at their pristine appearance. In your bag, you brought along the incense your aunt prescribed. You retrieved two sticks of carnation incense and dipped the stick end in the bowl of sand. You lit the incense, clapped your hands twice, and said a prayer. You did this twice at both shrines.

You turned your back to face going all the way down the hill again when you spotted something at the corner of your eye. At first, it seemed like your mind was playing tricks on you. Out of the corner, you thought you saw a ball of glowing blue light flicker in the window of the main shrine. The main shrine was off to limits to everyone but the priests and shrine maidens. This was where the kami, the god, was housed and worshipped by the clergy. You turned to see if what you saw had really been there. Another flash of blue flickered in the window and then another. You swallowed hard, but curiosity pinched at you. You wanted to know. With a quick glance around, you wandered over to the main shrine.

You cut over the grass and walked into the oratory. There were no voices or footsteps other than your own. You called out to anyone who would be listening, yet no one answer was given. Your voice carried down the halls. However, just because no one answered, it didn't exclude the idea altogether that no one listened. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you drew closer to what you assumed was the forbidden connecting hall that led into the inner sanctuary, which was supposed to be off-limits to the public. As far as you could tell, no one was around to stop you or tell you no.

You took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. Your heart pounded inside your chest. The halls were so dark you had to grope around just to find a wall. You tried to turn around and head out only to get yourself more lost. It was as if you were stuck in a maze. Every direction looked the same, and turning around seemed to make matters worse.

In desperation, you called out, "Hello?"

Still no answer. You trekked further in the hopes of running into someone, anyone, and get them to show you the way out. You hoped that they had a flashlight on hand. You would barely make out your hand in front of your face if you held it up.

Another flash of blue had you whirling on your face. You whipped your head in that direction. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt a pair of eyes bore a hole into the back of your head. It didn't feel like something glaring at you, but the sensation frightened you nevertheless. You took off in the direction of the blue flash. Yet another appeared up ahead, further along than the previous. You started running after it. More appeared, and each grew more distinct in shape and color than the last. You managed to get close enough to hear the hiss and flicker of its fire. You stared at a ball of blue flames with its tongue licking the air. It disappeared into nothingness and reappear off in a different direction.

You found it hovering in front of a set of shoji doors. It disappeared once more. Lights flickered behind the rice paper. You pried your fingers against the seams and pushed the door open. Lamps lined the walls. They burned with pale blue and white flames behind their screens. You approached with caution and gripped your bag straps tight.

Wooden floors creaked beneath your feet. You mentally cursed yourself for dragging your shoes inside the holy place, but the longer you glanced around the room, the more it seemed that this was not an ordinary shrine. The room had a lower portion accessible by three steps, and a red mat covered much of the space. A shrine rested on the floor on the other side. In each of the four corners was a vase that held carnation flowers. Somehow, all the flowers were in perfect condition and thrived in the forgotten space. You stepped carefully towards the shrine when you felt something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. Not something, but someone and just a someone but someones. It wasn't the fact that you finally met another person at the shrine or that they were men that gave you alarm. It was the ears sticking out on top of their heads, the tails swishing back and forth behind them, and the regal manner in which they bore themselves. The one in a black yukata folded his arms across his chest and looked quite serious, probably because you were trespassing. The other man wore a red yukata, but he appeared far more friendly than his companion. He smiled broadly at you as if you hadn't just broken one of the most sacred, unspoken rules about behavior at a shrine. You swallowed hard and bowed from the waist.

"I am so sorry for intruding, sirs. I-I didn't mean to intrude…I got lost and couldn't find my way out. I'll leave immediately if you just show me the way. I promise I'll never come back and disturb another shrine so long as I live!"

"Easy there, little sparrow. No need to get riled up," said the friendlier one.

Slowly, you raised yourself up. You looked at them again, still bewildered by their ears and tail. They were either the strangest priests you were likely to ever come across, or they were—

"What business do you have here?" Asked the more somber fellow.

"I-I" You choked on your words. "I had a boyfriend who did rotten things to me. I was hoping to, to, um, to…" Your voice trailed off.

You were too distracted by the fox ears on their heads. They looked too real to be fake, but how was that possible?

The blonde one snapped his fingers.

"My eyes are down here, love," he chuckled.

Your cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Please, if you could just tell me how to get out of here, I'll leave you alone."

Your first instinct would be to bolt for the door. When you glanced behind them, the doors had been shut when you remember having left them open. Were these demons standing in front of you? Is that why the shrine seemed so empty?

"Leaving so soon? But you haven't even heard our proposal yet?" Said the blonde.

Your brows furrowed. "P-Proposal?"

The black-haired fox-eared man slipped something out of his yukata sleeve. It was your wood plaque you left hanging outside. His ebony eyes gleaned over your wish and read it aloud.

"I don't know who will answer this, but I want to find true love, a life partner who will never stick a knife in me and twist. A man, or frankly anyone who will love and care for me. Please bring me happiness and make me forget about the man who abused me for three years. Is this your wish, Y/N?"

Your face drained of color. "How do you know my name?"

"We have our methods. I'm Hizashi. The dour one is Shouta. It's lovely to meet you."

"W-what are you?" You ventured to ask.

"We're the shrine gods. It's been lonely up here for a while now. The priests haven't been to our liking for the last fifty years, so we're forced to take care of the place ourselves, which is rather insulting if you think about it," said Hizashi.

"And…what are you the gods of?"

"Love, fertility, happy marriages, love-matches, all that fun stuff," answered Hizashi.

"Are you the reason why every other woman I met in town is pregnant?"

Hizashi answered, "Of course. We've been blessing this region with successful pregnancies for centuries. There hasn't been but a handful of miscarriages in all these years thanks to us."

"We're not the cause of the pregnancies if that's what that face is for, Y/N. We just ensure that the infant comes to term and reduce sterility in men and women," said Shouta, who had apparently been studying your face very closely.

Your blush darkened.

"Otherwise, this town would be full of half-fox spirits roaming around, wouldn't it?" Hizashi laughed.

"Okay…" You thought for a moment about what you were going to say next. This was all too surreal, but this was better than feeling miserable. "But what do you want from me?"

Hizashi and Shouta exchanged looks. A soft smile crept upon Shouta's face.

"We'll grant you your wish. On a few conditions," Shouta began. "As you can tell, our shrine is in dire need of—what do you humans call it nowadays? T.L.C.?"

"Tender love and care?" You said.

"Yes. That. Our shrine has been in disrepair for some time, but as much as the villagers enjoy making offerings, they aren't too keen on cleaning it. As you can imagine, it's rather embarrassing cleaning up your own shrine," Shouta continued.

"So, what you're saying is that you'll get me a decent boyfriend if I clean your house?"

"We can do better than, little sparrow," said Hizashi.

You felt his eyes wander your body. You couldn't help but shiver. Out of fear or anticipation, you couldn't tell at this point. You might have been hallucinating for all you knew.

"How would you like to be the wife of a god?" Hizashi laughed again. "Or two?"

"W-Wife? I just wanted a boyfriend who loved me. I don't remember asking for polyandry. Besides, why would you tie yourselves to someone human and mortal."

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," said Hizashi.

"What do you say? Help us repair the shrine, and you'll have something better than a boyfriend. It sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?" Asked Shouta.

"Yeah," you said incredulously. "A little too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"You would have to live here and 'maintain' the shrine's cleanliness and reputation. We could get someone to teach you to perform the kagura dance. Learn a few things that would make you useful around the shrine and to the villagers. A shrine maiden, for all intents and purposes."

That did even things out. You weren't tied to your apartment, especially since it still had the ghosts of your past boyfriends lingering in there. You didn't go to college, and you hated your job. Becoming basically a shrine maiden and marry a pair of fox-gods seemed like a step-up from your hum-drum life.

"Hypothetically, if I agreed to all that, how would we go about making it official? Are we to have a big wedding? Does Ōkuninushi* have to be involved? Is there supposed to be a ceremony we have to follow?" The questions tumbled out of your mouth one by one in your unusual state of mind.

"So many questions. To answer all of them in one go, here it is. All you have to do is enjoy yourself," said Hizashi.

Before you could ask what he meant, Hizashi closed the gap between you. His mouth was suddenly on yours, and his hands settled on your backpack's straps. Your load was unburdened by your shoulders. Hizashi's hands ran through your hair, holding your head hostage. You heard Shouta's footsteps come along beside you. He worked your shoes off your feet and your socks as well. When he arose, Shouta's hands found your waist. He snatched your head away from Hizashi to kiss you himself. From there on out, it was a frenzy of hands, mouths, and tongues teasing you.

The first thing to go was clothes. Hizashi and Shouta worked together to get rid of the annoying layers that kept them from feeling up more of your skin. Your autumn outfit suited the chilly weather outside but was ill-fitted for their current needs. Their hands peeled off each layer of clothing until you wore nothing but your bra and panties. Somewhere between removing each item of clothing, one of them summoned an extra-large tatami mat out of thin air. You landed softly on the sleeping mat, cradled between them. Their kimonos were disposed of in the same manner as your modern clothes, with one exception. They were both utterly naked underneath their yukatas. Your blush spread down to the top of your chest at the mere sight of their hardening members.

"You look so pretty blushing like that, Y/N," said Hizashi.

He took his place between your legs. Hizashi playfully snapped the hem of your panties. He seemed to enjoy your small yelp as the elastic snapped against your skin. Shouta sat on his knees and pulled your back flush against his chest. He unclipped your bra and tossed it aside. Hizashi pulled at your underwear until the fabric tore. You opened your mouth in protest, but all the words stopped in your throat to make room for the moan. Shouta palmed your breasts and tweaked your nipples into stiff peaks. Your ruined panties were forgotten as soon as Hizashi settled one of your legs over his shoulder, and he ran his long tongue along your slit.

"It's been a while since we've laid with a woman. You'll have to forgive us if we're a bit rusty," said Hizashi.

Hizashi ran his tongue along your slit again and hummed at your taste. His tongue dove between your folds and pinched your clit. Meanwhile, Shouta kept at his administrations to your chest and kissing your shoulders. You arched your back when you felt the tiniest pinprick of sharp teeth graze your skin. Shouta smirked at you and gave you a nice look at the fangs he had. Hizashi had the same situation going on. You could feel his teeth carefully caress your sensitive bits.

"Do you like my teeth, Y/N?" Asked Shouta.

You bit your lower lip and nodded.

"Then you're really going to like this." Shouta lowered his head to the spot where your neck met your shoulders.

He bit down, but not hard enough to draw blood. His hands continued to tease you while his mouth and teeth left dozens of love bites all over your neck. Hizashi pulled his head up from between your legs. He watched for a moment how your face twisted in ecstasy as Shouta marked your lovely skin. It didn't take long for the idea to get in his head that he should do the same. Hizashi brought his teeth against your inner thigh and nipped. He repeated the process over and over until both of your legs bore his teeth marks and hickies. You squirmed for them. Heat traveled in two directions, to your head and your lower belly. Hizashi resumed his task of fucking you with his tongue and added two fingers to help him in this endeavor. Soft squelches from you gushing over him was enough to make you never want to leave.

"You're so pliable, and your breasts are breathtaking," Shouta sighed next to your skin. "Are you about to cum, Y/N?"

You bucked your hips to the rhythm of Hizashi eating you out. Slowly, you nodded. Your fingers clutched Hizashi's head, mindful of his ears.

"Then," Shouta whispered the next part in your ear. "Cum."

Hizashi worked faster, pumping and licking your cunt. You grabbed for Shouta as pleasure ripped down your spine. Hizashi and Shouta shoved you face-first down the precipice. Your walls clenched tight around Hizashi's fingers and tongue while your jaws hung open. No one else could make you moan as loud as you did. And likely, nobody else ever will.

When Hizashi came up for air, his mouth and chin were drenched your essence. He leaned up, but instead of kissing you, he planted his lips on Shouta's. In turn, Shouta licked Hizashi's mouth to get a taste of you for himself while he was at. Shouta reached down and played with your clit while making-out with Hizashi briefly. You felt their members stand proudly against your body, and your inner walls clenched at the thought of one or both filling you to the brim.

Shouta and Hizashi kissed one more time. Hizashi peeled you off of Shouta just long enough for the latter to stretch out on his back. You were turned around. Shouta gestured with a 'come-hither' crook of his finger, and you crawled towards him. His hands grabbed your hips, made you straddle him, and pressed the blunt head of his cock against your slippery, wet cunt.

"Are you ready?" He asked. It was child's play holding you up like that with his cock more than ready to impale you.

You nodded your head. Shouta slowly, carefully pulled you down on his cock. It stretched you open again. You sank down on him until you were fully seated. You tried not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. Shouta then grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down. Hizashi was right behind you, fisting his cock. He wasn't as big, but he was just as long. Hizashi placed his other hand on the small of your back. You felt his cock probe the area where Shouta was already preoccupied. Something clicked in your head. Shouta grabbed and clutched your hands. Beads of sweat ran down the side of your face while Hizashi brushed his cuck against your cunt.

"Look at me," said Shouta. "Look at me. You're going to be fine. We'll make you feel so good."

"So very good," Hizashi cooed.

You tightened your grip on Shouta's hands. You stared at his face as Hizashi pushed forward, stuffing you close to the point of damage. You were well-lubed up to take both of them, but in practice, this was your first time having two men fill you at the same time. Inch by careful inch, Hizashi pushed into your cunt. When he was fully seated, he let out a long sigh.

"I can feel both of you against, and it feels so good." Hizashi shuddered.

"Can you move?" Shouta asked Hizashi.

"Give me a minute."

You were given a few minutes reprieve, and in that time, you felt your lower belly swell. You felt them stretch you to impossible measures. Though tears stained your cheeks, you never felt more pleasure. The mixture of both pleasure and pain blurred the lines. It wasn't long before you were being pushed and pulled in either direction, their cocks fucking you deep.

Wet skin slapped against skin. The men you were sandwiched between grunted and moaned your praises at your ability to take them both so deep. There weren't any words you could say with any cohesion. Words became meaningless when being fucked into oblivion. Hizashi and Shouta worked in tandem. When one pulled out, the other plowed right in. Both cocks kissed your cervix as they drove themselves, and each other, wildly into your cunt. You felt fluids rush between your legs that mingled with your sweat. You squeezed Shouta's hands and buried your face in his chest.

Higher, higher, and higher still, you were flying. You bit Shouta's chest as their cocks thrust in and out. Your brain turned into mush at this point. All you cared about was getting fucked on their cocks forever. Little else mattered beyond that.

"I'm close," said Shouta.

"M-Me too," said Hizashi.

"Then let's finish it."

Without another word, they started to drive faster than before, and you thought it was impossible. Shouta returned your bruising grip and rammed upwards to meet Hizashi's downward thrust. They both moved quickly and headed towards coming undone inside you. You felt it too. Your walls spasmed and fluttered around both their cocks, though the stretch made it hard to tell. They shifted into an erratic pace rather than a smooth move. Their cocks drove harder into your cunt. Animalistic grunts filled the room as both Shouta and Hizashi slammed home. You screamed your climax just at the same time they did. You kept screaming while ropes of cum warmed your belly. You were moaning into Shouta's chest as you felt buckets of their seed filled your womb. There was nothing for you to wonder about why they were the gods of fertility and pregnancy.

Hizashi pulled all the out first. He massaged your shoulders while Shouta lifted your hips off him. Hizashi's long fingers dabbed some of the cum dripping down your thighs and pushed it back inside your weeping pussy.

"You gotta keep it in, ya, little sparrow. You want to be a good wife to your husbands, don't you?" Hizashi cooed.

*Ōkuninushi- mentioned in both the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki as the god of nation-building, agriculture, business, medicine, love, marriage, and fortune

#kinktober #kinktober week #my hero academia fanfiction #kinktober my hero academia edition #reader fic #hizashi yamada #present mic #presentation michael #present mic x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #erasermic #erasermic x reader #poly #I'm also sorry it's ridiculously long

[hockeyboysiguess]

three french horns -> three goal horns | n. mackinnon

a/n: and like clockwork, here is fic number three in my 12 days of christmas series! i wrote this one a while ago and i hurt myself re-reading it to proof it, so i hope you all like it! rest of the christmas series linked here.

word count:  4,037

warnings: alcohol, drinking 

“Hey, Nate?” you called out from the living room when you heard the back door open, signaling his reappearance in the house after letting the dogs outside. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asked as he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking the last bit of the early Denver snow off. 

You asked the question you’d been asking him since two weeks after his birthday, the same question you’d been asking a variation of for the three months before his birthday. “Nate, what do you want for Christmas?” 

The sound that left Nate’s mouth was barely human, a groan coming from deep within, from the place that never knew what he wanted for any major gift giving holiday of any kind. You tried to be original, get sentimental things, but it was hard to buy for someone who could literally buy anything they ever wanted. Nate didn’t have big, expensive wishes, so if he wanted something, he often just bought it on the spot and you were none-the-wiser until it showed up at his house. This penchant, this bad habit, carried throughout the holiday season; it was a perpetual state of being for Nathan MacKinnon. This meant that items Nate ordered for himself were as likely to show up December 24th as any other day of the year, which was eternally infuriating as a person in his life trying to buy him gifts on the semi-regular basis. 

“I don’t know,” he answered you, like he did every other time. “I’ll like it because it’s from you.” 

That response was sweet the first, second, and half-sweet the third time he’d used it on you. Now, that response was worn out like an old pair of jeans, with holes in the thighs and the knees hanging together by a thread, absolutely unusable at this point in time really. Yet Nate continued to say it, like that string of seven words didn’t light a fire in your stomach completely unlike the kind crackling under the stockings on the mantle right now. 

“Nate,” you groaned, all too similarly to how he had when you asked your question. Spend enough time with a person and you pick up their habits. You and Nate were a completely unoriginal example of that. “You know I hate when you say that.” 

Nate rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know. A hat trick? But you can’t get me that, I’ve got to get that for me.” 

The infamous illusive hat trick. While it wasn’t those dreaded seven words, you were pretty sure you had heard about this hat trick that was alluding him every other day at this point. In all fairness to Nate, the amount of times he had scored twice in the first two periods of a game this season and been held off the scoreboard in the second was absurd. Commentators were joking about it, his teammates were chirping him over not one, not two, but three missed empty netters that would’ve sealed it, even though Nate liked to say those didn’t really count as hat tricks. Greater than all of that, Nate was starting to incredibly frustrated with himself and his performances. You knew Nate was a competitive guy before you even went on your first date with him, but his competitiveness ran deep and honestly you weren’t sure your relationship would work if you were even an ounce more competitive than you were. Nate had to win, he had to achieve his goals. This goal was quite simply just three goals, but it continued to be just out of reach this season and coming up on the holiday season, pushing the halfway mark, Nate was starting to think it might not happen this year. 

“You’ll get one, Nate,” you sighed. “You’re so close and you’re too good not to get whatever you put your mind to.” 

“I got a good feeling about the game tomorrow,” he replied, sliding up next to you on the couch to throw a Christmas sweater-covered arm around your shoulders. “My good luck charm is going to be there, right?” 

Nate wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but he said he always scored more whenever you came. Statistically, a complete lie, but it made you feel special all the same. He kissed your temple softly as he relaxed into the couch cushions next to you. 

“So, what are we watching? Classic or trashy Christmas?” 

That question itself somehow encapsulated every single reason you loved Nathan MacKinnon, despite his pension for buying his own Christmas presents, his overly competitive nature, and the difficulty that came with trying to buy him a present. Nate didn’t love Christmas movies; he wasn’t a hater like some people you’d dated before, but you adored them, both classic and trashy alike. Nate jumped on board with whatever you liked, no questions asked. He always said you didn’t sign up to date all of his teammates that walked through the door scrounging for homemade food or the long hours alone, the least he could do was be as supportive of the things you liked as you were about hockey for him. Nate’s support came in casual, steady waves of constantly and consistently showing up, no matter how tired he was, no matter how long the day before had been. He might fall asleep twenty minutes into the movie, but Nate was here and active and present for as long as he could stay awake. He’d cross deserts and move mountains for an hour with you, and some days that’s what it took, but Nate showed up and jumped on board, which made him the easiest person in the world to love in spite of everything else. It made him the only person you wanted to spend this Christmas and every other one in the future with.

The next day, with his last name on your back and a Santa hat on your head, you found yourself in a position that felt all too familiar this season. You were watching the ice with eager eyes among the other wives and girlfriends. Your breath caught in your throat halfway through the first when you saw two seconds after him that there was nothing between Nate and the net but open ice and a goaltender. You slowly stood up, leaning forward as if those all important inches would help you see the ice better. You didn’t miss the puck sailing over the blocker’s side of the goaltender, or the eruption of cheers from everyone around you as the goal horn rang out, hopefully the first of three for Nate this evening. Mel hugged you, as if you had anything to do with Nate scoring. You adjusted your hat, pulling at the fluffy white edge until it sat a little less haphazardly on your head as you cheered. 

“Two more, right?” Mel waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes. 

“For my sake, I hope so,” you laughed. 

Going into Christmas break without this elusive hat trick meant the next four days would be spent with Nate’s mind half at the rink, trying to scheme and plan and game his way into a hat trick, as if the part he was missing was anything other than luck. Maybe he didn’t need regular luck though, maybe just a little bit of Christmas would do the trick tonight. Your third beer in, a vain attempt to calm your nerves with alcohol, and five minutes into the second, on the power play, you watched as Nate easily sailed in his second goal of the game from the high slot, causing the ever familiar cheers and the ringing of the Avalanche goal horn to sound out across the arena. 

Two down, and hopefully one to go. 

“Hatty watch,” one of the other girls sang out from behind you, giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

You let out a loud, long breath, causing a wave of laughter to ripple across the other women around you. Mel teased you about it; they all did. Nate’s quest was well known among the group, something they were equally supportive and teasing about. 

“He’ll get one,” Mel assured you with a comforting pat to your leg. “He’s too good not to.”

You really thought he had it. You watched as Mikko and Nate peeled off from the defenders caught on an odd change, leading to a two-on-one with a lone opposing forward doing his best, but poor, impersonation of a defensemen. Mikko passed the puck to Nate, which Nate passed back easily and set himself up for the perfect slap shot on the return. The quick passing had sent the other team’s player sprawling over the ice. It was just Nate and the goaltender, who was frantically shifting his eyes from Mikko to Nate, tilting back and forth on the ice. Mikko’s pass was perfect, right on the middle of Nate’s tape and Nate was ready for the pass. It was tracking high glove side, exactly where Nate wanted it to go, right into the back of the net. The goalie was facing Mikko, two key seconds behind the actual action. Except out of nowhere, the Grinch stole Christmas and Nate’s hat trick when the goalie’s glove suddenly appeared in the path the puck was taking and wrapped around the puck, just on the wrong side of the goal line for Nate. 

The referee blew the whistle and signaled no goal. Nate’s hands dropped down, stick hanging low. His head tilted up toward the ceiling of the arena and you could practically hear the groan rise from deep in his chest. It was absolute robbery at its finest and the entire arena knew luck wasn’t on Nate’s side that night. You slumped down into your seat, preparing yourself for yet another two goal game and a frustrated Nate waiting for you in the tunnel when it was over. There were another twenty minutes left in the game, but if the first half of the season had taught you anything, third periods weren’t where Nate racked up anything other than wins and assists, both of which he loved, but he just wanted a third goal, just once. Mikko and Gabe each having one already this season, all six goals involving Nate as either the primary or secondary assist, didn’t help either. 

“I think you need to pray or something,” Mel told you with a laugh. “Pray to anything and anyone out there at this point.”

You cleared your throat and looked up at the ceiling of the Pepsi arena, “Santa, I know this isn’t how you take requests,” Mel and the girls around you were already laughing, “but please, pretty freaking please, can we just get some Christmas miracle magic vibes in here? It’s all he wants for Christmas. Please and thank you and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” 

“Are you supposed to say amen if you pray to Santa?” someone behind you asked. 

“Look I’m not opposed to it,” you sighed. “It just didn’t feel like the right ending when I was asking for a Christmas miracle.”

The girls all laughed and you just stared up at the ceiling. Maybe Santa might grant your unorthodox request delivered via an even more unorthodox method. Maybe you should’ve written him a letter and dropped it into one of those charity red mailboxes at Macy’s. Maybe Nate just wouldn’t be getting the one thing he wanted for Christmas and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You knew he was joking when he asked for a hat trick for Christmas, but joking or not, it was the only thing he even sort of mentioned wanting. If sending out a Christmas wish audibly in the middle of the Pepsi arena was what it took, you were more than happy to do it. 

You grabbed your fourth and fifth beer together during the intermission, knowing full and well that you didn’t want to miss a second of one of Nate’s shifts in case something good happened. If after all of this time, all of this waiting, all of Nate’s back and forth debating, if you missed his hat trick goal because you were grabbing another beer, you would have to guess that higher powers didn’t exist and the hockey gods loved laughing at you and maybe Christmas wasn’t that magical after all. 

The third period was half over when you finished your fourth beer. Your right leg had been bouncing on the concrete since the period started. Nate was getting some good looks, and added another assist to his point tally for the night, but you and everyone knew what he actually wanted tonight. A slashing call with eight minutes to go put the Avalanche back on the power play, and you knew Nate was going to fight to play every bit of those two minutes he could get, which meant you were about to be in for a mentally exhausting two minutes. Mel offered her hand to you, already knowing you would need her to ground you through this. 

The first shot on the power play from Mikko ended up in the opposing goaltender’s glove. Nate lined up for the next face-off and you swore you didn’t breathe as soon as the puck left the referee's hand. Nate swept it back easily to a waiting Gabe. You gripped Mel’s hand hard, grateful you both did this for each other often enough that she didn’t mind. Nate slid up through the low slot and you saw the stars aligning as Gabe sent the puck perfectly in Nate’s direction. Nate was already ready for it when it came, the puck on his stick for less than a second. Your eyes went wide and you felt like you were about to break Mel’s hand as the goaltender shrugged his shoulder up to block Nate’s shot, but he came up short and the puck hit the back of the net. 

You were screaming as you jumped to your feet, arms wrapping tightly around Mel as someone else hugged you from behind, again like you’d done anything other than practically give yourself a heart attack watching it. Nate was surrounded by his teammates on the ice, earning a swift pat on the top of the head from Gabe. A glance up at the Jumbotron showed you the wide, bright smile on his face, filling with relief and absolute joy. Mel grabbed your hat by the pom pom and chucked it down towards the ice, making you laugh and a smile that rivaled Nate’s come across your face.

“Finally,” you breathed out a sigh of relief as the arena calmed itself, calming you with it. 

You plopped back down into your seat, hatless with half a beer and your pride in Nate left to coast you through the next ten minutes. You knew Nate was going to be in a good mood, and you just wanted to get through the next ten minutes of the game to get to him and congratulate him yourself. The score was heavy in favor of the Avs and they weren’t in any danger of losing this game, so you got to drink your beer and let out a long breath you’d been holding since Nate first came home after back to back two goal games in October without a hat trick in sight. 

You were practically bouncing on your heels as you waited in the tunnel for him, fingers fussing with the frayed edge of your denim jacket to get out some of your anxious energy. The second he rounded the corner, a wide, gorgeous smile on his face, you ran toward him. Nate wasn’t the type for large public displays of affection, but satisfaction from your incredibly competitive boyfriend was a hell of an influencer and he opened his arms wide for you. You jumped into him and he stumbled a second before catching you easily, one hand guiding your legs around his waist, the other supporting the back of your thighs. 

“Congratulations,” you mumbled in his ear as he laughed at your openly shared excitement for him. 

“Thanks, baby,” he told you, the smile he was wearing evident in his voice.

“Proud of you always,” you reminded him as you untucked your head from his neck. 

You said it after every single game, win or lose, five points or no points, goal or no goal, you told Nate you were proud of him after every single game. The stats sheet didn’t matter to you. You loved him and you saw the grueling work he put in every single day, every single second he was on the ice. You were proud of him no matter what, and it was one of the thousands of reasons he had come to love you for. Your support, your pride in him and the work he put in never wavered. It was steadfast, something hard to come by in a life as crazy as he lived. You were his rock, his home, and he felt it like the gradual, comforting warmth from sitting by the fire on Christmas Eve, when the world seemed a little more good than it actually was, when you told him you were proud of him. 

Nate smiled as he pressed a soft, quick kiss to your lips before gently guiding your feet back to the ground. He pulled you in tighter, collapsing you into him as he let out a long breath that had been holding his tension for months, caught in the hollows of his chest, finally working its way out into the open air. It had been haunting him, like a ghastly Halloween hangover that dared to last until Christmas. Thankfully, it was December now and Nate felt lighter and freer than he had in months. 

“You got what you wanted for Christmas,” you mumbled into his chest, causing his chest to vibrate with laughter. 

“Guess I sort of did, yeah.” He kissed the top of your head softly. “Ready to go home?” 

“Ready for four days of you and me time?” you teased him a little. 

Despite your teasing, his response was entirely genuine, “Been looking forward to it for weeks now.” 

Your smile in response to his words stuck with you the entire way home. Nate loved you in actions, but sometimes it was nice to hear words from him as well. You kicked off your shoes at the front door, just in the knick of time before the dogs could come and greet you both. 

“Want me to crack a bottle of wine or champagne?” you asked Nate as he dropped his bag by the front door. 

“Champagne,” he told you before dropping a kiss to your temple. “We’re celebrating tonight.” 

You slid into the kitchen, dogs hot on your heels, as you made a beeline for the champagne in the fridge. You’d slid it in before you left for the game on the chance Nate finally got his hat trick tonight. You hadn’t wanted to drink warm champagne if that was the case and now, holding the cold bottle of champagne and two flutes, you knew you had made the right decision betting on your boyfriend tonight. He rounded the corner into the kitchen a few moments later, game day suit still on, jacket and tie lost back in your shared bedroom.

“Glad you got yourself what you wanted for Christmas, Nate,” you smiled teasingly at him as you started to fuss with the gold foil over the champagne cork. 

“Before you pop that,” he told you, reaching a hand out to place over yours as you worked on the foil covering the cork, “I, um, I have something for you.” 

“Nate, it’s December twenty-third,” you sighed, setting the bottle down on the cool stone counter. “Can’t it wait a couple of days?” 

Nate smiled softly at you, a smile that seemed to mean he knew more than you in this exact moment, “I’ve actually been holding on to this gift for a long time and I think tonight is the perfect night to give it to you. Are you okay if I blow up Christmas a little bit?” 

You sighed again and gave Nate a stern look up and down, but the softness in his blue eyes and the innocence in his lazy smile pulled you in and had you nodding in approval. Your nod caused nerves to dance in Nate’s eyes and his hands to slide into his pockets, fidgeting with their contents. He shifted softly from one foot to the other. His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment to watch his feet move before he slowly lifted his head back up in time with a bounce on his heels. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled softly to himself. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, “I told you I don’t know what I want for Christmas. Hell, I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted for my birthday and that was back in September. The truth is I’ve known what I’ve actually wanted the whole time. The hat trick was nice and all, but it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

“Whatever it is, you could’ve told me,” you chided him a little. 

Your words were met with an anxious smile and more shuffling of his feet across the floor. He shook his head softly and let out a tight breath before continuing. 

“The only thing I want for Christmas is something you can give me, but you can get it for me,” he told you softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, the nerves in his eyes and his feet and his hands tightening and constricting his voice resonating in his chest. 

Nate slowly pulled a hand out of his pocket before purposefully, and painstakingly slowly, dropping down on one knee in front of you. Your hands flew over your mouth on instinct and your eyes clouded over instantly. Nate smiled softly at your reaction, trying desperately not to let what he hoped your actions meant take over and make him too hopeful of your answer to his question to prevent him from asking it. He carefully opened the small black box in his hand to show you your early Christmas present, a beautiful ring nestled among the black velvet inside. 

“For Christmas, I’d like for you to say you’ll be my wife,” he continued slowly and as steadily as he could. “The thing I’m most proud of, of everything I’ve ever done, is being your partner. I love you so much more than I say, but I hope I show it enough that you want to sign up for me forever because it’s just you. It’s just you forever, for every single day, every single holiday, every single moment. I want to spend every single Christmas for the rest of my life with you. So, what do you say? Will you be my wife? Will you make my Christmas wish come true?” 

The cliches hung thick in his words, but the emotions behind them, the sentiment was so true you could feel it in the very core of who you were. Nathan MacKinnon saw you, faults and gifts and everything in between and loved you in the steadiest, most true way you had ever known. In the light of the Christmas tree, in the home you built together, with the life you build together palatable around you, Nate was asking you to build the rest of it together. You didn’t have to think about your answer. 

“Yes, Nate. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Nerves gave way to relief which even more quickly gave way to joy on Nate’s face as he slowly slid the ring he’d had tucked in the back drawer for months onto your finger where it belonged. Nate let out a long breath at the sight of it finally on your hand before slowly standing up in front of you, his hands reaching out to cup your face gingerly. 

“Best early Christmas present ever,” you told him with a wide smile on your face. 

He smiled back just as widely and happily as you grinned at him, “Merry Christmas, my future wife.”

#nathan mackinnon #nate mackinnon #nate mack #100% certified canadian beef #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine

[ironwhumper359]

14

“Just a short little prompt fill” I said to myself. “Something to work on in my downtime between longer fics.” Oops I made a whole au and I’m attached to it now, lol. 

14: “Good news! I brought you a friend.” 

CW: Pet whump, creature whump, fantasy au, restraints, referenced conditioning, child whumper

---

“More tea, Daisy?” Matilda asked, holding up her porcelain teapot. Daisy eyed her for a moment, and Matilda giggled. “You can answer, silly!” 

“Yes please, Lady Matilda,” Daisy said immediately. 

“Here you go!” Matilda said, tipping the pot forward to mime pouring. “One lump of sugar or two?” 

“Two please, my lady,” Daisy said, and Matilda nodded primly, picking up a small set of tongs. 

She mimed dropping two lumps of sugar into Daisy’s cup, then one into her own. She put the cup to her lips and pretended to drink, grinning when Daisy did the same. 

“I have to say, Daisy, your wings are looking particularly ex-quis-ite today!” Matilda chirped, slowly sounding out the larger word she’d often heard her mother use at grown-up garden parties. “I love how the light catches them just so!” 

An expression Matilda couldn’t quite read flashed through her fairy’s eyes for a moment, but before she could figure it out Daisy’s smile was back, wider and brighter than before. 

“Thank you, Lady Matilda.”

“You’re welcome!” Matilda said cheerfully, swinging her legs a bit as she pretended to take another sip of tea. “Oooh, ooh, guess what!” 

“What is it, Lady Matilda?” Daisy barely had time to ask before Matilda launched into her story. Mother often said she talked too much for polite conversation, but that was part of what was fun about playing with Daisy, Matilda didn’t need to be polite!

“Father will be coming home today!” she said, clapping her hands. “And that means I’ll get a present! He always brings me a present when he comes home from trips, and I hope it’s something really nice, he’s been gone for so long this time…what do you think he’ll bring me? Maybe a new dress, or a box of sweets...do you think he’ll bring something for you, too Daisy? Oh I’d like that, maybe a new satin cushion for your cage, or a set of gold combs for me to put in your hair, wouldn’t that just look so beautiful with your leash and collar?” 

“Matilda!” her mother called sharply, interrupting Matilda’s musing about her presents. “Time to put your toys away now, your father will be home soon.” 

“Aww, but Mother-” 

“I won’t tell you twice, Matilda,” her mother warned, and Matilda sighed. 

“Fiiiine.” 

She got to her feet and quickly scooped up the dolls and teddy bears she had set around the table to make up the rest of the tea party’s guests. She dropped them into her toy chest, then walked back to where Daisy was sitting, unhooking her leash from the brass loop on the side of the table. 

“Come on, Daisy,” Matilda said, tugging on the leash, and Daisy quickly scrambled to her feet. When Matilda had first gotten her last year, Daisy had stood a few inches taller than her, but Matilda had grown a bit since her eighth birthday, and now she was about the same height as her pet. 

Matilda led Daisy to her cage, which took up the entire corner of the playhouse. Her father had ordered it to be custom made just for Daisy, and it reminded Matilda of a bigger version of the parrot cage she’d once seen at a party at her cousin’s estate. Daisy slipped inside, waiting patiently by the door as Matilda made sure the lock was secure before reaching through the bars to unclip the leash from the shiny golden collar she wore around her neck. She hung the leash on a hook on the cage door, then grinned, waving at her pet.

“Bye Daisy!” she said. “I’ll come visit you again after supper, alright?” 

She skipped out into the garden, where her mother was waiting to close the playhouse door behind her. 

“Did you remember to lock the cage, dear?” Mother asked, and Matilda rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, Mother.”  

“Good. Now, come with me. Your father will be home any minute, and he has a surprise for you.”

A grin stretched across Matilda’s face. She couldn’t wait to find out what it was! 

--- 

Matilda was not an unkind little girl. She was sweet, polite, and as far as Lorrella could tell, never hurt anybody on purpose. 

This, of course, did little to soothe the chafed skin beneath Lorrella’s collar or the ache for freedom in her heart. 

Matilda did not seem to realize that her beloved fairy was a prisoner in the opulent playhouse her father had built her on the grounds of their family manor. She never registered Lorrella’s discomfort, though that was mostly because Lorrella took great pains to hide it from her. Matilda was bound to become upset if her pet wasn’t acting happy, after all. 

And rule number one was Don’t upset Matilda. 

So Lorrella couldn’t really blame the girl for not realizing when she was uncomfortable, but Matilda still didn’t seem to think twice about leading her around on a leash like a dog or locking her in a six by six foot cage whenever they weren’t “playing together.” She certainly hadn’t been interested in learning Lorrella’s real name, content instead to dub her “Daisy” because it sounded pretty.  

Daisy was a dress up doll, a hair model, an audience for impromptu storytimes and a companion for tea parties and garden outings. Whatever Matilda wanted for as long as she wanted, that’s what Daisy had to be. Lorrella was allowed to exist only in these quiet moments when Matilda left her here alone; when nothing was wanted of her and she could whisper her name into the empty room so that she would not forget it. 

The most frightening thing was that while Lorrella longed for such a reprieve when she was with Matilda, whenever she was alone, she’d begun to find herself wishing for the girl’s company. Lorrella was nobody, did nothing, belonged nowhere when Matilda was gone. Daisy, at least, had something to do, had something to be, even if that something was little more than an object to be shaped and molded by someone else. 

Daisy belonged to Matilda, but Daisy had a purpose. Lorrella belonged to no one, but her life had ceased to have meaning altogether. 

The door to the playhouse suddenly burst open and Lorrella jumped in surprise as Matilda darted into the room.

“Daisy!” she cried, running up to the cage and grinning from ear to ear. “Good news! Father brought you a friend!” 

Lorrella blinked and tilted her head, a silent question. Matilda reached through the bars and patted her on the head, then grabbed her collar and pulled. Lorrella suppressed a wince at the sudden jerk of movement and leaned forward so that Matilda could clip the leash on. 

“Come on, come on, you have to see it!” Matilda said.  As soon as she had Lorrella out of the cage, she dashed out of the room, and Lorrella had no choice but to follow as quickly as she could. 

Matilda hurried through the grounds and Lorrella stumbled after her, biting back a yelp every time Matilda ran too fast or turned too suddenly for her to keep up. Her neck was already growing sore, and she’d tumbled over enough times that her knees would be bound to have an angry smattering of fresh bruises by morning. She desperately wanted to call out for Matilda to slow down, but she held her tongue. 

Rule number two was Never speak unless spoken to. 

Matilda finally skidded to a halt outside the family stables, and Lorrella let herself fall to her knees beside her, gasping for air. 

“Father!” Matilda called, knocking on the stable door. “I brought Daisy to come see it too! Can we come in?” 

Lorrella stared at Matilda incredulously. All this fuss just to meet a new pony?

Matilda’s father appeared at the door, and Lorrella shrank back, casting her eyes downward. 

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “But you must remember to move slowly, alright? It is still quite wild, and not used to people yet.” 

Matilda nodded solemnly, and her father opened the door wide, allowing her to pull Lorrella inside. They passed through most of the stable and Matilda occasionally paused to wave at a favorite horse, but they didn’t stop moving until they reached the end of the row of stalls. The stall at the back was open, and as they approached, Lorrella could hear the stable hands muttering to each other.  

“Shit! Hold the damn thing still, will you? I can’t buckle these straps tight enough when it’s squirming so much!” 

“I will thank you,” Matilda’s father said coldly,” to not swear in front of my daughter.” 

The two snapped to attention instantly, twin looks of apology on their faces. 

“Yes, Lord Tracey, sorry Lord Tracey,” said the one who’d cursed, ducking his head.

“Can I show Daisy now?” Matilda asked, and her fathers face softened as he looked down at her.

“Of course, my dear. The creature is secure?” he added to the stablehands, and they nodded quickly.

“Yes, my lord. Took a fair bit of wrangling, but it shouldn’t be a problem now.” 

They stepped aside, revealing the animal in the stall, and Lorrella was unable to stop herself from gasping. She froze, glancing up at Lord Tracey, but he only had eyes for Matilda, who was staring at the creature with a wide grin 

It was not, as Lorrella had first assumed, simply a new pony; it was a centaur. Their upper body was wrapped up tightly in a harness that forced its arms behind its back, and their face was partially covered by a bitted bridle, the lead of which was tied to a hook on the wall. 

Lorrella had never seen a centaur before, and she was no expert on horses either, but even she could see that the creature was only a child. Judging by the face alone, one not much older than Matilda herself, or at least whatever the centaur equivalent was to eight years old. The poor thing was clearly terrified, too; they were trembling slightly and pawing at the ground with one of their front hooves.

“Daisy, this is Coco!” Matilda said happily. “Coco, this is Daisy! The two of you are gonna be the best of friends, I know it! What do you think, Daisy, isn’t she just the greatest present you ever saw?” 

The centaur flinched when Matilda spoke, and Lorrella glanced back at Lord Tracey, who was watching the whole exchange with what on the surface looked like a bored expression. She swallowed, and shot the centaur what she hoped was an apologetic look before answering. 

“Yes, Lady Matilda,” she said quietly. “She’s perfect for you.”

#whump #whump fic #creature whump #fairy whump #centaur whump #pet whump #nonhuman whumpee #child whumper #matilda's playhouse #my writing

[icerosecrystal]

Daminette - The Goddess of Deception vs the Goddess of Creation Pt. 1

Next

Marinette, goddess of deception, at least, that’s what everyone thought. In reality, she was the goddess of creation, but all the other gods and goddesses had handed over the title to another goddess. Lila was her name, and she was the actual goddess of deception, not that anyone except for Marinette knew. Even the queens and kings of Olympus Tikki, Plagg, Wayzz, etc. were starting to believe Lila. How did Lila manage to do this? Well, it all happened a year ago.

(A Year Ago)

Marinette was heading out to meet her friends. Once she arrived, she heard a loud, obnoxious voice claiming to be the Goddess of Creation. She looked around and saw a girl with sausage hair, talking to the rest of her friends. Supposedly, she found out she was the goddess a couple of months ago, and she and the god of the sun, Adrien were to be married in six years. While the dates were correct, her claims most certainly were not. Marinette then came up and questioned, “How could you possibly be the goddess of creation?”

Yeah, tactlessness was not her forte. Sausage hair burst into tears, exclaiming, “Of course you would question me! I expect nothing less from the goddess of deception.” Marinette couldn’t believe what she just heard, she tried to stammer out an answer, but after sausage hair’s response, everyone swiftly turned to glare at her.

“That’s so not cool, have you been lying to us the whole time, Marinette,” Alya yelled, “And just because you are the goddess of deception, that doesn’t mean you have to have it out for poor Lila.” Oh, so Lila was her name, it should be Liar, not Lila. Everyone continued shouting similar things to Marinette, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lila looking at her smugly.

Lila then loudly laughed and said, “Well, I should tell more about what it’s like being the goddess of creation, ” and she then dragged everyone along, leaving Marinette shaking with blinding rage. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked around to see Adrien looking at her. He had a disappointed look in his eyes.

“Marinette, why would you do that? If you leave Lila alone, she will get some more friends and will eventually admit that she isn’t the goddess of creation. Just play along.” It made Marinette even angrier was he implying that she should leave her future in the hands of a LIAR!

Marinette gave him a cold glare, “ I don’t care what you think, Mr. Agreste. You think Lila’s well being is more important over my own. She is stealing my title and future, and it will end up harming everyone, including me.” She saw him opening his mouth to most likely retort, but before he could, she turned on her heal and said, “Have a good rest of your day Mr. Agreste.” After seeing Adrien’s true colors, Marinette swore that if she ever got out of this mess and be identified as the true goddess of creation, she would do everything in her power so that she wouldn’t marry Adrien. For he is a fool, the god of the sun is.

~Present~

Marinette sighed, reminiscing in the consequences that day. Who knew that her friends had so little faith in her?! The only good thing that came out of the whole ordeal was that she ended up dodging a bullet in having to marry Adrien. But, she realized that if she does come out as the true goddess of creation, she would have to marry him. Fortunately, it would be a bit harder for her to do because Adrien had kissed Lila, which resulted in the breaking of the bond between Marinette and Adrien. It came with a price of immense pain, but the bond, still broken.

Either way, she would end up losing something if she left or stayed, and did she want to out her true identity to a group of people who believed a stranger over her? No, she didn’t. So, she made the hard decision to disappear, well the semi-hard decision. She would miss her parents, the god of baked goods and family, and the goddess of the harvest. She would miss Luka, the god of music, Juleka the goddess of insecurities, Kagami the goddess of war, and surprisingly Chloe, the goddess of subjection, whom she got closer to over the year of isolation that Marinette faced from her old friends. Nonetheless, she would be sad about leaving them, but she needed this. She got in contact with her Grandma, goddess of traveling, and she then left for the mortal world, saying goodbye to Olympus, if only for a couple of years.

(Time Skip of 4 years)

It has been four years since Marinette left Olympus, and she was so happy. She was able to explore so many different places in the mortal world with her grandma. But, unfortunately, her grandma was needed back in Olympus a year ago, so she had been traveling by herself ever since. She was currently in Los Angeles, California. It was crowded with many mortals and was very noisy, but it was incredibly beautiful and a new experience for her. She was walking around the city when she saw a doorway. She looked around and saw that none of the mortals could see it, meaning it belonged to Olympus. She looked back at it and saw a dark figure leaning against the alleyway leading to the doorway. When he saw her, he pushed off the wall and walked to her. He stepped in front of her and smirked, “Little goddess, what are you doing all alone? And why are you looking at one of the gateways to the Underworld?”

Wait, Los Angeles was one of the gateways to the Underworld?! (Yes, I did get this idea from Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief) But, if that’s the gateway to the Underworld, then it meant that this figure in front of her was Damian, the god of the Underworld! “Yes, I am,” Oh, crap, she said that out loud. “Little Goddess, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here and not on Olympus?”

It took a minute for the question to register into her brain before she promptly explained how Lila claimed the title of the goddess of creation, how she was the real goddess of creation. How she got completely isolated because Lila said that she was the goddess of deception. Marinette ranted about how her life had been five years ago, and how Marinette had had enough, deciding to leave Olympus for the mortal world. The whole time, she could see Damian’s face growing darker, and he looked like he would try as hard as he could to commit a murderer to a goddess, which confused her. Why did he care she just met him? By the end of her tirade, Marinette was panting for air, before she realized that he might no believe her like her old friends. So she timidly asked, “Do you believe me?”

Damian was snapped out of his murderer planning and quickly reassured her, “Of course, I believe you! I can feel the aura of creation surrounding you while you can most likely feel the aura of destruction and death around me.” She understood what he meant about the auras. She was also relieved that she had finally found someone who believed her.

Damian watched her closely before asking her a question that changed everything, “Would you like to go to the Underworld with me?” Marinette looked startled for a second before carefully thinking about her answer. It would be a great experience staying in the Underworld. And Damian had been so kind to her so far, on top of all that he believed her. No one believed her, especially not a stranger. She looked him straight in the eye before giving him her answer, “Yes.”

Damian leads her through the doorway, and after a series of confusing twists and turns, they finally reached the Underworld. Most would find it dark and spooky, but for Marinette, she was in awe of how all the shadows mixed to make a type of beauty that was found only in a place like the Underworld. Damian was watching her closely and smiled softly at the look of sheer awe displayed on her face.

Before he could say anything, a loud voice yelled from somewhere, “Well, if it isn’t Demon spawn, and look, he brought a goddess!” They turned around and, Marinette saw a god, as she assumed, with black hair with a shock of white along with blue-green eyes. His sentence was followed by a crash and dogs barking, and finally, three more gods barreled in from a doorway. Two of them squealed in delight, while the other one yelled, “Is that a real, goddess?” (I did just casually quote Frozen in the middle of my one-shot)

From there, it was chaos, all the boys were asking questions, trying to know her, but all of the questions were flying overhead, none of them understandable. Having enough, Damian whistled, halting everything to a stop. “Tt, enough you useless, morons! What’s going to happen now is that you are going to shut the hell up, let me explain how I met her, and then you will ask Father and Pennyworth to come here so that I may introduce each of you to her. UNDERSTAND!” They all muttered agreements and then waited for Damian to explain how they met. Damian then went on to explain how they met and exactly what Marinette told him about her past. By the end, all the boys looked like they wanted to tease him or get more info on Marinette. They decided to choose the former.

“Oooh, the demon’s in love. The brat found a girl on the street,” the boy that was in the room from when they first arrived exclaimed.

“Tt Todd, go get Father and Pennyworth so I can introduce you,” Damian yelled harshly. The other boy raised his hands as if to surrender and ran out of the room. After some awkward silence, he came back with two gods trailing after him.

“Damian, what is this,” the younger of the men asked.

“Father, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she is the goddess of creation, but the goddess of deception claimed her title, and everyone thinks that Marinette is the goddess of deception,” he went on to explain everything he already explained to the other gods. Once he finished explaining, he introduced everyone. “Marinette, I would like to introduce you to my Father, Bruce Wayne. These are my adopted brothers, Jason Todd, Tim or Timothy Drake, Dick or Richard Grayson. My best friend Jon or Jonathan Kent, and my butler Alfred Pennyworth. Father is the god of darkness and adoption, Todd the god of weapons and witchcraft, Grayson the god of death, Drake the god of judgment, Alfred the god of emotions, and finally, Kent, the god of happiness. If you couldn’t tell, he’s visiting.”

Marinette smiled widely at all of them, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Ahhh, blinded, we’ve been by the pure sunshine that you are,” Jason yelled, covering his eyes. Marinette’s mood automatically soured, “Please, don’t compare me to the sun. You would be comparing me to the god of the sun who is an asshole and a coward.” They all raised an eyebrow

at her response but didn’t further question it.

“Go be idiots somewhere else, heathens,” Damian screamed, pulling out a katana with the intent to impale them. All of his brothers and his friend ran out of the room, screaming bloody murderer, while his Father and Alfred calmly walked out.

Damian turned back to Marinette, “Would you like to stay for a little bit?” Damian asked. “Would you like to stay forever?” someone shrieked along with a thump. (If you couldn’t already tell, I am obsessed with Disney movies. This was a Mulan reference.)

Marinette smiled gently and replied, “I think I would like that.” Loud whoops, were heard after her response, which caused Damian to groan in exasperation.

(Time Skip, it is about the time of the “Lila’s” and Adrien’s wedding)

Marinette has been staying in the Underworld with Damian and his family, and she has been enjoying it. They were all very kind and supportive of her. They helped her, and she found common interests with each of them. But, out of all of them, she connected with Damian the most. He was the one that brought her here, and he was the one who always had her interests in mind. He made sure to check in on her every day, making sure that she was satisfied with her day and didn’t want to leave the Underworld. Marinette wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she loved how much he doted on her. It was a nice change for her. But, she finally realized the actual reason when it smacked her in the face, literally.

She was walking down one of the long windy halls that she would most likely end up getting lost in, but her being the stubborn person that she was, refused to ask for help. She then smacked right into a shirtless Damian. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and looked at her, “Are you alright, Marinette?”

But she couldn’t answer. The only thing she was capable of doing at the moment was staring at Damian’s toned chest. It was smooth and had a beautiful shine to it underneath the lights. He had huge biceps, broad shoulders, and a very clear eight-pack. He had just finished exercising, so he was sweating, which made him look even hotter,“…Marinette, MARINETTE!”

“Huh,” she mumbled out. Damian gave her a curious look, “What were you looking at?”

She looked up at him, “You hot, I -I mean, you look nice, n-n-no, uhh your a chest look amazing, w-wait no, ” she then started mumbling to herself, so that Damian couldn’t understand her and hid her face in her hands.

He gently took her hands and rested them on his chest while putting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer, “So, you think I’m hot. Am I hot enough for you to do this?” He started leaning forward slowly so that she could pull away anytime. Yet, she didn’t. She instead tilted her head up and brought her lips closer to his, fluttering her eyes shut. Their lips met in a moment of passion. Her lips were warm and sweet, almost like strawberries, and they molded against his lips. Damian gripped the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, evolving it from chaste to intimate. It felt like a dream, her hands around his neck, his in her hair, and around her waist. Her finding the feeling of being loved. She pulled away and put her hands back on his chest. She looked into his amazing emerald eyes and his swollen lips while panting in sync with him. He pulled her close again and asked her after giving her a peck on the lips, “ Be my girlfriend?” “Yeah,” she replied, and they went back to kissing, this time making out. They heard the cries of joy at her response, it looks like they had some incompetent fools to murderer later, but for now, it was just them.

That had been a couple of months ago, and they were happy together. While things were going great in the Underworld, things were falling apart in Olympus and the mortal realm. Because Marinette, the real goddess of creation, was in the Underworld, plants stopped growing, and many other things that the goddess of creation controls, was, in the process, of destruction. In Olympus, the Kings and Queens were trying to figure out the cause of the lack of life in the mortal realm. And so they went to Lila. Lila claimed that someone was stealing her powers. The kings and queens were skeptical, but since everyone else believed her, they figured that it must be the truth. And so, everyone on Olympus was ordered to find the thief. And the wedding of creation and sun was to commence.

Back in the Underworld, Damian and Marinette were making plans to expose Lila, but one thing was still troubling Marinette, “Dami?”

“Yes, little goddess.”

“If I do go through with the plan, I would have to marry Adrien. I don’t want to marry him!”

Damian hummed thoughtfully, “That does seem like a problem. What do you suggest?”

She blushed underneath his loving gaze, “Would you be willing to marry me?” Damian looked stunned, opening and closing his mouth, looking like a fish. After several failed attempts to speak, he manages a nod with a hint of red splayed across his cheeks. Marinette squealed and tackled him to the ground.

Dick came inside, pretending that he wasn’t listening to their conversation the whole time, “Well, congratulations, make sure to use protection, we don’t need little demons running around the place.” Marinette blushed and swiftly tucked her face into the crook of Damian’s shoulder. If looks could kill, Dick would be dead three times over with the glare Damian was giving him at the moment. Dick seeing his reaction, quickly left the room in an attempt to avoid being stabbed by Damian.

Marinette cuddled into Damian. Damian looked at her tenderly and spoke, “When do you want the wedding to be? And before you answer, I want to tell you something. If we get married, we would be together legally, but you won’t be the Queen of the Underworld automatically. To do that, you need to eat these six pomegranate seeds, but don’t do it for me, I don’t want to ruin your life, okay?” She looked at him and nodded, “Good.”

They held the wedding the next day. It was a beautiful ceremony, but none of Damian’s family could believe it. Who would have thought that the goddess that he met in an alleyway in Los Angeles would be with him forever? None of them expected it. By the end, both Marinette and Damian were happy that they were together. But, they still had one more obstacle to face, the wedding of the goddess of creation and the god of the sun.

To be continued…

#mlb x dc #maribat #batman #miraculous ladybug #damianette #damian x marinette #marinette x damain #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #batfam #daminette #lila rossi #lila salt #alya salt #adrien salt #persephone x hades #alternate universe #hades and persephone au #everyone is oblivious as hell

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ TWO COFFEES ❜

✨ REQUEST: Oh can I have a Nestor imagine where Miguel ends setting the pair of you up??? 💜♥️💜♥️💜

✨ MADE BY ANON.

Gif credits: to the author.

WORDS: about 1.6k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤ — this work also includes sentences in Spanish, as reader can speak it.

❚❙ NESTOR OCETEVA MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

“Two coffees, please”.

You were with your back to him when you heard his husky voice and a soft latin tone in it. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow with some kind of confusion at his order. Who comes to a Starbucks just asking for two coffees? Turning at the man with your lips pressed in a funny smile, you took a second to look at him behind the counter.

He is familiar to you. You know him from somewhere.

His black braids were the first thing that caught your attention, before focusing on the red and black shirt under the jacket of his suit. His hands were hidden inside the pockets of his pants, but you noticed his nervousness in the way he had closed them in two fists.

“Normal or decaf? With or without milk? Normal milk? Lactose-free? Soya milk? Almond milk? With sugar, saccharine, or mocca? With or without cream? Do you want it hot or do you want it iced?”

“Normal, no milk, no sweetener, no cream, no ice. Just two coffees”.

You were about to laugh until you heard him talking again. A tone more firm letting you know that he wasn't in the mood for jokes. You could see him gulping a little ashamed when you changed the gesture in your face, but you didn't say anything else. The order was easy and ready in less than one minute. Closing the cups and offering him, you tried to show him another gentle smile but you couldn't. Offering you ten dollars, you waved a hand between the both of you.

“It's on me… Sir”. You told him, an instant before he threw the money inside the tips jar.

Watching him leaving the cafeteria made you feel strangely bad, not knowing exactly why. Sighing as the black car, parked in front of your workplace, disappeared from your field of vision in a jiffy. You hadn't seen that man before, but you wouldn't mind seeing him again. To apologize for being so stupid, of course.

—— NESTOR POV ——

“I fucked up”.

“Yeah, we all have seen the face of that poor girl. I bet you scared her”. Miguel laughed in the back seat of his car, taking a sip from the coffee.

“What the fuck you told him, man?” Vargas stopped the vehicle at a red light, turning at his boss.

“I asked for two coffees, and she started to… give me a lot of options, like milk and sugar and I just got nervous”.

“You? Nervous?” Miguel leaned forward, placing his forearms in both seats, sticking his head out of the gap between both. “The fearless Nestor Oceteva feeling nervous?”

“Fuck off, Mickey! I've been trying to talk with her for a week”.

“Yeah, and you scared her. Did you forget you only had to scare people while you're working?” The other man raised his eyebrows, making his boss laugh behind them.

When the night came and the cafeteria had emptied of customers, you turned off most of the lights inside and locked the main door, to count the cash and write it down in the account book. Playing some soft music on your phone, you took off the green cap and the apron of the same color. It was a long day and all you can think about was in that mystery man with two braids, and who made you feel frustrated for some reason. It wasn't like you wanted to make him smile or to know his name, or maybe get his phone number. Of course not.

Knocks on the crystal door claimed your attention, turning your head towards it and interrupting your task. Gulping nervously finding two suited men with his hands tangled in a big fist, respectively, under their abdomens, you stepped out from behind the counter to lead your feet to their position.

“Are you alone?” One of them asked without any doubt in his words.

Simply nodding, the other man walked to the car parked behind them. Then, you watched Miguel Galindo coming out from it. And now, you were fucked. Of course, you knew the man who came that morning. Licking your lips, freaking out, you unlocked the door to let him walk in.

“Buenas noches”.

“Buenas noches, se—señor Galindo”.

“Are you occupied? May I come in?”

With your heart racing, you gave him enough space to pass you away to the inside.

“I'm sorry if… he tho—thought I was making… fun of him. I didn't me—mean to be disrespectful”.

Your hands were sweating, rubbing one against the other behind your back. Barely breathing. Praying anything you knew.

“Tranquila, it's okay. Do you think I came to… make you something?” His calm attitude gave you shivers. The kind of ones that put your body to tremble. The laugh that echoed all around the empty cafeteria provoked your nausea. “The truth is… you like him. He has been some days trying to encourage himself to ask you out, but my brother is a little dumb”.

Tilting your head with confusion, just like a dog would do, you narrowed your eyes not sure if he was being serious or he was teasing you to have some fun.

“I do—”.

Miguel raised a forefinger to stop you, as soon as his phone rang inside his jacket. Grabbing it from the pocket and reading the name on the screen, he answered the call with the speaker on.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mickey? Emily just told me you went for two coffees. The fuck you have? Five fucking years old? Leave the waitress in pace!”

Feeling like shit, you bowed down your head because of his words, recognizing the voice at the instant. The man in front of you watched the gesture frowning his brow.

“Nestor, the speaker is on”.

Pi, pi, pi. He had hung up.

“List—”.

“Can you, please, leave? I think you have had enough fun. And you should be ashamed of using your position to do this kind of bullshit to someone humble, who only wants to live her life without being a target to your free time”. Trying to be polite, you pointed at the door with a hand.

“No, no, lis—”.

“If you don't leave right now, sir, I'm calling the cops”. You ruled, taking a step forward with your eyes glued to him, about to cry because of rage. The rage that helped you to lose any fears about confronting the dangerous Miguel Galindo.

In silence, he nodded only one time, turning around to leave the cafeteria. After locking the door, you let the tears fill up your eyes and run down your cheeks. Needing a little break before finishing your work and going home.

A few days have passed since then, not being able to stop thinking about it and why you. Why they decided to play that prank. It wasn't funny. At least, it wasn't funny for you. But you were sure that, later, they commented it and laughed about your gestures. Turning the filter holder of the professional coffee maker, to fit it into the gear, you can't help but look through the reflection on it over your shoulder. Your heart jumps when you find Nestor bent over the counter with both forearms, waiting to be attended to.

“What would you like, sir?” The question comes out from your mouth with a cold tone of voice, not even looking at his eyes, ready to take his order in the TPV.

“Two coffees”. He replies trying to not show any kind of emotion, taking off the sunglasses covering his dark eyes. “One like… just coffee. And another of your choice”.

Filling up the cups with the drink and securing them with the covers, you put them over the counter to grab back the money and give him the change. Holding one with his right hand, the man offers you the other with his left.

“Do you have a moment?”

“No”.

“Por favor”.

“I said no”.

“I'm going to stay here, till you say yes”. The smile curving his mouth, showing you two perfect rows of teeth, convinces you somehow.

Rolling your eyes and tapping your co-worker's shoulder, you make him a gesture to cover you to take a short break. Nestor follows you then to the back alley, not saying a word but trying to prepare a monologue to apologize. Stopping your track and facing him, having a sip from your coffee, you wave your hand waiting for something.

“I told him to not do it”.

“So… was it a bet, or what? Were you bored and thought that could be fun making me feel stupid and ashamed?”

“None of that”. His jaw tensing calls your attention, bowing his eyes to the drink between his hands. “I really wanted to ask you out, but I wasn't sure if you were going to accept. I was nervous and… Miguel thought that he could help me”.

“He didn't”.

“I know”.

“And you, shouting through the phone, either”.

“Yeah, lo siento por eso”. Looking at your eyes again, with regret, he keeps his free hand in a pocket. “If you don't want to hang out with me, it's okay. I came to apologize for what happened”.

“Thank you”. You just whisper.

He tilts his head, pressing his lips and forcing a smile. Nestor waits one second, hoping that you add something else like you would like to have a date, but you don't talk again. Giving up, he nods turning around disappointed, walking out of the alley.

But actually, you're just making him suffer a little. It's called payback.

“I'm free tomorrow night”.

With a brow raised, the man turns around, facing you some steps away.

“We can meet at Jin's chinese restaurant. At seven”.

His smile appears again, infecting you with the same gesture.

“I'll be there at six”.

“Why?” You chuckle, not understanding him.

“To not make you wait”.

“Todo un caballero…”

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ✨ #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva

[omiscurls]

Lady and The Tramp - sakusa kiyoomi x reader

well hi! It’s been a while since I wrote one of those, huh?

so obviously the volleyball player you’re gonna fall for today is sakusa kiyoomi

the word count: around 2K 

summary: your boyfriend and you go for a winter walk with his dog, and he gets a bit nostalgic. 

and let’s go!

The sun shines a little bit different every season of the year. The winter sun is a tad bit more harsh and refreshing that the slow, dripping summer mornings. And as you look at the white, glistening snow, and the cold sun rays shining directly at it, you just have the urge to go out and do something with yourself, don’t you?

Same struggles happened in Sakusa Kiyoomi’s head that very morning when he woke up to a cold apartament drowning in sun rays, causing him to put a hand over his eyes, to cover them from the merciless light.

“Did I forget to turn the heaters on again?” He whined, and cursed his need to open windows before going to sleep each night. Now it was almost impossible for him to get out of the sheets, considering the temperature in his room was way below zero.

He managed to get one arm outside the warm bed and reached for his phone, charging on the side table. A sight of you in his MSBY shirt, sat on a kitchen counter and showing something you just baked, with a proud grin on your face on his wallpaper greeted him, and the widget above your head told him that it was six in the morning.

So he woke up before his alarm? Impressive, given that it was a Saturday and no practice was planned. He had exactly thirty two minutes before his phone would tell him to “get his ass out of bed” and go for a run.

Sighing, he threw the phone away on the mattrace, and wrapping his blanket around him, he went over to the window.

It snowed last night.

Wait, it snowed last night?

Suddenly, he was a little kid inside, because oh gosh, it never snowed these days! It was all looking so nice, everything covered in a white layer, as if it wasn’t the outside of his apartment, but a picture taken from a children’s book.

After he almost jumped from excitement, the adult side of his has taken over. If it snowed, it meant the temperature went below zero. If it went below zero, the sidewalk would be so slippery that running would be almost impossible.

Well, screw it. He wasn’t going to let a tad little detail like that ruin his good mood. And so he went over to each radiator he had and turned it on, then going to bed again and scrolling through his social media until the temperature around was warm enough for him to leave the sheets. 

And so it took a couple of hours for him to finally get himself up and going, but it was still fairly early when you knocked on the door of his apartment, and heard some shuffling inside.

“Sit already, would you? Fine, okay, I know you’re excited, but-“ your boyfriend’s voice was cut off by a bark, and he was silent for a second, while on the other side of the door, you were barely holding in your laugh.

“Hey! Behave! No!” he raised his voice ever so slightly, but apparently it worked on the poor dog, because soon enough you saw him, leant against the doorframe with both his hands in his pockets, his pet sitting beside him, although almost jumping from excitement upon seeing someone else.

“Oh, didn’t expect you here today” he said nonchalantly, a smirk forming on his lips, as he knew well that he invited you here himself. You rolled your eyes, and passed him by, leading yourself to his bathroom. “Not even a hello?” he whined jokingly, as you shook your head.

“I was in a public bus, let me go wash my hands” you explained, and he nodded, mentally trying to convince himself that’s just something people do. You’re not doing it just for him.

He followed you to the bathroom and once again stood in the door, looking at you with a happy spark in his eyes.

You looked so in place while just casually standing anywhere in his apartament. Like you belonged there. And he was almost certain you indeed, did belong there. He wouldn’t have you any other place, rather than by his side.

“You should really get a license already” he said, quickly looking down at his nails, so you wouldn’t see him stare.

“Mhm” you agreed silently, wiping your hands “I know” you slowly approached him, firstly playing with the material of his shirt, and after a while, curling his hair on your finger. It required staying on your tippy toes, which he found endearing. “And you, sir, are due for a haircut”

“Am I?” he said, touching his curls himself, but not leaving you to check in the mirror. “Can you do it?”

You giggled.

That was kinda part of the plan, since he absolutely loved hearing you laugh. He wasn’t the most funny person on earth, yet he was motivated to become a full comedian just to hear that genuine chuckle you gave his finest jokes.

„I cant cut your hair, silly” you said, rubbing his temple with one finger as you were still playing with the pitch black curls. “You have to go to a salon”

He shivered theatrically, rolling his eyes at you and walking away towards the kitchen. “And here I thought you loved me” he huffed, making you smile in disbelief.

“You’re being a baby!”

“I’ll ask my sister to do it”

“Your sister lives kinda away, you’re aware of that, right?” you continued, following his steps to the bigger room, where he was sitting on the floor and tying his shoes.

“So? She loves me, she’ll do it”

“She has her own kid to take care of, she doesn’t need a twenty two year old one” you shoot back, remembering the last family reunion you attended with your boyfriend. It was a complete mess, but meeting his parents explained... a whole lot of things about his character. 

He really did look like a little kid, reaching for another one of his sneakers, scarf already put half on around his neck, smiling softly, having to pause the process of tying his shoes every time his dog tried to lick his face in excitement. The poorly named Swiss Setter never left your boyfriend’s side whenever he was home, so used to his their very own slow lifestyle. 

You knew damn well she was emotionally attached to her owner, and loved him dearly, as you were the one to babysit her whenever Kiyoomi had an out of town game, and the first couple of times she didn’t sleep at all, and neither did you. It required him staying overnight at your place together with the dog for her to understand it’s a safe place. 

“Now now, calm down, Lady, at least let me tie my shoes!” he giggled childishly. The first time you ever saw him snuggled up on the couch with the dog, watching some crappy Netflix show, you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

THE Kiyoomi Sakusa. On the couch. With a dog. 

You soon found out that Lady, because that’s the crappy name the dog so proudly got by, had been one of your boyfriend’s only friends until the time he graduated. She wasn’t exactly a rescue dog, but his older brother brought her home from his former friend’s house, where she didn’t exactly had the best start in life. 

Kiyoomi didn’t fall in love at first sight, he needed time to adjust to having a dog in the house, but Lady seemed very fond of him, and weirdly enough, only listened to his commands. (The trainer said it’s about his voice, as it is deep and raspy, when he says something loudly enough, she feels respect towards him). 

He was soon in charge of training the dog to be a good pet for a household such as the Sakusas place, a huge, always so elegant and spotless house, where no one is around too often, but frankly, “family friends” came back every other night to drink rosé with his mother, or whisky with his father. 

It was to no one’s surprise, that when Kiyoomi moved away and went to college, his porcelain doll of a mother and distant father couldn’t get a hold of the Swiss Setter, who’s manners weren’t so ladylike. The deal was simple, either kiyoomi takes her to his place, or she ends up in a shelter. 

And as he loved dogs, and secretly had a heart of a four-year-old, he took her in with himself, and, frankly, let her rule over his at-home life all the time. 

She was very well behaved when in public, knew what was on her owner’s mind by the look in his eyes and reacted on the snaps of his fingers, but inside the four walls of his apartment, she could walk all over him, which you found amusing. 

Kiyoomi put her on her leash, and rose his eyebrow at you. 

“Coming?” he asked, having the door opened for you already. You nodded and left, waiting for him to lock the door behind the three of you. 

It was cold outside, but not too cold, and the air was refreshing, even in such a city as Osaka is. Kiyoomi mindlessly tied his pinky with yours, a bit of a hard thing to do in leather gloves, but he was all about the details. 

After two years of your relationship, he was perfectly capable of holding your hand just fine, but sentimentally enough opted to hold your pinky instead, as if your romance was fresh once again. 

You smiled at the feeling and squeezed his pinky back with yours, You glanced over at him staring at his feet, as you walked towards the park in comfortable silence. 

“When do you have the next match, Omi?” you started a casual conversation, and he looked as if you took him out of a trans of sorts. 

“Oh, uhm, next Friday” he answered upsentmindedly. You caught him sparing loving glances in Lady’s direction, an indescribable nostalgy painting his face in cold colors. 

When you reached the entrance to the huge park, where dogs were allowed off leash, you bent over and made a snowball, the throwing it at his back. He turned around to face you and gave you a look of betrayal. 

“You didn’t” he whispered. 

“I think I did” you giggled, covering your mouth with your hands, waiting for his next move. 

He bit back a smirk, trying to remain stoic as he kneeled down to release Lady off her leash, hiding it in the pocket of his black coat, then picking up snow in his hands and forming a round snowball, directing it right at you. 

Lady kept running around the two of you, jumping in excitement, not fully understanding what you’re doing, but happy to be a part of it. 

“Hey, ouch!” you laughed, theatrically covering the shoulder it reached. “You didn’t need to spike it!” 

There weren’t many people at the park that day, considering the fact that it was first snow, and parents don’t usually bring kids, who want to build snowmen, to a park where dogs are allowed off leash. 

“Oh, you wanna see a spike?” a little smile covered his lips, exposing his blushing cheeks, contrasting with the rest of his pale face, and dark curls. 

“Try me, pretty boy” 

“Aight” he put his hands up in an agreeing gesture “Just don’t whine about the bruises later” 

“Same goes to you” 

He huffed, getting back as he gathered snow in his hands and rolled it a bit before aiming at you, jumping in place as you tried to “become a harder target to hit”. He shook his head in disbelief. 

God, I love that dork, he thought, purposely frowning and posing as if he was about to serve. 

Lady kept jumping around him, noticing a round object in his hand. 

“This is not for you, dummy” he laughed, but noticing her excitement, excitement that he didn’t get to see a lot recently, since she was visibly getting older, and more tired, a warm feeling flooded over his chest. He sighed. “Alright, you want it? You want it?” he kept teasing, making her jump around, before breaking the ball and rubbing the snow in her fur.  

She layed down on her back, showing her tummy for pets, which he did obviously provide, tickling that one spot that made her move her leg uncontrollably. 

He got up, and formed another snowball, showing it to her. 

“Watch out, I’m throwing it!” he said to her, before aiming at some free space far from him, throwing the ball from behind his back, watching with a heartwarming smile as she ran after it. 

He seemed to have forgotten about defeating you, watching as his dog kept digging for the “ball” that already disappeared in the snow, so you walked back up to him. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, and he looked at you in surprise. 

“Yeah, obviously” he responded, but something seemed off. You tangled your arms around his shoulder, smushing your cheek against it, and looking at Lady sniffing around the place the snowball landed. “You know, if it weren’t for her, I’d still be too anxious to pet dogs I like when I’m on walks” he started, his mind some place else. 

“Well, many things wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for her. We probably wouldn’t have met!” you smiled against the fabric of the thick coat, both of you remembering that sunny afternoon when you sat by the river in the park, reading some sort of upsetting news on your phone, frowning, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, when suddenly, you flinched, seeing a snoot between your arms, and when you parted it, you saw a panting, big dog staring back at you. You heard a distressed  “Oh my god, Lady! Come back here!” in the distance, and you lifted your eyes to see a tall like a tower twenty-year old, black curls swept away from his face with hairgel, but getting a bit in the way due to the wind, the guy wearing black t-shirt, with a golden logo, of what appeared to be a... fox? You then thought, only later discovering it’s actually a Jackal, and the letters B and J on the sides of it, and sporty shorts. Apparently, they were on a run. 

“I’m so, so sorry, she never does that. Please don’t get too mad at her, she means no harm! Oh, my god, Lady, come back here!” he hissed, putting the dog back on a leash. “I’m sorry! Hey, I can buy you a coffee, if that’ll make up for her? I’m choosing the coffee shop though, there’s a little one nearby and there’re not too many people in it, the popular ones are a rip off anyway, wait— are you crying?” he panted out, staring directly at your face, with a deadpan look.

“It’s alright, I like dogs. But I like coffee, too”

You smiled upon remembering that afternoon, as the completely different sun shined on you two in that moment, not the exhausting, August-ish one, that makes you want to never leave the nearest pool, but a cool and refreshing February one. Two years passed, and the both of you weren’t just strangers in the park, you were one of these cheesy couples teenage girls look at and get upset because they think they’re never going to be like that with anyone. Although, the bonding dog stayed the same. 

Speaking of Lady, she ran up to Kiyoomi, who was lost in his thoughts and memories, proudly showing off a stick she must’ve found under the snow at some point. 

“Look what you got there!” he kneeled down, trying to get it away from her to throw it. “My good girl” he giggled. 

Some February afternoons could just last forever.

#hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa scenarios #sakusa headcanons #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #dogs #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi imagines #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi #kiyoomi fluff #sakusa fluff #haikyuu fluff

[hinadoria]

Title: like nobody’s business

Author: hinadoria / Twitter: @bunniepunk / AO3: bunnypunk

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mild amounts of swearing

Summary: Shen Yuan had never known what to do about crying people, much less crying men asleep in his bed at ass o’clock in the middle of the night. God, if Jiu-ge knew about this, Shen Yuan would be six feet under. No, he’d be yeeted directly into hell’s abyss. Arguably though, this was all Jiu-ge’s fault.

AO3: Link

It started when his old roommate Shang Qinghua decided to get hitched at Shen Yuan’s 25th birthday party. Disregarding the fact that it was his birthday party in his apartment that he was paying for (Shang Qinghua was only there to keep an eye on him at Jiu-ge’s ever insistent demands), an increasingly hammered Shang Qinghua had decided it was the perfect time to propose to his disappointingly sober boyfriend.

“My LORd, have yOU EvEr ThoughT about Getting HitchED?!” he shouted in Mobei-Jun’s face. Shen Yuan saw the wince on Mobei-Jun’s face before he could smooth it away. Airplane-Bro had that effect on people. Even his boyfriend was no exception.

However, Mobei-Jun had silently pulled the biggest ring Shen Yuan had ever seen out of his pocket like it was a dimension to worlds unknown. Shang Qinghua yanked it out of his grasp, put it on, and immediately started sobbing loudly in his boyfriend's arms, effectively ruining the atmosphere.

If it wasn’t because Shen Yuan was already secretly plotting to escape to his room, he might have been significantly more miffed at this sequence of events.

After all, he had never been one for big, lavish events like a formal birthday party. He’d much rather spend it in the comfort of his room, maybe playing videogames with a few close friends. However, Jiu-ge had insisted, in that stubborn way of his, taking no arguments. As a result, Shen Yuan wasn’t sure he even knew half the people at his own party.

This all didn’t mean he was completely free of indignation, however. Shen Yuan cleared his throat pointedly, but was ignored by both the affectionate couple and the crowd of people politely applauding.

It was a testament to Mobei-Jun’s excitement, if he was a man that felt such emotions, that he leaped up onto the table, which creaked dangerously with his weight.

“I’d like to thank my dear friends and my soon-to-be best man who supported me through this time. Whom I wouldn’t have met without Shen Yuan’s recommendation to work at Cang Qiong’s internship program under Shen Jiu. So a heartfelt thanks to them both,” Mobei-Jun proclaimed.

The attention of the party turned to its host, who began to turn hot under all the attention.

Damn, it wasn’t as if he was Mother Teresa.

He had simply wanted to stop hearing Jiu-ge’s nagging complaints about a lack of competent interns at his company. And he knew that Airplane-bro’s boyfriend was just about to graduate. It was simple math.

Either way, he had to resolve this situation before Mobei-Jun broke the table or worse, made him give a speech. He quickly grabbed an abandoned glass from the table and raised it high. With raucous cheer, the party returned to full swing, and Shen Yuan strategically retreated to his bedroom.

The next day, Shang Qinghua had all but been moved out of his apartment (Mobei-Jun worked fast and efficiently. Shen Yuan had been begrudgingly impressed). In the midst of his soporific haze, a loud banging came from his front door. Reluctant to get up, Shen Yuan nevertheless used every last bit of his willpower to do so. When he opened the door however, he immediately found himself in deep regret.

A pale Jiu-ge, like Bloody Mary summoned from a dirty elementary school bathroom mirror, stood at his door, foot tapping a mile a minute. He stormed past Shen Yuan into his apartment and curled his mouth in distaste at the mess.

“This apartment is no longer acceptable. I’ve put up with it until now, but this is the last straw. It is imperative that you move out immediately to a place not infested by the stench of the poor,” Jiu-ge demanded. Shen Yuan would never tell him it was probably the week-old ramen stewing on his kitchen counter.

“But I don’t want to, Jiu-ge, please!” he whined. Like most things regarding his older brother, would eventually yield, but would put up a valiant effort nonetheless. No one had the right to accuse him of being a pushover, after all.

Jiu-ge sat down at his oily counter with a sigh, hands flying up to bury themselves in his messy hair.

Shen Yuan immediately felt guilty.

His brother looked a lot less put-together than he usually was, now that he was looking more closely. His shirt was unbuttoned and his makeup was smudged, both facets of his appearance he usually controlled with meticulous determination.

“Please don’t fight me on this, A-Yuan.” His brother looked back at him, and Shen Yuan could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” asked Shen Yuan. He tapped his fingers nervously.

“It will be,” Jiu-ge answered immediately as if he had expected this question. “Once I get a good night’s sleep.” Shen Yuan moved to sit by his brother.

“Mobei-Jun proposed to Shang Qinghua yesterday,” he offered. This made the crease between Jiu-ge’s brows deeper further.

“At your birthday party?”

“I know, I was shocked too!”

“Rude bastard. I knew nothing good could come out of that tight-knit group of rascals the company foisted on me.”

“Don’t be like that. I bet you secretly appreciate their help, big softie.” Shen Yuan poked at his brother’s cheek, and giggled when Jiu-ge pretended to bite at him. A small smile appeared on his brother’s face, and Shen Yuan rejoiced at the sight. He felt like he deserved an award for Best Brother of the Year.

“I suppose they suffice at times.” Jiu-ge wrinkled his nose like he had thought of something particularly disgusting. “Well. Almost all of them,” he huffed. He shook his head when Shen Yuan looked at him in question. But Best Brother of the Year did not do things half-heartedly.

“I know how to cheer you up even more,” Shen Yuan decided then and there.

That was how Shen Yuan found himself moved into the expensive nouveau-riche apartment complex next door to his brother on the third floor. All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. Jiu-ge was too busy to check up on him more than once a week in person, although the daily calls to his office phone were still a requirement.

Shen Yuan had always been a homebody, there was no denying that. As long as he could coop up in his room reading and editing trashy novels, he didn’t care for the particulars of time or place, even if leaving his apartment and chancing upon another human made him feel like Oscar the Grouch having been caught outside of his trash can and committing a crime.

The point was: it had all been going just fine and dandy, until one day a shout disrupted Shen Yuan from his editing of one of Airplane’s terribly written papapa scenes. He roughly yanked open his curtains, hearing a rip in the plush blue velvet. Whatever, what Jiu-ge didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The scene which greeted him was one of darkness, which okay, he wasn’t quite expecting that but fine, it wasn’t the first time he had lost track of time doing this and that. Shivering, Shen Yuan stepped out onto his balcony and peered over the rails to see a very attractive, very drunk man holding a broken bottle of what looked like Xin Mo liquor.

“Shen Jiu, there you are, you fucking bastard. Fucking coward! What, too afraid to come and see your disgusting student Binghe on this beautiful night? You always thought you were above us mere mortals, didn’t you? I hope both sides of your pillow are always ice!”

Yikes, Shen Yuan thought privately.

This dude was hammered. Despite everything a laugh bubbled its way up his chest. He didn’t know his brother was so unpopular at work but with a sour face like his, he should’ve expected. Briefly, the thought of pretending to be his brother just to hear more of the entertaining insults crossed his mind, but before he could open his mouth the man, probably named Binghe, went on.

“I bet you think you wake up just looking like an angel descended from the heavens! Well let me tell you, scumbag, that I curse you and your descendents to always have shaky eyeliner! Let’s see you keep up that hoity-toity look and scream at me when you come into work looking like a clown!”

Shen Yuan covered his eyes in horror. Not his eyeliner! He had to look sharp for the ladies.

“I fixed that stupid assignment one million times! Your nitpicking doesn’t even make sense anymore, you blind geezer! Come down here, if you’re not a coward and I’ll show you ...” Binghe paused, looking like he was gonna hurl.

“Show me what? You can’t leave me hanging like that, I won’t be able to sleep!” Shen Yuan shouted out, against his better judgement. He had already been collecting Binghe’s flavored insults to use against that traitor Shang Qinghua next time he saw him.

Binghe looked back up, with what seemed like confusion in his eyes, though it could have just been bleary drunkenness. To Shen Yuan’s horror, it looked like Binghe had tears in his eyes.

“All I wanted was for Laoshi to acknowledge me,” Binghe sobbed out. At this point Shen Yuan had missed his chance to tell the poor man that his brother was out of town on a business trip, and that Binghe was shouting at a stranger. He felt something in his chest squeeze at Binghe’s watery puppy dog eyes.

“Why does everyone look down on me?” Binghe cried. “I try so hard, over and over but all you do is scorn me … again and again! What do I have to do, just tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything! Just …” At this point the boy was choking on his sobs. Shen Yuan felt something shattering. He found himself walking down the stairs. He was going to go down and fetch him before the police were called, that was all, he told himself.

By the time he arrived on the cold grass ready to coax the drunkard, he found him passed out, clutching the broken bottle so hard his hand was bleeding. Shen Yuan sucked in a sharp breath.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you warmed up,” Shen Yuan said as he pried the glass from Binghe’s hand and used all his strength to haul him up and to the elevator.

He got several strange looks as he dragged an unconscious man across the fancy lobby, but Shen Yuan just snorted and ignored them. The people here had sticks so far up their ass they were getting free prostate massages. Shen Yuan stifled his laughter at his own wit in Binghe’s dead weighted shoulder and got a few more strange looks by the lady in the elevator. Halfway to Shen Yuan’s room, Binghe woke up and stared at Shen Yuan like he was an alien.

He struggled a bit and whined, “Laoshi, please don’t dropkick me into the Panama Canal, I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

Shen Yuan laughed and patted Binghe’s hair. “Go back to sleep, rowdy boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” It probably wasn’t because of his words, but Binghe managed to walk a few steps on his own before becoming dead weight on Shen Yuan again. He felt the breath knocked out of him.

“For someone who’s such a crybaby, you sure are … heavy!” Shen Yuan panted as he managed to drag Binghe into his apartment and throw him onto his bed. He shoddily wrapped up Binghe’s bleeding hand with several bandages. Novels may have taught him a lot, but he had surprisingly little practical knowledge when faced with a gash like Binghe’s in reality.

The fatigue of the night finally caught up with him as he saw Binghe’s peaceful sleeping face and he barely managed to do his nightly routine before sliding into his bed next to the unconscious person.

Shen Yuan was just about to drift away into sleep until he heard sniffling coming from the other man and turned around to see Binghe crying in his sleep.

And so was his current dilemma. Shen Yuan had no idea how to handle crying people. He stared dumbly for a few moments before kicking himself to do something, anything!

Shen Yuan wouldn’t do this for any random stranger that came knocking to his door, but luckily he had gleaned several useful tidbits of information from Binghe’s drunken speech. For example, he was likely one of Jiu-ge’s new interns at the large Cang Qiong Company he worked at, under the Qing Jing subsidiary. Second, Jiu-ge seemed to be giving the poor boy an extremely hard time, and Shen Yuan knew better than anyone just how sharp his brother’s acerbic tongue could be. Shen Yuan felt mildly responsible for cleaning up his brother’s mess.

Also, Binghe was terribly cute. He reminded Shen Yuan of the little puppy he used to play with in childhood, named Bingbing, after his favorite actress.

It was a combination of these facts, or none of them, that ultimately made Shen Yuan do what he did next; wrap his arms around Binghe and gently stroke his hair, murmuring comforting words to him until he stopped crying.

Somewhere along the way he found himself asleep as well.

Binghe awoke from his drunken stupor sometime between ass and fuck o’clock in the morning. His hand was covered in messily wrapped bandages.

When he saw the face of the person fast asleep next to him, he flinched backwards so hard he almost fell out of the bed.

What did I do last night? He wailed miserably in his head. A worst case scenario flashed through his head, and he made sure that both of them were clothed before exhaling a sigh of relief. That was the last time he let Mobei-Jun get him drunk, bachelor party be damned.

The last thing he remembered was accepting a glass full of alcohol in the bar he’d been dragged to, but everything afterwards was a blur. He didn’t remember how he walked all the way to his boss’s nouveau riche apartment, and he certainly didn’t remember how he ended up in bed with the man he was most fearful of.

There was one thing Binghe knew with full certainty, however; he had to escape this apartment immediately before he lost his job or worse: his life.

He had barely turned around and registered vaguely that the apartment was a lot sloppier than he’d expected of his avaricious boss before a sleepy hum made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mmm… Binghe?”

Binghe froze. Shen Jiu had never called him by name, it was always something along the lines of “scum” or “lad”.

Filled with trepidation, he turned to face his boss against his better judgement.

A sleepy smile stretched its way across the face of the person in front of him just as the morning’s rays peeked through the rip in the curtains and fell across his face.

Angelic, Binghe’s mind vaguely registered. Maybe he hadn’t come to his boss’s apartment after all. Maybe he had died and entered a realm different than the one he’d been in. Maybe he was already in heaven.

The angel’s face scrunched up cutely at the offending rays across his face. He glanced at the curtains before letting out a forlorn sigh.

“Jiu-ge’s gonna kill me for that …” sighed the angel across from Binghe.

Jiu-ge? Who’s that, I’ll fight him so you never have a frown on your pretty face ever again, Binghe thought blearily.

Mr. Angel noticed he was awake and smiled a crooked smile.

“Good morning. You were drunk and screaming outside my window last night, so I thought I’d do a public service and take you in before you hurt yourself, “ the angel laughed nervously. “Binghe is your name, right?”

Binghe nodded, feeling like his body was not his own. Then he had a thought.

“Wait … how do you know?”

The angel’s lips thinned, looking like he was trying really hard not to laugh. Oh, that was not a good sign.

“Well … You dropped your name in the middle of shouting about how you wished your boss’s food was too salty, among other things …”

The wave of relief that was about to pass through Binghe at realizing this person was likely not his boss aborted itself as it was overtaken by sheer waves of mortification.

Binghe covered his face with his hands, letting out an ungodly groan of embarrassment.

“Binghe… I’m saying this for your own good.” Mr. Angel looked into Binghe’s eyes seriously. “Do you know how to use swear words?”

Binghe immediately pouted, feeling like he was being made fun of. He couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed, however, at the angel’s bell-like peals of laughter smothered by his hand. It was such a stark contrast to his boss’s restrained expressions.

“Ah! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu’s younger twin brother.”

And there was the horror again.

Just as Binghe was about to bid farewell to his short, inconsequential life, Shen Yuan continued chattering. “You’re lucky Jiu-ge’s out of town on a business trip, and that you weren’t actually serenading his window but mine. If he was here, I don’t know if I could have even stopped him from personally throwing you into a jail cell.”

Binghe felt like he had gotten off of a life-threatening roller coaster ride. Stiffly, he rose from the bed and bent ninety degrees into a bow.

“Thanking Shen Yuan for his kindness in rescuing this lowly one from his predicament!” Binghe grew so nervous he immediately started speaking as if he were in a period drama. “In order to repay my honorable benefactor, this one will prepare breakfast!” He rushed away before Shen Yuan could speak a single word.

Once Binghe found the kitchen, he allowed himself a mini-freakout session. He! Was in! His boss’s younger brother’s bed! And the younger brother was an angel! Even though Binghe was fairly certain nothing untoward had occurred between the two of them the night prior, he felt every inch of his nerves tingling. He was also fairly certain that any other person that lacked Shen Yuan’s generosity would have immediately called the police on him at the least.

This was the first time anyone had done something so selfless for his sake.

Unbidden, a flush streaked across his cheeks, and Binghe slapped at himself to get out of it. Shen Yuan was his benefactor, and it would be wrong to have indecent thoughts about someone so innocent. There may not be much Binghe was good at, as he had learned from his internship under Shen Jiu, but the least he could do was cook him a decent breakfast.

Shen Yuan was roused from his half-wakeful state by the smell of something good coming from the kitchen. Which was weird because last he checked, there was nothing in there but dust and half-eaten ramen. (Yes, he had a problem.)

Wait … Binghe!

It was a little belated, but the nagging voice in Shen Yuan’s head that sounded suspiciously like Jiu-ge berated himself for falling asleep again while a stranger was in his apartment. A cute stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

Shen Yuan, the voice nagged. One of these days you’re going to get yourself murdered in cold blood …

Alright, shut up, you. No one wants to hear this in the early morning, Shen Yuan bickered back.

“Sir?” Binghe’s voice nervously called from the kitchen entrance.

Shen Yuan immediately relaxed back into what he thought was a cool pose.

“There’s no need for formalities, Binghe. After all, you’ve already slept in my bed.”

Binghe’s ears flushed red at his words, and he swayed back and forth like a maiden on the morning after her wedding night. Shen Yuan stopped this strange line of thinking once he realized how weird it was.

“I made you breakfast as a thank you for er… handling me last night,” Binghe said softly.

Well, that didn’t help his strange thoughts. The last conscious thought Shen Yuan had was that he’d better go and eat the poor shy guy’s food since he had made it already.

He didn’t recall getting up or sitting down at the kitchen table, but the next thing he knew he was staring down at an empty plate, stomach full of delicious food.

“I don’t know what to think. This is the first time this has happened to me.” It wasn’t, but Shen Yuan had always had a flair for the dramatic. “If you can cook so well, why are you wasting your time under my brother’s wing? You should go be a professional chef, and share this magic with the rest of the world.”

It wasn’t empty praise. Shen Yuan genuinely believed he’d be blessed if he could eat like this every day for the rest of his life. His terrible habit of crappy eating would be forever changed.

Binghe was so red he looked like a tomato.

Abruptly, the sounds of a phone ringing disrupted the nice atmosphere. Binghe’s face paled.

“Oh no, I left Mobei-Jun at the club last night. He must be wondering where I am. The bachelor party got kind of crazy.”

Hm? Mobei-Jun? Shen Yuan slapped his forehead in realization. Of course! Binghe was a part of Jiu-ge’s interns, of course he knew Mobei-Jun. Shen Yuan had no idea how he had failed to make that connection. He might even be the best man Mobei-Jun had mentioned, since he was pretty sure the third intern was a woman. Sha Hualing, he believed her name was?

Either way, Shen Yuan hadn’t realized he and Binghe were so closely connected. Besides, he hadn’t felt comfortable calling Binghe a stranger, now that they no longer were.

Maybe he’d get a chance to see Binghe in a tux at the wedding? That would be so cute! Of course, he’d have to help keep him away from the champagne, especially since Jiu-ge would also be there. That was a nightmare waiting to happen.

While Shen Yuan was off fantasizing, Binghe had gathered all his stuff and prepared to leave. He hovered nervously around the door.

Shen Yuan snapped out of it to bid him goodbye. Binghe smiled shyly.

“Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime?” he asked.

Shen Yuan hid a smile behind his hand, and adopted a lofty expression.

“This immortal does not often descend from his honorable peak. However, if fate wills it to be so, then so shall it be,” he said, imitating Binghe’s earlier style of speech.

Binghe laughed, but kept hovering near the door as if he was waiting for something.

“Alright, your friend must be wondering where you are. Go on, now.” A flash of disappointment crossed Binghe’s face, but he obediently left, looking back like a puppy several times as he did so.

It wasn’t until much later that Shen Yuan would realize he had forgotten to explain that he was friends with Shang Qinghua, and that they would likely see each other again at the wedding. By the time the wedding itself rolled around, it would prove to be an ordeal of its own.

But that would remain a story for another time.

#SVSSS #svsss fic #bingyuan #shen yuan #luo binghe #scumbag self saving system #bingqiuweek2021 #fanfic #day eight #fanfiction #my works

[desertdollranch]

Opening Kirsten’s Trunk

Does anyone else love a mystery box opening??? Because I brought something very special back home with me from my parents’ house! This is my Kirsten’s trunk. My grandpa built it for me when I was eight and first got Kirsten, and my mom and I painted it to look like Pleasant Company’s product. I used to store all of my doll clothes and accessories in here. 

Before I left, I packed the trunk with all the doll stuff that I acquired in Arizona. Some of it came from the pile of things my grandma gave me, others came from multiple lucky thrift store trips. A few are new dolls that it’s time to introduce. I thought it might be fun to open it here and play show and tell for everyone! 

Keep reading to see what’s inside!

I did already make a brief post about some dolls that my grandma gave me. She moved into a casita on my uncle’s property and doesn’t have much storage space anymore, so she was glad to pass some of her doll stuff on to me.  

These are three of the six mini dolls she had. Three of them I gave to my mom to sell, and three came home with me: Nellie, Josefina and Rebecca. They’re basically in new condition. Rebecca even has her barrette.

Of these three teeny tiny porcelain dolls, the two larger ones came from my grandma’s stuff, but the smallest one was from Goodwill. I thought they might make cute dolls for my dolls.

This is my Kirsten poster that I got at my elementary school book fair and displayed in my bedroom for all the years I lived at home. My mom kept it for me all this time and recently found it in some old stuff. 

I was so excited to find this Our Generation doll at Goodwill. She was a mess when I found her, but after an hour detangling her hair and a baking soda scrub of her skin, she looks almost brand new. I love this face mold, it’s so sweet and childlike. Some quick identifying research showed me that her original name was Millie, but I’m renaming her Moonchild and making her into my green fairy character. 

This Glitter Girls doll is my favorite out of everything I brought home. I had been admiring my aunt’s GG doll the day before and was a little frustrated at how hard it is to find them online, so this was especially exciting. When I first looked at her, I thought her eyes had turned purple as inset eyes sometimes do, but the GG website describes her as having purple eyes, so they’re original to her. Her original name is Lacy, and she’ll be keeping that name. 

This Bitty Baby was another Goodwill find. The poor child was a disaster when I picked her up. No wonder nobody else wanted her! She had something dry and pasty caked onto her face, in her eye sockets, and between her fingers. She was filthy all over her limbs and cloth body. I managed to remove most of the grime, but she does need some benzoyl peroxide stain removal of what looks like marker colors. After that, I’ll decide whether I want to rehome her or keep her. She’s identical to another thrift store Bitty that I found in 2019, so I may end up keeping her around as a twin.  

An Our Generation wheelchair in new condition. Like a lot of OG accessories, it looks too small when an 18 inch doll is using it, but seems to be much better sized for 14 inch dolls. I’m not sure who will end up using this, since I don’t have any dolls who need a chair, but I’ll hold onto it in case I ever do! 

This is the Calico Critters cozy cottage starter home, which is coincidentally one that I was looking into recreating from foam board for my chipmunk family. I found this at Goodwill. 

I’ll have to add a piece of foam board for the upper floor, and I’ll need to make or acquire the furniture that was not included. 

This is Girl of the Year 2003 Kailey’s dog, Sandy! I found her at a thrift store also. Her legs can be posed (she does an adorable play bow!), and she’s got a battery-powered bark box inside that doesn’t work. The batteries have probably corroded after 17 or 18 years. Sandy will be a pet for my modern girls.  

This lacy parasol came in a bag of two for $3, so I gave the other one to my aunt. I gave it to Marie-Grace and Cécile, since it looks like the one from their collection. 

This is my birthday gift to Josefina. I bought this little mirror at an import store in Tubac. I’ve hung it in her bedroom, where it looks adorable.  

For 25 cents, I couldn’t resist this tiny roller coaster bead toy. I’ve already posted a picture of Mari playing with it, and it’s perfectly sized for her or for my other baby dolls. 

This miniature resin bust of Artemis is for Caroline’s parlor. Another inexpensive Goodwill find!

And finally, I found this little ship at Goodwill. It looks handmade! It will also be perfect for Caroline’s parlor.

#mystery box #doll accessories

[sunnysidevans]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥

Summary: Everyone goes through stages in life, meeting new people, falling in love, getting married , having children. Some people think it won’t happen to them but maybe fate hadn’t lead you in the right direction.

Warnings: fluff galore , a few curse words, mainly fluff fluff fluff

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Previous Stage | The Stages Masterlist

ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS

You groaned, rolling over in the bed as you slowly started to wake up for the day, sighing heavily you felt a cold nose on the back of your arm. Jumping in bed you looked over your shoulder to see Dodger at the side of the bed wagging his tail and Zeus standing in the door, wagging his tail as well. Sighing you smiled and reached back, rubbing dodgers head and pulling the covers off you and standing up to follow the dogs “shh boys you don’t want to wake up daddy” you smiled looking over your shoulder at Chris still fast asleep in bed, shaking your head you followed the dogs downstairs. You opened the back door as you pulled your cardigan around yourself in the November weather as the boys ran out the door to the backyard. You closed the door, shivering and starting the coffee pot, you tried to talk Chris into getting one of the fancy one cup serving coffee pots but he said these were more “homely”. You flipped the switch on the pot and put everything in as the kitchen soon started to fill with the smell of coffee.

As you stood in front of the door watching the boys play outside you felt two arms wrap around you from behind and a hard chest against your back. “I don’t like waking up in bed without you” he whispered his head resting on top of yours as he held a decent amount of height to you, you chuckled softly rubbing his arm gently “I’m sorry your son wanted to go outside” you heard a huff from behind you and a grumble of a reply “our son”. You smiled at his reply and opened the door to let the dogs back inside, with a happy bark both dodger and zeus barked at seeing their dad up and awake “Okay boys let me dry you off” you laughed as you dried both dogs off with a towel as they rolled in the fresh snow that had fallen. After sending the dogs on their way you poured two cups of coffee and made yours to your liking and Chris's as you turned and handed him his cup, noticing he was standing in just boxers, causing a shiver to go through you “my god aren’t  you freezing!” you looked at his surprised face as he sipped his coffee from his “dog dad” mug, shaking his head he smiled “uh no” you shook your head heading to the living room with a smile on your face you replied “god put some clothes on” you heard him laugh from the kitchen. 

You sat down on the couch, turning the tv back on, you turned to the weather channel, sitting back you pulled a blanket over yourself to see where the rest of the snow was supposed to be. For being November the first snow storm was in circuit and being in the middle of Massachusetts you needed to know if you were in for a big one, which according to the reporter on tv, you were. “In the next few days we are expected to see about three inches an hour, accumulating to about a few feet each day” the news reporter said over the green screen showing the snow for the area, You sighed , scratching behind zeus’s ears as he climbed up beside you on the couch “that's not fair that i’m practically naked and he gets a cuddle” chris said coming into the living room to sit beside you climbing under the blanket and wrapping an arm around you. You shook your head smiling “yeah I guess who ever got here first” you shrugged smiling at him kissing his shoulder laying your head down after “were gonna have to go out, the snow is gonna get bad, and we have no food” you said as Chris laughed at you smiling “Okay I’ll get dressed and we will head out to the store okay? Make a list that way we stick to it” he stood as you shook your head “hey you mean that way YOU stick to the list” you smirked as you heard his snicker as he made his way up the stairs.

Making it to the store was hard, the roads had already made it slippery and icy but you made it into the town store in enough time. You grabbed what you needed and headed inside, as Chris followed beside you “you got the list?” he asked as he pushed the cart and you walked beside him with a smile, you nodded pointing him in the direction of the first aisle you needed. You picked up everything you needed in each aisle. “Okay but babe can we get these” chris asked, holding up a box of Avengers gummies, you chuckled looking at him “avengers gummies?” you asked looking at him as he nodded excitedly, you laughed in response and told him to put them in the cart. You were looking for something in one aisle as you heard it go silent beside you, you looked around, thinking Chris was beside you this whole time you looked beside you and shrugged, he may have found something else he so needed. In your little daydream you didn’t even hear Chris come back to the cart with his arms full of boxes, you furrowed your eyebrows looking at him as he dropped about 10 boxes of condom in the cart, looking up he was met with your wide eyes “hey you never know, I know we were low the last few times” he shrugged as you shook your head quickly. You made your way through the checkout with a clear face till the poor sixteen year old girl had to ring up your 10 boxes of condoms. 

Making it back to the house was much easier than leaving the house. You brought everything inside as the snow continued to fall. You smiled as you started to take care of all the groceries “I hope this lets up sometime” you sighed looking at Chris standing at the door shrugging “I’m not sure baby” he said kicking the door closed and sliding the boots off his feet. You smiled as you looked at him, shrugging again “It’ll be okay i’m with you so it could be much much worse” you smiled looking at him chuckling at the goofy grin he was sporting. You turned to the window as you noticed the ground was even more covered in snow, as an idea popped into your head, grinning you turned to Chris “let's go out and play in the snow” you grinned looking at him as he looked at you furrowing his eyebrows “what?” he asked standing from the couch, you walked to meet him “let's go out and play in the snow!” you smiled bouncing on your toes watching him smile “okay okay let’s go and put some warm clothes on first” he smiled making his way upstairs.

You followed the dogs outside with a laugh as the snow continued to fall, with your hat,gloves scarf and more, Chris made sure you and him were bundled to the brim in anything he could find. Laughing you danced in the snow with Zeus and Dodger until you felt something hit your back, turning around you saw the grin on chris’s face and the snow on his gloves “oh, it's so on now evans” you grabbed a handful of snow and followed him around the yard, attempting to hit him you missed the first time, grabbing another handful of snow you hit him right in the back. The actor in him, falling to the floor as if he had been hit, he lays in the snow, laughing holding his chest “i’ve been hit!” he groans loudly, you laugh walking to him looking down at him “oh have you?” you asked him laughing as he looked up at you fake coughing, closing his eyes. “Okay and scene” you said laughing as he opened his eyes again and hit you square in the chest with a snowball, taking you by surprise you fell into the snow beside him laughing harder “god damn it chris!” you laugh holding your chest “god I bout pissed my pants, that scared the shit out of me!” you laughed as he continued to laugh, leaning over you to kiss your nose “I’m sorry baby” he pouted his lips, you pulled him close and kissed his lips “your forgiven”.

Grabbing the two cups on the counter you followed to the living room where Chris had set up the fireplace. Sitting beside him in one of his hoodies and sweats you smiled, handing him the cup of coco and covering the two of you up with your favorite blanket. As you sat down you noticed a nervous look on Chris's face, not one you’ve ever noticed before you furrowed your eyebrows watching him as you sipped your coco. Setting your mug down you looked over at him “okay spill” you looked at him and he looked at you with a heavy sigh you looked at you “(Y/N)” the tone in his voice had you internally cringing, what was happening? You sat up looking at him “Chris” you replied as he adjusted to turn towards you smiling at you as you smiled nervously back. “I fell in love with you very early in our relationship, not that was a bad thing because holy fuck I fell hard. I don’t know if it’s the fact you don’t treat me like Chris Evans the actor you just treat me as Chris Evans a guy who loves his dog and Tom Brady” you cut him off with a giggle watching his face as he continued “You sitting in the bar that night, just eating cheese fries while your friends gossiped and oohed and awed me you didn’t, you just saw me as a guy talking to you. I can’t express how much I have fallen in love with you, from the way you hum softly while folding laundry to the way you dance around the house with dodger and zeus” he smiled grabbing something from his pocket and switching to leaning on his knee “basically what I’m getting at, I want to spend the rest of my life having snowball fights and eating cheese fries with you, (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), will you do me the honor and marry me?” he asked as you teared up. You gasped looking down at the sparking ring between his fingers, tackling him down you hugged him tightly “god of course I’ll marry you, you fucking meatball” you laughed hugging him tightly sniffling as you sat up and he slid the ring on your finger. Sitting back beside him and the fire you looked down at your ring, moving it between your fingers you smiled, The future Mrs. Evans , You could get used to the sound of that. 

-

TAGLIST: @onetwo3000​ | @memoriesat30 | @denise1605 | @angrybirdcr @hopefulbonkvoidland | @tessa-bl | @patzammit | @uniquebeautyqueen | @cocomel0613​

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #christopher robert evans #christopher evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans series

[keichanz]

More Than

so i was listening to the song More Than My Hometown by Morgan Wallen which is now my new obsession and i shit you not, the ending to this little drab popped into my brain so fast i knew i had to write it down. thus, this angsty little blurb was born. 

now as i was writing, i realized that it was giving off sooo many One Last Ride vibes, written by the ever so talented @lemonlushff​​, that i decided to tweak this so it could tuck somewhere into the story itself as a sort of unofficially official glimpse of their breakup. i’m happy to report that it has Lemon’s official seal of approval and she loved it! 

so now i’m gonna share it with all you fine folks and i hope you enjoy it too! :) and since it is in the OLR universe, there will be angst hahahaa. 

so this is for you Lemon, my sweet and sour friend~ ❤️ 

one last thing--i highly recommend either having the song above playing while you read this, or at least listen to it beforehand. yes, it’s a country song, but it really is so good and the lyrics - which i’ve italicized and bolded - seem to reflect Inuyasha’s thoughts perfectly, which is why i thought it fit so well with OLR’s theme. 

....shit okay one last last thing: i swear to fuck that the ending jumped out of a scene from a goddamn western harlequin romance novel with its level of cliche and drama and yes i am entirely proud of that fact ;ljadfilajflkahjsfue

She stood beside the bed, feeling empty, cold, hollow as she stared down at the pillows and blankets. It was still unmade, the sheets twisted, messy from her hasty retreat just that morning. Tears burned her eyes as she remembered why; the argument, the begging, the screaming. The heartbreak.

Her heart twinged and Kagome gasped, closing her eyes as she brought up a hand to cover her mouth. Was this…was this really it? Were they really going to leave things like this, unresolved and painful between them? God, she didn’t want to. She wanted to run outside, run through the night to his house, throw open the front door and beg him to—

Her bedroom door crashed open and Kagome gasped, whirling around with wide, liquid eyes, heart in her throat. Golden eyes, furious, hard, bore into her own and suddenly a heat suffused her body, chasing away the previous chill, and her stomach swooped as he shut the door and stalked toward her.

Her breath left her in a stuttered exhale, body trembling, coming alive from the heat in his gaze.

“Inuy—”

“Shut up,” he growled, grabbing her waist, hauling her in tight against him. His lips fell over hers, swallowing her gaps, the crush of his mouth hard, unforgiving, punishing.

Hands – frantic, desperate – removed clothing, touching, grabbing, caressing. They fell on the bed in tangle of limbs, skin against skin, heart against heart, flushed, needy, desperate. Growls, moans, whispered pleas echoed throughout the darkness of the room as they rocked together, moving in a dance as old as time. Fingers grasping sweat slicked skin, hearts thundering wildly and then perfectly syncing in a moment of euphoric completion. A stuttered breath, a gasp of a name; then silence.

Tears trekked down her flushed face as she was gathered against a hard chest, as familiar arms wrapped around her stated body and held her as she cried.

Girl, our mamas are best friends and so are we The whole town's rooting for us like the home team Most likely to settle down Plant a few roots real deep and let 'em grow

Kagome stood in front of the full-length mirror and ran a brush through her still damp hair, the yellow and blue sundress she wore complimenting the blue of her eyes. Blue eyes that were dull as they stared at her reflection, but didn’t really see it.

Which was just as well. She didn’t know why she picked this dress to wear, but had felt compelled to wear it anyway, even if looking at it made the vice on her heart tighten even more.

A gentle knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts and she blinked. Kagome turned her head in time to watch her mother crack open the door and poke her head inside, her smile kind, but her eyes sad. The older woman took in her daughter and her smile faded, but she didn’t comment as she stepped inside.

“Souta brought the car around,” she said softly. “And the keys are in it. Do you need help with your bags?”

“No,” Kagome answered and looked at her reflection again. “I packed most of them in the car last night. I just have my carry-on left.”

Mama nodded but said nothing as gazed at her daughter. Her heart ached at the pain she saw reflected in those dear features, in the eyes were that identical to her late husband’s—Kagome’s father.

“Kagome…” she started, but then sighed as those sad, sad eyes turned toward her once again. Mama shook her head. “Are you going to say goodbye?”

Kagome’s breath hitched. She didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the butterflies that took flight in her belly.

“I…I’m going to try,” she whispered and god help her, but she couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes. “But Mama, I don’t…he probably doesn’t want to see…”

Her throat tightened and she pressed her lips tightly together to stifle the sob that welled up. Immediately arms, warm and familiar, surrounded her. Kagome buried her face in her mother’s shoulder as the tears spilled from her eyes.

“I’ll talk to Izayoi,” Mama murmured and kissed her daughter’s head, her heart aching for her little girl as she felt her own eyes getting hot with the threat of tears. “If anyone can talk some sense into that boy, it’s his mother.”

Kagome sniffled and nodded, grateful that her mother would help her in this endeavor. It was unlikely he’d want to see her, but she had to at least try…

Closing her eyes as her mother rubbed her back and smoothed her hair, Kagome clung to her mother and let herself remember, the memories flashing before her mind’s eye and then fading away just as quickly, only to be replaced by another one, fresher, more precious, more painful than the one before.

But we can't stop this real world from spinnin' us Your bright lights called, I don't blame you for pickin' up Your big dream bags are all packed up and ready to go But I just need you to know

“Shhh! Quit laughing or they’ll hear us!”

Another badly stifled giggle echoed in the night as he drew her into the darkness of the trees, toward their secret spot they’d found years ago. One hand held a six pack while the other held tight to her hand, fingers laced, and he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face before an exhilarated chuckle of his own burst from his lips.

Darkness gave way to the orange glow of a fire, the soft crackling of wood breaking the stillness of the night.

“Why is this so good?”

“Because we’re seventeen.”

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Shut up and maybe we won’t be.”

“Hey, this was your idea—”

The rest of the words were stolen in a kiss, a hand coming up to cradle her jaw as a ragged sigh whispered against her lips. He tasted like beer and spearmint gum. She smiled. A strange combination, but it was him, and she loved it.

--

“You should have seen it, Inuyasha,” Kagome gushed a year later, sitting on her bed as she excitedly gushed about her time in LA to her best friend. “The sunset was absolutely gorgeous, like nothing you’ve ever seen before! God, I wish you were there with me. I just know you’d love it.”

Inuyasha smiled and reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I doubt I can love anything more than you.”

Blue eyes widened as a flush spread across her cheeks; her breath hitched, lips forming his name and eyes drifting closed as he leaned forward and took her mouth in a warm, lazy kiss.

--

“Would you ever wanna go?”

“Go where?” Fingers racked through dark hair and her sigh was blissful, a soft melody in his ears.

“California.”

“…You mean like…visit?”

“Well, maybe longer than a visit…like an extended trip, or something…lots of opportunities out that way…”

A brief pause before the fingers continued. “No. …Do you?”

“Mmm…dunno. Maybe after graduation? I had so much fun last time, but…”

“But what?”

A pause. Then, “Nothing. Kiss me.”

A husky chuckle before a pair of lips covered her own and any thoughts about the Golden State far, far from her mind as she returned his kiss.

That I love you more than a California sunset More than a beer when you ain't twenty-one yet More than a Sunday morning Lord Turnin' some poor lost souls 'round, Hallelujah bound

“Ewww, get that away from me!”

“C’mon Kagome, it’s just a worm! It ain’t gonna bite ya!”

“Eeee! Inuyasha, don’t you dare—!”

Laughter as he chased her around with a baited hook, the sound of water splashing as bare feet waded into the lake.

“Wait, I think I got something!”

The crank of a fishing rod as he reeled it in, the water splashing as whatever was caught struggled against the pull. Grunting, muttered curses, and soft giggling before with a splash the bass burst from the water, dangling from the hook.

“You got it!”

“Damn, ain’t nothing more satisfying than that feeling when the bass hits the hook!”

“I can think of one thing…”

Soft lips, warm and smiling, pressed against his own and Inuyasha abruptly decided that yeah, this was definitely better.

--

“California?”

“Yeah! Can’t you just imagine it, Inuyasha? The lights, the nightlife, the ocean, and no more snow! You always complain about the snow.”

“Yeah, but…Kagome, I don’t know…”

“Just think about it, okay? I’m not asking for you to decide right now. But this is something I’ve thought about for a while now, Inuyasha, and I just…I want to experience it with you. Please?”

A pause, and then heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

A brilliant smile, soft lips pressing to his cheek in a warm kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

“…I know, Kagome. Me, too.”

--

“I can’t believe you’re reading that crap.”

“It’s not crap, it’s romantic. You could probably learn something or two from these books, you uncultured dog.”

“Uncultured? Really?”

“Besides, I like it when the guy gets the girl at the end. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“I can make you feel all warm and fuzzy, too.”

Her gasp was cut off as lips pressed against her neck and hands slipped beneath her shirt to roam across soft skin. The book fell from her fingers to dive into silver hair, eyes closing as her head fell back with a breathy sigh.

--

“Yes.”

The blood was rushing so loudly in his ears he barely heard her and the thundering of his heart against his chest was so forceful, it was a wonder it didn’t leap out into her waiting hands. 

“Y-yes?” he echoed, voice naught but a disbelieving rasp as he stared at her with wide, shocked - and cautiously hopeful - golden eyes.

A half-sob, half-laugh burst from her lips and her eyes were bright from more than just the unshed tears brimming the beautiful depths.  Lips trembled as she smiled, hand trembling even more as she held it out before her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Inuyasha, I’ll marry you. I—”

What she felt next wasn’t the cool metal of his grandmother’s ring as it found a new home on her finger, but instead the warmth of her beloved’s hand as it wrapped around hers and yanked her forward into his arms. They tumbled to the ground, laughing, crying, exchanging endless kisses and promises of forever as the ring, forgotten on the ground but still nestled within the velvet box, glittered merrily in the warm glow of the fire.

Yeah, I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But, baby, this might be the last time I get to lay you down 'Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

“Come with me.”

Silence; thick, stony. Cold.

Desperation made her voice high, the words falling from her lips fast. “Inuyasha, please, come back with me—we’d have such an amazing time together, learning, living and—you can enroll in my school, Inuyasha! It’s not too late, there are so many programs to choose from, and I just think you can do so much more with your life than—”

“Than what, Kagome?” The words were snapped, harsh, biting as he whirled around to peg her with a hard stare. “Than taking on the valued responsibility of the ranch that’s been in my family for fucking generations? Than building our fucking house? You know, the one we'll live in after we’re married? I can’t do that, Kagome. I won’t.”

“But that’s just it, Inuyasha, you have no room to grow here! You’re stifled by the responsibility you feel to take over the ranch when leaving could relieve you of that burden! The world is so big, Yash, and there’s so much more beyond this little town, so if you would just trust me—”

“You’re asking me to drop and leave everything I know behind, Kagome!” His voice was loud, thunderous in his anger, his frustration, his pain. “This my home, our home, and you just want me to leave like it don’t even matter! Like the fucking life I’m trying to build for us don’t even matter!”

“That’s why I’m asking you to come with me!” Tears, hot, salty ran unchecked down her face, blue eyes big and pleading and flashing with undisguised panic. “I want to be with you, Inuyasha, I do, but I need you to understand—!”

“Then be with me here, dammit!” A note of desperation, amber eyes pleading, frantic, angry.

A choked sob, a muffled whimper. “I can’t…”

An anguished sound, a shattered cry, and then a door slamming shut, loud, devastating, final.

--

The words slammed into him harder than any blow he’d ever received, the shock greater than hitting the unforgiving ground after falling off a horse, and the pain far, far worse than he ever could have imagined.

Fuck, it would have hurt less if she’d just outright slapped him in the face.

She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze focused on the ground, dark hair hiding her expression. He swallowed once, twice; his mouth felt like a desert, his tongue heavy, thick, useless. His throat worked but no sound came out. Ice replaced the blood in his veins, freezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“Wh…what did you s…” He shook his head, swayed on his feet as he blinked hard. He couldn't have heard her right. She couldn't have just told him—

“…I cheated on you. Inuyasha, I—”

He didn’t hear the rest of what she said. His legs abruptly gave out and he stumbled back, sitting down hard onto the fallen log behind him. The log he’d proposed to her on. The log they’d kissed on—

He shook his head again, a frown pulling his brows down low over his eyes as he tried to register the words spilling from her mouth a mile a minute. Two days…two days ago. That—that didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t—he couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t detect any sort of incriminating evidence that suggested she’d been unfaithful. 

Amber eyes lifted, flashing with tentative hope. She’d been drunk—she didn’t remember, so maybe if he told her—

The sight of his grandmother’s ring, nestled in the middle of her palm, might as well have been his heart because it sure as sure shit felt like she’d just ripped it out of his chest. His stomach clenched, the breath seized in his lungs, and a curious numbness spread throughout his entire body. The realization hit him even harder than the pain had, and that in and of itself would have brought him to his knees had he not already been sitting. 

Honeyed eyes, agonized, pleading, lifted to her face. Again she would not meet his gaze, eyes closed against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. He suddenly tasted salt and with a start he realized he was crying too, the tears warm as they streaked down his pale face but he gave them no mind. 

“K…Kagome…” It was the only thing he could get through a throat tight from anguish. A plea, a prayer, a question all in one as he stared at her, heedless of the tears that continued to fall. 

Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head; a clenched sob broke from her lips as she reached forward, grabbed his hand, closed his fingers around the ring, giving it back, giving back his heart that she no longer wanted. Pain, sharp and intense, pierced through him and he gasped, unable to do a damned thing as she backed away from him, arms folded around herself.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, shaking her head, over and over, backing away. “I just…I can’t…”

A sob, borne of a sorrow so deep, of regret and fear and pain so sharp it felt it in the very marrow of his bones, broke free of her lips right before she whirled around and dashed away, through the night, through the trees, away from the fire, away from him.

Inuyasha could do nothing but sit there, his rejected grandmother’s ring clutched in his fist and his vision blurry from hot tears as he watched her run. Curious, that instead of the crushing pain he expected to feel in his chest, there was a hollow ache that resonated, like an echo of a mournful howl for the one who had just run away with his heart.

What hurt more than the pain of watching her go, however, and more than the diamond cutting into his palm, was the jarring realization that the woman he loved more than his own life would rather fabricate a lie of infidelity than be with him. 

And because he loved her more than his own happiness…he’d let her. 

I ain't the runaway kind, I can't change that My heart's stuck in these streets like the train tracks City sky ain't the same black Ain't that a map dot shame, man, to think that

Sitting on his bed, freshly showered and donned in simple jeans and a t-shirt, Inuyasha’s head was bowed between his shoulders and his arms were propped on his knees. His hands, clenched into tight fists, gradually relaxed and a breath he hadn’t’ even realized he’d been holding rushed from his lungs, escaping his mouth in a harsh exhale that did absolutely nothing to absolve the torment wreaking his mind.

As the last vestiges of the memory faded away, far more painful than all the ones before, he opened his eyes and stared down at the hardwood floor, scuffed and scratched and worn. He frowned, his chest feeling tight, his stomach in knots, his muscles tensing and relaxing with a restless energy that was hard to ignore. He wanted to punch something, to run, to fight, fight for her to stay, fight for them.

But he remained where he was, hands flexing, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight against the pain that was determined to bring him to his knees. God, why, why did she have to—

Gentle rapping on the door before it was cracked open. He didn’t look up but he didn’t need to; he knew why she was here. The ache in his chest intensified, sharped, traveled up to knot in his throat and make it harder to breathe.

She didn’t say anything at first, simply stared. Then, “…She wants to see you.”

Inuyasha turned his head, looked out the window.

A pause. Then a sigh, resigned, sad. “Asako called. Before she showed up at the door, I mean. Asked me to talk to you. Said I would, but didn’t make any promises.” Pause. “You already know how I feel about her doing this, but…you should at least say goodbye. You’ll regret it if you don’t. You know you will.”

A tightening of his jaw and a deep furrowing of his brow was her response.

“…I’m sorry, my love.”

The door closed with a soft click.

A minute passed. Two. Three.

Inuyasha exploded to his feet, grabbed the lamp on the nightstand, and hurled it against the wall with a roar that was equal parts rage, frustration, and deep, intense anguish that reverberated throughout the entire house; echoing, thunderous, shattering.

Deafening silence followed his outburst; he sank to his knees and wept.

I love you more than a California sunset More than a beer when you ain't twenty-one yet More than a Sunday morning Lord Turnin' some poor lost souls around, Hallelujah bound Yeah, I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But, baby, this might be the last time I get to lay you down Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

It was impossible not to hear it. As the color drained from Kagome’s face and her heart clenched in her chest, Izayoi stared at her with eyes hardened from the ache she was feeling for her son, the sorrow she felt at his heartbreak twisted into bitter, resentful anger at the woman standing before her.

Kagome closed her eyes, bit her lip to stifle the sob that welled in her throat, sucked in a shaky breath meant to harden her resolve. It didn’t and she fought not to fall apart on the front porch, locking knees that threatened to give out on her.

“Go,” Izayoi muttered in a voice like flint and ignored the younger woman’s flinch. “You’ve done enough damage here. And I’m not talking about whatever he just destroyed.”

Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes. Her throat tightened, preventing any words, protests, to spill from her mouth. She stared at the older woman with wide eyes, someone who she, for the longest time, had looked upon as a second mother, someone to confide in, to trust.

She found none of the warmth that she was used to seeing. No fondness, no compassion, no understanding. Coldness spread through Kagome’s veins, turning her blood to ice, knotting in her stomach, heavy, uncomfortable.

Izayoi stared back, cold, unforgiving, unregretful.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered.

The older woman pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away, arms tight across her chest.

Rejected, heartbroken, Kagome turned, her feet feeling heavy as they carried her back to her car. The tears ran unchecked down her face now, streaming down pale cheeks. She tasted salt and she got in the vehicle, closed the door. Her body felt like it was on autopilot as she revved the engine and started down the long dirt driveway.

It wasn’t until she had gone halfway that she broke down, great, gasping sobs erupting from her throat. Her vision was blurry from the unending tears and her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Without even realizing it her foot had slipped from the accelerator and she was merely coasting now, too distraught, too tormented to think about anything else but the pain ravaging her heart. Unbidden one last memory, the most recent, flashed before her mind’s eye, twisting the knife keeper, crushing her, killing her…

“Don’t do this.”

He froze at the softly uttered words, spoken in a tone so raw with pain that it trembled. He swallowed hard and turned his head just the slightest bit, but said nothing.

Silence. Thick, tense, deafening.

Then he tightened his jaw, hardened his eyes, and continued putting his boots on.

A choked sob, the rustle of cloth. “Inuyasha, please—”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood up from the side of the bed and refused to look at her as he collected his jacket, still sitting in a heap on the floor from where it was hastily thrown the night before.

A stuttered breath, followed by the salty scent of tears. His lips drew into a tight line and his hands fisted tightly at his sides as he forced himself to head toward the door. But, goddamn him, he paused right in front of it, hand on the knob, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Please,” she begged and the word was a raspy plea, vision blurry from tears. “If you would just—we can talk about this—”

“I love you, Kagome,” Inuyasha said and he heard her sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t turn around. He swallowed once, twice, and closed his eyes as he opened his mouth and forced the words past a throat tight with emotion.

“Inu—”

“But I can’t…love you more than this. I just…I can’t.”

Another sob, a hitched breath, and his chest ached. He bowed his head.

“See you around, Kagome,” he whispered and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway and down the stairs until the slam of the front door echoed in the dark house.

Kagome dropped her face into her hands and wept.

The front door burst open and Inuyasha was desperation personified as he rushed past his alarmed mother, sprinting as fast as he could toward the barn that held the horses. Not even a full minute later a white blur sped from the barn and bolted through the open gate of the pasture, following the car that was leaving with his love, his soul, his very heart.

Standing on the porch, Izayoi pressed a hand to her heart while the other covered her mouth, muffling the sob that burst from her lips as teary eyes watched her son chase after the woman who broke his heart.

'Cause I love you more than a California sunset I love you more in a twenty-dollar sundress Hate that loaded down car you got your keys in Girl, but I hate even more that you're leavin'

Urging his mount to go faster, harder, the thundering of her hooves against the ground rivaled that of the thundering of his heart in his chest. Hands gripping the coarse hair of her mane, Inuyasha grit his teeth against the harsh wind, his eyes wild, desperate and bright with unshed tears as he kicked the mare’s flanks to go faster, dammit, faster!

The distance between them was closing, the rumble of the engine, of gravel crunching beneath tires becoming louder until he was riding alongside her, along the fence that enclosed the front pasture. His hands fisted his mount’s mane in a while-knuckled grip as he leaned over her neck, legs tight to her sides.

He turned his head and wild, despairing golden eyes collided with wide, tear-filled blue.

Kagome’s heart lurched in her chest, making her gasp as goosebumps erupted on her skin. She sobbed, shaking her head, mouthing his name and forcing her eyes to look straight ahead. What—what was he doing?! Why?! God, he was making this even harder than it already was, taking her heart and stomping on it, cruel, cold, conniving.

But it made sense, didn’t it.

She had broken his heart, and now he was doing the same to her.

'Cause I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But that ain't you and me so I guess I'll see you around 'Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

Inuyasha didn’t let up, not even when she looked away, gritting his teeth, kicking his mount to keep up when she accelerated. She was crying, and although he couldn’t hear her, he could see the way she shook, shoulders jerking, chest heaving, face wet from her tears and fuck she was wearing the sundress—

The end of the drive was in sight. Kagome slowed down, so did he, but she didn’t stop as she once again turned her head and caught his gaze. Inuyasha was already staring at her, heart in his eyes, a silent plea falling from his lips, willing her to hear….

“Don’t go.”

A sob, raw, choked, anguished.

“I’m sorry.”

Without even realizing, he let up on his mount, the mare slowing to a trot, a walk, and then stood still, recovering from the hard gallop. Golden eyes, awash with ears, watched the car reach the end of the drive and turn, driving away, going, going, getting smaller, fading.

Gone.

Something inside Inuyasha shattered and he didn’t think it could ever, ever be repaired.

Love you more than my hometown Love you more than my hometown Love you more, baby, love you more

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