#and i have chore shifts at the farm tomorrow too so it's going to be a 9 hour workday 🙃

[butchfriend]

fml my manager asked me if i could work tomorrow night for a private party and i said yes, completely forgot there's a contra dance tomorrow i was planning to go to with my friends. L

#my posts #and i have chore shifts at the farm tomorrow too so it's going to be a 9 hour workday 🙃 #there goes my last weekend of spring break

[2willowlane]

i do really love emily. i don't know, but something just makes me very affectionate towards her.

femme reader, sfw, established relationship

ever since emily was then wedded to her new spouse, there's something that she still cannot get used to. well, in her heart, it feels so natural—as if she was made for this purpose, and as if everything that has been said and done was all aligned for her. even if she does indulge in her beliefs of mysticality, emily knew that what she had was real and cemented. a best friend, a girlfriend—a wife, of all things. tossing and turning in their shared bed, emily looked at your peaceful sleeping face. she found you to be so beautiful...

her eyes glossed over each of your features, from the fine contours of your nose, to those lips of which she oh, wants to kiss so dearly. the artistic side in her finds you just so genuinely interesting, as she's able to map out all of the different proportions in her mind. even if you may not be perfect, and emily is far from that as well, you two were perfect for each other. the tailor then gave into her impulses, pressing a soft kiss on her wife's cheek; lingering a bit, as she then withdraws. she misses the warmth already.

something has been nagging at emily recently, and it's mainly due to her scheduling. normally, she'd go out and work the saloon late at night; often times, just the hustle and bustle of her shifts do get her through the hours—however, she promptly would then pass out as soon as she makes her way towards home. how emily would dream of having that taste of sleep; looking forward to it every day, since it's the most downtime she has in her day—well, other than in the morning (of which she likes to relax in her home... whenever she doesn't have chores).

it's past 11pm, and the bed already feels uncomfortable for her. she has this insatiable itch to get up, to dance, to move—but, there're a few moments in emily's life where it feels as if it's better to stay still. as if she doesn't need to go put an imprint on the new day, rather, just let the earth turn. it felt like an eterenity for the woman, as she was still just glazing over the features on your face, whilst trying to think of something to do. she already knows what she wants to do tomorrow—probably tend to her crystal garden out by the farm, and then surprise her love with taking care of her chickens. oh, how she does love birds!

possibly, she could go out and forage some? she has a few hours to make it back home, and she knows you do appreciate a fresh medley. she wants you to grow healthy wnd strong, and with all of your farmwork, combat expertise, and mining efficiency... she'll be surprised if she could find anyone that'd be stronger than you. well, not only by physical strength—she knows that you're a capabale woman; more than capable.

it makes her feel proud that her gut feeling was right about you being special; but her sense of pride over having the person she loves doing what she wants to do, and is equally proud of her own work? oh, emily's heart swoons!

preparing to go out, she then slips on her shoes, makes sure to change into something she could get dirty in, and makes her way out of the house. making sure that none of the wooden floorboards don't creek underneath the rug she's walking on, emily takes softer steps—to ensure that you're not going to have a rude awakening anytime soon. she then turns around whenever she reaches the fromt door, blowing a kiss in the bedroom's direction to say "goodbye, my dear!"

the chill of the night washed over emily. well, at least it brings her more of an incentive to get out and be active! however, she still needed to be careful being out at night without light; she could still make out some objects due to the moonlight. oh, how romantic this felt with emily, and how it just felt so in-tune with her emotions. she was glad she was able to be friends with—now, be with—someone who doesn't just dismiss her mannerisms as simply "odd" or "too weird". yes, she knows that she is far from the conventional standard sometimes, but the world would be too boring if everything was a simple carbon copy of each other.

how she felt things were different than most. you were able to be with her and understand, and even if you didn't quite get everything she rambled on about, it made you feel special that she'd want to show you all of those things. emily may have her quirks, but that's what makes her, well—her! you wouldn't have her any other way.

humming a saloon tune whilst skipping to the beat of it, just thinking about surprising you with all of these goodies makes her feel so, so upbeat! if you were there, you could've seen the color to her cheeks; how that rosey hue was something all-too familiar. picking up some dandelions along the way, she did remember to pack a wicker basket a while back; as she tried her best to then assort each of the plants the best she could. emily had an eye for design and arrangements, so it did take her a bit until she was fully satisfied to continue onto the next task. if she feels so strongly about something, she needs to vent it out! emily believes that it's a true emotion, if it resonates that deeply within her.

something about this late night nature stroll does rekindle feelings emily never quite knew she had. she never had the time to go outside and to fully appreciate the stars; however, being able to actually go out, and to observe all of the things she'd normally miss due to her body just aching to get to bed... she loves it. the fresh breeze of the spring's night air was cold, however, there's still a warmth to it. oh, well, maybe it's because she's full of thoughts of you. maybe that's it.

she then makes her way throughout town, waving to some of the nightly saloon guests as they make their way out of the restaurant. ever since she was married, she doesn't have to work as much at gus'. this made her feel more free, as she knows that she cannot simply be a barsmaid forever—there's too much on her plate to do, y'know? though, now that she thinks about it, work feels much more rewarding, if she can go home and see you, to cook for you, to bring gifts to you (from all those times you've given her some), and to simply be the first and last thing she gets to see in her days.

as emily progresses up towards the mountains, she doesn't frequent this area; as she doesn't have much of a use for it. now? she loves just how raw and natural this feels to her, as she gets a good feeling of energy coming from her. you'd often talk about all of the difficult fish that you'd have to catch in this area, and you have to reassure her that you're handling the little creatures humanely; and that they're all okay, under your care. she loves how caring you are with even the smallest of things, and that positivity is contagious. well, at least in her mind.

this was the place where she truly belonged, now that she thinks about it.

#💙 #emily #emily stardew #emily stardew valley #sdv emily #emily sdv #emily x reader #x reader #emily x female reader #female reader #x female reader #emily x reader stardew valley #emily x female reader stardew valley #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #stv x reader

[bookishzelda]

Whumpril Day 1: Limp

Sooo… I guess I’m participating in Whumpril this year! I’m definitely not expecting to finish one every day, but I thought it would be fun to do a few here and there. I plan for them all to be Zelda themed, as it’s my first love fandom that I always come back to— and there’s just so much whump potential in the series!

Also I haven’t written fanfic in a hot minute so please go easy on me lol

Whumpril Day 1: Limp

Ocarina of Time Link X Malon; hurt/comfort

Malon shook out another towel and folded it as she looked out the window at her husband. She sighed mentally as she watched him struggle to carry a bale of hay from the field into the barn. Link was just so stubborn.

Malon had insisted since the day they got married that she could handle the farm chores, considering his bad limp from his battle with Ganon years ago. He always waved her concerns off, reminding her that he had had way worse (which was true) and that his role as a protector didn’t stop just because Hyrule was safe. Malon always argued with him but always ended up losing somehow. She may have been stubborn, but she was no match for the pride of the Hero of Time.

Usually they split the chores, with Link taking care of the animals and Malon keeping up most of the other parts of the ranch, but now that they had a baby on the way, Link had gone into ultra-protective mode. He insisted on keeping her from any manual labor, and although Malon tried to protest, she was secretly grateful for the reprieve while she faced the trials of pregnancy.

However, Link’s limp had been getting worse lately and it was even harder for him to keep up on the ranch.

Looking back out at her husband, she saw that he was now lugging a giant canister of Lon Lon milk, the bulk of the object exaggerating the way that he favored his left leg. He looked up and smiled when he met her eyes. She waved at him, glad that he didn’t seem to be in pain.

As she looked back down at her laundry, humming to herself, she heard a sudden crash from outside. Snapping her head up to look out the window, she bolted outside to find Link on the ground, and the canister on its side, gushing milk.

“Link, what happened?” Malon exclaimed, kneeling beside him. “Are you all right?”

“The milk,” Link said through gritted teeth, trying to stand the canister upright.

“Forget the milk!” Malon said, though she did stand it back up. “Are you okay?”

“I… yeah,” Link replied. “I just… my leg gave out. I don’t know what happened.” He gasped as he shifted his position, and Malon put a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay, darling. See, this is why I don’t want you doing all this. I know you’re tough and you want to do everything for me, but you’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to go easy on yourself.” Her voice was gentle as always but her chiding words made Link nod in defeat. “If you’re hurt, you can’t help me at all.” She stood up and wrung some milk from her skirt before reaching out to Link.

Link took her hand and pulled himself up, but when he shifted his weight to his right leg he sucked in a breath through his teeth. Malon didn’t hesitate to pull him to her side, letting him lean against her for support.

“I’m sorry, Malon,” he whispered as he leaned his weight into her and took a shaky step.

Malon kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about it, my love. I keep telling you, you don’t have to do this on your own.” She helped him inside and into a chair, her heart aching when she saw the way he winced as he sat down. “Have all the animals been fed?”

He shook his head. “I can do it later. I just need a few minutes and then….”

Malon cut him off. “No, Link, I’ll do it. Working with the animals for one day won’t kill me. And tomorrow, I’m going to see if we can hire someone out in Castle Town.”

“No, Malon, I can still do it,” Link protested.

“I know you can. But with help. We’ll be busy with the baby soon, and I don’t want to have to worry about you. Don’t worry, just remember,” she said, kissing the top of Link’s head. “You’re still my hero.”

#Whumpril2024 #hurt/comfort #Tloz #tloz fanfic #oot #link x malon #My writing #Whumprilday1

[butwhyduh]

The Farm

Damian Wayne x Jon Kent

Summary: just 2 boys in love but won’t admit it. I have the attention span of a butterfly so this is as close as I get to a slow burn lmao. I just think they are adorable and I headcanon Damian as demisexual. I did actually age them above 18 but this is sfw. Only a little kissing. There’s a bigot but he gets punched.

“I heard about the farm,” Damian said as they sat on a rooftop in New York. “Sorry.” They were drinking milkshakes after saving the city. Well Jon was as Damian had a vegan smoothie instead.

“Yeah, they foreclosed,” Jon said, his bright blue eyes uncharacteristically stony. “Thanks. Just wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“You know I could help you.. financially. If you need,” Damian offered carefully. Jon shifted in his seat and took a drink of his shake.

“It’s not your job. I’ll figure out how to keep it. Don’t worry,” Jon said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Congrats on vet school. Not that it’s a surprise. You were top of your class.”

“Oh thanks. But seriously, I have no problem writing a check right now, Jon,” Damian emphasized. Jon stared at him silently. It was so tempting to let Damian solve his problems but that wasn’t the Kent way.

“I don’t know,” Jon said shifting uncomfortably. Damian noted that it wasn’t a no.

“I will be going to school in Metropolis in the fall. The farm in Smallville is a lot closer to the university than my place in Gotham,” Damian said hoping to come off as casual. Apparently not as Jon almost fell off the roof in shock.

“Live- with me,” he asked, his eyebrows rose quickly.

“Oh, I suppose. Yes, that is what I would be proposing,” Damian answered. Jon looked at him with wide eyes before clearing his throat and softening the look on his face to more neutral. Damian definitely wasn’t meaning ‘moving in’ moving in. He was just being practical. He wasn’t in love with Jon the same way Jon was head over heels for Damian since he was like 13.

“It would be practical for us both,” he said and Jon relaxed. Yep, normal Damian not thinking of the social meaning of his words.

“I don’t have a butler,” Jon warned. “And I sometimes forget to do laundry or dishes.”

“Then I will make a chore chart,” Damian answered and Jon’s heart soared a little at the domestics of it all. Jon nodded with a grin.

“So when do I get my roommate?” Jon asked lightly. Or what he hoped was lightly. His farm was saved and Damian was moving in. He was surprised he wasn’t levitating yet.

“I need to sell my apartment first. And pack,” Damian contemplated. “Also I need to buy the farm. I’ll need 4 days.”

“4?!? I mean- that’s fine,” Jon answered. He began immediately imagining all the work he needed to do before Damian could move in. “You work fast.”

“Yes, money talks,” Damian answered as if it was normal for a 20 year old to say. Jon nodded and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

True to his words, a moving truck showed up 4 days later. Jon had cleaned and organized everything, even scrubbing the walls and sweeping the barn. The workers quickly set up everything in the spare room just as Damian arrived.

Damian arriving was a sight Jon would never forget. Damian wore a black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up and a tan pair of dress pants over shiny black leather shoes as he carried in a large paper bag of produce. Damian had grown so much from the tiny 13 year old Jon had first known. He was now a full inch taller than Jon and probably 10 lbs heavier. It was funny since Jon was the one currently running around as Superman.

Damian sat his bag on the kitchen counter and wiped sweat from his brow. Jon was much more casually dressed in old blue jeans and a white t shirt with a rolled up and open red plaid button down over it. An old blue baseball cap was thrown over backwards on his head and little curls stuck out.

“You brought food. You know this is a farm, right?” Jon said with a smile. “We’re kinda known for having food.”

“I brought food to cook tonight,” Damian said trying to be casual. He had actually taken far too long deciding on the perfect food for him and Jon to eat their first night as roommates.

“Are you cooking for me?” Jon said with a pleased smile. The moving company was leaving and it was just the two of them.

“Yes, I thought it would be a good start,” Damian said formally. “No need to be so happy. It’s just dinner.”

“Of course,” Jon said trying to straighten his face. But how could he when Damian was living with him and cooking for him? Impossible task.

Damian busied himself in the small kitchen, looking in every drawer and cabinet. He noted that in the dying evening light, it perfectly captured the sunset. That was something that people paid huge amounts to even glimpse from their place in Gotham and Jon got a 360 view everyday.

“Well I have to feed the animals but I’ll be back soon. Do you need anything before I go?” Jon said in the doorway to the kitchen. He had thrown on a pair of rubber boots.

“Tt, you dare care for animals without me?” Damian said with a frown.

“Well I just thought- I mean you can- but you’re cooking,” Jon sputtered and Damian smiled.

“I’m playing with you. I’ll see them tomorrow. Otherwise the meal will be ruined,” Damian said. Jon laughed and shook his head as he left.

Damian looked at the photos that lined the hallway, smiling as he saw pictures of Jon as a child. Jon holding a fish he caught. Jon swinging a baseball bat. Jon holding up one end of a tractor. Right above it was a young Clark Kent doing the same. Damian shook his head with a little smile. He would never admit it but he was head over heels for Jon. Had been for a few years now.

“That’s the first time I lifted a tractor,” Jon said beside him. “Dad was so proud.”

“I imagine,” Damian answered. Clark was such a sore subject for Jon. His father had only been presumed dead the year before. Jon took it hard. He didn’t speak but watched Jon from the corner of his eyes.

“He never wanted to force me to be Superboy. I practically begged him. He was scared it was too dangerous,” Jon said with a sad smile. They both walked in the kitchen and Damian finished the food. Damian brought it to the table just as Jon shyly brought out a bottle of wine.

“Mr Kent, where did you get that?” Damian said with a little smile.

“Actually there’s an entire wine cellar full of the good stuff. Your father is quite fond of giving wine as a gift and Dad never liked to drink. So he stored it here,” Jon said pulling out a wine opener. “I thought we could drink it for him.”

“That’s very illegal,” Damian said expertly opening the bottle. “We’re both technically underage.”

“Anything is legal with enough money,” Jon said with a little grin and Damian laughed.

I’m an awful influence,” Damian replied. They spend the rest of the night eating and drinking wine before both crashing in their separate rooms in the early morning.

Jon crawled out of bed only a few hours later to feed the animals and get started on his day. He thanked his Kryptonian DNA for the lack of hang over he worried Damian would have. He crept quietly past his roommate’s door on his way out.

Jon returned a few hours later, still rather early, and was surprised by the smell of coffee. Damian was cooking breakfast for him. For them, Jon reminded himself. Damian was just his roommate. Damian nodded and poured Jon a cup of coffee.

“I thought you would still be asleep,” Jon admitted.

“I don’t require much sleep. Plus I want a tour of the property,” he said. Practical Damian as always, Jon thought.

“Sure, I’ll take you around. The farm and then town,” Jon added taking a huge plate of scrambled tofu and fried tomatoes. Damian had anticipated that.

“That’s a good plan. I don’t want to stand out in town. Should I wear a plaid shirt,” Damian asked.

“Uh, yeah. If you want. T shirts and jeans are fine too,” Jon said.

“May i borough these clothing from you? Mine are not appropriate for a farm,” Damian said casually and Jon willed himself to not have any emotion that Damian was going to wear his clothing.

Damian was extremely handsome in Jon’s plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. His bright green eyes and tan skin popped in the shirt and he had brushed his black hair neatly back as it had gotten long enough to fall in his eyes. Jon couldn’t help but stare at his Damian in his clothing. Logic be damned.

“What?” Damian asked looking at himself. “Does it look bad? I don’t want to appear foolish,” he said about to pull off the plaid shirt.

“No! No you look good. Nice,” Jon said and Damian’s lip twitched towards a smile.

“Thank you. Would you like to show me town first? Before we get muddy,” Damian said.

“Sure, that sounds good. I need to pick up feed anyways,” Jon said. They loaded into Jon’s old pickup. Krypto hopped into Damian’s lap as if he always had done it and they set off to town a few miles away.

“Here’s the library and the best Waffle House in Kansas. Second only to Ma Kent’s,” Jon said as they drove around. He showed Damian all the important sights in town. Damian had a hard time believing that everything was so compact and so small. Even the diner that Jon said they would eat lunch because they had the best pie short of Ma Kent.

They both, and Krypto, got out at the feed store and they treated Jon like old friends. He grabbed a basket and pushed it to the back as he chatted about all the interesting animals people owned to Damian. The Ferguson’s owned a pair of alpacas and old Skipper Smith had a parrot and monkey as pets.

Jon didn’t pay any attention as he easily lifted 4 50 lb bags of feed and casually put 200 lbs of feed in the basket. Damian looked around to see no one near. Jon did it again.

“Should get us through the week,” he said with a grin.

“You do know that most people don’t pick up 4 at once?” Damian told him quietly as they moved to the register. Jon stopped before nodded and laughing.

“You know I’ve never thought about it. Let’s get going before the diner gets a lunch rush,” he said. Jon tried to act more normal putting up the feed bags but tossing them one handed like bags of bread into the bed of a pick up truck was far from normal. Damian couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

The diner had about 12 booths and a row across the counter like old times. It probably was an older restaurant with the light blue tile and actual jukebox. Damian didn’t know what rush hour could possibly look like with all 7 people he’d seen since entering town but Jon seemed pleased to be earlier than them.

An older lady laid down a menu between them both and offered them coffee with a big grin. Jon ordered a chicken fried steak and Damian ended up getting the waffles. It was the only thing probably vegetarian on the menu.

“Oh shoot, I forgot you don’t eat meat. Sorry. Should I change my order,” Jon said raising his hand.

“No,” Damian said grasping Jon’s hand and pulling it down to the table. Jon’s heart just about beat out of his chest. “It’s fine. You don’t have to change what you eat for me.”

“Okay,” Jon said and the waitress came back to the table with drinks and eyed Damian’s hand on Jon’s.

“This your new partner, Kent,” she asked and Jon noted the judge tone to her voice as she sat down their glasses. Homophobia was still alive in the country. Damian didn’t notice.

“Yes, I just moved in last night,” Damian answered and Jon was frozen in time. Damian doesn’t understand what he means, Jon thought. He can’t.

“Oh, is that right? Took off to the city and brought back a city slicker. Well, each to their own,” she said with a passive aggressive smile. Jon sighed as she walked away. He didn’t know how to explain that to Damian. Was Damian even gay? Too late now. The whole town thought he was.

After eating their meal, Jon asked the waitress for pie to go. The diner had filled up and far too many people were glancing at the pair. Damian assumed it was because he was new in town or possibly they recognized him as a Wayne. Jon knew it was that he had brought home a man. Damian also didn’t quite pass as white with his tan skin and Arabic features so probably a dash of racism too.

Jon drive down to the park at the edge of town and parked by the pond. He put on a nice face but worried that Damian wouldn’t have as easy time in Smallville as Jon hoped.

“Something on your mind, Kent,” Damian said, sitting on the back hatch of the truck watching, the ducks swim.

“Nothing. Maybe I’m a little tired. Should have gone to bed earlier last night,” he said with a laugh. Damian looked at him out the corner of his eye but said nothing and continued eating his pie.

“This pie is made with quality,” Damian said and Jon smiled.

“Better than Alfred’s?”

“Different. Alfred makes amazing meat pies but he never quite understood American pies,” Damian answered. Jon nodded.

“I have to work the rest of the week,” he warned Damian.

“I have plenty of paperwork to keep me busy,” Damian answered. Jon knew he never had to worry about Damian that way. He always kept busy. This was probably his longest break.

The next 3 weeks consisted of getting up early to care for the animals before Jon left to work at the local paper. Damian would jog 3 miles down the dirt road that the Kent farm sat at the end of. By the end of the first week, a few of the neighbors would even wave at him. Jon counted himself as having the will of a Green Lantern to leave before Damian returned every morning. Damian was a sight to behold in his post workout glow pre-shower. He would come home and most of the time Damian was cooking dinner for him. Jon was really falling for the domestics of it all.

“Don’t get used to it, Kent,” Damian warned after Jon complimented an amazing dish Damian made. “Once school starts I can not act as a housewife to you.”

“You aren’t- Dami, you’re far from a housewife,” Jon sputtered. “I know that Flamebird has been seen in metropolis a few times this week alone.”

“Well, I needed to keep busy,” Damian said with a shrug. “Eat your eggplant.”

“I’ve probably eaten more vegetables this week than I have since I would summer with Ma,” Jon said. “But this is pretty good.”

“You’re welcome,” Damian said with a pleased smile. After dinner they sat on the swing on the porch and swung as they watched the sunset like an old married couple. Damian looked at Jon more often than he needed to as they talked about nothing. Jon was so pretty in the golden light. His bright blue eye and freckles looked adorable to Damian.

“And then in August we harvest-“ Jon had been saying before Damian cupped his face and pushed his lips against Jon’s. It was rough and their teeth clanged together and Jon pulled back with an “ow.”

“Shit,” Damian said, moving to get up. “I shouldn’t have- forget I-“

“Wait,” Jon said and Damian froze. He looked so uncertain and Jon had never seen that before. “Can we- can we try again?”

“You don’t have to pity me,” Damian said curtly, getting up. “Forget I did that. I apologize,” he said going inside.

Jon sat for a minute in shock. He had been in love with Damian forever and Damian finally kissed him and he couldn’t even enjoy it. Jon went inside and stood in front of Damian’s door. His hand tentatively considered knocking but Jon couldn’t do it. Just as he turned to walk away, Damian opened his door.

“I have to go to Gotham,” he said suddenly.

“What? If it’s me, you don’t have to leave,” Jon said quickly.

“No. My brothers need me,” Damian said and Jon noticed he had his suit on under his clothing.

“Do I need to come?”

“No. It’s okay. I’ll be back later this week hopefully,” Damian said dashing outside. The screen door swung and slapped the doorframe loudly. Jon ran on the porch.

“Week?” He called as Damian’s car pulled out the drive.

Jon fretted and obsessively watched the news everyday. Krypto was getting anxious without his 3 mile jog every morning. Late on the fourth day after Damian left, Jon heard the front door open. He raced to the door. Damian looked weary and had a slight limp.

“Hi,” Jon said looking Damian over and Damian offered a tired smile. Nothing broken. “Do you need help?”

“No. I need to sleep and I will be fine,” Damian said stubbornly. Jon rolled his eyes and helped him to his bed.

“Do you need anything?”

“No thank you. I will probably sleep late tomorrow,” Damian warned.

“Sure. Of course,” Jon said slowly closing the door as Damian fell asleep. Jon barely slept that night and got up early and called out of work for the day. Damian got up uncharacteristically late around 10 am.

“How are you?” Jon asked, offering him coffee. Damian took the drink before sitting next to Jon. He had a black eye and that limp was still around. The sun shone in bright in the kitchen and Damian was once again reminded the vast difference between smallville and Gotham.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” he said quietly. Jon didn’t want to pounce Damian the first second he got home but it was very hard to not want to talk about the kiss.

“You got mail,” Jon said, handing Damian a big Manila envelope that had come in the day before. Damian wordlessly opened it as he sipped coffee.

“Oh it’s yours,” he handed it over to Jon. Jon opened it with a confused look.

It was a deed. The Kent farm deed. The Kent farm deed in Jon’s name. He looked up at Damian who had a tired half smile.

“It’s in my name. You put it in my name,” he said. “W-why?”

“It’s the Kent farm. There’s too many things with the Wayne name on it,” he shrugged. “Plus I’m far from a farmer. It should be yours.”

“God Damian,” Jon said with tears in his eyes. He pulled Damian into a hug who squawked a protest that Jon ignored. “Thank you. I can’t- thank you,” he said wetly. Damian ignored how Jon was quietly crying on him. His grandma and dad passing had affected him hard and Damian knew he was crying over more than a house and land.

“You’re welcome,” Damian finally whispered and Jon cried even harder. Damian softly pat his back awkwardly. Jon leaned back but didn’t let Damian go. He gazed at Damian with the softest look.

“God Damian,” Jon repeated. “Do you even know how much I love you?”

Damian froze and just blinked at Jon who had pulled back but not out of the hug. “What?” He simply said and Jon’s face started to contort in pain. “Hold on,” Damian said and Jon warily looked at him. Damian knew he had to lean in or Jon would take it back and Damian would be too scared to do anything until Jon did this again. And he wasn’t sure how long Jon would wait.

Damian gently cupped Jon’s face in his hands and Jon breathed in quickly. Damian was clearly nervous. Damian noted how his face was soft and his skin warm. This time he gently bent over and softly pressed his lips against Jon’s. Jon quickly reacted by leaning in toward Damian. Jon could feel the rough pads of Damian’s fingers and taste the coffee Damian had been drinking. After a short while, Damian pulled back but not away.

“I truly care for you too,” he said softly and Jon grinned. “I’ve cared for you for a long time.”

“Same,” Jon said before leaning in to kiss Damian again. Damian kissed for another few seconds before pulling back again. This time Jon tried to follow his lips before stopping. Jon’s breath was erratic and fast. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“No. It’s okay. I’ve just never- I’ve never“ Damian started a bit lost for words. Jon understood what he meant.

“You’ve never been with a man,” Jon said gently.

“I’ve never taken the time for relationships with anyone. I’ve always been too busy,” Damian admitted. He played with the edge of a napkin nervously. He would never openly admit to being worried that his lack of experience was a flaw.

“We can go slow. Whatever you want,” Jon said and he finally looked at Damian the way he had never let himself before: like he was in love with him. Damian nodded.

“I’ve just never found anyone that interesting. I mean, beside you. After a while. I wanted to throw you off a bridge at first,” Damian said and Jon smiled.

“I know. You told me,” Jon said. “We should go out to eat. There’s a place downtown that has vegan options.”

“I didn’t even know there was a downtown here,” Damian admitted and Jon laughed.

“It’s a small town. Not a hut in the woods.”

The place wasn’t ‘rush hour’ packed but had plenty of tables with patrons. Damian and Jon sat at a booth and Damian almost couldn’t handle the lovey way Jon was looking at him. Jon was staring at Damian like he was the moon, even though Damian stood out like a sore thumb in the rural town in his turtleneck and dress slacks. But that was his comfort clothing and he had given up on fitting in long ago.

“I’m going to the restroom. Order for me?” Damian asked and Jon nodded. As Damian walked towards the back of the restaurant, a man in a brown jacket and rubber boots purposefully shoved Damian with his shoulder as he walked by. Damian turned to glare at him.

“Sorry, didn’t see any fruitcakes around here,” the guy said and Damian bristled. Before he could make a scene, Jon moved over to them.

“Hi Tyler. Do we have a problem here?” Jon said uncharacteristically cold. That guy didn’t realize that he picked the worst pair to insult. Tyler looked between Damian and Jon before deciding the fight wasn’t worth it.

“Nothing worth it,” Tyler said turning around. “Bad enough to bring a fruitcake to town, it had to a brown one too,” he muttered and Damian stiffened. He knew that he got looks when he went into town. He was probably the only person that spoke more than English or Spanish in town and certainly the only one to speak Arabic.

But before Damian could do anything else but feel disgust, Jon had punched the guy in the face. Well it was more of a flick with his fist but the guy went down like a rock. Damian hid his smile as him and Jon were hurried out of the restaurant with their food to go by a worried waitress who apologized to the pair.

As they walked back to the pickup truck, Damian reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand who lit up almost instantly. Damian ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he walked. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Jon either.

“You know, it’s not everyday that a guy gets Superman to defend his honor,” Damian said quietly but playfully and Jon laughed.

“Can’t handle bigots. I’ll let you punch the next one,” Jon said with a shrug.

“I would have punched that one,” Damian answered. He turned and pulled Jon to face him before taking his free hand that wasn’t carrying a bag. Damian gently cupped Jon’s face to place a kiss on Jon’s lips before going back to walking. Jon had a stupid smile all the way back home.

#Damian Wayne x Jon kent #Damian Wayne #damijon #mlm dc fanfic #Jon kent #robin x Superboy #Damian is flamebird and Jon is Superman #Jon kent x Damian Wayne #fns pride edition

[prompt-master]

Familiar New Beginnings

Hajime woke up that morning already feeling a barrage of unimpressed emotions. He knew his routine by now, had it memorized forwards and backwards. He would do chores around the island, check up on the others still in their comas, then have a video chat with Makoto to update on their status. Despite surviving the impossible, Hajime’s life felt surprisingly uneventful. There was a certain layer of dreariness that stuck to his daily life now. He tried his best to wash it off, but there was always leftover residue no matter how hard he scrubbed. Afterall, many of his friends were comatose, the four others were dealing with their own demons, and nothing in their routine ever seemed to change. He had hope that things would change… but it all felt so…

Hajime groaned, ruffling his hair in the bathroom mirror. If he wasn’t careful, he would sound just like Izuru.

‘And what is wrong with that?’ Speak of the devil.

‘I don’t know… everything?’ Just like that the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun.

He and Izuru were… Well, it had gotten better that’s for sure. Just a month ago the two were constantly clashing with each other. They had argued over everything from moral differences to petty squabbles. At times they had even fought for control of their body, which looked downright scary to the others whenever they got a glimpse. Now… Hajime didn’t really know how to describe his relationship with Izuru. He doesn’t like him, but he doesn’t hate him anymore either. 

Not that it mattered much. Izuru wasn’t a part of his daily routine except for the fact that he was always in the back of his head observing. And Hajime was taking things one day at a time. 

What mattered right now was getting to the restaurant for breakfast, a quick meeting, and chore assignment. It wasn’t really necessary (Izuru reminded him of this every single morning meeting), but the mini tradition was nice. It was like a small reminder that they were in this together. The morning meeting really could make the difference between a bad day and a good day. Kazuichi slinging his arm around him, talking about stupid guy stuff. Sonia trying to work out the chore assignments but getting distracted with more fun conversation. Fuyuhiko pretending to be bitter and serious, but everyone could see he was enjoying himself. Akane of course would always be energetic as Hell. Hajime swore she could always pull them out of a funk with how much of a driving fight she had (even if she mostly used it for her hunger). Morning meetings reminded Hajime how lucky he was to have escaped with them. They reminded him why he was fighting. They reminded him although things currently felt dreary and repetitive, something good would come out of it. Morning meetings were simply wonderful.

At least, that’s what Hajime would have said a day ago. 

Because today’s morning meeting was garbage. There was no way to sugar coat it. He had barely gotten to talk to any of his friends, and although they made his favorite breakfast he was instantly handed a chore list that could only be described as annoying. After reading over the list, Hajime looked up at Sonia.

“Seriously?” The list consisted solely of the most difficult unwanted jobs, not to mention the fact that many were on opposite sides of the island. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Hinata-kun.” Her smile didn’t look sorry though. Before he could get too bitter, Izuru had to remind Hajime that her smile hasn’t been as bright ever since getting her despair memories back. She did a polite bow, one in that over exaggerated foreigner way, “the others have been incredibly down lately so I wanted to try and ease their workload.”

Hajime could already feel a hefty weight on him, “why me though?”

There was a shift in her eyes, a quick glance that she tried to hide, “I figured that…”

Of course she had, since she glanced at his red eye after all. If only she realized how uncooperative Izuru could be. Sure, he had the Ultimate Ultimate living in the attic space of his head but it meant nothing when all he wanted to do was watch. 

Regardless, Hajime nodded. Taking some load off his friends back may do them some good. He knows he heard Kazuichi screaming from a nightmare last night. Probably about the death machines he built. 

“But just this once”, he had said. 

He could practically feel Izuru mocking him in his dead toned way. Throughout the day of trying to get his chores done and ignoring Izuru’s sudden comments about being bored he would hardly get to see any of his friends. It sucked, but sometimes it had to happen, he supposed. They weren’t on an island vacation after all, they had to keep the island self sustaining. All in all… an incredibly lackluster day as he had feared. It was this brand of nothingness that left Hajime feeling vague within his own body. The lack of stimulation allowed him to fade out until the next chore was done. It was a numbness over his body as his brain went into autodrive.

And he hated it.

Feeling like he was floating, feeling like he has no control of his body. That reminded Hajime of how close he was to simply not existing anymore. In fact, sometimes he still wonders if he doesn’t exist. Maybe he’s just Izuru, and this is Izuru’s weird way of coping with everything.

‘Don’t be idiotic, Hajime.’ Izuru said, pulling him back into reality. Right. He was working on the farm. ‘You have survived one of the final trials between hope and despair, against Enoshima Junko herself. Yet you still doubt your own existence. How boring.’

Hajime laughed through his nose, pulling another root out of the ground. Izuru certainly had a strange way of cheering him up. Maybe Hajime was the strange one though, because it worked. 

‘Careful, Kamukura, you almost sound sentimental.’

There was a beat of silence. For a moment Hajime thought that was the end of the conversation. It wasn’t unusual for them to have short bursts of conversation that cut off suddenly. When he spoke again, Hajime wished he had the talent Makoto did. He wished he could see beyond Izuru’s tone to hear the meaning behind them. Even though it was the same flat, uninterested, soft voice he had heard a million times before, he felt as though there was something unseen within.

‘I have told you this before, but that particular trial was one I had set up myself. Your existence is a display of significance and impossibility. Do not disappoint.’ 

It wasn’t too odd to hear this sentiment from Izuru. In fact Hajime had heard it from the moment he woke up. His very existence was the defining reason Izuru gave hope a chance. It clearly meant a lot to Izuru, even if continued to claim he could feel nothing. Still, Hajime couldn’t help but wonder why Izuru was saying this now. Izuru didn’t say anything without purpose. Ah, he didn’t want Hajime to be moping around all day. That would be much too boring. Hajime decided to give Izuru some control over the body just this once, to let him play around in the dirt and with the bugs within. For a man who could do anything, he always found interest in such simple matters. It was almost charming.

Hajime must have nodded off at some point, because when he had come back into the driver’s seat not only was the crop work done, but so were several other chores on the list. Hajime couldn’t even process that for a moment, having to confirm both with Izuru and his own eyes multiple times to be sure. It was always odd blacking out and finding his own body had done something without him. ‘You didn’t have to do all that’ Hajime had said. ‘I was bored’ was all he got in response. Typical Izuru. 

Although Hajime could still feel the aches of labor throughout his body, he had to admit that the break was a welcomed one. Even if Izuru hadn’t intended for it to be a relaxing moment, Hajime supposed sometimes taking the backseat didn’t need to feel so life ending. After all, like Izuru said, if he could survive Junko, he could survive today. And tomorrow. And any day. 

Hajime’s step had a bit more vigor in it now. He felt just slightly more energized. He could tackle the few chores left on the list now. He was certain that without Izuru occasionally throwing in a comment, Hajime would fall asleep while cleaning. 

With the chores list done, he had to do some inspection on his comatosed friends. It was certainly a tough job to handle, but Byakuya - er… The Imposter-  had recently been showing some promising signs. For both The Imposter’s sake and his own, Hajime would keep this work flow going. He had to, even if he felt tired. Besides, the sooner he finished with that, the sooner he could call Makoto, and the sooner he could lay in bed and go to sleep. Just imagining that left Hajime feeling happy, maybe with some luck he could even convince Izuru to not interrupt his sleep out of boredom.

“Yo, Hinata!”

Strangely enough, outside the hospital was Kazuichi, seemingly waiting for him. As Hajime approached, Kazuichi pushed off the wall he was leaning against and jogged up to him.

Hajime placed his hands in his pockets, ignoring Izuru’s gentle scoldings about how that was rude and closed off body posture, “Hey Souda, what are you doing here?”

Kazuichi flashed a smile full of teeth, “The others decided to throw a dinner party, so I came to let ya know. Cuz y’know, you’re invited, of course.”

“A dinner party?” Hajime couldn’t deny the temptation. “What for?”

“We’ve been all working so hard ‘n stuff!”

“Ah, so it’s just an excuse to party.”

Kazuichi glared and pointed at Hajime in accusation, “hey hey we deserve to have this man!”

Hajime laughed, rolling his eyes, “well, I guess so. It sounds like fun, I hope you guys enjoy yourselves.”

“Hold on. What do you mean ‘you guys’?”

“Well... “ Hajime rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m pretty tired in all honesty. Besides,” Hajime glanced at the hospital, “It feels a bit wrong to celebrate right now.”

Kazuichi’s eyes widened, and he began waving his hands side to side, “you got to come!”

“I do?”

“Yes!” At Hajime’s continued confusion, Kazuichi took a step back to try and calm himself down, “It would be weird without you, we need you to join.” 

Hajime tried to wave his hand in dismissal, “I’ve done a lot of work today, Souda-”

But Kazuichi just clasped his hands together and began begging, “please Hinata!” he said. Geez, Kazuichi was always pushy when it came to this sort of stuff but… 

‘Enough. Just agree to go.’

‘We need rest. You’d be bored anyway.’

‘Rest is far more boring than a predictable dinner. Besides, you wish to go, so I see no point in refusal.’

Hajime sighed. How did he always get pushed into antics like this? “Alright, Souda, Alright, I’ll go.” 

Kazuichi threw his fits up into the air in celebration, “Fuck yeah! You won’t regret this Hinata!” before Hajime could make any more small talk Kazuichi ran off towards the island bridge. 

“I’m gonna tell Owari to bring the good booze!” He yelled.

Hajime cupped his hands over his mouth, “Don’t drink too much!” They still had work to do the next day afterall.

A dinner party huh? Seemed a bit out of the blue, but the others like to do little activities to keep morale up. He supposed this just had to be another example of that. Hajime yawned as he entered the hospital, already knowing that he would be up late tonight. They would probably meet for this little get together at around six or seven at night. And thanks to the simulation, Hajime was still used to ending the day around ten. Maybe he could convince Sonia to let him sleep until late the next day, Izuru did have Ultimate Psychologist on his hand after all. He could be incredibly convincing when he wanted to.

‘Absolutely not.’

Oh, c’mon. Hajime hadn’t even shared that thought with Izuru!

‘You’re predictable.’

Hajime rolled his eyes, getting to work at the hospital. Before he knew it the day was essentially over. There was little to no progress to report, but Makoto assured him that things were looking up regardless. Makoto assured him that every day. Although in this particular call, Makoto did seem to hold more kindness to his smile than usual. He told Hajime to take the day off tomorrow, which was odd. Hajime hasn’t taken many days off at all since waking up. The only exception was back when he and Izuru would fight more often. Why would he take a day off now? Perhaps Makoto could tell he needed a good night's sleep?

Either way, Hajime just had to survive the dinner party. And at least this would be genuinely enjoyable. It would just be him, his friends, and the bottles of alcohol around them. 

Akane greeted him at the door, “Hinata!” she yelled, smile bright as ever.

Kazuichi of course wrapped an arm around Hajime once he saw him, shaking him back and forth.

Sonia held both of his hands in hers, guiding him to the food she and Akane helped prepare. Honestly, he was surprised the food was still on the table. But it did look good.

Fuyuhiko had handed Hajime a glass, telling him he was certain Hajime would enjoy the taste of this particular alcohol. 

It was almost like they were a normal group of college kids on a friday night. They told stupid stories of their past, drank, and ate their hearts out. Occasionally Hajime would let Izuru take control to take a sip of a particularly bitter drink. But all in all no one got too wasted, mostly because Fuyuhiko wouldn’t let them. 

Hajime was laughing at one of Kazuichi’s many rejection stories when Sonia tapped a glass with her spoon. Moments like these reminded Hajime of why Sonia was titled after such an impressive talent. It wasn’t simply a role she was born into, she carried all the traits of elegance and leadership in her posture as she gathered everyone’s attention to her. Back straight, and kind smile, Hajime wanted to give his undivided attention. 

“Every day I feel so grateful to have become your friends,” She said, “we have all accomplished so much, and we only have more goals to seek in our future.” She turned to face Hajime specifically, “and we have you to thank for that, Hinata-kun.”

“Huh? Me?” Well that wasn’t right. In fact if Hajime hadn’t been so depressed as a teenager Izuru wouldn’t have existed. And then Izuru wouldn’t have helped end the world. And then he wouldn’t have put Junko into the Neo World Program. 

Izuru reminded him that if he had refused the project, Hope's Peak Academy would have simply targeted another student. 

“Yeah, you!” Akane smiled, punching Hajime hard in the shoulder, “We definitely wouldn’t have left without you!”

Fuyuhiko looked up from where he had been sitting with his arms crossed, “And these idiots would have never figured out the trials without you.”

“It was a team effort.” Hajime tried to stress, “We all have done so much-”

“Bro!” Kazuichi yelled, “Just let us appreciate you, holy shit!”

Hajime laughed as Akane filled up his cup with another round of liquor, “Seriously Hinata, do you ever loosen up? Maybe we need more food.”

Hajime took a sip, cringing a bit at the burn it brought his throat. Akane did always like the more intense stuff. “Did you guys throw this all together just to be nice to me?” 

It admittedly was nicer than looking back on the past as they had grown accustomed too after gaining back their old memories. Hajime had to remind himself often to look for the future instead, and it sounded like the others still want to as well.

Sonia’s smile fell from royal elegance to that of a close friend, “it’s almost midnight you know.”

“I wonder what the new year will bring,” Fuyuhiko was watching the red sky through the window, “can’t get worse than this bullshit.”

Fuyuhiko choked as Akane slammed a hand onto his back, “It’s going to be a great year! I can’t wait for coach to wake up! I’ve got so much shit to show him, and Minimaru ain’t as good at massaging.”

“So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Was it really New Years Eve already? Hajime felt like there was something else he was forgetting but before he could think more on it… 

“Is everyone ready to count down?” Sonia asked, eliciting sounds of approval (and cheers from one Kazuichi).

“Ten... “Sonia looked at her watch and took charge of the count. She really did make a good leader.

“Nine” All of Hajime’s exhaustion felt lost. It was a short few seconds, but everyone seemed so excitable. It was contagious.

“Eight” The others had gathered close to each other, letting Hajime get a full view of the carefree joy on their faces.

“Seven” He wished he could wake up those unconscious to join them. He’d have to work twice as hard this year to make sure they all got to celebrate together.

“Six” But that was what this was all about anyway. They were looking to the future, just as they had promised in the game.

“Five!” The excitement in their voices grew, Hajime just as loud with them. 

“Four!” Because it was more than just about looking to the future.

“Three!” It was about making the future.

“Two!” They were going to take the future in their hands and make it worth living through all that despair.

“One!” And Hajime couldn’t be more thankful to make this future with them.

“Happy Birthday!” “Happy New Year!”

Huh? What? Why did everyone else yell about..?

Everyone was smiling ear to ear. He could see they all had these smug proud expressions as if they’d caught him in the act. Did he..?

“Wait a sec,” Hajime looked at everyone’s faces one by one for any signs of the truth, “is it someone’s birthday…?”

He was met with blank stares. Shit, he must have forgotten someone’s birthday and now he looked like an idiot because he was the only one who didn’t know. Hell he didn’t know it was the 31st until a few moments ago!

Hajime fidgeted, now feeling bad for getting so caught up in work that he’d forget something like this, “I’m...who’s birthday is it? Why did no one tell me... “

Kazuichi was staring at Hajime like he was an idiot, and that was saying a lot, “Dude… it’s your birthday!”

“...Really?”

“Did you forget your own birthday?!” Fuyuhiko yelled, then he turned to Sonia, “I told you this surprise bullshit was stupid.”

“I thought it would be cute… ”

“Man… '' Akane looked flatout depressed, “I held back on eating the cake and everything and you weren’t even happy.”

“What?! No, no, I just-” Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling embarrassment redden his ears. “I really didn’t know.”

For just a moment Hajime retreated back into his head.

‘Did you know about this, Kamukura?’

‘Of course.’ Izuru had known everything from the moment they had woken up. And he’d known about the party since Sonia had handed them their chores list.

‘And you didn’t tell me..?!’

‘I thought that it would be amusing.’

‘Well. Are you amused?’

‘Predictably… yes.’

Sonia looked down at the floor with a defeated posture, she sunk down into one of the restaurant chairs, “I’m sorry Hinata-kun… the others said we should have just told you about the party but I thought that since… “

Kazuichi propped elbow up on the table, resting his head against his hand. Even he looked defeated, Hajime wondered how much effort they put into this surprise, “We thought since none of us have celebrated our birthdays in years that it’d be nice to make a big deal out of it.”

“Wait, hold on just a second everyone.” They were right, none of them had properly celebrated their birthdays for a few years, Hajime even more since he was quite literally erased, “This all is very sweet! I just… didn’t remember. Usually it’s colder around my birthday…”

It didn’t seem to do much to uplift the mood, but he could see the urge to tease Hajime for his forgetfulness on their faces.

“Really, all of you. This means a lot to me.” Hajime could imagine them formulating their plan for this party. Making sure he was out of the way, getting together to brainstorm different ideas. Not to mention the hand baked cake, he could only imagine what the kitchen must look like right now. He knows they must have put their entire hearts into this.  “I’m really lucky to have all of you.”

The others smiled at Hajime, glad to see that their efforts weren’t for nothing. At the end of the day, they had just wanted to make Hajime feel special. And although the surprise wasn't as big of a hit as they had intended it to be, they had the rest of the day to make Hajime feel as special as he really was. Now if only this awkward silence would go away-

“Pah...what’s with all this depressing atmosphere when there’s a perfectly good cake right here in front of us?!” Akane cried out, cutting Hajime a slice before cutting herself a massive piece. 

Sonia beamed, hands on her hips, “Owari-san is right! The party must go on!”

“It’s ‘the show must go on’, Sonia.” 

And just like that the high energy was back. It may have been twelve in the morning, but all of them were ecstatic as though it was just a fun afternoon. They even had gifts prepared for him, stuff they all had to create themselves since there weren’t exactly any stores open on the island. Sonia had put together a book for him, full of photos of them courtesy of Makoto and the Neo World Program’s leftover data. She left some space in the book for new memories when the others woke up. Akane had gotten him an assortment of pretty shells she’d found along the shoreline. She had also gotten him a rather gross looking squid, claiming she pulled it right out of the ocean for him. Kazuichi had gotten him a handmade phone. He said the internet doesn’t exist still, but he was trying to replicate as much of the fun as he could with his limited coding knowledge. Apparently Alter Ego helped him with that stuff. Fuyuhiko’s was a lot simpler, but he knew it meant a lot. It was a handmade bracelet of twined hay. At Hajime’s confusion, Fuyuhiko had lifted his sleeve to show a matching bracelet on his own wrist. Looking away with a flustered expression on his face, Fuyuhiko had said it was a way to show their brotherhood. 

Now Hajime poked at his cake. It wasn’t the best tasting cake he’d ever had. It was messy, and too sweet, and a bit undercooked. But somehow that’s what made it the best cake he had ever had. It was so… homemade. And that’s what made it really special to Hajime. As he ate more of his cake he thought to himself about how they wanted to make his first birthday in years special. Hajime began to dig through his mind for the last memory he had of someone putting in effort for his birthday with little avail. His birthday came right after New Years Eve parties. People were usually too tired to then turn around and celebrate some kids' party. He didn’t have any friends either. There was a reason he specifically was selected for the Kamukura Project. Hajime could have disappeared at any moment, and no fuss would have kicked up a storm. Not even his parents would have batted an eye. Sure, they had spent a monumental sum of money to get him into the reserve course, but that was also the exact reason they had grown to resent him. They spent a fortune to get their useless son an opportunity to become something, and nothing had even changed. Looking back, Hajime’s life had been a lonely mix of drowning in low self esteem and being uncared for. 

But now these guys...his closest friends… they were changing everything he knew about his life. Hajime didn’t know it was possible to feel so loved.

‘I have never had cake before’ 

Oh. That’s right, Izuru was still here. Like he always was. That was another change in his life. Did it have to be so unwelcomed though?

Hajime pulled back to let Izuru take the driver's seat for a moment, watching distantly as he picked up a fork and put it in his mouth.

‘The amount of frosting on this is offensive to the craft of baking.’

‘That must mean you like it, then.’

‘Indeed.’

Izuru continued to eat pieces from his cake. Hajime decided to simply let him, it wasn’t often Izuru found something that interested him. He’s sure in just a few more bites Izuru will give back control willingly once he gets bored of the overly sweet taste. He might as well let Izuru join in the celebration.. Wait… 

‘Hey, Kamukura, what about you.’

‘What about me? I am eating cake.’

‘But they’ve only been celebrating me.’

‘That is because it is not my birthday.’

That… did make sense. Just because their body was made on this day didn’t mean Izuru himself was. 

‘When is your birthday, then?’

‘I do not see why it matters.’

Moments like these reminded Hajime that although Izuru was a man who had everything, he’d only been living for a few years now. He was sitting here absolutely pleased and amazed with the idea of an overly sweet cake. Had Izuru ever celebrated his own birthday?

‘Just tell me. We’ll celebrate yours when the time comes around.’

‘You cannot throw a celebration for someone who feels nothing.’ Bullshit, Hajime thought. But he kept that one to himself.

‘Humor me, wouldn’t it be interesting to see what we come up with?’ Everyone deserved that chance. If Hajime, the unloved talentless reserve course student could get here, then why couldn’t Izuru? 

‘Very well. I first awoke on June Ninth.’

June Ninth. June Ninth. June Ninth. Hajime repeated the date in his head to commit it to memory. Just a month ago, Hajime would have scoffed at the idea of celebrating Izuru’s existence. Maybe his life hadn’t been so unchanging as he thought. Just a month ago, Izuru would have never cared about Hajime’s birthday. It didn’t seem like change was happening on the surface, but they were there. Slowly moving. Always making progress. Is this what hope meant? Would they one day become more than just headmates? Maybe they’d become… friends?

‘I’ll make sure you have a great birthday, Izuru.’

Izuru was smiling just the slightest. Or well, this smile was as wide as it could get when Izuru was the subject matter. ‘Focus on your own birthday for now, Hajime’ that was his way of saying happy birthday, ‘ensure that this year you do not disappoint me with your existence.’

For once Hajime had a strong feeling that he won’t.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #sdr2 spoilers #fanfic #fan fic #should i tag the others? lemmie know lol #happy birthday hinata <33333333333

[anothertimdrakestan]

Heat Waves (TimKon)

Words: 3k

Hi! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been working on this for way too long and definitely have a pt2 planned out if you guys like part one! I hope you’ll take the time to read this because I spent way too long on it and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

for the like 0.1% of my audience that this overlaps with, yes, i too am utterly obsessed with Heat Waves for DNF and have been listening to this song on repeat for three days straight waiting for chapter 8. But, i figured why not let that amazing piece of absolute art inspire a Timkon fic cuz they have the same dynamic as DNF in my eyes! All credits go to tbhyourelame on ao3!

if you don’t know what heat waves is that’s fine this is just a regular fic but I highly recommend you checkout the amazing song here 

It was as hot as death itself in Kansas. Not to mention a farm with no AC was just about the worst place Conner could be forced to “vacation” at. But Ma and Pa had been begging to have him over and the month of June just seemed to overlap, so there Kon was, sweating buckets in the middle of nowhere. 

It felt so cold in Gotham. Though, the temperature was comfortable- the most comfortable it had been all year- but Tim always felt colder, lonelier, when Conner wasn’t by his side. The two of them were a duo, fitting together like a puzzle piece, the absolute best of friends and best of heroes. But now, he was using his mandatory away-from-the-tower weeks up while Conner was in Kansas, it was some sort of mandate that Bruce’s kids come home occasionally and instead of suffering weekends in Gotham Tim opted to just grind out a few weeks at the manor, even if it meant dealing with Damian’s unrelenting murder attempts. But it wasn’t all bad, Tim got to patrol with Bruce again, hang out with Jason occasionally, and even see Dick from time to time. “Family” bonding at it’s finest. 

“Hello?” Tim’s voice was quiet, Kon constantly felt himself turning the volume button up on his phone just to hear a decibel more of his best friend’s comforting tone. 

“Hey Timbers how was your day?” Conner felt himself relaxing to the light sound of Tim breathing, he was laying on the floor, spread like a starfish so that no sticky part of his body could touch and create more sweat. 

“Nothing much, no patrol tonight- I guess you remembered,” Tim’s voice was filling his ears. I remember everything you tell me. “Yeah, yeah I did,” Conner quickly replied. “Any boring farm chores today?” Conner heard the familiar rustling, he could hear Tim stand up, he’d memorized the sound of Tim taking him off speaker and resting the phone in between his shoulder and ear. He could hear Tim’s hair, that he knew he was probably growing out, brush the mic. I always liked his hair longer. 

“Kon?” Tim snapped him back into the stiflingly hot room. “Oh sorry, it’s really hot here, kinda makes me zone out. Um, I’m alright I got to hangout with the cows today which was cool- they don’t like the heat either but Ma says it’ll be over soon,” Conner rambled, all too focused on Tim’s breath in his ear. 

“Sorry for making you zone out, I guess nothing interesting is happening here,” Tim sighed, Conner shook his head, rolling over on the floor, leaning down into the mic of his phone. 

“Nothing about you bores me Tim,” 

Tim didn’t reply. Conner mentally cursed himself, he was really too tired, too hot and bothered to be this flirtatious with Tim, who was a complete wild card when it came to Conner. 

And then he answered, Tim’s voice was higher pitched, the way it ascended when he was blushing- he was blushing. “Well that’s not true, I’m very boring. When I’m doing cases or training or-” Conner couldn’t take it. 

“Nothing about you could bore me Tim. I’m down to be with you whenever, doing whatever, you know that,” he felt his tone soften, loving the way Tim’s breath hitched with every compliment.

“Be with me?” Tim shot back playfully, Conner could practically hear the smirk toying on the smaller boy’s lips. 

“Did I stutter?” Conner heard a loud noise, a thump. Tim’s voice was high pitched again, “Sorry- uh I dropped my phone,” Conner felt himself growing warmer, if at all physically possible. “No problem. So, what are you doing tomorrow with Bruce?” Conner didn’t like pushing Tim too far, hell, he barely knew how he felt half the time. Tim’s voice brightened, “Oh! We’re gonna go to this old ice cream shop I adored as a kid! It’s been too long since I’ve been there, you remember me talking about it?” 

Conner didn’t need a second to answer, “Sub 30, you always get the one with the espresso poured over it,” he couldn’t lie, ice cream sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Tim’s voice flooded through the heat, “Right as always- I swear they programmed some sort of photographic memory inside of you,” Tim teased, Conner answered honestly, “I just listen when you tell me things”. The night went on, Tim quickly had to go, believe it or not he did sleep when given the opportunity. “Try not to die of heat exhaustion, drink lots of water throughout the day, not all at once,” Conner smiled, “will do, goodnight Timmy,” Tim answered mid yawn, “night Kon”.

And then he was alone. Alone with the heat, with his thoughts, the latter far more dangerous. He’s my best friend, of course I remember everything. Conner found himself staring at the ceiling, Ma had painted constellations on the walls and ceilings of the room, something funny about alien genes liking the stars. Conner used to be able to find every pattern, name every star, but the only shape he could trace was Tim. There were his eyes, they were pools of deep blue, they sparkled when he laughed but could glare bullets when he tried. If he stared hard enough Kon could find his hair, it’s always soft and smells delicious, layers falling effortlessly- cascading to frame his face. Then there were his lips, Conner found himself constantly mesmerized with the way Tim bit his bottom lip when thinking, the way they scrunched together when he said something funny, how they constricted when he bit the inside of his cheek just enough to hide the emotion he was so scared of portraying. They were perfect. 

He let the heat take his mind, flowing with the stars as he thought dangerous thoughts about his best friend. His thoughts danced around Tim’s waist, flowing carefully around his chest, wrapping Kon in every layer of Tim’s personality, every smile, laugh, tear, scowl, it was Tim. Kon’s Tim. 

And there, on the floor, he drifted to an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep.

~

Tim was scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Gotham was surprisingly boring. He once found the city bustling and distinctly alive but now it only left him cold, cold and bored. 

“Ice cream as good as you remember?” Bruce’s voice lifted him from his device. “Yup! Can’t believe you let me have espresso at like 10, you basically started my addiction.” Tim threw on a smile, glancing down at the half eaten dessert. “Yeah, can’t say I was the best father but, I tried,” Bruce’s shoulders shook lightly, but the laughter didn’t make it to his eyes. Did you really try? Truly? Tim dove back into the creamy sweet, admiring the bitterness the espresso brought the flavor. His phone buzzed.

K: Did you get the ice cream?

T: yeah, you remembered?

K: You literally told me last night

T: have i been off your mind since? 

K: No.

Conner always did this, every time Tim thought he’d throw him off guard with something funny or flirtatious just to have a little fun Kon took it and ran with it. And I’m always the one who ends up blushing. Tim thought, shaking his head. It was really his fault he let Conner get him riled up. They were best friends, flirting or dealing out little sexual quips were natural, and often pretty funny. 

“Earth to Tim? I’ve got a meeting you wanna head back while I head to the office?” Tim glanced over at Bruce who was now standing up in front of him. “Yeah, I can work on cases back at the manor, you gonna head to the office?” stretching his arms he stood up, noticing Bruce had put on his business face- the one stone cold and dry that only brought back the worst memories. “Yes.” His response was gruff, Tim suppressed the shudder that tried to dance down his spine. “Uh yeah, I’ll head back, have a nice day B,” he smiled, hoping it made it to his eyes. 

~

“You can’t keep calling me while I’m on patrol, it’s not safe,” Tim chastised Conner loosely, appreciating the company as his patrol with Damian was always deathly silent. “C’mon, you’re used to having me in your ear,” Tim gulped, glancing around for Damian who was three buildings over, deeply uninterested. “Kon, oh my god, I’m gonna mute you,” Tim whispered, revelling in the chuckle that stirred in Conner’s chest. It was deep, and warm, so distinctly warm Tim felt the heat budding in his chest. 

“So, patrol with the demon? He hasn’t cut your grapple line yet?” Conner’s tone was low and silky smooth. Coughing to clear his throat Tim replied, “nope, he’s most horrific when Bruce is here, when he’s not the punk couldn’t care less whether I live or die,” 

“I care,”

“I know Kon,” If only you knew how much I appreciated it. 

“Asshole, can you hear me? I said we’ve got a gang robbery on second? You coming genius?” Damian’s disgusted tone flooded over his comm, and Tim quickly turned his attention to the bat-brat who was already grappling towards the alarms and shouts. Conner’s whisper asked, “can he hear me?” and Tim replied, “no, you’re on a separate channel, Dami can only hear me when I unmute. Just be quiet while I take out these thugs,”

“Why? Because my voice distracts you?” Conner’s tone shifted into dangerously flirtatious. 

“No, cuz you’re annoying as shit,” Tim smirked, running across the top of a building, letting Damian call the signals so he didn’t get all upset. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable Tim? Do I make you forget just exactly what you’re doing, whether you want to use your batarang or bo staff? Do I make you, warm? Because it’s so warm here, so hot, god I’m just so hot I-”

“Shut. Up.” Tim struck the gun out of a scared looking man. Rolling his eyes at the man in his ear.

“Why? Are you too focused? We’ve taken out much harder criminals all while talking. Aren’t we just talking right now?” Kon’s voice was ringing in his head like never before. 

“I’m trying to focus but it’s no good when you’re in my ear.”

“And what if I wasn’t in your ear? You remember? When we work side by side, so close- are you an affectionate person Tim?” Tim could feel the heat dripping off of Conner’s voice, but he was taken aback by Conner’s new line of thought.

“Wha- what? Am I affectionate? I don’t know. Sometimes?” Tim almost missed a hit, huffing as Damian blocked what would’ve been a hard blow on him. “Start paying attention Drake,” Damian’s tone was acidic. But he was drawn back into his com as Conner’s voice flooded his ears again.

“Would you be affectionate with me?”

“Yes” Tim’s breathless reply was instant, his brain not giving him a chance to think.

“Good, I like that. You know I’m very affectionate too? I like getting to hold the people I care about close, feeling their warmth. You know I’m very warm right now?”

“I- I know Kon, I bet, are you doing alright? Drinking water?” Tim shook out the thought of Conner lazing out in his room, sweaty, lips parted as he pushed out warm breath- Stop. Focus. Your job is to defend these people. Damian’s doing a good job, You just have to round up the civilians. Tim forced himself back into the real world, taking on one of the gang members with ease, tying him up swiftly before moving on to the next.

“I heard that, I can hear it every time you take out one of those men. This is easy isn’t it? I can’t be that distracting to you. You’re too good.”

“You always do this,” Tim felt his cheeks heating up, his steps felt forced, like he had to remind himself to breathe. Tim carefully rounded up civilians, escorting them to safety as Conner started again in his ear. 

“Always do what Tim? Tell you how much I appreciate you? How much I miss you? Do you not think you deserve to be missed? To be loved?”

“Conner” Tim’s tone was harsher than he wanted it to be. But nonetheless Conner continued. 

“Why not? Why the hell not? You’re amazing Tim.”

Tim scoffed, playing it off as a cough to the people in front of him.

“What do you need to hear Tim? That you’re amazing? Brilliant?-”

“Oh my god Kon-” Tim interrupted, but Conner wasn’t done.

“Talented? Impressive? [his tone deepended] - Attractive?” 

“I’m gonna hang up,” Tim was breathing so hard he was practically hyperventilating. The compliments were all that consumed his thoughts, swirling around his brain, packing it full of deep, dangerously flammable thoughts. 

And Conner was ready to let it burn.

“You need to be kissed Tim,” Conner murmurs, throat raw, “so hard that you can’t remember your name- maybe then you’ll understand what I mean.”

The batarang in Tim’s hand clattered to the floor. Damian’s head whipped to him as Tim struggled to regain function. 

“I’m muting you, see you in a bit,” was all Tim could choke out before he ripped the earpiece out, unable to let it sit, burning into his skull. You’re almost done here, cool down, finish up. Tim told himself as he manually reminded himself to breathe. You’ve got this. 

~

Conner knew Tim ended the call. But he didn’t have the energy to stop the endless beeping from the disconnected phone. 

He was laying on the floor of his room, limbs spread out as he clawed for anything that could cool him down, but all he could feel was heat as he stared up at the stars.

He had to admit, he’d pushed Tim further than ever before. But it felt too right to stop, too good. He couldn’t stop replaying the way Tim’s breath hitched after every word, desperately grasping for the feeling budding up in his chest. It was too addictive to not let the words he’d spent too long crafting pour from his lips into Tim’s heart. 

Kon didn’t know how long he laid there, dazed in the heat, just trying to relive word after perfect word. 

Until his phone rang.

“Tim?” his voice was ragged and raw.

Tim’s was high pitched and tight. “Conner what the hell was that? Was that funny to you? Saying all those things- flirting with me while I’m trying to do my job?” 

“Flirting?” Conner mused, staring at the stars with a tattered smirk on his face.

“Don’t act dumb, I don’t know what kind of sick joke it was saying all that while I’m on patrol but I’m glad you think you’re funny,” Tim’s voice was cold. But not the cooling tone, it was sharp, like the way the freeze of ice can feel so painfully hot when applied too harshly. 

“I would’ve said it to you no matter what you were doing,” Conner whispered, resting his phone on his chest, wincing at the sticky noise it made as he tried to adjust it’s positioning. 

“So that was just all for you? To let you listen as you screwed with my brain?” Tim retorted. 

Conner was done dancing around the truth, all forms of control eluding his mind. “Yes,”

“That’s cruel Kon, can you imagine if I did that with you? Told you how you needed to be kissed while you’re out with Jon or something?” Tim sounded exasperated, but at the end of each quip Kon could hear the deep breaths he was taking. Does- Does he like this?

Tim continued. “Don’t answer that. Shut up, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Oh Tim it’s not the same,’ just- just get out of my head!”

Conner sat up. He was floating. Floating in the middle of his room, the phone on his chest tumbling to the floor as he scrambled to grab it again, feeling his feet touch the ground as he held the phone as close to his lips as he could.

“What do you mean Tim? How am I in your head?” Do you feel the same way I do right now?

“You- you just know me. So well, and when you say stuff like that- when you’re in my ear saying those things your voice, it’s like fire, it burns.” Tim sounded desperate, his voice painfully strained. 

Conner’s head was spinning, “I burn you?” he matched Tim’s desperate tone.

“You melt me.” 

Conner’s head slammed against the roof of his room, as he tried to regain control of his senses he heard Tim murmur, “does that make sense?”

“More than you know Timbers, more than you know,” Conner could hear Tim let out a sigh, the kind that told him all would be okay. 

As Conner took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come Tim spoke first. “It’s so late Kon, I’ve been up to long, I think I need to go to bed,” Tim’s tone was soft again, the cooling, comforting tone that Kon was scared he’d never hear again. 

"Yeah, I- uh, have chores in the morning anyways.” Conner answered, hoping to give Tim some peace of mind.

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight Conner,” Tim said quietly, his tone thoughtful and slow, finally letting the sleep crowd his mind. 

“Goodnight Tim, talk to you tomorrow?” Conner let too much hope sink into those last few words. 

“Yes, night now,” Tim answered easily, quickly hanging up the call, letting Conner sink down back into the carpet of his floor. 

“Tomorrow,” Conner whispered to himself, feeling the intense heat start to creep back in as he drifted into a sweaty sleep.

~

“Tomorrow,” Tim whispered to himself, trying to swallow the nerves he didn’t know Conner could draw out of him. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

-

-

-

not my usual fic but I really hope you enjoyed! 

taglist: @vintageroses10 @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @foenixphire @how--are--you @psych0crybaby @romance-is-tragic @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek also kita cuz i love u and wanted to try writing timkon more in your style hehehe @river-bottom-nightmare 

#tim drake #conner kent #timkon #tim drake fanfic #conner kent fanfic #timkon fanfic #tim drake x conner kent #kon el kent #gay dc #dc fanfic #red robin #tim x kon #tim x conner #dc fluff #superboy #red robin x superboy #dc angst #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne #bruce wayne #clark kent #ma kent #pa kent #jon kent #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #batboys #elles shitposts

[nesswritings]

kita shinsuke (27) rice farmer. he knows his craft well after several years of doing it and the knowledge his granny had passed onto him. when to harvest, how to plant, how to refine the grain down, and how to sell it. what he wasn't sure how to deal with were ducks, finding a small group of them in one of the paddies in the early morning. quacking, making a mess, the yellow of their feathers contrasting sharply against the green of the rice stalks. he looks at them with confusion, accepting their presence before carrying on with the rest of his day.

they stuck to him though, following him to each paddy to splash around and help with...something. kita was familiar with the traditions of ducks used with rice farming, but this wasn't something he had tried before. and as long as the plants went undamaged, there was no need to fuss. they would be gone before he knew it, and he wouldn't have to worry about them again.

oh, how wrong he was, finding them waiting for him after he had stepped in to eat dinner for the evening. at least they left the vegetable garden alone, his thumbs fumbling over the smartphone his friends insisted he needed. someone had to know something, and he was willing to find that information.

kita finds himself sleeping outside when night hits, if only to keep the ducks quiet and happy. there was also the additional step of lifting them up onto the wood, but they had settled in quickly to the nest of old towels he made. someone would come tomorrow for the ducks, and then he could continue living his life. spending his days in the fields and working on repairs, weekends spent in town and being social, and no need to care for the baby ducks.

the sun was already high and the morning well on its way by the time kita finally wakes, the ducks around him restless in their small nest. the crunch of gravel beneath tires forces him to sit up, his arms reaching to catch any of the ducks that threatened to fall to the grass. out came a woman, the shock already setting in. hadn't he talked to a man last night?

"y/n," you greet, ignoring the disheveled state. the ducks were your main interest, or at least you father's main interest. take them to your own farm and help them adjust to the other ducks, and use them to keep the rice paddies free of pests. "it's nice to meet you.."

"shinsuke. sorry, i'll help the ducks down. why don't you come in for tea?"

there was a rush, with him only stepping out of the main room to put the kettle on and to throw on a fresh pair of clothes. the sound of the ducklings could be heard through the open windows, though it was somewhat ignored for the quiet conversation and the sipping of tea. "shinsuke, do you mind showing me around? i'd love to meet the ducklings."

maybe he was growing too attached to them, or maybe it was different seeing you try to interact with them. running after the strays who ran away as you approached, picking up the little ducklings and looking them over, the way you seemed to delight in how the ducklings knew how to dig through the paddies to get the pests. or maybe he enjoyed the company of another human as he went through some of his daily chores tending the rice.

"so, they're cute, but i think they've imprinted on you," you state. it was obvious from the second you had showed up, with how attached they were. kita was their mother, and no one would ever replace it. "i would love to take them, but they won't be as happy as they are. they should be self-sufficient and grow, but i'll stop by weekly." you hand your phone over, the smile bright and stretching your cheeks. "put in your number, i'll call you later tonight in case you have any more questions. but, until then, see you next week!"

the days went by slowly, with kita mentally counting down the nights until you would return. the weekly visit was a source of entertainment and joy from him, watching you play with the ducklings and check on their growth. sometimes it extended to eating lunch together as you fed peas to the ducks, and occasionally you were there for the entire day. you look less lonely, aran had remarked over a phone call, you sound less lonely too.

happy was the word suna dared to use, though kita was unsure if he would go that far. you were a friend, and he simply enjoyed the company. no amount of heart racing or anticipation or wanting things to be perfect would change any of that.

as the ducklings changed into ducks, there were fewer visits. longer, sure, but the end of season was approaching. you were busy, and kita was busy, though he would sit and wish for the distraction of your laughter as you ran after the ducks, the wrinkle of concentration on your forehead as you measured the tea, the smile as you-

no, he was getting distracted in his own thoughts. kita looks over the calendar, noting the date. a team lunch tomorrow, and no amount of pining would distract him. a crush, that was all this was. silly, pointless, and he knew he wouldn't see you again once the season ended.

but the team was the same, even if he did need to keep them away from the ducks. they were working ducks, he reminds, taking in his old teammates. everyone changed more each year, and they were hardly the juniors and teammates he had left behind. "lunch is ready, help yourselves an-"

"shin!" your voice rings throughout the empty farm, the bag hitting your hip as you ran closer to the cozy home. your eyes were focused on the farmer, breath heavy as you finally reach the steps. "hey, who are all these people? i'm not interrupting, am i?"

"no," kita insists, ignoring the whispering between the twins. they had always done that, and it was nothing new. he stretches his hand out, a way of offering to take the bag off your shoulder. "there should be enough for another plate, come in and i'll introduce you to everyone."

their standard yearly lunch, along with a guest. no one seemed too bothered, though looks were exchanged. a silent agreement emerged between them, with aran already staking his claim on helping kita clean up the dishes to talk sense to him.

"he likes you, y'know," atsumu speaks first, his voice low. the walls were thin and they could see the older mens' backs towards them. it was hardly a secret, but it needed to stay that way.

"who? shin?" you ask to clarify, with suna nodding from across the table. "no, i think you're mistaking, we're jus-"

"he told us himself," osamu interrupts, a casual shrug following up his statement. "always talks on and on about his ducks and this duck girl who came to visit them. must be you, y/n."

"i don't think so. he could have another."

suna snorts, his phone finally in his pocket. line, hook, and sinker. a three part plan, one the second years had been perfecting for years to make kita's granny happy. kita could be stubborn, and this was her promoting his happiness. "trust us. y/n, was it? kita doesn't just let anyone into his life, you just need to set the date."

you glance over at the kitchen, catching his eye. a small smile appears on his lips, your heart fluttering at the gentle action. you were in deep, and everyone knew except you two. "i can think of something, don't worry. i have to go, but tell shin i'll call him, okay?"

it was two weeks before kita saw you once more, the knock on the door catching him off-guard. it was his day off, his hand finding the remote to click the tv off before standing. you were on his doorstep, the typical cheerful smile on your face and a small box in your hands. "y/n? can i help you? your father already helped me with the duck hutch, i don't need anything else."

"well, i brought some other things he wanted to give you anyway." a poor excuse, the weight shifting as you adjust the box in your arms. "can i come in? please?"

"shin, shin look!" kita was more than happy to comply to the small demands, the spring breeze blowing softly. he steps closer, an arm wrapping around your waist to pull you close as he watches the ducklings, toddling in messy lines behind their parents. "looks like we won't have any imprinting mistakes like last year," he notes, his lips turning to press against your hair. "do you want to name them?"

"i've already named them, you're late." you stick your tongue out at him playfully, taking delight in the chuckle as you carefully pick up some of the ducklings. "we have atsumu, osamu, suna, aran, yumie..and.." you struggle around the ducklings, finally picking up the one you wanted. "shin-chan. cute, huh?"

"adorable, just like you," kita murmurs, stepping to pick up one of the unnamed ducklings. "this one is y/n. not nearly as cute as you are."

"better put y/n down before they imprint on you. because i won't sleep outside with you." a light threat, but you watch the ducklings catch up to their parents in the fields, your arms wrapping around kita's waist. "i'm so happy those random ducklings imprinted on you. i love you, shin." "i love you too, y/n."

#kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! #hq!! fluff #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke fluff #inarizaki #miya twins #sdahfkjds i love kita #and i love ducks #this is longer than i intended it to be #edit #??? #bye this is a full on one-shot #but a completed love story? #that's super duper hot

[cha-lyn]

Milk & Eggs - Thirteen

Farmer!Bucky x Reader

Words: 2434

Summary: Small Town /Farmer Bucky AU // Reader leaves the city to go live with her grandma. She meets an attractive farmer and, no, they don’t hit it off.

Warnings:  fluff and some angst. tiny baby farm life.

A/N:  It’s been a minute..... 🙃 thanks for sticking around guys..  As always I love the feedback/likes/reblogs 💛 i have the next the next two chapters done so it won’t be another 6 months lol

Master List // Previous Chapter  // Next Chapter

---

The next morning you wake up naked and alone, much to your disappointment. You shiver and pull the single sheet around you. You inhale his smell as you nuzzle into the pillow. On Bucky’s pillow is a sticky note. 

Choring. Be back soon.

You grin, curling up further and deciding to wait for your man in the warm bed instead of venturing out into the cold. Of course, you fall back into a light sleep, the shifting of the bed stirring you awake.

“Good morning beautiful,” Bucky smiled down at you, pieces of his hair falling down around his face.

“Join me,” you yawn, lifting the sheet and waving him in. 

Bucky shakes his head. “If I get in there who will eat the huge breakfast I just made?” He kisses your forehead and gets up going to his chest of drawers. He tosses you a blue long sleeve t-shirt and starts back downstairs. “Hurry up, it’s gettin’ cold.”

Bucky had indeed prepared a feast. Bacon, pancakes for him, waffles for you, orange juice, hash browns and scrambled eggs. You sit down across from a grinning Bucky, crossing your bare legs, wearing only his t-shirt and your panties.

“That shirt looks good on you.” 

You grab a piece of bacon and grin. “I agree. You might just never see it again.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Oh, I almost forgot, the livestock fair is next weekend. You still wanna go with me?” You nod, mouth already full of waffle. Bucky grins, stuffing his face, too.

As you rinsed the last glass, Bucky traps you in his arms, “Do you have to go bake now?” He sounded pitiful.

“I have a few minutes before I have to leave… Why what were you wanting to do?” You couldn’t suppress your smirk. Bucky’s rough hands slip under his own soft t-shirt. “Stop teasing,” you whine.

He scoffs, “You’re the one the that’s teasing. Skippin’ around my house in nothin’ but my t-shirt. Not even any pants on,” his lips brushing your ear, making you shiver. 

You turn to face him, “Well. What do you want to do about it Buck?” 

He snaps your hips towards him, “Just take you back upstairs. Ya know.. Help you change outta this.” 

“Yes, that does sound like a two person job. What are you waiting for then?” 

Bucky wasted no time dropping his hands to your thighs to pick you up and carry you straight back to his bedroom, giggling and kissing the whole way up.

-

The next week went by fast. You were busy at the bakery and Bucky was busy training the already hired Sam at the ranch. There had been some logistical issues--Sam accepted the job, but was struggling to find a place to live. You talked Bucky into letting Sam stay at his house while he looked. The pros of that were that Sam is absolutely hilarious and a great cook. The con was that you didn’t get to walk around with no pants on anymore. 

Friday rolled around and as you rolled out fondant at the shop, the front bell rang. You peek around the corner, eyes falling on a gorgeous man covered in dirt.

“Hey slick.”

“Hey stranger.”

“Stranger? You saw me this morning.” Bucky leaned on the counter.

You leaned in to meet him, giving him a kiss, smelling the faint smells of dirt, sweat and coffee. “Was that this morning? Feels like days ago.”

“We didn’t get much sleep last night. Which is why,” out of nowhere a coffee cup appears, “I thought I’d stop by and bring you some caffeine.” Your face almost broke from smiling so hard. “And to remind you that we have to leave at 7am tomorrow.”

Your face fell and your eyes narrowed. 

“You don't have to go, doll, really,” he reasoned. “It’s just a bunch of stinky animals.”

“Ugh, no I want to, I just want to go later,” you whine as you put a bear claw in a bag for him.

Bucky laughed as he stood to leave. “Sorry, no can do. We will stop for coffee on the way, though, promise. Bring your chorin’ boots when you come tonight, auctions tend to be muddy places.”

“Look at you assuming I’m coming over tonight.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Damn, lack of sleep makes you sassy. Don’t worry, I'll sleep on the couch-- let you get plenty of sleep tonight to make up for the last.” You scoff at him as he wiggles his eyes, hand already in the togo bag. “Thank you! See you tonight,” he leaves with a wink. 

-

Bucky has you up at 6:30 am the next morning. You're dressed and upright, but not really awake. Sam was up, cracking jokes at the ungodly hour and trying to break your scowl as he flipped pancakes and scrambled his eggs. You and Bucky don’t actually leave until 7:08 because of your sluggish ass. (You’d forgotten where you left your boots and then misplaced your rain jacket. Miraculously, Bucky fought the scowl threatening to invade his face because you’re fuckin’ cute when you’ve just woke up.)  Despite your moody slowness, Bucky kindly lets you sleep most of the way, waking you up when you're one town away.

“Hey wake up doll,” he reaches over, gently rubbing your shoulder. “C’mon, wake up. We’re close.” As you rub the sleep out of your eyes, Bucky pulls into the drive through of the only Starbucks in a hundred mile area. “You want your usual?”

You nod, “And an extra shot please.” 

Bucky chuckles, ordering your drink perfectly, “I’ve never seen someone sleep so soundly on the road.”

You smile, “I trained myself to sleep in almost every car ride. I used to get really car sick as a kid. Road trips sucked, so I just slept through it. Still do.”

Bucky smiles, handing you a hot coffee and immediately sipping his. “So, the game plan for today is to buy three goats--one billy and two does.” 

“Mmm and a dog.” Bucky raises his eyebrows as he merges back onto the interstate. “You said you might get one to help the herd or something.”

“Yeah, but now I have Sam to help with that.”

You roll your eyes. “If you get a dog maybe I’ll come over more,” you joke.

Bucky laughed, “You’re over all the time, slick. You come over anymore and you’ll have to move in.”

You choked on your sip, hot coffee burning your nose. Bucky’s eyes cut your way, watching you pick at your fingers.

“Uh… That was a joke…” he says unconvincingly. 

You cough out a laugh, just as unconvincing. “Oh good. ‘Cause we barely know each  other…” 

“What do you mean?”

You blink at him, “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other Buck. Like a lot.”

“What better way to get to know each other than living together? Hypothetically,” Bucky shrugged.

You looked at him incredulously. “Whoa. Bucky. We are nowhere near that step,” you scoff.

“I’m just saying hypothetically, but whatever. We’re almost there. To the auction… not where ever you say we aren’t,” he said, voice clipped as he stared straight ahead.

You sense the shift in the truck. You’re not sure how to recover from this, but you don’t have to just yet.

Minutes later, you see a field full of pickups and trailers and behind them, tents and pens and more farm animals in one place than you’d ever seen. Bucky pulls into the field, driving the aisles until he finds a spot.

He turns off the engine. Sighing as he takes off his ball cap, running his hand through his hair and replacing the hat. “Ready?” He shoots you a half smile.

You nod returning it as best you can, “Let’s go find some goats.” But no fuckin’ dogs, you scold yourself mentally.

Turns out you love livestock auctions. Bucky loves them more, of course. He’s giddy at the sight of the first four-legged creature he sees. The awkwardness is forgotten quickly and soon it’s all smiles and rows of baby goats. One in particular that caught your eye.

“He was so cute though! I think you should get him.”

“Well, yes, but you’ve said that about all of them, slick. We’ve got to look around--get the best deal. This is an investment,” he said, finding your hand and pulling you on. The two of you patrolled the aisles, looking for the best goats the place had to offer. You passed several tents with pens of hunting and herding dogs and though every fiber of you wanted to stop and oogle over them, you refrained. You hoped Bucky didn’t notice.

After a while your stomach growled, “Stay here a minute doll.” Bucky disappeared into the crowd leaving you to pet a brown and white speckled kid, who bleats at you everytime you let up. You coo at him and rub the little nubs where his horns are barely sticking out. 

Minutes later, it had begun to mist and Bucky returned with a basket of fries and two hot dogs. You surrender the baby goat back to the pen and find some hand sanitizer.

“Food! You read my mind,” you grab a crunchy fry. 

“Actually, I just heard your stomach,” Bucky notes, chuckling and motioning you under a makeshift pavilion, picnic tables lining the inside of it. The two of you sit across from each other sharing the fries and eating in content silence. Bucky watches you as you happily munch on the fries. Your hair’s adorned with dew beads, some dropping unbothered onto your rain jacket. 

You catch him staring and grin, fry midway to your mouth. 

He grins back. “Do you like it?” he asks, looking out to the acres of animals.

“It’s awesome. I think I’m a goat person now.”

Bucky chuckles and finishes his hot dog. Once you’ve finished yours the two of you do a couple more rounds, Bucky finally choosing the goats he wanted to take home. The goats are paid for and led back to the truck bed where you help Bucky load them into travel crates. They bleat affectionately at you and Bucky.

“They’re so cute,” you sat rubbing one on the forehead. It nuzzles into your hand. 

“Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” Bucky closed the crates. “You ready to go?”

“Of course. I mean you’re in charge. I’m just tagging along.”

Bucky nods. “Let’s go then.” You immediately stretch out when you get in the truck and he chuckles. “Gonna take another nap, slick?”

Your eyes roll. “Now I won't, just to prove a point,” you grin over at him. It’s just eye contact at first, and then it’s not. Then it’s Bucky leaning in and you’re meeting him halfway. His hand creeps up to caress your cheek as he kisses you. He pulls you closer, you bite his lip just hard enough to earn a grin so big it breaks the kiss. 

“You’re something else, Y/N. Truly.” 

“Not me,” you blush. 

His eyes searching yours, looking for an answer. “You really think we barely know each other?” 

You sigh, shaking your head, “No, I just--It’s just early in this.” You motion between the two of you. “It’s still new.”

Bucky nods slowly, pulling at a string on his jacket, “Doesn’t mean I don’t know you though. Or that you don’t know me. You know things about me nobody else knows…” he absent mindedly scratched at his left arm, pausing as the rain picked up outside, tapping away at the roof of the truck. “I know your Starbucks order, for hot days and for cold days. I know your favorite wine. I know you hate baking those mini eclairs but you love eating them.” 

You’re blushing deeply now. “It’s just really soon, Buck. I don’t know if we’re ready for that.” 

Bucky sighs, starting the truck, but leaving it in park. “We might not be completely ready, but I mean… we’re on the way right?”

You bite your lip, blinking at his question. “I don’t--I can’t see the future…” You trial off, extremely unsure of what to say.

Bucky somewhat aggressively shifts into reverse and pulls out of the spot. It’s quiet and tense as he pulls out onto the main road. Neither of you speak for the first 30 or so minutes and you can feel the tension building. You dread this kind of confrontation. 

“If you can’t see a future with me, why do you want to get a dog with me? What are we even doing?”

You scoff, which irritates Bucky, “Maybe the dog thing was an ill-timed joke… I never said I don’t see a future with you, I just said I can’t see it. Like right now. I like you a lot, but this also feels like it’s gone so fast and I--”

“I didn’t think you had a problem with how fast it’s going?” Bucky counters. 

“I never said I did, Buck.” You rub your temples. You recognize the scenery around you, meaning you’re getting close to not being trapped in his truck. “I just like where we are right now. I don’t wanna overthink what we have.”

Bucky is silent for a long while, until he turns into his driveway. “Can you see it changing one day?”

“Bucky…. Why the sudden need for future plans?”

Bucky puts the truck in park as his fingers beat on the steering wheel. “I think about that kinda stuff I guess. Wanna know what we are doing in this… relationship.”

“I thought we did.”

“We do… I just-”

“It’s fine. I need to get home.I haven’t seen Grams all weekend and we gotta get ready for the week.” You hop out of his truck, digging in your purse for your keys.

He rounds the truck as you find them. “Are you mad at me?” 

You look up at him, blue eyes wide with concern. “No.. no. It’s just a lot to think about.” You reach up to fidget with the collar of his shirt, just an excuse to touch him really. It seems to diffuse some of the tension between you. 

Bucky looks down at you, “Okay...”

A small smile breaks. “Well, why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow? Grams would like to see you.”

Even though it’s not quite what he wanted to hear, Bucky’s eyes brightened. “Tell me when and I’ll be there.” Though you kissed him goodbye slowly, some tension still lingered in his chest. He waved as you pulled away, missing you the moment you were out of sight. 

-- 

Taglist: Much love to y’all 😘

@notatallfriendly  @thechaoticargonaut   @booktease21 @iamwarrenspeace @titty-teetee @harryngtonewithyourshit

@mcueveryday @peakyrogers @thedepressedsponge

Everything- @thefridgeismybestie @basically-introverted

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x poc #yeehaaw #MCU fanfiction #mcu au #cowboy!bucky #b.b. #bucky barnes is a farmer

[hortensemitchell]

Love Science: Chapter 5

Logan believed that he could solve anything through the power of science, even something as complicated as love. James is set on teaching him that love can’t be summed up in experiments and charts.

The two of them might just learn that there is more to love than they realize.

Rating: T

Pairing: Logan Mitchell/James Diamond

Word Count: 2305

“It’s really not that bad Carlos.” Kendall said, leaning against the bathroom stalls. “No one will even notice.” He paused for a moment, looking him over again. “Probably.”

Logan kept his head down as he ran some paper towels under the cool water, attempting some medical aid with the limited supplies in the school bathroom. Under the bright fluorescent lights he was finally able to get a good look at Carlos’ face, and well, Kendall wasn’t being entirely truthful.

His eye was swollen shut, a dark bruise already starting to set in. And his lip seemed to be split open across the top. Carlos would wince in pain every time he spoke, but that hardly stopped the smaller boy. 

He isn’t even sure what had happened in the time he had separated from the two. He couldn’t always be with the other boys because of the advanced classes he took. That didn’t keep him from being roped into their shenanigans though. 

 One minute he was listening intently to his teacher's lecture on the symbolism in ‘Animal Farm’ and the next Kendall was at the door claiming Logan was needed in the principal's office. He knew Kendall though, and wasn’t all that surprised when he grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him the opposite direction of the office.

Carlos was sitting on the counter of the bathroom, hand held over his eye and Logan had instantly gotten to work. It was second nature to him, fixing their injuries. He didn’t even bother asking how they happened anymore before coming to their aid.

“Give it to me straight Doc, am I gonna live?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the other boy’s melodramatics, though he couldn’t fight the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “You’ll live at least, but you’ll have a pretty nasty black eye for a couple days. How’d you get this anyways?”

Carlos sat up taller where he was perched on the edge of the counter, chest puffed out in pride. “Well you’ll be proud to know that I happened to get a date for the dance. James isn’t the only ladies man after all.” 

Logan heard Kendall snort from over his shoulder, “Yeah and how many of James’ ‘ladies’ leave him with a black eye?”

“She was excited, you can’t blame her for that. Besides, you're just jealous that I have a totally awesome date and you don’t.” Carlos looked over at Kendall sticking his tongue out, and Logan shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was the same age as them.

Logan clasped his hand on Carlos’ shoulder and gave it a congratulatory squeeze momentarily distracting him from Kendall’s teasing. “Just try and wear your helmet around her okay? I can’t keep missing class to patch you up.”

He heard the bathroom door swing open, and all three of them looked over to see James rushing into the room. “I got your text, sorry it took me so long, Mrs.Bigler was not in a friendly mood today. Can you believe that she told me that- Wait. Dude, what happened to your eye?”

“Kendall! You told me that no one would notice!”

Kendall raised his hands in mock surrender, “ I did say probably.”

James came closer to the pair at the sink, examining the damage. “How can anyone not notice, can you even see?” Logan elbowed James in the ribs sharply to get him to stop talking. 

“It’s not that bad,” Logan gave James a pointed glare, “And it should at least fade a little in time for the dance.”

The mention of the dance seemed to have Carlos perk up again, springing himself off the counter, injury completely forgotten. “Speaking of the dance, Jenny said yes to going with me. So you wanna help me get some clothes for the dance after school? And probably one of those flower things that girls like?”

Logan felt James tense up beside him. James was supposed to be helping Logan after school, and he felt himself deflate a little. Tutoring him would be a chore, and he doubted James would pass up the opportunity to go to the mall for him. He tried to shake off the feeling though, it’s not like he wanted to go to the stupid dance anyways. 

“How about tomorrow night? I have to go to Logan’s to work on algebra homework.”

Kendall raised an eyebrow, examining the taller boy. “Since when do you pass up the opportunity to go shopping for tutoring of all things?”

When Logan glanced over he swore he could see James cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but as quick as the expression crossed his face, it left. It was kind of scary how quickly James could put on a show, and it got Logan wondering if he ever did that around him too. 

James shifted the weight of his backpack on his shoulder, eyes meeting Kendall’s analyzing look. “You know my mother, if I don’t pass my test with at least a C, there’s no way she’ll let me go to the dance.”

The answer seemed to please Kendall for a moment, as he nodded. Logan felt momentarily grateful for James’ quick thinking because it would be mortifying for the other two to know what they were really doing. 

They wouldn’t really care, he knew that much. Minus some teasing, he doubts the other two would think much about it. But still, his lessons in love were something he would like to keep to just the two of them. 

The shrill bell pierced the air reminding the group of boys that they still had half a day’s worth of classes to get through. Carlos and Kendall shuffled out of the door quickly, realizing they had left their bags in their last period, and Logan moved to follow behind them. He only made it a couple of steps before he felt a harsh tug on his bag almost pulling him off balance. 

He stumbled backwards a couple steps before coming in contact with something solid. He turned around in place to find himself inches away from James. The other boy had a huge grin plastered across his face, and Logan could see an almost evil glint in his eye. It was the same look he would see on Kendall’s face as he concocted yet another scheme, and Logan instantly felt dread build in the pit of his stomach.

There was no use fighting it though, he’d learned from years of being their friend. He sighed in resignation, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

“I’m glad you asked, I figured now was the perfect time to start step one of your training.” James set his bag on the counter beside him and began ruffling through it. When he pulled a tube of hair gel and his lucky comb from the bag, Logan finally understood what step one was. He made a move to exit the bathroom, but was stopped by James hand gripping his bag strap, holding him in place.

“What do you think is the first step to getting someone’s attention?” James looked at him expectantly and Logan racked his brain for an answer. 

That question had brought him back to the very same struggles he had yesterday at Kendall’s house. Whatever it is that James did to make the girls fall at his feet, he just didn’t know. At least with Kendall, he could say that girls liked his easy going, down to Earth charm. And any girl that met Carlos, knew they’d be in for a crazy time. There just wasn’t a good answer for James though, and Logan hated not having an answer.

James had stepped out of Logan’s space, and watched him as he thought over his answer. Under his watchful eye, Logan began to feel uncomfortable and turned to the bathroom mirror to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know James, a good opener?”

He could see in the reflection James shake his head slightly, “Step one is getting them to look at you. Why do you think I spend so much time fixing my hair and deciding what to wear everyday? It takes effort to look this good, but it’s well worth it.” He stepped behind Logan, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “And today I’m gonna use that effort on you.”

Logan couldn’t help the snort that escaped him at James’ words. All the Cuda Man Spray and hair gel in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was a nerd. And when he stood next to James? Well it was almost unfair. 

James was breathtaking, Logan wasn’t afraid to admit what was true. He had a natural glow about him, and he managed a healthy tan all year round despite the cold Minnesota winters. And when he smiled, his whole face lit up in a way the genius couldn’t really describe. When he stared at them, side by side, it wasn’t hard to compare himself to everything he was not. 

“Let’s face it James, no one's gonna look at me when you’re in the room.”

James' face fell, and an unreadable expression crossed his features. His voice was barely above a whisper now, and Logan had to strain to hear it over the sounds of people walking to class in the hallways. He’d almost completely forgotten the school bell had rang. 

“You don’t have to be me for someone to like you Logan.”

“Yeah, sure I don’t. That’s why there's a mile long line of girls just hoping I’ll give them the time of day. I’m a scrawny, pale, nerd who can barely string together a sentence in front of a pretty girl.” He shifted his head to the side, no longer interested in looking at his reflection. “ I appreciate that you want to help, but-”

He felt James’ hands on his shoulders, gently turning him around. Again he was only inches away from the other boy, a fact that made him nervous.Though James wasn’t making eye contact with him which made the situation a little more bearable as he stayed still under James grip, waiting for him to break the silence. 

When he finally met Logan’s eyes though, there was a deep sadness in them that had him wanting to backtrack on all of the things he had said. He could play dress up for James, pretend that all his effort wasn’t in vain. Anything to keep him from looking at Logan the way he was now.

“Do you-” He took a quick breath in an attempt to steady his shaking voice. “Do you really think that low of yourself Logan?”

Now would be the time to pull back, pretend that it wasn’t a big deal to him. He didn’t really trust his words right now, afraid he’d keep spilling his guts if he opened his mouth. Instead he gave a small nod, hoping that the other boy would drop the conversation right there. 

He wasn’t expecting the harsh tug pulling him tightly into the other boys’ arms. James had crouched down slightly, burying his face in Logan’s neck, his body tense like he would sprint away at a moment's notice. 

Logan knew exactly how he felt, overwhelmed with the close contact. Still he didn’t try to break free from the hold, instead tangling his fingers in the fabric of James t-shirt, holding him close. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, seconds, minutes, maybe an hour before James finally spoke again. 

“I know it might not mean much coming from me. But I promise you I’m not just saying this as your best friend. You aren’t some pathetic nerd Logan. I wasn’t kidding about all the things I said yesterday, you are more than you give yourself credit for. And if some girls don’t realize it, that’s their loss.”

Logan felt grateful that James still had his face buried in his neck. That meant he couldn’t see the flush across his cheeks and how teary eyed he had gotten from the kind words. He couldn’t really find the words to speak and instead wrapped his arms around James hugging him tightly. 

Behind him, Logan heard the bathroom door slam open and wasn’t surprised when he felt James launch back from their embrace. The student didn’t even look twice at the pair before turning on his heel and heading back out. The heavy mood in the room though had left with him, and Logan didn’t really know what to do now. 

James preoccupied himself with gathering the hair supplies that had been long forgotten on the counter before zipping up his bag and turning his attention back on Logan. “So, I’ll be over at four?” 

He was giving Logan an out, if he didn’t want to do this anymore all he had to say was no. But Logan found himself nodding. Even if he felt the plan was pointless, it obviously meant something to James and he never wanted to see that look of sadness on his face again.

James smiled at his agreement, knocking him on the shoulder as he made his exit from the bathroom and just like that Logan was alone.

Being left with his thoughts seemed to be a very bad idea, as he could clearly still remember the feel of James’ arms wrapped tightly around him. They were all affectionate with each other, sure, but something felt different about that hug, and he didn’t want to think about it.

Instead he rushed out of the bathroom, heading off to make it to the very tail end of his third period class. Hoping a little calculus would distract him from thinking about what happened in the bathroom and the tutoring session later. 

Across the school, James headed to his chemistry class, hoping for the same exact thing.

#my writing #Big Time Rush #James Diamond #Logan Mitchell #Carlos Garcia #Kendall Knight #Jogan

[ericsonclan]

A Looming Reality

Summary: Violet and Prisha discuss what their options are once winter is over.

Word Count: Over 1000

Read on AO3:

Notes: This is chapter 22 of the au.

Start from the beginning of au:

“Violet?” Prisha’s head popped out from the edge of the barn loft. “Do you need a hand?”

“I’ve got it,” Violet grunted from behind a massive pile of quilts. She and Prisha had grown sick of trying to find a private corner in the house or braving the cold outdoors in order to have some alone time together. With no preexisting options they’d decided to make their own space and thus Violet found herself returning to the barn. This time however, she was looking forward to being up in the loft.

Prisha made a tsking sound as she leaned forward and reached out her arms. “Don’t be silly. There’s no way you can climb up here with both of your arms full. Hand me a few,”

“I can do it,” Violet insisted, taking a step onto the first rung of the ladder. She tried to wiggle one of her hands free in order to grab onto the ladder, but only succeeded in causing her blanket pile to tip. In her efforts to correct the leaning tower of blankets, she slipped off the rung and fell to the ground, the blankets scattering to and fro across the barn floor.

“Violet!” Prisha’s tone was worried as she hurried down the ladder and pulled away the blanket covering Violet’s face.

Violet looked away with a sheepish frown. “I’m fine. Nothing hurt but my pride,”

“Pride is a foolish thing anyways,” Prisha replied, beginning to pick some of the blankets off the ground.

“Says the girl who won’t leave her bedroom each morning until she’s brushed and braided her hair just right,”

“Now Violet, how would you know that unless you’ve made a habit of waiting outside my door?” Prisha’s smile was almost cat-like as she looked toward Violet.

Violet could feel her cheeks flushing. “The girls talk you know. That’s all,”

“Mhm,” Prisha’s tone was still teasing but Violet knew if she protested any farther, she’d only be digging herself a bigger hole. Prisha turned round to face her once more with an armful of blankets. “I’ll start with these. We can take multiple trips if need be. There’s no rush,”

“Someone might come looking for us if they need us for some chores,”

“Then we’ll simply hide under the hay together,” Prisha quipped, looking down from the ladder with a coy grin.

Violet hid her face behind her blanket pile, too flustered to think of a reply to that.

It took a few trips after all, but eventually they had brought all the blankets up and formed a sort of nest for themselves in the middle of the hay in the loft. Pulling some of the blankets on top of them, Prisha lay back upon the hay with a satisfied sigh. “It will take a few minutes for our body heat to build up enough under the blankets to truly keep us warm, but now we’re set,” She reached out to take Violet’s hand, gently running her thumb along it. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” Violet lied. In truth she was petrified. Cuddled up under blankets alone with Prisha… Violet’s mind was in overdrive. She didn’t know how Prisha could lay there so comfortably. It reminded her of the night she took Prisha. Violet had been a fumbling nervous wreck while Prisha seemed cool as a cucumber when she asked to be taken. Then again, Prisha had later confided in Violet how frightening the night had truly been for her so perhaps under the surface Prisha was feeling nervous as well. Hesitantly, she gave Prisha’s hand a soft squeeze. Prisha gently squeezed her hand in return.

“So,” Prisha said, turning on her side to face Violet, “Any plans for Christmas? I figure it must be quite the event with so many siblings,”

Prisha was thinking that far ahead? This past month and a half, Violet hadn’t let herself think beyond tomorrow. “Umm, I dunno. Omar always makes a great Christmas meal and we all stuff ourselves senseless. As for presents, I just try to put together whatever shit I can that I think my brothers will like. A drawing for Tenn, a song for Louis, some sorta weird rock for Willy…”

“You can write music?” Prisha’s eyes sparkled in interest.

“Just some basic stuff. Louis taught me. He wanted someone to duet with and he roped me into it,”

“I’d love to hear you sing sometime. You know, I have some background in music myself. I took voice lessons when I was younger,”

“Really?” Violet’s heart fluttered inside her wondering what Prisha’s singing voice was like.

Prisha nodded eagerly. “I’m an alto. Let me guess – you’re a soprano?”

“Yup,” Violet’s throat felt dry. Prisha was so close, her legs touching Violet’s under the blankets.

“Oh, how wonderful! That means there’s a slew of songs we can sing together! To think I didn’t know this about you! There’s still so much for both of us to learn,” Prisha caught Violet looking down at the floor, awkwardly picking straw off her blanket. “Do you not like the idea?”

“What? No, I love it. I just…” Violet’s voice trailed off. Something about Prisha’s mention of Christmas had sent a train of thought going in her mind, one she’d been suppressing for quite some time but now that it had been unleashed she could no longer hold it back. Before she fully realized what was happening, Violet’s lower lip was quivering.

“Violet? Are you alright?” Prisha reached up, cupping her cheek. She felt so warm against the chill of the barn air. Violet leaned into the touch instinctively, feeling a tear roll down her face as she let out a shaky breath.

“It can’t last, can it?”

It only took a moment for Prisha’s eyes to widen in understanding before falling. “Vi…”

“This right here,” Violet said, gripping Prisha’s hand, “Is perfect. But that snow is gonna melt and when it does…” a lump in her throat cut off Violet’s words. She gulped harshly to force it down. “They’re gonna take you away whether you want it or not,”

“I won’t let them,” Prisha declared fiercely. Her grip on Violet’s hand tightened. “I’ll hide, somewhere they can’t find me. I’ll go up to the hunting cabin. That’s miles from here and only your family knows its location. There are supplies up there too and we could build up more to last as long as we need. You can come get me when it’s safe,” Prisha paused, “Or we could stay up there together,”

Violet shook her head. She’d already considered that option. “I couldn’t just leave my family behind like that, not when they’d be at the mercy of the angry citizens of Richmond. Who knows what sort of things they’d threaten to do to Kenny if they couldn’t find you, and Katjaa…” Katjaa had announced her pregnancy to the family the other night. Everyone had been elated for her including Violet, but it did make her even more worried for what would happen when the Richmond families came up to the farm and Katjaa had to face them several months pregnant.

“You can’t risk it,” Prisha said, her tone somber. “I understand. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to your parents and siblings because of me. But I won’t go back either,”

“Prisha-”

“No,” Prisha’s eyes were hard as steel. “I can’t go back. The girl who you spoke to that winter night, she was dying inside. Every real, true part of me was withering away as I followed the path that had been set before me for a life and a future I wanted no part in. I’d never broken from it because I figured that was my lot in life, I could do no better. And then I met you,” Prisha’s voice warmed at those words. “Meeting you and knowing you wanted me , it gave me hope. So I told you to take me and I’ve never looked back. I won’t return to who I used to be,”

She was so beautiful, speaking with such passion and conviction, her eyes burning with an inner fire. Letting her emotions take hold, Violet leaned forward and captured Prisha’s lips in a kiss, one Prisha immediately deepened, her hand sliding to the back of Violet’s neck. That kiss melted into another kiss and then another, both girls becoming lost in each other and the heat of the moment. Eventually however they pulled apart, just far enough for their foreheads to touch, their eyes closed.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Violet murmured, feeling her throat ache with emotion. “I haven’t fought to keep a lot in life – never had much to lose. All I’ve ever had is my family and now you. I don’t know what I can do to stop them from taking you, but I’m not just going to lay down and take it. I’ll protect you,”

“Violet…” Prisha leaned forward, kissing her again. “I’ll protect you too. We’ll figure something out – a plan that will keep everyone safe. Rather than burying our heads in the sand until the day arrives, we’ll prepare for it. Together,”

Violet nodded. She didn’t have a single idea on how they could prevent the worst from happening on that day, but seeing the light of determination in Prisha’s eyes gave her hope as well. The two smiled at each other only for the moment to stretch into awkward silence all to quickly. “So…” Violet cleared her throat, “Are we planning now, or…?”

Prisha looked round at the blankets and hay and warmth that surrounded them in their cozy little nest. “What you said before, about this moment being perfect, let’s not let that be lost. This still is a perfect moment. We simply have to reclaim it,” Her hand slipped down to intertwine with Violet’s once more. “There’s time for plans tomorrow. For now, let’s enjoy what we built,”

Violet could feel a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Leave it to Prisha to change gears so easily. She was right though. They’d put all this work to get to this moment together – might as well enjoy it. Shifting closer, she let her head rest upon Prisha’s shoulder. “I like that thought,”

“So… would you be willing to sing for me?”

“Now?”

“If you’re willing,”

“My throat’s a little sore,”

“Then we can simply talk. That’s fine too. Or perhaps I can sing for you,”

“R-really?” Violet’s eyes grew large at the offer.

“Of course. It would be my pleasure. Now, what to sing…” Prisha’s face scrunched in thought before brightening with inspiration. “I have just the thing,” Clearing her throat, she began.

Come where my love lies dreaming,

Dreaming the happy hours away,

In visions bright redeeming

The fleeting joys of day.

Prisha’s voice was low and warm as she continued, her tone taking on an almost dreamy quality to match the song.

Soft in her slumber;

Thoughts bright and free

Dance through her dreams

Like gushing melody;

Light is her young heart,

Light may it be;

Come where my love lies dreaming.

Violet felt so warm, so happy, so peaceful listening to Prisha sing. They had found their escape from the world here - even if only for a time – and they were happy. Softly, she began to hum along to the tune. The smile on Prisha’s face grew as she heard Violet’s voice joining hers. They continued to sing together, their voices intermingling in the crisp air of winter. And in that one moment, everything was perfect.

#twdg #twdg violet #twdg prisha #twdg privet #fanfic #bless yore beautiful hide au

[strongsassysexysloane]

Take me for a Ride, Jack...6

The day is spent trying to cope with one hell of a hangover headache while vacuuming, mopping and doing a load of laundry. You and Jack casually text back and forth throughout the day before she says she's going out for a bit and will pick you up in the morning. Jamie actually went into work for a short shift because someone called in sick. As an apology for ditching the chores again she brings home your favourite Thai food for dinner and you spend another quiet night in binge watching a tv show together.

You try so hard to go to sleep at a reasonable hour so you can get up in time in the morning but your mind is racing with anticipation for tomorrow. Thankfully, at some point your mind decided to give in and you fell asleep.

You just hop out of the shower the following morning, start toweling yourself off when you hear the scrap of a chair across the wooden floor, followed by. "There's a beautiful woman on a really nice bike who just pulled up." Jamie, your sister, shouts from the front window of the apartment.

You freeze, check your phone, Jack's early. "Ok, I'll be out in a minute." You reply, but your gut drops when you hear the front door open.

"Hey, come on up." Jamie has gone outside to the landing and yelled down to Jack and invited her in. You apartment is on the second floor.

"Hey!" You shout, frantically drying yourself off before your sister says or does anything stupid like show Jack baby photos of you.

You hear mumbling as you slip into your clothes and do something half decent with your hair. There's laughter from the living room and you can't decide if that's a good thing or something to make you feel even more nervous, if that was possible.

Taking one last look in the bathroom mirror before walking out into the living space, you still need to put shoes on and grab your bag but you need to check on Jamie and Jack first. You walk in to the kitchen to see Jamie and Jack sitting at the breakfast bar chatting. Jack looks up at you with a huge smile as soon as you enter.

"Dam, I was just getting to the story about when you were thirteen and you had a huge crus-"

"I will shoot you." You growl and turn your attention to Jack, she was grinning wildly at the interaction between you and your sister, her curiosity peaked by your reaction to a possible embarrassing memory.

"Looks like we still have time, shoes much?" Jamie teases.

"Morning Jack." You ignore her, focusing on the beautiful woman sitting in your apartment. "Want a coffee?" You walk over and lean on the counter opposite them.

"No thanks, was going to grab one on the way, I know this nice little bakery on the way out of town." She leans closer when you do. You fight your natuarl instincts to lean in further for a kiss, it would be so natural and easy but now itsn't the moment. Not when Jamie is staring at you eagerly.

"I'll grab my shoes and bag." You smile leaves your face when you turn to Jamie and glare. "Don't say anything! She a bloody psychologist for christ sakes." You wink back at Jack whos holding in a laugh.

"And she's still going out with you?" Jamie throws the comment and you feel it hit you square in the back of the head as you walk back down the hallway to your bedroom. You've never laced your boots faster.

"Apparently." Jack smirks.

"You mustn't work with her much.." Jamie holds in a laugh but you can hear it in her tone.

"For the love of god. This is why I didn't want you two meeting." You groan but its loud enough because you can hear their laughter.

"See how I didn't let that happen." Jamie replies.

"I'm moving out!" You shout, making sure you've got everything in your bag before closing your bedroom door.  

"That would mean you have to find a place first?" Jamie is now leaning against the counter by the sink, sipping a cup of tea.

You shrug, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. "I have alerts on the app to let me know when a new place pops up." You slide the bottle into your bag and turn around to look at Jack.

"That takes the fun out of looking." Jack chimes in.  

"By fun you mean, hassle right?" You smile at Jamie but she's too busy looking back and forth between you two. You are standing close enough to Jack that she's reached out her hand and is absentmindedly brushing her fingers up from the inside of your wrist, half way up your forearm and back until she just holds your wrist. You do love that she's a very touchy person, surprised she's letting your sister see it though.

"Have a great day you two." Jamie gives you a cheeky grin and Jack tugs are your arm. You smile at her and you follow her out.

"She seems lovely." Jack comments as you walk down the stairs.

"What did you two talk about before I came out?" You dare to look at Jack's face and are not comforted at all by the sly smile she's giving you.

"Didn't give us enough time other than introductions, really." She squeezes your still joined hands and you step out onto the pathway leading to the street.

"Somehow I doubt that." But you don't push. You'll hopefully get an answer from Jamie when you get back this afternoon.

Jack hands you your helmet, at least you hope youre the only one wearing it, you tighten your backpack over your shoulders, strap your helmet on and slide onto the bike behind Jack, using her shoulder for balance. You give Jamie a wave as you caught her looking out of the living room window and Jack pulls out onto the road.

The bakery was indeed nice and the coffee rivals the diner's quality. It was a nice little bakery tucked away down a side street on the outskirts of DC. You both have a nice large cup of coffee and this time Jack insists on buying you breakfast. You end up having a delicious pastry and she has a choc chip muffin.

"How did you find this place?" You ask as you walk back to the motorbike.

"Person who I got the bike off mentioned a few nice spots, hang outs that they thought I might like. This was one of them." She looks back to the bakery with a smile. "Been here a few times now, nice people."

"You come here to people watch, don't you?" You laugh at her slight guilty expression. "Nothing wrong with people watching, well depending on the people."

Jack drops her head back with a laugh. "Very true. There's some interesting ones that pass through here."

The ride down the coast is nice, this time the wind isn't too cold and you're wearing a few layers instead of just a windbreaker. You guess it's over an hour possibly two since you left the bakery and Jack pulls into a little coastal town. The main street is littered with little shops, you notice a general store, bakery, barber shop, no big department store to be seen. She pulls the bike into a spot infront of a park, you see stalls up ahead and smile.

"Knew you were the farmers market type." You shake your hair out and rest the helmet on your seat. You watch at Jack ties her hair back up in a messy bun, slightly sad that you won't get the chance to run your fingers through it.

"You pout like that when everyone ties up their hair?" Jack teases and you look away shyly, the trees in the park look very interesting all of a sudden.

Jack grabs your helmet with hers and attaches them to the handle bars with a lock. She walks around to where you are and rests her hand on your lower back and you try not the jump at the touch.

"I can wear it down if you like." She is smirking when you look at her again. Your heights are almost the same, although you think she may be slightly taller and you like that for some reason. She presses more into your back and you take a step towards her.

"Completely up to you." You look down at her lips and snap back to her eyes but she's seen the movement. She brings her other hands up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Maybe later." She winks and you can't help but laugh. She's just so much fun. You loosen the straps on your small backpack so it rests more in the middle of your back, Jack puts her wallet in it but slots her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. You walk hand in hand towards to markets.

It's not too big, although it looks like there's many people from out of town come down for the drive. It's cute, many local business's have stalls set up, local jerky store, honey from a farm further down the coast, plants, lots of plants, coffee. Jack teases you about getting another cup but when you offer to get her one too she just smiles. You stop at a cheese stall.

"I heard you have a cheese fixation." Jack wraps her arm around your back and holds your hips so you are happily forced to stand closer into her side.

"Who?" It take a beat but the answer comes to you as quickly as the smug grin on Jack's lips. "So much for just introductions." Now the thought of what else Jamie told Jack about you crosses your mind.

"Don't worry Y/N, she didn't tell me anything I didn't already know." She squeezes your hip.

You step forward once the customer in front of you buys their products and walks away. "I haven't talked about my cheese addiction to anyone."

Jack laughs softly. "When you asked for extra cheese on the three cheese pizza other other week on the Kulls case, I kinda figured you liked cheese."

"That place does NOT put three cheeses on their pizza." You grumble and take a sample of sharp cheddar from the offerings in front of you. The man behind the counter smiles at you both but leaves you to your conversation.

"Their pepperoni doesn't have much pepperoni on it either now that I think about it." It was Nick's choice to get pizza after staying back at the office trying to track down this thief late at night. He was the only one impressed by the place and you said he mustn't know many good pizza places but after you had Pizza across Italy nothing really matches up.

"Needless to say we are never ordering from Al's again." You go along sampling all the cheese they have to offer. Asking the man a few questions about time frames on the maturity of the cheddar's and costs. You kick yourself for not bringing a cooler bag. He offers that he's got a few containers and iceblocks for an extra cost. You say you'll come back once you've had a look around and see the disappointment in his eyes as he's probably use to people saying that and just never coming back but he doesn't know your love for good cheese.

You walked further down the isle of stalls hand in hand, nothing really caught your eye, more plant stalls, a couple with knitted things, carved toys and objects, Jack joked saying Gibbs should put together a stall for a market.

"That would involve him actually talking to people." You counter and Jack laughs.

"Very true." She runs her hand over a carving of a nice piece of wood with a landscape carving of a man in a small boat fishing on a lake. It was very intricate and you appreciated the hard work put into it.

The markets soon come to an end but you keep walking, there's a nice walkway that leads long the waterfront. The waves splashing up against the rocks, and you squeeze Jack's hand a little tighter appreciating the walk and the comfortable silence. Your eyes are drawn to the shore and the waves crashing back and forth, it soothes you, your nerves fading with ever crash of the water.

"I'm messy you know." It's barely audible from Jack's lips and when you look at her, her eyes far away, deep in her thoughts, you know you heard her correctly. The mood instantly changed.

You come to a stop and tug her close, your hand still in hers, your other hand comes up tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and you linger there for a moment, running your thumb across her cheek. "You think I'm not? No ones neat and if they claim to be they haven't lived." Jack leans into your touch, the side of her mouth twitching into a faint smile, the only recognition you got that she heard your words.

Jack just stared at you for a while and then her gaze turned to the sea. You let the silence settle between you again, mainly because you were waiting for her to speak, not really sure what else you could say. "Nightmares, terrors, probably some anger issues mixed in there as well not to mention the scars."

"You analysing yourself, Jack?" You try to lighten the sombre mood but she just shrugs, so you squeeze her hand tighter. "If you're trying to scare me off, warn me or somehow psych yourself out of seeing what this is between us, don't. I've over thought this way too many times for whatever reason you have. I'm still here." Something hit home for Jack because she turned back to you and brings her hand up cupping your cheek and bringing you close, close that your foreheads rest against each other.

"It's like you know my thoughts." She huffs, it's dry but she's smiling again and you take that as a victory. "I'd kiss you right now but I don't want this pain to be the memory of that."

You peck her cheek and she laughs now, her smile reaching her eyes and your belly does that flip flop thing. "I'll wait for whenever you think is a good moment and your scars are beautiful. Just like you." Jack hums in reply and the silence is deafening for a short while.  

"So I'm going to be the one to kiss first?" She raises her eyebrow and you just smile.

"Depends how long you take." You give her a wink and continue walking. She makes that stomach dropping, heart stopping laugh you love and you swing your joined hands beside you.

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #fanfic

[bidaryl]

that time i was like hey au where daryl gets sent back to the start of the apocalypse hehe but then i was like fuck! what IF!!!! and got emo thinking about it realistically and started writing it :(

He wakes up when it’s just him and Merle on the road.

He went to bed the night before, so incredibly fucking tired. After everything that had gone down those past few months - Beta being alive; the trek back to Alexandria; answering people’s questions about the future; fuckin’ Negan; Lydia not trusting nobody, including him; whatever shit Carol was going through - he was fucking wiped. Asskicker had managed to convince him to take her outside the walls, asked him to teach her how to hunt, how to track. They’d spent hours out there after first light, him showing her some of the basic stuff; how to tell apart different tracks, how to set quick effective traps, other small things. She told him ‘bout Michonne leaving. Daryl had a few thoughts about that, but Jude already looked like she was one bad feeling away from crying, so he shifted focus and changed the subject. She’d picked up tracking quickly, almost quicker than Beth had. Had turned to him at one point of the day after they’d stopped to have lunch, begging to stay outside for a few more hours. Wanting to practice more. He wasn’t exactly a seasoned pro at saying no to her, he had a bad habit of giving in quickly to most of the kids he knew, but the Whisperer’s group was still at large - Beta and his followers were still out there - and after a few promises and compromises, he’d convinced her to come back inside the gates. Told her he’d let her take the lead the next time they came out, warning her it couldn’t be the next day, reasoning he had things he had to do back home, but promised her they could come back out soon. After they’d walked back inside the walls, he made a small appearance at dinner, checked in with the people on guard duty, then headed to the Grimes’ house. Fell onto his bed without even taking his shoes off and crashed. Next thing he knew, he was waking up to a rough kick to the legs and Merle’s cheery voice.

“Wasting daylight, Darleena, c’mon, chop chop, let’s go!” - he claps his hands - “time to wake the fuck up.” Merle adds another kick for good measure before walking off. Daryl pushes up onto his elbows, looking around and trying to get a grasp of where they are and what time it is, before giving up almost immediately when his brain catches up and realises if Merle’s here, he’s dreaming. Or hallucinating. Either way, this ain’t real. He sits up slowly before thinking - fuck it. Might as well see his brother while he’s around. He makes a move and gets up, grabs his jacket from where it was being used as a makeshift pillow, and heads outside. The area looks vaguely familiar but also like every wood Merle and him have ever camped in, so he continues walking over to where Merle’s standing before sitting down and grabbing the spoon and can his brother left out for him.

“No biters so far, but we should keep movin’, get ahead of the ones travellin’ out from the city,” Merle starts, nods his head to his pile stuff that’s already packed up, and stands, stomping out the small fire he had going. “This spot’s gonna be overrun before we can blink. We gotta move out.” Merle wanders off beyond the tree line, muttering something about taking a piss, yelling a “Hurry up and pack your shit!” over his shoulder before disappearing. Daryl nods to himself, quickly shovels what’s left of the can in his mouth and scans the area to figure out what stuff there’s still left to pack. Thinks to himself that it’s a stupid ass dream he’s having, Merle bossin’ him around and making him clean up. Makes him feel like he’s 4 years old again, doin’ Merle’s chores for him.

By the time Merle walks back over, Daryl’s got the tent and sleeping bag all folded up and put together, his bow leaning against the his bike, bag packed and ready to go.

“We good?” Merle asked, grabbing his own collection of things and walking over, standing next to his own ride.

Daryl does one last sweep before nodding and asks which way they’re going as he mounts his bike.

Merle gives him a look, “The fuck you mean, ‘Which way we goin’?’ done told ya, we been over this five times already.” He shakes his head before climbing his bike, starts the engine and rides out. Daryl shrugs and follows. Dream Merle’s as temperamental as real life Merle. Daryl can roll with that.

They ride for the rest of the day, taking mainly back roads and hidden trails they only know about cause they grew up round these parts, avoiding highways as much as possible, still only making it barely 2 hours from where they first started that morning. Daryl follows while Merle leads, stopping twice to try find some gas. He spends the first hour or so feeling guilty, feeling like actual fucking shit, watching Merle zip around abandoned cars, using signals to direct him, wondering how Merle got so faded in his memory. Turns out theres nothing like having the ghost of his dead brother right in front of him to make him realise how many small details Daryl’s forgot about him, how much his memory’s erased him over time. 

He spends the rest of the day taking everything in, getting familiar again. Merle’s about as loud and annoying and chatty and demanding as Daryl remembers. Still a pain in the ass, but Daryl forgot about the way Merle told his stories; not just with words, but with his hands, his face. Forgot about how it was Merle who taught him how to ride. How no matter how good Daryl gets on his bike, how many little tricks he learns, how many rides he fixes; he’s always just gonna be second best to Merle. For a second, he wonders why he’s dreaming about this specific part of his life, but figures this isn’t exactly the first time he’s dreamt of Merle, and it’s probably not gonna be the last. Takes a moment to consider whether or not there’s a reason to be dreaming this vividly - a head injuries or an attack. Think’s to himself - maybe he’s dead and his afterlife is just him and Merle, riding around together on their bikes. Rolls his shoulders and jerks his head, tells himself he’s not fucking dead.

Merle’s up ahead, ranting about some shit Daryl wasn’t there for and hollering at his own punchline. Daryl kinda wants to tell him to shut the fuck up but can’t bring himself to say it. He hasn’t heard Merle’s voice outside of his dreams and hallucinations for almost 9 years. It always shakes him up, how much he misses him. Decides if this is a dream, he ain’t about to complain. 

He keeps riding.

He’s on first watch that night when they settle into a spot, Merle asleep in his tent after having a beer and a smoke. Daryl keeps scanning the treeline and surrounding woods, more out of muscle memory than protection, too distracted thinking about the day he’s just had. Merle’s here, alive and well, being one of the most warm and comforting illusions Daryl’s had in years. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, the last time he didn’t have blood covering his hands. Feel’s like a prick for being so dramatic; it’s not like he’s Maggie, Michonne, or hell - the King. Never had to bare those responsibilities the way they’ve had do. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he sits, shifts his focus to something else. Tries to think about what he’s gonna say to Lydia tomorrow. He knows Negans talk with her ended with them both in tears, her storming out; know’s she doesn’t trust any of them anymore. Gives up and sighs when he realises he’s got no choice but to accept that he’s got no fucking idea how to reason with a teenager, how to word things so she can understand, especially with her well earned trust issues and abandonment complex.

Him and Merle switch out a few hours later, Merle on watch and Daryl sleeping. Daryl gives Merle a clap on the back as they pass each other, know’s when he wakes up tomorrow it’s just gonna be him in the Grimes’ basement. He has a brief second where he thinks about saying fuck it and giving Merle a hug, but decides against it. Not like they were ever the touchy feely type to begin with.

When he wakes up the next morning, it’s bright as fuck. There’s birds chirping, there’s whistling, some clinking of a fork hitting metal. Merle’s voice carrying. Daryl pats himself down, takes in how he’s in the same clothes he went to sleep in, the same tent, and quickly gathers his bow and his knife and rushes outside the tent.

“The hell?” Merle yells, doing a double take as Daryl stands there, crossbow up and aimed. “The hell’s got your panties in a twist? Jesus, fuck. You dreamin’ about the chupacabra again? Bigfoot? Good Lord.” He bends down and starts rummaging around his bag, “Here, calm the fuck down, eat this,” holding out a bar and passing it over, muttering under his breath “jump out of the tent, gun’s blazing, fuck me, give me a damn near heart attack.”

Daryl slowly lowers his bow and stands there for a few seconds before stepping forward slowly and grabbing the snack, staring at Merle the whole time. He takes a bite or two then throws it back before tightening his grip on his weapon, bending down to grab a bottle for some water then heads for the trees without a word. Merle calls out to him, telling him to catch some rabbit instead of squirrel this time. Daryl doesn’t acknowledge him.

He’s still there when Daryl gets back.

Daryl decides he’s fucking done with this dream. Doesn’t get why his subconscious couldn’t give him a greatest hits reel. Like, yeah, let him remember his time with his brother, but maybe also let him relive some of the early days on the farm or some of the early days in Alexandria. Remember the run that he, Jesus, Tara, and Aaron went on that one time. Maybe remember the first time Judith attempted to say his name. The day he and Dog found each other. Maybe even let him relive some days before the fucking world ended. 

It takes less than a minute for the guilt to set in, instantly feeling like a prick. Merle died for him and for his family, and he’s fucking missed his brother. So what if Dream Merle never stops complaining? He fucking wishes life would go back to being this simple, when these were his biggest problems. Wishes Merle could’ve made it this far. Could’ve seen what was to come, what they could’ve built.

When he wakes up the next morning, Merle’s still there. Still chatty, still loud, still wanting food they don’t have. Still got 20 different opinions about things that don’t even matter anymore.

4th morning in and he wakes up to Merle having a smoke and thinks maybe, possibly, something’s going on. Maybe it’s more than just a dream. Feels like he should try and figure his shit out. Weighs the options of it being just a really elaborate dream, or a massive mind fuck hallucination. His mind provides the term ‘time travel’ but Daryl’s not gonna fucking acknowledge that. Wonders if he got a head injury without realising and he’s in a coma. Maybe this is what Rick felt like back when he woke up at the start of all this. He quirks a lip up at the irony.

The 5th day in is when he knows something is definitely fucking going on.

The 5th day is when they run into the Atlanta group. He spots Shane and T-Dog first, then Glenn and Lori. Daryl steps back, tries to think if he’s ever dreamt about Lori or about Shane, while Merle steps forward and does all the talking again. It’s an exact replica of the last time this happened. They all come to the same uneasy agreement to let the brothers stay, Glenn swaying the result in their favour again. Daryl feels sick. Glenn’s talking, saying how it’ll be good to have people that know how to hunt, who know what’s safe to eat from the woods, how useful it’ll be to have more muscle. Daryl feels like he can’t fucking breath. He wants to run up to him, wants to fucking hug him, wants to throw up right there, on the spot. Instead he just stands there, takes in Glenn’s face and the lack of blood or brain matter, the way he looks and sounds so young, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat and breath. Merle starts moving forward and Daryl follows on auto pilot. 

They make their way slowly onto the camp, the rest of the group looking as standoffish about the Dixon brothers staying as they did the first time. Daryl lets Merle deal with their shit, grabs his bow and heads out into the woods straight away. He hears Andrea scoff behind him.

Out in the woods, he tells himself he’s gonna take a moment to properly think shit through now, for real this time. Try and figure about what’s happening to him. Ain’t no way this is all just a fucking dream. Sure as shit ain’t no coma, either. Shit’s too fucking real. It’s been 10 years since the world went up in shit and he’s had enough knocks to the head to know his memories of the start are gonna be a little hazy. He tries to pinpoint certain moments but it’s rough, tries to remember the specifics of how things originally went down but knows that while he’s observant, always has been, he was still on the outskirts of the group. Wern’t ever really let in on all the details before their time at the farm and he never really put that much effort into learning earlier. He didn’t bother nobody and nobody bothered him. 

The start was so fucking simple.

He guesses he remembers the general gist of some things. He can remembers standing back and letting Merle run the show. Doesn't remember Carol ever holding herself like that. Remembers the way Lori looked at him; like he was no better than the geeks, like it was him who her family was threatened by. Doesn't remember Sophia or Carl ever being that small. Remembers how Shane tried to be the leader, loud and tough. Wants to grab a knife and end Shane now, thinking about the story he spun of what happened to Otis. The night Glenn and him found Randall in the woods, neck broken, two sets of foot prints. He remembers Rick, and how he made being a leader look natural, almost effortless, how people just instinctively knew to trust him, to believe in him. How he had the entire group listening to him within a day of setting foot into camp. 

The sound of trees rustling brings him back to the present and he snaps into action. Out in the woods ain’t no place to let down your guard, no matter how safe you think you are. He lets himself get pulled back into the task at hand, spotting something moving out of the corner of his eye and shakes himself off, catching everyone some dinner. Specifically aims to get Carls and Glenns favourites even though he knows their tastebuds don’t really adjust to road life until the farm falls. 

It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

Glenn thanks him for dinner that night. Lori makes Carl say thanks, too. Sophia and Amy do it without any prompting. Daryl suddenly can’t stomach this, can’t sit here with his family and look at them, knowing whats to come. He excuses himself and goes to sleep wishing with everything in him that he could wake the fuck up now.

Lays there and chews at his thumbnail, thinks he doesn’t know how much longer he can talk to his ghosts.

Later that night in his tent, while Dale and Andrea keep watch and everyone sleeps, he reaches the conclusion that no matter what option he chooses, they’re all fucking crazy. 

He’s not ready to deal with everything if it’s a permanent thing. Not ready for any of this to be real, to spend the next 8 years meeting everyone that’s ever mattered to him again. To look at them and remember how they died. Thinks he also isn’t ready to accept this could just be a dream, that he could wake up any minute now in a world without Glenn, without Carl, no Sophia. Most of his family fading back into his memories and dreams.  

So he ignores the voice in his head and decides he’s gonna let it go, falls back into the safety of letting himself believe it’s a dream. Convinces himself he doesn’t wanna make waves if he’s just injured and unconscious and this is his minds way of trying to let himself heal. Even goes as far as to let himself feel pissed off about his minds idea of taking a peaceful trip down memory lane is by taking him to the beginning of the end, when the world went to shit. 

If he’s being real with himself though, he has to admit that maybe those first few months of the apocalypse weren’t all that bad for him. It was just him and Merle and the bikes and his crossbow. No money problems, no close calls with the law, no more upperclass or businessmen around to look down on him for being redneck trailer trash. 

He’s always felt more at home in the woods than any four walls and roof, knows how to navigate the stars, has been living off the land since before he could write. He was thriving when all this began. Wern’t close enough to anyone outside of Merle, never had anyone to worry about, anyone to lose.

The world turned upside down and he came out on top.

Merle brings up the plan to rob the camp a few nights later. They’re on watch together, Daryl having rigged up the perimeter with some string and cans; so they’re kinda just standing around, staring into the night. He talks under his breath with Daryl just in earshot, saying how they need to figure out the best things to take, then haul ass when they do. Whispers that they’re just gonna take the most useful stuff, how it’s not like these city slickers are gonna make it much further anyway. How they’re doing them a favour. Daryl thinks about Glenn in Alexandria, everything that went down with Nicholas and Noah. Throws his mind back to the prison, when he carried Carol out of the tombs after she survived for days on her own, after everyone had considered her dead. Takes a steadying breath and walks away, throwing a ‘whatever.’ over his shoulder.

They’ve been at the camp for just under two weeks when Merle goes to leave with Glenn and the others for the city. That’s when he starts to open himself up to the time travel option.

Everything up until this stage has been more or less calm. He gets up, he hunts, he takes watch, he sleeps. Rinse and repeat. Nothing strenuous, nothing life changing, just a peaceful two weeks of hanging out with his brother and his family.

He’d been rationalising everything to himself, telling himself that if he’s going through trauma and his mind’s officially breaking after 10 years of tragedies and losses, then this is okay. He’s happy to hang out here, back when things were simple and easy. He’s happy to see Carl and Sophia get homeschooled and run around and be kids. Happy to see Carl and Lori back together. More than happy to see Glenn float around camp and get into everything, learn about cars, hang out with the kids, plan trips to the city. Pretty fucking content to sit back and watch Carol and Sophia walk around together.

But then Merle mentions the city run, and Shane and Lori are having secret meetings outside camp together, and Ed’s going stir crazy, ranting about being stuck in the woods for weeks on end with no rescue mission in sight. Dales on top of the RV everyday, setting his watch, being on guard. And it’s too familiar. It’s fucking suffocating. It’s exactly how it went down the first time. Before he realises it, he’s volunteering himself to go on the run instead.

Merle laughs.

Glenn looks between the two brothers, trying to figure out the best approach. Daryl’s better in the woods, not that Merle’s bad, but Daryl’s got more patience than Merle could dream. He always comes back with more food than the older brother, will spend all day out there to make sure everyone at camp gets a full ration, even takes the time to help dress and skin the animals, showing the girls how to do it properly. Merle’s not as particular, more than happy to stroll back into camp with half the amount and ready to dump it and let the ladies do the work.

“You’re needed here, it’s fine. Merle can come with us.” Glenn reasons, “We’re only gonna be gone a few hours, in and out, no problem. We can handle Merle.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’,” Daryl heads to his tent, grabs his crossbow and his backpack, double checks he has his knives, and heads out towards the truck.

Merle stops laughing the second he sees Daryls face and sees the serious look in his eyes, like Daryl thinks he’s already won the argument.

“Now, now, little brother, what on earth do you want with Atlanta?” he puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, holding him in place, “You stay here, keep these people feed, and Ol’ Merle will head into the city, keep these city slickers in line. We’re all good here.”

Merle makes a move to head to the truck, nodding at Glenn that things are settled, before Daryl speaks up again.

“You’re staying here, man. Glenn says the city’s overrun. If he’s gonna take a group for the first time, they need’a be quiet and quick. That ain’t you.” Daryl holds Merles eyes for a moment before moving past him, looking to Glenn and raising his eyebrows. “We good to go?”

Glenn glances between the brothers one last time before nodding at Daryl. “Yeah. We’re good. We gotta go now though, if we wanna be back before dark.”

Daryl nods and looks at Merle one last time before making a move to go stand near the back of the truck, waiting for T-Dog while everyone slowly resumes what they were doing. Merle stays standing in the same spot, looking on in part disbelief and part pissed off. Daryl looks on from the corner of his eye, watching as Merle stalks off to his tent before stomping back out and heading for the trees. The camp seems to let out a sigh of relief in his absence and Daryl feels guilty to leave them with him, especially considering his mood, but then remembers how Merle never returned from this trip the first time. 

He tells himself that this is the right move, that Merle can make it this time, he can grow to care for the group the same way Daryl did the first time ‘round. Merle can be a fucking asshole at the best of times, but he knows how to care when you give him a reason. If you’re unlucky enough to have him as an enemy, you better run; but if you’re one of the lucky ones that he considers kin, he’ll have your back for life.

#me posting this for me -4 followers :)))))))))))))))))))))) #im never gonna finish this becos my writing is not It but i can try!!!!!!!!!!!! #everything about like s7+ can be read as au becos i havnt seen it so im just connecting dots of gifsets and rants i see #m #text

[softeddiek]

Political Campaign au

after debating whether or not to finish it all and post it as a oneshot, or post it as four separate chapters, i finally decided to just put the first chapter up, lol

fic to go with this gendrya photoset

read on ao3

August

It’s nearing 3pm, the sun is beating down on her neck, and Arya is ready to finish for the day and head home.

When she had agreed to help out with Margaery’s campaign (or rather, when Sansa had hounded her into helping) she had hoped she wouldn’t have to spend every weekend canvassing, maybe spend some time hitting the phones instead. At least then when people were yelling obscenities at you and questioning how you got their phone number (public record people) it was done in the cool, albeit a bit stale, air conditioning of the office Margaery was renting out. She would admit though, the app that Margaery and her campaign team insisted on them using to keep track of houses they’d stopped at was a lot more efficient than the paper and clipboards they had used for Robb’s last campaign.

Normally she wouldn’t mind canvassing too much. Sure, people could be rude and, sometimes, downright hostile. But, despite all of her grumbling, Arya really believed in Margaery as a candidate and was always pleased to be met with a constituent eager to learn more about her and her platform. Still, Arya had had a long week at work and the last thing she wanted to do today was get up at 8am, drive over to the already hectic office, and be sent out to some neighborhood she wasn’t familiar with in order to convince people that they really ought to be thinking about the midterm election three months from now. Not when she could be home relaxing and catching up on chores around the house.

So, when she looks at her phone and sees she only has one house left on the map to hit before she can head back to where she parked her car, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to the Old Gods. Hoping it’ll be an easy one—older, same party affiliation as Margaery, frequent voter—she clicks on the voter profile.

Gendry Waters (I)

Male, 33 y/o

1712 NW Fleabottom Rd.

No voter history available

She finds herself letting out a sigh at the Independent mark by his name, and yet another one at seeing the man has never voted before.

Margaery’s primary had been a closed one, so only registered members of their party could vote in it. She had easily beaten Albar Royce and her team had immediately gone into overdrive so as to win the general election against that shithead, Joffrey Lannister. She now needed to shift some of her focus to constituents who were registered with the main opposing party, fringe parties, and Independents. Arya had nothing against Independents, per say, she just hated trying to convince them to vote for someone running under a major party. They were just as likely to swing to the other party as they were hers and, with no voter history to look at, this guy could easily be supporting Lannister already. It was never any fun trying to talk to someone, only to realize they were a Lannister supporter, none-to-eager to have you on their doorstep.

Seeing Mr. Waters’ house is only one house over from the one she had just stopped at and gotten no answer from (though she was positive she heard the sound of the tv coming from the inside of the house), she wipes the sweat off her brow, plasters on a smile, and makes her way toward it.

The house is buttery yellow in color, the shutters a sun-bleached red, and the grass is what her mom would describe as ‘a few days past in need of a mowing.’ It’s a cute house really, if looking a little bit like the owner doesn’t have time for the upkeep. Arya isn’t really one to talk though; her job at the local state park keeps her busy and she often finds herself putting off household chores. There’s an old Chevy parked in the driveway so it’s safe to say the owner is home. Whether he’ll actually open the door to her or not is a whole other story. She doesn’t see any Lannister signs in the yard, so at least he doesn’t seem to be a fervent supporter of the opposition.

She’s got the thought of sitting in her car with the AC on high on her mind as she reaches forward and raps twice on the door, taking one step back so as not to crowd the guy. She’s counting the seconds in her head, debating on whether talking to him is worth another knock (Margaery has three months before the election, someone is bound to have to visit this house again if she marks it as a ‘Not Home’) when she hears a muffled voice call out.

“Hang on a second.”

Holding in her groan, she begins rehearsing the script in her head and rifling through the pamphlets she has left to hand out. She’s propping the stack up on one knee, trying to root out the one with Margaery’s amendment recommendations on it, when the door jerks open and startles her, causing her to nearly send the stack to the ground.

Standing in the doorway is a man who very well could be Gendry Waters. He’s tall and broad, with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes. The stubble on his jaw and slight wrinkles around those blue eyes certainly make him look like he could be in his 30s. Arya tends to be too engrossed in her spiel on Margaery to truly take in what the people she’s talking to look like but, frankly, this guy is hot.

And also frowning down at her.

She clears her throat, already worried from the look on his face that this is going to go badly. “Good afternoon sir! My name is Arya and I’m a volunteer for—”

“Look, whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.” He’s moving to shut the door in her face when her sneaker-clad foot darts out, wedging itself between the door and its frame. She cringes internally, knowing her mother would be having a conniption about how unsafe that move just was if she could see her.

Engaging a constituent like this is not a good idea, but she can’t help herself from blurting out, louder than necessary, “I’m not selling anything. Look, are you Gendry Waters or what?”

He eyes her warily. “Who’s asking?”

“If you’d have let me finish,” she grumbles out. His eyebrow raises, an unimpressed look adorning his face. “I’m a volunteer for the Margaery Tyrell campaign. Are you Gendry Waters?”

He looks reluctant to answer. “Yeah. And before you start asking for donations or something, you should know I don’t—”

“Vote. Yeah, I know.”

His forehead scrunches up in confusion. Knowing he’s about to ask how she knows that (they always do) she decides to speak before he can.

Rattling off parts of the script she’s been using the past few weeks, she says, “Margaery Tyrell is running for State Senate this election against Republican incumbent Joffrey Lannister. A former social worker, Margaery feels strongly about the housing crisis plaguing our district. Should she be elected, she looks forward to being sent to our state’s capital to immediately begin working with fellow legislators on ways to provide affordable housing to lower income families in our district and around the state. Margaery is also a staunch advocate for the environment, and supports recently introduced S.B. 4120, the Kingswood Wildlife Preservation Act. Do these seem like qualities in a candidate that interest you?”

The man—Gendry Waters’ forehead is still furrowed, only now there’s a scowl around his mouth. “Tyrell? As in the family that owns that big agricultural company out in the Reach?”

She hesitates. He’s that type of independent then. Arya herself was never too keen on the Tyrell family business, but in all her years as Sansa’s friend, Margaery had proven herself to be down-to-earth and, recently, willing to take on the big corporations by closing legal loopholes that allow them to wreak havoc on the environment. “Margaery’s father and grandmother own shares in Tyrell Farm Corp., yes.” Seeing he’s about to retort back she adds on, “Margaery has, however, asked that her family have little involvement in her campaign, and only make personal donations totaling no more than $100.”

He scoffs. “Right, I’m sure she has.”

If Arya couldn’t feel sweat pooling on the back of her neck and the rumble of hunger that came from only eating an apple on the drive to the office this morning, she might have stayed. She might have set the record straight about Margaery and the donations she was accepting for her campaign. She might have done all in her power to sway this man into voting for Margaery. But honestly, after the attitude he was giving her and all of these other factors, she couldn’t be assed to try. Besides, if he has a problem with Margaery’s background, at least she now knows he won’t be voting for Joffrey. The Lannister family is a terror.

“Okay, I can see I’m not going to be getting anywhere here. Can I just leave some pamphlets with you?”

“Yeah, fine,” he grumbles out. She hands some of the glossy fliers to him, ready for the inevitable slamming of the door.

He’s staring at her pointedly, clearing his throat when all she does is stare at him confused. “Your foot…”

Embarrassed, she pulls her foot back from the doorway it was still sticking out in, turning around to walk the few blocks back to her car. “Have a good day sir,” she calls out behind her sarcastically. She rolls her eyes at the sound of the door slamming.

It takes a lot of restraint to not add “a bit of an asshole” to the notes on his voter profile.

--

Arya’s just washing up the last of the dishes she’d let pile up over the week in her sink when her drier buzzes, signaling the load she’d put in was done. Putting the last plate in the drying rack, she wipes her hands off on a dish towel and heads toward her laundry room.

As soon as she’d gotten home from canvassing, she’d taken a shower, thrown on some comfortable clothes, and started making headway in her list of chores. She’s hoping to get through the last few things by tomorrow morning, so she might have time to get some gardening done. Jon always makes fun of her choosing to spend her Sundays gardening, especially when she spends all of her week outdoors at work, but she’s pretty sure he’s just upset that he can’t keep a plant alive for shit.

She’s just finished putting her clothes away when she enters the living room to see her phone light up with a text. Checking it, she sees it’s from her friend Shireen.

Queen Shireen: Drinks tonight? On me.

Arya: You had me at free drinks, lmao

Queen Shireen: Haha, I thought I would. The Crossroads?

Arya: Ew, no, that gross bartender might be working

Queen Shireen: Tru, tru.

Arya: How about Hot Pie’s place

Queen Shireen: Is he working tonight?

Arya: Idk, maybe

Arya: If he is, we can probably get some free fries from him

Queen Shireen: I’m down.

Arya: 9:30?

Queen Shireen: Lmao bitch, you thought.

Queen Shireen: I have to be up early tomorrow to catch the ferry to Dragonstone. I’m going to visit my father and stepmom.

Arya: Ooh, the wicked witch of Dragonstone herself

Queen Shireen: She wishes.

Queen Shireen: …literally. She wishes she were a witch.

Arya: Don’t we all

Queen Shireen: Lol.

Queen Shireen: 7:30?

Arya: Sounds good! I’ll see you there

--

The bar Hot Pie works at had been an inn before it had been a bar. He’d been the cook there and when it had been bought out by some congressman named Dondarrion from the Marches, they’d kept Hot Pie on. At his insistence, they’d kept much of the inn’s menu when it became the bar, though most people settled for ordering fries and nachos, much to Hot Pie’s chagrin. The outside was just as dingy as it had been when it was an inn—apparently the new owner couldn’t be fucked to clean it up a bit—and the sign on the front was in such disrepair, that nobody knew the actual name of the place. She’d heard some of the bartenders refer to themselves as a brotherhood, but she figured that was just some weird southern thing.

When Arya arrives, she has to muscle her way past a few people before reaching the corner booth Shireen has managed to snag, her purse, coat, and drink spread across the seat and table, an intimidating look on her face. Well, intimidating for Shireen.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, just lost track of time a bit.” She slides some of Shireen’s stuff over and plops down on the sticky vinyl seat.

Shireen rolls her eyes. “’s fine, I got started without ya.”

She sends her friend a grin. “I can tell. So, what’s wrong then, why are you already tipsy at…,” she checks her phone, “8:04?”

Shireen lets out a prolonged sigh, propping her right arm onto the table and resting her face against her hand. “Just not lookin’ forward to going home tomorrow.”

Arya shrugs. “So don’t.”

“That’s the thing. Think I really need to.” She begins twirling around her empty glass, the ice clinking softly. “My dad’s been really moody since he lost his reelection.”

She lets out a scoff. “Stannis hates Dragonstone and the people that live there. He lost that election two years ago. We both know how this works Shireen, he could’ve up and relocated and ran somewhere more conservative. Or, he could’ve run for something at the local level.”

“As if the mighty Stannis Baratheon would deign to go from Senator to…to…to mayor or something. And the way that Red Witch is in his ear all of the time, tellin’ him how he oughta run for President, how he could be more successful than his brother…Yeah, I definitely need to go home for a bit. Just don’t really wanna.” She takes another pull of her drink, frowning when she gets nothing but melted ice. Arya sends a soft look her friend’s way, concerned.

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to go get one drink for me and a water for you, close out the tab, then we’ll head to your place and watch some trashy tv. You’ll go to sleep, I’ll crash on your couch, and I’ll drive you to catch the ferry tomorrow if, and only if, you still feel up to going, okay?”

“Fine, fine. But you should know, Hot Pie isn’t working tonight so we can’t get free fries,” she pouts.

She chuckles at her friend’s disgruntled expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy us some fries.”

After a few minutes she’s managed to flag down a bartender. She’s leaning against the bar, hoping whoever is in the back tonight makes them as crispy as Hot Pie does, when she sees a familiar face under a mop of black hair a few stools down, nursing a beer. It’s the guy from earlier, Gendry. He’s in conversation with someone, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. If he looked good before, frowning at her, he looks even better now; friendlier, more open. Too bad his personality didn’t seem to match. When his eyes drift past the guy he’s talking to, meeting her own, she quickly glances back to behind the bar.

Once she gets her drinks and fries, she maneuvers her way through the thickening crowd back to Shireen, steadfastly ignoring Gendry Waters. She places the fries down in front of Shireen, trying to drag her attention away from the bar.

“What are you looking at?”

Shireen’s forehead is scrunched up in thought. “Why were you glaring at my Uncle Renly?”

“Who?”

“The guy with the black hair and the beer. That’s my uncle.” Maybe Shireen had had more to drink than she originally thought.

“No,” she drags out, “that’s some guy I met canvassing today. His name’s Gendry.”

“Weird. He looks just like my uncle.” She picks up a handful of fries, shoving them in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Hot Pie’s fries are crispier.”

--

It’s around 9 am when she gets home from taking Shireen to catch the ferry. She hadn’t slept very well on Shireen’s couch, so she’s ready to lay down in her own soft bed to catch a few more hours of sleep, maybe make some pancakes after, then head outside to tend to her garden. She’s just finished changing from her grimy bar clothes into some pajamas when her phone lights up from her nightstand.

Sansa: Emergency

Sansa: We’re phonebanking from 12-4 today and two volunteers said they can’t come in

Sansa: Marge and I really need the extra help and you’re great with the phones

Sansa: Please

Arya: Ok

Arya: You owe me pancakes next weekend

Sansa: Deal! Thanks so much, see you soon

She lets out a sigh, setting an alarm for 11 before settling into bed.

#gendrya #gendrya positivity #gendrya fic #arya x gendry fic #my fic #axg fic #probably shouldnt read if you hate progressive/liberal/dem viewpoints lol

[prairiesongserial]

8.7

Ueno raised her arms above her head, stretching like a cat. That woman with the flyers - Fields - was rambling down the street, jumping at any poor person she met.

Ueno cracked a smile at Friday. “I assume you won’t be attending the Town Hall?”

“How else will I learn the dark secrets of Oklahoma City?” Friday returned. “I can’t think of a single better use of my evening.”

“I didn’t realize you were interested in politics.” Ueno started walking back the way they had come, and Friday hurried behind her. She found herself wanting to go wherever Ueno went - and not just because she was a distraction from the guilt she was feeling over standing Val up. Though that certainly helped.

“Small town shouting matches?” Friday said. “How could I resist?”

The idea of a Town Hall meeting where nutty schoolteachers could just go and lecture was completely foreign - maybe because Friday was used to Vegas. Vegas was split up in sections that shifted in shape according to what deals the gangs had struck with each other recently. Friday couldn’t imagine anyone marching up to the billiards hall where section five did its business and making a speech.

A commotion drew her attention away, momentarily. A gaggle of boys - barely teenagers - had swarmed Miss Fields. They were dressed in beige farmer’s clothes. A couple were barefoot, while a couple wore boots that were too large, a contrast to the linen pants that stopped well above the ankle. Friday knew street kids; she’d grown up one of them. Once they had a circle around you, you were done. Didn’t matter if it was broad daylight.

Ueno said something, continuing their repartee, but it didn’t register. There were five boys to just one short schoolteacher, and all of them spoke in raised voices, jostling around her.

“Sorry, I have to…” Friday muttered.

She strode quickly over to Miss Fields, trying to tease the individual voices of the boys apart and make sense of what was going on. No one else in the market seemed concerned at all.

“ - we’ve been telling people - ”

“Miss Jef, you gotta hear - ”

“If anyone says I’ve been playing shell games, it’s not true, it was Jason’s idea.”

“Shut up, Ari, that was said in confidence.”

“Boys, boys, quiet down,” Miss Fields’s voice cut through. “If you aren’t doing anything useful with your time, hand these out for me.”

Friday frowned. These weren’t scrappy Vegas kids. They were poor as dirt, you could tell from looking at them, but they went to school. They probably had families, and farm chores. Miss Fields wasn’t in trouble, after all - she knew these boys. Friday dug the flyer out of her pocket, more curious now than she had been before. She squinted down at it, trying to translate the letters into upper case as she read, slowly sounding them out. She glanced up to see if Ueno was watching her struggling to read in the middle of the street, but Ueno was gone. Figured - Ueno hadn’t given any indication that she would stick around once Friday stopped being entertaining.

Friday tried to clear her head and focus on the flyer.

The first line read: “To-night at Town Hall: Clay Digby, Man or Myth, Hero or Not?” Then, underneath, “Leave your p-something notions at the door.” That would be “preconceived,” then.  That was what Miss Fields had said, hadn’t she? Leave your preconceived notions at the door?

Friday received a tap on the arm and looked up, startled, to see one of the farm boys who had been harrassing Miss Fields. The rest of them had followed her in a flock down the street, creating a creature of many arms, which the rest of the town seemed to find very difficult to avoid accepting flyers from.

“You coming, then?” the boy who had tapped Friday said.

“Oh, uh…”

“Miss Jef is alright,” he continued. “I’m Ari.”

He tugged on his sleeves, as if self-conscious about his arms. Come to think of it, Friday hadn’t noticed any mutations on either Miss Fields or the boys. They were the only ones, apart from Andy at the Grand Hotel.

“Miss Jeff?”

“Miss Jef, J-E-F,” Ari said. “You should come, though. Especially if you’re new. You don’t know.”

Friday was beginning to feel more than a little nervous. “What don’t I know?”

“What not to eat,” Ari said seriously. He pointed down to her flyer. “That says seven o’clock, alright?”

“I can read, thank you,” Friday snapped.

Ari shrugged and ran off to rejoin the many-armed creature surrounding Miss June Emilia Fields - or Miss Jef, rather.

Friday had never known kids to love a schoolteacher so much. It gave her a bad feeling. There was always something, and this quaint little town was starting to make her skin crawl. The other shoe was beginning to fall - she could see the shadow.

Friday set her teeth. She should finally catch up with Val - maybe bring him something to eat as an apology. With that thought in mind, she was heading toward one of the street vendors to buy another chicken-apple pastry. The smell of the food carts was enchanting, almost overpowering, and she thought about buying another one for herself, too, before Ari’s words had time to take hold.

She didn’t know what not to eat.

Maybe those kids were just playing a prank, but suddenly the smell of the street vendors seemed a little too appealing.

Better not, Friday thought.

She had wasted enough time - though it was hard to think about all the silver she had nicked as a waste. Stomach growling already, even though she could still taste the lunch she and Ueno had eaten, Friday plowed ahead down Main Street. It wasn’t long before she reached the edge of town, where the apple orchards began.

Finding the right farm, that was the trouble. Friday couldn’t get the name Digby out of her head, even though she knew the orchard she was looking for was called something else. Deerland? Doepark? Deerroot? That sounded close. Friday squinted at the weather-faded markers on the side of the road, sounding out letters that she could hardly see, and getting more frustrated by the minute.

What kind of town still used English? Didn’t even put the symbols down alongside. Vegas wasn’t like this. Vegas was all symbols, and it was better that way. Anyone from anywhere could walk down the street and know exactly what was offered - the doctor, grocer, butcher, it was all pared down to symbols. You didn’t need to be able to read some particular name like “Monrovia’s General Store.” You went in, did your business, and then you remembered where you damn well were if you wanted to see Monrovia again. You didn’t have to pick apart “Deerhead” from “Deeproot” and remember which was which.

“Friday?”

Friday straightened, spotting Val coming down the road toward her. There was an officer behind him; a young woman, pregnant. She was flushed in the face, breathing heavily with the exertion of walking a long way. Every rise and fall of her chest bounced the afternoon light off her five-pointed sheriff’s badge. The sheriff held her hat in her hand, fanning herself with it, and as she got closer, Friday noticed the horns peeking out of her hair.

Friday’s skin crawled. She should have been out here with Val all day. She had pictured him alone, which was bad enough, but this was terrible. He had been with the Oklahoma City Sheriff.

“Friday, this is Peggy - Sheriff Parsons.” Val came to a halt next to Friday, giving her a stern look. “We found some leads. I’ll tell you about it back at the hotel.”

“Um, great,” Friday said. She met eyes with Parsons. The sheriff had a friendly, rosy-cheeked face, and extended a hand to Friday.

“Nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Friday Wilmot,” she said, taking the hand. “My pleasure.”

Friday very much wanted to tell Val about the weird kids and Miss Jef, but managed to contain herself, worrying her lip with her teeth as the three of them walked back to town. Val and Parsons filled the conspicuous silence with forced talk, where-are-you-froms and the like. Val kept stealing glances at her, rightly assuming that something was wrong. Friday wished she had a good reason to drag Val away from the Sheriff. They had a lot to catch up on, and there was no knowing if she could speak frankly in front of Parsons.

“Have you eaten yet?” Parsons asked her.

“Uh...yes,” Friday said.

“Well, Teddy will have something to say about it if I come home without an appetite, but Val, you’ve been out with me in the orchard all day. You must be starving. Can I buy you something?”

“That would be kind of you,” Val said. “I don’t know how long it’s been since we’ve had a real meal.”

Parson’s face lit up.

“Why don’t I have you both over for dinner, then? Teddy won’t mind, if I give him enough warning.”

Friday gripped Val’s arm hard. “We actually can’t,” she said firmly. “I should have said so earlier, but we were invited to dinner already.”

“We were?” muttered Val. She didn’t like the look he was giving her.

“That’s good to hear,” said Parsons. “I’m glad you’re being taken care of. Who’s hosting you?”

“Andy. Andy at the Grand Hotel.”

“In that case, I’ll see you at the Town Hall, alright, Val?” Parsons chirped. “Invitation to dinner stands, by the way, if you’re still in town tomorrow.”

“Um, yes, thanks. See you then,” said Val. He gave her a genuine smile as the town began to form before them. Friday wondered at that - this whole trip, Val had been the last to trust any of the people they’d met. And he’d always been right. Why was he so ready to go home with the sheriff all of a sudden?

Friday gave Parsons a wave and dragged Val off to the first side street they came to.

“What was that?” Val hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot.

Friday let go of his arm.

“Okay, yes, definitely my bad for no-showing.” She bit her lip. “But we need to compare notes.”

8.6 || 8.8

#story

[rayraywrites]

Chapter 5: Everything but the baseball

Prompt: Free Time - Day off/Vacation

Characters: Sawamura Eijun, Kuramochi Youichi, Kawakami Norifumi, Furuya Satoru

Rating: General Audiences

Total Word Count: 4105

AO3

Summary:

“Don’t watch the clock; do what it does. Keep going” — Sam Levenson

A day of for him doesn’t mean he sleeps in. It just means he does things a bit different.

Many people found it difficult to wake up before the sun. Something about how their minds were never truly functional till the sun was already up in the sky. And when they were forced to be up that early, they grumbled and whined.

But for him it was as simple as breathing. Waking up with, or even before the sun, had been a habit of his since his childhood days. You couldn’t grow up as a farm boy and be expected to sleep in. He would wake up before the sun in order to find that ten minutes alone time before his chores would start. So coming to Seidou, where practice didn’t begin till 5:30 am? Most days he was awake, waiting for his alarm to go off. Kuramochi-senpai had made it very clear that he wasn’t allowed to leave the room when the sun hadn’t even begun shining.

But some days, he got the opportunity to sneak out and be by himself so early in the morning. Carefully slipping his shoes on, and muffling the hinges with his towel so that no noise could be heard, he stepped out of the room. The minute he would make it out of the border of the dorms, his careful saunter immediately changed into a free-spirited run, sprinting at break-neck speed to appreciate the chill of the morning air and the quietness of the still half-asleep world. Making it to the field, he dropped his things in the corner of the steps, a water bottle still filled from the previous night’s planning, alongside his phone and keys.

Dropping to the ground, he began his morning stretches. Feeling the pleasurable pull in the back of his thighs as he stretched his legs out, he let out a happy groan. Reaching out to touch his toes, both individual legs, and together, he could feel his body awakening alongside his mind.

Standing up, he began his morning run at a slow jog, wanting to avoid any injuries caused by being overly excited. As his pace quickened, he allowed his mind to wander to the coach’s announcement from the previous night.

Kataoka Kantoku’s face was as impassive as ever, but there had been a slight upturn to his lips that belied his pride. “Good job everyone on our win today, the game was extremely well played.”

They had won the practice game, completely one-sided. The only reason the game had gone the full nine innings was for the sake of the game being a practice one – the more practice the better after all.

“So because of your good work, and with training week beginning soon, I’m ordering you all to take a day off. That means, tomorrow, there will be no practicing of baseball. Running and weight training will be allowed, but even then only for a minimal amount.”

It had felt as if the coach’s eyes had been locked on him during the whole announcement, pulling a bright blush to his face while a scowl grew on his lips. Even worse, it hadn’t escaped his teammates awareness either, for they all laughed at his expense, knowing how easily he would over-practice in his zeal.

So all he could do now was run a little, and not even to his full extent because he knew that coach would be made aware somehow. He wouldn’t be able to pitch at all tomorrow if he pushed himself too hard. With a soft whine, he slowed his run back down again, and changed his direction to head back towards the steps. Picking up his water bottle, he pulled off the lid, taking a large gulp of water. He could feel some of it spill out onto his chin, and instead run down his neck as cold rivulets. With a loud gasp, he finished swallowing and reached up to wipe the extra water with the back of his hand.

His phone showed that it was only 5:45 am, so he doubted that anyone would be awake yet, not with a day off. So his walk back towards the dorms was quiet, not wanting to disturb anyone’s sleep, even if he was full of energy. His room was still dim as he slowly eased open the door, the sun having not had a chance to seep into the room just yet.

Walking over to the window, he shifted the plants on the sill so that when he was finally allowed to open the curtains, the ones requiring the most sun would be at the forefront. With a gentle smile, he stuck a finger into the soil of his cactus, checking if it would need any water since it had been a few weeks since he’d watered it. Realizing the soil was a bit dry, he went to pull his finger out of the dirt, and accidentally brushed it against the sharp spines of the plant. With a wince, he pulled his hand back towards his chest, cradling the finger gently.

Seeing that his hand was fine, he laughed slightly and leaned down to pick up the watering can. With practiced ease, he gave every plant that needed water some nourishment, and a little extra love for his beloved sunflower. He had begun humming as he always did when working with plants, smiling to himself as the plants seemed to waken under his careful fingers.

–

Unbeknownst to himself, his humming had quickly transitioned into actual singing. When he lost himself to his plants and music, it was hard to pull him out of it.

“Imagine all the people. Living life in peace~”

While Asada had taken the day off as an excuse to go visit his family, Kuramochi was still asleep in the room, and found himself waking up to Sawamura’s singing. And like clockwork, every time he’d stumbled upon the singing, he found himself blushing even though his eyes continued to track every single movement of the pitcher’s. He had, however, winced slightly when he saw that Sawamura had hurt his hand, but luckily it was the right hand and it didn’t seem that any real injury had occurred.

Eventually, Sawamura was done and the singing stopped. Kuramochi immediately closed his eyes, working on bringing his breathing back to normal, as if he was asleep still.

–

With that done, he headed back to his bed, and stripped of his practice clothes. With none of his roommates awake, he wasn’t in as much of a rush as usual, though he was also slow, because it was only after he took his shorts and shirt off that he realized he wasn’t sure if he had any clean regular clothes left. Luckily, he still had one of the baseball tees Wakana had bought him for his birthday last year – he’d outgrown it slightly, but for a day off it was fine. Stretching his hands upwards to the sky, he felt the last bit of strain in his back from the day before’s game disappear. Slipping on the shirt, and a pair of khakis, he relaxed a little.

Because the day was so beautiful, he decided to go outside to read his manga, rather than stay cooped up inside. Reaching for the books shoved underneath his bed, he managed to find the latest volume of Kimi ni Todoke that he’d borrowed from Haruno. Kanemaru had been breathing down his neck for the past few days to get his hands on it as well, so he had to finish it today.

Straightening up from his bed, he accidentally made eye contact with Kuramochi, who had apparently woken while he had been puttering around the room. Curiously, his senpai’s face was bright red, but questioning Kuramochi-senpai was never a good idea. So with a bright smile, he greeted him.

“Good morning Kuramochi-senpai! The sun is shining very brightly today, would you like to join me for some reading or something outside?”

His smile dimmed a little at the glare he received from Kuramochi, and then the sharp hit on his head made him scowl. Backing away from the bed, he went to pick up his things and stomp out, but stopped by the sheepish voice calling him back.

“Ugh...sorry Bakamura. It’s just your voice is too loud and it’s too early.”

He whirled back around to glare at his senpai, who only laughed loudly before speaking again.

“Kyahaha, don’t make such a pouty face baka. You go enjoy your day reading your stupid shoujo manga, and I’ll enjoy my day with video games.” Kuramochi waved his hand dismissively towards the door.

With a huff, he headed towards the door, throwing one last annoyed glance back towards Kuramochi before reaching to open the door. Just as he was about to slip out, the shortstop called out one last comment that had him spluttering and blushing – both from embarrassment and anger.

“Oh by the way, Bakamura you’re singing isn’t half bad, but maybe not so loud when others are trying to sleep alright? Kyahaha!”

Grumbling about stupid senpais under his breath, he ran out of the room, back towards the field. But this time, rather than going down the steps fully, he simply sat himself down on the side of the steps, pressing himself into the grooves of the cement and hill. Slipping on some earbuds, and pulling out his manga, he easily lost himself in the pages.

Crying at Sawako’s diligent attempts at making friends with everyone in her class, her growing friendship with Kurumi, and everyone’s relationship struggles. He grinned brightly at Kazehaya developing relationship with his father, and even laughed at how similar it was to his own grandfather. As much as he loved baseball, there was just something simple and carefree about the characters in shoujo manga. They had their passions and loves, but it was friendship, romance and personal development that came first in their lives rather than a sport. Though, he did have to say, he was a bit partial to this one because Ryuu played baseball too.

I kind of wish I was as cool as he is with Chizu.

As the sun began raising to approach its peak in the sky, he began shifting slightly away from the corner he’d tucked himself into. As his feet moved to stretch out, they brushed something against something soft that had him raising his head from the manga. Blinking, he was momentarily stunned to see Nori-senpai sitting near him with a pair of headphones placed on his ears. He noted the absence of a book, but saw a rubix cube that the other pitcher was fiddling with.

Ripping out his earbuds, his moment of quiet realization quickly ended as he shouted in surprise, “EHHH? Nori-senpai, what are you doing here!?”

Luckily, unlike some of his other senpai, Nori wasn’t one to hit him when he was loud. Instead, his fellow pitcher simply sighed, removed his headphones from his ears and tucked them around his neck. From there all he did was just nudge Eijun, a subtle signal to quiet down, making him blush lightly.

Still, he quirked an eyebrow and gestured for Nori to answer his question.

“You looked like you were comfortable, and I wanted to know what you were listening to but didn’t want to interrupt your reading.” Nori laughed, something he normally didn’t hear which pulled a smile to his own face. “You were crying when I got here Sawamura, so I was definitely not willing to bother you until that was done.”

Giggling, he shook his head, and replied, “you could have if you wanted senpai, it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal.” Unlike Kuramochi-senpai or Miyuki, Nori had never teased him about his shoujo manga, so he never went on about it during their rare conversations. “As for my music, it was just a playlist of anime soundtracks Wakana recommended me.” Pulling up his music app on his phone, he turned it around to show the other pitcher. “There’s about 60 sixty songs that are on the playlist,” he scrolled through them quickly with his thumb, “all of them are supposed to be soothing so I like to listen to them when reading manga.”

Nori nodded, before reaching for his own phone and pulled up a specific album on his phone. “I think you might like listening to this artist as well then,” he turned his phone around to show a photo of an album. “They remix the old legend of zelda game soundtracks - Majora’s Mask. It’s really lovely, and I think you might actually enjoy them!”

It was always fun to discuss music with Nori-senpai. He always suggested fun artists or songs for him to listen to, and somehow he always knew that Eijun would enjoy them. So he trusted that these would be just as interesting to listen to. Another thing he enjoyed was that on days like this, Nori-senpai wouldn’t force him into a long-drawn conversation. Eijun was naturally loud and enjoyed being around people, but sometimes he liked spending the day a little quieter and on his own.

Their conversation ended soon after, and he put his earbuds back on to finish the last bit of the manga volume in his hands. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as Nori raised the headphones back onto his ears – to himself, he laughed as he realized they were those cute cat ones that Shirasu-senpai had given Nori for Christmas last year. And like before, Nori continued fiddling with the rubix cube, easily finishing and scrambling the cube over and over again.

Another half hour or so passed in this manner, in which he finished the volume as well as the playlist he had been listening to. Standing up, he shook out his legs to allow blood flow to return smoothly. Straightening out his pants, and dusting off his shirt, he then leaned down to pick up his things and turned back to face Nori. Running a hand through his hair, he let his hand slide to the back of his neck.

“Guess I’ll see you later Nori-senpai! You should join me for my morning run tomorrow!” With a bright grin, he began to walk away, heading back to his room. Hearing the response to his question, he simply waved his hand in acquiescence and continued on his path.

Upon entering his room, he could see that Kuramochi-senpai had woken up and had now situated himself in front of the tv to play video games. Glancing at the screen he could see that it was one of the games that the shortstop had been raving about wanting to try out for a few weeks. However, he couldn’t remember when they’d had a moment’s breath for Kuramochi to have bought it. Apparently his confused thoughts had translated to not-so-quiet mutters, for Kuramochi grunted out a reply in the midst of a combo attack from the enemy.

“Borrowed it off of a guy in my class.”

Making the appropriate sounds of understanding, he walked towards his own bed, dropping the manga and phone down, while reaching towards his desk. Unlike the rest of it, there was one corner that was always kept clean and organized, even if it wasn’t obvious among the clutter. Tugging out his sketchbook and pencil case, he then went back to his bed to grab his phone once more. Calling out a loud goodbye to Kuramochi, he left the room once more.

Checking the time, he realized it was already past noon, so he changed his direction towards the cafeteria. Hopefully some of the kitchen ladies wouldn’t mind giving him the food in a packed container so he could eat outside. Luckily, with it being a day off, they were a bit more accepting of his odd request. Smiling at them brightly, he bowed deeply. Normally he would spout some archaic phrase of thanks, but he was excited to get back outside and settle down for the rest of the day. Waving and calling out greetings to the members of the team who were in the cafeteria, he proceeded to the exit, already trying to figure out what his focus was going to be.

As he wandered around the edge of the baseball field, he saw something poking out of the ground, somehow having evaded the lawnmowers. Smiling to himself, he sat down beside the plant, fingers already itching to turn the bright yellow petals into brushstrokes on his page. Immediately, he whipped open his sketchbook, past rough drawings of his friends, the baseball field. His fingers brushed Kuramochi’s face, drooling in his sleep while the shortstop was hunched over a pillow – he had fallen asleep during a video game marathon. His eyes got caught on a sketch of Nori and Miyuki playing catch together, smiles on both of their faces. He quickly flipped through the pages filled with his teammates, and landed on a blank page, closer to the end.

His tongue stuck out as he began roughly outlining the flower, using only the lightest of pencil lines to just get the geometric shapes of each part of the plant. Then he picked up his pen, letting his hand flow on the page. He had been drawing since he was a little boy – his one shelf at home as filled to the brim with sketchbooks. Once the flower was complete, he pulled back the sketchbook, bringing it to his eye level to see if there was anything he could do to make it better. Adding a line here or there, he made a satisfied noise and signed the top corner.

With a soft sigh, he continued sketching, a few more flowers from different angles, a sketch of the landscape – combining the field, the stairs, and the dorms all into one, and some random other things he felt like doodling. Drawing was soothing, like his plants and reading, it was a break from his more hectic life here at Seidou, and just overall. So when he would get the chance, he would try and document the important things in his life as sketches. The moments that fit the phrase “pretty as a picture.”

In the middle of a sketch of his shoes, he felt someone come near him, their height blocking the light he needed. With a scowl, he turned around, ready to shout for them to move out of his way. But seeing Furuya standing there with a confused look on his usually stoic face, only made him shake his head in annoyance before calling out, “Furuya if you’re going to hang out here, get out of the way – we only have a few more hours of sunlight after all!” Gesturing for the other pitcher to move, he turned back to his sketch. Glancing at his shoe that he’d propped up against his pencil case for some nice shadows caused by the angle, he made some final adjustments as Furuya settled down beside him.

Throwing a confused look to the other boy, he shook his head and focussed on his drawings. He noticed that Furuya had brought a baseball, which was rolling through his hands. A reprimand was on the tip of his tongue, ready to accuse Furuya of practicing when they were expressly forbade from anything rigorous. However, he stopped, eyes entranced by how at ease Furuya was when he was holding a baseball, how the normally tensed body slowly relaxed the longer the ball was in his hand. And more importantly, how pretty a picture it made.

So with slight adjustments to his posture, he slowly skipped onto another clean page, pulling out more of his pencils and rubbers to create another drawing. This time, his muse was Furuya and the baseball that meant so much to them. He could tell that Furuya had realized he was now the model, for his actions became slower, as if to help Eijun by staying still. But instead of being helpful, it only added stiffness to Furuya’s wrist and fingers, so he shook his head, encouraging his teammate to keep moving and be himself.

Wide, broad strokes defined the geometric shape of the palm, a rough circle placed the ball carefully onto the page. Then tube-like structures began shaping the fingers, the three circling around the ball, carefully cradling it in an understated strength. And then, he pulled out his heavy-weight pencils, a blending stump following to add the shadows that curled under each finger, that spread across the ball in patches. He continued to glance at Furuya’s hand that had yet to stop fidgeting with the baseball. In the dim evening light, there was limited light bouncing off his nails, but Eijun wanted to give it a view of early morning, as if light was slowly growing on the hand as the sun rose in the sky. Pulling out his white pencil, he added highlights, once more blending them into the rest of the hand.

Like each sketch, he held it away from himself, to see what needed to be fixed, and what was fine. He scowled at the shape of the tip of the middle finger and adjusted it, using his eraser to clean the edges of the shadows a bit more. When he was finally satisfied, he signed the drawing, before clearing his throat to attract Furuya’s attention.

“Here, you can take a look,” turning the sketchbook to face Furuya, Eijun tried to act as if his opinion meant nothing, “if you want of course.”

When Furuya reached out for the book, he handed it over, albeit a little hesitantly. And yet, there was no negative comments, only Furuya staring at it blankly. Pouting at the lack of a reaction, he crossed his arms, huffing out a breath in impatience.

“Well? What do you think? Did I do okay? What’s wrong with it?” He was definitely getting much too worked up over the sketch, but something about actually showing the person who he’d drawn was very nerve-wracking. He’d managed to go this long, with no one ever seeing his art, at least never ones of themselves. Harucchi had seen the one of oniisan-senpai in the middle of catching a ball, and had demanded a copy of it immediately. But that was the only time – everyone else who knew he drew assumed it was only landscape and plants.

But even after his prompting and pestering, Furuya didn’t reply. Instead, all he received was an intense glare from the other pitcher, making him scowl righteously in response. Then Furuya slowly ripped the drawing from the sketchbook, making him reach out in shock. And before he could formulate a response, the pitcher stood up, and walked away.

Scrambling up, he shouted after Furuya, confused and a little upset. Not so much because his drawing was taken, but because even then, he hadn’t been able to read Furuya at all. With a loud sigh, he dropped back to the ground, and packed up all his things. It was nearing sunset, and he knew that if he wanted to get away with an evening run, he would have to get back to his room soon.

The rest of the evening continued without any pomp, he simply dropped his things back in his room and then headed out with Kuramochi for dinner in the cafeteria. Eventually managing to escape everyone heading to Miyuki’s room, he changed into the same clothing from that morning, and worked out some of the pent up energy he’d been unable to expend from the lack of practice. By the time it approached lights out, he’d managed to slightly tire himself out. In the back of his mind, he could vaguely remember the threat of a math test later on that week, and managed to focus for about thirty minutes, but gave up quickly to instead go to bed.

Waking up early, meant that he often went to bed early to compensate. An athlete needed an appropriate amount of sleep after all. Unless you were Miyuki, who most of the team wasn’t sure actually slept.

Another day complete, another day off taken care of. His eyes slid shut, satisfied with everything he’d done that day.

–

Waking up the next morning, slipping into his practice clothes again, he headed out for his run. Exiting the room, he was surprised to see something stuck to their door. Pulling it off, he blinked, before laughing brightly at what he saw.

It was a crude drawing of what was supposed to be a hand holding a baseball. A left hand.

“It’s horrid. How cute.”

Here’s Eijun’s first drawing of a daffodil & his drawing of Furuya’s hand holding the baseball: (drawn by yours truly)

And then, here's Furuya's attempt at a hand :D

#daiya no ace #sawamura eijun #kuramochi youichi #kawakami norifumi #furuya satoru #ace of diamond #diamond no ace #eijun week #day 5 #ray ray writes

[bangtansoyumdamn]

Berry Sweet

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 3.2K+

A/N: The idea of farmer Taehyung sounded cute to me and so I decided to write this fic. So here’s a sweet fic of Farmer Tae Tae on a strawberry farm, maybe now the title will make sense haha. Hope you all like it :)

You hopped onto the nearly filled bus, sighing as you look around for an empty seat. You were exhausted and just wanted to get home. You find one near the back and you let out a sigh of relief. Sitting down, you rest your head against the window. Your eyes fluttering shut.

Your eyebrows furrow and you frown as you heard a voice disrupting your sleep.

“Miss, are you getting off? This is my last stop.”

You sit up in an instant and look at your surroundings. You’ve fallen asleep, for who knows how long.

“Uh-- umm. This isn’t my stop Sir.”

“I didn’t ask if it was. This is my last stop, you have to get off.”

You scoff at his rude reply, picking up your backpack from the floor and swinging it over your shoulder. You made your way to the automatic doors of the bus and asked a question while walking out.

“So where is this place anyways?” As you turned around, the doors closed and the bus left you there, clueless of where you are.

“Ah.. jinjja.”

You look around for any signs of life, a house, a convenience store, or something, but it was just fields and fields of strawberries.

You scream loudly out of frustration. First, you pulled an all nighter to study for your Chemistry exam, that you ended up failing by the way, then, you fell asleep on the bus, causing you to be in your current situation, lost. You were supposed to be in your bed sleeping at this very moment.

You look to your left and right, there isn’t even a single car that’s passing by, why is there even a bus stop here?

“Are you okay?” You hear someone yell from behind, causing you to jump. You turn around to see a tall young man with dark brown hair. He’s wearing a white shirt with denim overalls, one strap off.

“Aish~ you scared me.”

He flashes you a boxy smile, “mianhaeyo. But seriously, what’s wrong?”

“It’s none of your business,” you said, turning back around. How were you going back home? Where are you even? Your eyes widen and you feel your back pockets for your phone, sighing of relief when you feel it. You go on the map app, trying to figure out where you were. You let out a sigh when you find out you were still in Daegu. Well that’s good then.

“Seriously Miss, do you need help? If you’re waiting for the bus it isn’t coming anymore. That was the last stop for today.”

You turn around, “no, I don’t need your help. I’m fine, I’m just trying to figure out where I am.”

You shake your phone in the air, showing him that you were on the map looking for directions.

“Great. I’m forty minutes away from home,” you mumble to yourself, also mentally killing yourself when you remember that you didn’t bring any money, because you brought just enough for the one bus trip home. You can’t help but let out a groan out of frustration, stomping your right foot hard on the ground. You shut your eyes tightly, while also clenching your fist hard, that your nails dug into your palms. You inhaled deeply, trying to calm yourself, and turned around.

“Yes. Yes, I need your help.”

The farmer boy flashes the same boxy smile at me before taking off his gloves and picking up the baskets he was using. They were filled with juicy red strawberries.

“Yeah, I figured.”

You glared at him and he can’t help but keep a smirk on his face.

“Hold this, let’s go inside.” He hands me one of the baskets he was holding and points to a small house in the distance.

You entered his small house, following him around.

He places the baskets on the counter, taking the basket in your hands and placing those by the sink. He quietly starts washing the strawberries, not saying a word to you. You bite your cheek and tap your foot, not knowing what else to do.

“Um-- hey farmer boy.” The young man turns around to look at you. His eyebrows raising in response.

“How are you going to help me go home?”

His eyes looks around for a second, like he doesn’t remember me needing help at all.

“I’ll drive you there, let me just finish this.”

You bite your lip and nod slowly, turning back around when he does.

“It’s Taehyung by the way. Kim Taehyung.”

You turn back quickly when you heard him talk.

“Okay.”

He lets out a chuckle, “you aren’t going to tell me yours?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m (Y/n).”

“Who’s this?” You heard from behind you. It was a voice of an older woman. You turn around quickly to see a small old lady standing by the front door of the little house.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” you said, while bowing your head to show respect to the older woman. It must be Taehyung’s grandmother.

Taehyung turns around, wiping his wet hands on his shirt.

“This is (Y/n). She’s in quite some trouble and I’m just going to help her with that after I finish with the strawberries.”

The older woman nods, and tells Taehyung a few more things to do before we get going. He simply smiles and obeys the older woman’s favors before going back to wash the strawberries.

By the list of chores he needed to finish, and all the strawberries he needed to wash, it seemed like it would be a while until you’d get home. So you offered to help him.

You stand next to him by the sink and began washing the strawberries. He looks at you confused.

“You don’t have to help me, I’ll be done soon.”

“You have two more baskets and this one, if I don’t help you, I won’t be able to go home soon.”

He smiles slightly, but you weren’t able to see as you were focused on the strawberries.

“Was that your grandmother?” You asked. Trying to carry a conversation to help pass time. He shakes his head no.

“Actually, it’s my grandmother’s best friend. My grandmother’s farm is close by, I’m just here to help her out because her grandkids that usually help are on vacation with her own kids. She didn’t want to leave the farm unattended.”

“Oh, you must be a very good grandson.”

He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I try to be.”

The two of you continue with the strawberries, and finish in about an hour.

“Okay--” you sighed, about to wipe your hands on your shirt but you hesitated. Your eyes shift to Taehyung who casually wipes his on his shirt, you decide to wipe it on him too.

“--What’s next?”

He laughs at your actions and shakes his head, “did you just wipe your wet hands on my shirt?”

You shrug, “I can’t get this top wet, it’s dry clean only.”

He shake his head, still smiling, causing you to smile as well.

“We need to feed the chickens, so come on.”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the back door.

Taehyung grabs your hand and turns it over, revealing your palm. He pours some seeds onto it and motions for you to come close to the chicken coop. You stand in front of it quietly, and he opens the door and six or seven chickens pop out, scaring you, causing to drop the seeds all over the floor. You scream loudly as some chickens starts to flap their wings and hopping high enough to almost reach your face. You push them off as they get close to you and you run off behind Taehyung, who is dying of laughter.

You don’t notice that you’re hugging his waist from behind tightly as you kept your focus on the chickens. Taehyung manages to calm down from his laughter, and wipes the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.  

“Come on, let’s go check if there’s any eggs.” He steps forward but your tight grasp on him held him in place.

“I am not going near those hot wings,” you say, with dark eyes.

Taehyung laughs again slightly, before pushing you in front of him. He holds his arms around you and you gladly cling onto his forearms. The fear of the chickens distracting you from the intimacy you were having with the farm boy you barely knew.

The two of you slowly crept behind the chickens, who was distracted with the food, and check inside the coop. There was only one or two eggs.

“We’ll just get them tomorrow, maybe there would be more then.”

“Okay,” you said, “how are you going to get those chickens back in there?”

“We’ll put them back after they eat.”

“You mean you’ll put them back. I’m not touching those.”

He laughs, “Come on (Y/n), don’t be afraid of them, they’re sweet.”

You scoff, “yeah, when you dip them in honey mustard.”

He flashes you a boxy smile before picking up one of the hens.

“Here, hold her.”

“I’m not touching that thing.”

“Come on, just hold her.”

“Taehyung, no.”

“You want to go home faster don’t you?”

You scrunch your nose at him before closing your eyes and extending out your arms. He places the chicken in your arms and you slowly open them to find the chicken quiet and peaceful.

“Oh this isn’t that bad.”

“See, I told you.”

You bend your head to the side to look at the hen’s face and right when you did, it flapped its wings and pecked you hard on the nose.

“AH!”

“I am so sorry about that,” Taehyung says while scratching the back of his neck. He places a small band-aid on the tip of your nose.

“I only like chicken if they are fried or in my soup. Other than that, I hate them.”

He smiles at your response.

“It should heal soon, it’s just a small cut.”

“It better, it makes me look stupid.”

He lets out an amuse sigh, “here, my grandmother usually does this to me when I get hurt.”

With that, he leans closer and places a kiss on my nose.

“It should heal magically now,” he smiles, before walking out of the restroom of the owner’s house. You were glad that he walked away right away, or else he would’ve seen your cheeks turn pink.

You are starting to feel something for that farmer boy.

“Do you want to meet a special friend of mine?”

“Sure, who is he or she?”

“Come, I’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, and runs. Leading you to a place far into the fields.

“Waa~”

Taehyung looks over at you and smiles at your amazement over his horse.

“This is Haru, she’s beautiful isn’t she?”

You nod, walking closer to the dark brown coated horse. She seems to like you instantly, and lets you pet her face.

“Do you want to take her for a ride? We can go around the place, halmeoni’s farm is pretty big, there’s lots I could show you.”

You turn back around to face him, your face bright and happy, you dreamt of having a horse and riding one when you were a little girl, so this was a dream come true.

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Once Taehyung finished putting on the saddle, he helped you hop on to it and he got on shortly afterwards, wrapping his arms around you to hold the reins.

“Here hold this,” he says, giving them to you. Once you hold onto them, he wraps his hand over it so he can guide you.

“Are you ready?” he says, bending his head to the side to look at you. His heart warming up when he sees you smiling brighter than he has ever seen you smiling today.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

The two of you stopped once you got on a hill. The sun was setting before your eyes. The two of you sat there, on Haru, watching the sun go down and the sky turn various colors of pink, orange, and blue.

“So what got you into the situation you were in today?” Taehyung brings up. For a second you didn’t know what he was talking about, too busy living your life on the countryside.

“I stayed up all night last night studying for an exam that I completely failed this morning. I was already failing the class but if I aced that one exam it would’ve brought my grade up to a passing one,” you let out a sigh, “I was exhausted and tired, and just wanted to go home and sleep. When I got on my bus to get home, I knocked out and missed my stop. The driver told me I had to get off. I only brought enough money to get home once so even if I wanted to call a cab, I won’t be able to. So I had no choice to stay, then I met you. And now I’m here.”

Taehyung lets out a long sigh, “you must be really tired, I shouldn’t have made you do anything today and should’ve just took you home.”

You place your hand on top of his, which were still wrapped around you, to reassure him.

“No, I had fun today. The first time in a long while.”

The sun fully set and the sky was getting darker as the minutes passed by.

“We should get going,” Taehyung says, pulling on the reins and off you three went.

Taehyung opens the car door for you, you thanked him as you went in.

You turn on the navigator on your phone so he knows where to take you home. You have a forty minute long drive ahead of you and you secretly wished that it was longer. You feel a bit bad for being so rude to him in the beginning but Taehyung has really helped you today, and not just because he’s taking you home. It’s been a while since you’ve been this happy, your days and weeks has been full of stress because of school and you looked forward to the weekend every time. Only for it to be full of studying and sleepless nights. Now that it was the weekend and your classes are over, you have a couple months or so to be stress free, only to be stressed again once school starts, because you have to retake that freaking class again. Usually, all that goes on in your head is school school school, and study study study. No matter how hard you try, chemistry was too hard for you, it’s just something you’re not passionate about. You don’t know if you should continue this career path or not, but you currently have no dreams to follow, so you stay in school just in case. Today, you were able to get rid of all those thoughts. School was off your mind for once. Being on the farm helped you become stress free, and being with Taehyung made it even better. You live alone in a small apartment, your parents living in Seoul with your other sibling. You weren’t the social type, you usually kept to yourself, but with Taehyung you were able to release everything and rant to him about anything. You learned a lot about him too. Just watching him help around the farm showed how caring he is to his grandmother and her friend. Seeing him with the animals showed how sweet he was. Seeing how he helped you even though you were so rude to him made you realize how much of a good person he was to even try to speak to a stranger after acting like a crazy person in front of him. You also learned a lot about him. He talked about his life, and how he started helping his grandmother when he was young. She took care of him for most of his life. You talked about yours too, it’s not as interesting as his, but he listened. He listened about your struggles in school too. You told him how you weren’t able to follow a dream you don’t have. That the only dream you always had was to be a princess and to run off with a prince on a pretty pony. But that was when you were six. Which pretty much came true that night on the farm. It was on the top of the hill, right before we stopped where he told me the most reassuring advice I’ve ever heard. There’s more to life than studying. Don’t be trapped in someone else’s dream.

“We’re almost there,” Taehyung says, and you noticed that you spaced out. You quickly regret that you didn’t take advantage of those past forty minutes talking up a storm with him.

“Aww,” you say quietly to yourself. Taehyung must’ve heard because he takes a glance at you and smiles when he sees your small pout as you stare out the window.

“You want to spend more time with me huh?”

You scoff, “no.” You joke.

“Alright, well here we are.” You look out and see your apartment building and your heart hurts because you know it’ll be the last time you will see this farmer boy.

“Well I guess this is goodbye,” you say looking towards him. His lips are pressed into a smile and he nods.

“I guess it is.”

“I had fun today,” you put your hand over his, which was on the gearshift, “thank you.”

With that you got out of the car, and closed the door, walking towards the door of the apartment building. With your fingers pressing on the keypad, you dialed in your code, and unlocked the door. Before going in you turned around, and Taehyung was still waiting there, making sure you get in safely. You smile and waved him goodbye as you stepped in. You froze in your step when you remembered. Your backpack. It wasn’t on you and all your school supplies were in there.

You turn back and ran to his car, thankful that he hasn’t left yet.

The window rolls down and he looks at you with confusion at your slightly panicked state. But then you slightly smile and his face relaxes.

“I think I left my backpack in halmeoni’s house, do you think you can come by tomorrow and give it to me?”

He smiles his boxy smile again, looking down before looking back up to me and nodding.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Okay,” you smile and began walking away before turning back. “And Tae, can I have your number?”

He chuckles before reaching out his hand to grab your phone. You can feel your cheeks heat up and your glad that it’s dark because then he won’t see.

“You know, so you can like text me when you’re coming, so I know when to get ready and such, not because of anything else.”

His cute smile not leaving his face as he types in his number, Taehyung texts his phone with yours so that he would get your number without having to wait for you to text first.

“Here, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks. See you then.”

As you walk away and actually step in the building, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, and you leaned back on the door. Your phone vibrates and you look down to an unknown number.

“Why were you blushing, princess?”

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