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limitlessgojo · 3 years ago

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Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch. 11)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Invisible Ties

Next Chapter: Goldenrod

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Additional notes: This is so funny but I made a mistake in assuming the previous Goodwill event was held in Tokyo. Rewatched JJK and found out it was in Kyoto so I had to rewrite it XD.

Chapter 11: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He brought out a short table and you had the meal side by side.

It was grilled salmon and miso soup. You both stole glances at each other when the other wasn't looking.

A domestic life with Noritoshi. Yeah you could get used to this. "Thank you for the meal Noritoshi." You smiled and offered to wash the dishes.

He stood behind you in the small kitchenette as you did, humming softly to yourself. Noritoshi was holding your waist gently and leaning his forehead against your shoulder. Thumbing small circles into the sides of your hips.

You quietly smiled at yourself, not expecting Noritoshi to love physical affection this much. After washing the dishes, you laughed as you placed your ice cold hands on his neck, forcing him to let go of you and flinch back with a frown.

Leaving Noritoshi’s dorm after breakfast had terrible timing apparently. You bumped into Todo senpai on your way out.

“Ah.” You both stared at each other for a bit. Noritoshi was still behind you, the door to his dorm room open. It didn’t help that you had your pillows and blankets in your hands.

And you were still in pajamas.

“So is this like a thing now? Congratulations on getting together.” Todo smiled down at you.

“Ah uhm- we- I- “ You stuttered, but Noritoshi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him.

“Yes we are dating. And what of it?” He stared Todo down. You were flustered but incredibly pleased upon finally hearing a solid label between the two of you.

Todo just grinned. “So you actually have decent taste in women huh Kamo?”

“The best.” He replied dryly. You flushed and whined at Noritoshi, pawing at his robes. He just pulled you closer and hid your face in his chest.

“Didn’t know you had this shy side Tsuchi chan.” Todo was laughing. He bid both of you goodbye, and by the end of the day the entire campus knew both of you were dating.

But of course the both of you didn’t know it yet. “So…. you’re my boyfriend now Toshi?” you reached up to twirl his hair in your fingers as you made your belongings float in midair.

His eyes sparkled at the nickname. He leaned down close to you, “So it seems. Are you unhappy?”

“No. I’m happy.” You leaned up to press your lips against the corner of his.

Noritoshi sent you off, only letting you go after he had gotten a huge hug from you with a deep kiss to the cheek. He realized with a small jolt that he was pretty much touch-starved (no surprises there).

Wishing for more of your hugs and kisses already, and you just left for a few moments. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

Later that day, you bumped into Miwa as you were leaving your dorm. It was the weekend so you all had no classes and missions. She hesitantly called out a “Congratulations. You finally got together with Kamo senpai yeah?”

You looked at her in surprise. “How did you-”

“Todo senpai.”

“That man really doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

◇◇◇

It was a different experience, having the other students tease the both of you about your new relationship as a real boyfriend and girlfriend. You felt weird by calling him your lover.

"I called it!" Mai proudly smirked down at you. "We all did Mai chan." Momo senpai giggled, bumping her hip with yours as you looked shocked over the bets they placed.

Noritoshi always had a soft smile for you. He recently managed his time better, finishing his studies very early so he could spend more time with you.

Not shy to take your hand whenever you meet in the hallways and drag you for a picnic under the huge Plum Tree or just to hug you quickly before going off to a mission.

You were more open, hopping up to him in the hallways and greeting him cheerfully. ‘It was nice’, you thought to yourself.

Ever the overthinker, you at times think of the secrets he mentioned having. Probably personal matters he wasn’t ready to talk about. That’s fine, you had your own fair share as well. Time will heal and bring whatever it may to the both of you.

◇◇◇

The Kyoto-Tokyo sister school goodwill event was drawing near. You and your fellow first years wished all your participating seniors good luck.

“I heard they also have a Special Grade 1st year student in Tokyo Tech.” You perked up at that, “Is that so?”

“I highly doubt they’d come though. Just like how you aren’t participating, Tsuchi. Usually 2nd and 3rd years are the ones participating. It is going to be held here in Kyoto Tech since we won last year.” Todo grinned.

You wondered about that.

◇◇◇

Just a few days before the goodwill event, Utahime texted you and said Noritoshi was injured from a mission. So of course you flew as fast as you could to his room, where he was being treated.

"Noritoshi!!" You wheezed out, entering his room in a burst of wind. You had come back from a lunch date with an old classmate from elementary.

You hurried over to his bedside and looked him over. He slowly turned to you, eyes widening. He smiled, "An angel is here."

You flushed and laughed out loud, "Noritoshi you've lost it. It's just me. Y/n." You brushed some stray hairs out of his face.

He continued staring at you dreamily, “Angel”. You were all dressed up, face fully made up. Rouge lipstick with a light touch of blush on your cheeks. You had your round shades on, prettily framing your face.

He used a free and uninjured hand to reach and cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch before pushing his arm back down. "You need rest." You said gently.

You placed your hands over his chest and activated your reverse cursed technique. He groaned as he felt his skin stitch back together. "Shhh, it will be fine."

He wasn't that badly injured thank goodness. “Angel, have you seen my y/n? I miss her.” He whined. You patted him on the forehead and shushed him with a quick kiss.

Why was he behaving like this?? You turned to the nurse packing their things from the corner, “I put him on anesthesia. He will be loopy for a bit.”

“Ah.” This might be a little bit fun. “Toshiii~ It’s me y/n how could you not recognize me?” You pouted. Noritoshi pouted and whined in return. The nurse pointedly ignored both of you and quickly left the room.

He stared at you with the biggest eyes he’s ever made, seemingly thinking hard. “Don’t think too hard, you’ll lose brain cells.” you whispered.

“Hold me.” He demanded not unlike a child asking for candy. And so you sat beside him and held onto his hand. You watched as he fell asleep, clinging onto your hand.

This loose-tongued and childish side to Noritoshi was just too adorable.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi stirred awake, seeing you so close to him. You were laying on top of his chest, one hand holding onto his.

He stared at your profile half sprawled over his blanket and reached to put a hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly. Then let his hand rest on the back of your neck while tracing small circles on it with the pad of his thumb.

You were so sweet on him. It was a wonder to Noritoshi, who felt as though he was always lacking in physical affection. To see someone sincerely take care of him without requesting anything in return was refreshing for a change.

He watched as you stirred, then your hand tightened in his and you brought it close to your lips, all while you were still fast asleep. Noritoshi’s eyes twinkled. What were you dreaming about? Was it about him?

He watched as you slowly woke up. “Mmmm Toshiii~” you blearily reached out for him. You were able to wash up and change your clothes while he was asleep.

He pulled you into his bed, making your half sprawl over his lap. “Why didn’t you get in bed with me? Surely your back must hurt? It’s late now, sleep with me.” You looked at the clock and to your surprise it was indeed late. 2am.

“Okayy” you were still whiny, half asleep, and slightly grumpy from waking up. You both settled in the bed and fell asleep holding hands.

◇◇◇

It was finally the day of the Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill event. You were all out, 1st, 2nd and 3rd years with Utahime sensei and Principal Gakuganji, waiting for the Tokyo group to arrive.

Then you felt this ominous presence from afar. You took a few steps back, cursed energy flaring and winds whipping around you. Everyone looked at you in concern and Noritoshi whispered as he squeezed your hand, "Angel, you okay?"

You still found it funny how he now takes to calling you his angel when it’s just the two of you after you told him about his embarrassing moment when he was loopy on sedatives.

You stared off at a distance. "Everyone... Something… big is coming." You didn't realize that you felt Rika's presence from afar. Everyone tensed and looked in the same direction you were as the Tokyo participants came.

There were some really loud 2nd and 3rd years, but the one that stood out was a rather reserved boy with black hair. He had a Katana bag hooked over one shoulder. And a massive curse looming over him. ‘How is that thing not exorcised yet?!’

"Yooooo Everyone from Kyoto hello!!"

That voice. Your eye twitched. "Nice to meet you all again." Gojo Satoru cheerily yelled. Introductions were exchanged. The group challenge on the first day is Capture the Flag. The details for the individual battles tomorrow are yet to be announced.

Everyone was surprised to hear that the first year, Okkotsu Yuuta, the special grade cursed human, was participating to even out the numbers.

Based on that amount of cursed energy…. Tokyo school might win this year, you thought grimly. 'As long as there are no casualties please.' You prayed to yourself. You wished Noritoshi good luck with a quick hug.

After the participants were dismissed and released to their positions, the Kyoto 1st year's followed the two principals and Utahime sensei.

"Neko-chaaaan! How cruel, you don't wanna greet me?" His damn voice was so fucking loud everyone in the vicinity turned to Satoru.

(His nickname for you was cute but the story wasn't. When you were 4 years old, the Tsuchi family cat always ran away from you. You tried to be more catlike to befriend it, which Satoru found hilarious. Ergo, he started calling you Cat or Neko chan.)

Your eye twitched again as always does with Satoru. "Toru nii, it's been a while." You said, looking at the man leering down at your figure. He pulled you in for a side hug and ruffled your hair. "I missed you loads, it's been a while huh. How's school?"

"Not too bad." You fixed and patted your hair back down, aware of the eyes on you.

"Mmm, I bet." His bright blue [six] eyes could see the red strings linking your pinky to Noritoshi's. "You got a boyfriend by any chance y/n?"

You stopped at that and looked up at him. "Did Hiroki tell you anything?" "Nup" he always pops his P's obnoxiously.

You looked to the side and murmured "I do."

"You have a boyf-ooms" You slapped your hand over his mouth, floating up to his height. You could practically see his blue eyes gleaming behind those white bandages. "Keep your voice down dimwit." You hissed.

He licked your hand. "You're gross as always Toru," you wiped it on his sleeve as you walked on air to match his height.

"You should have told me you got a boyfriend. Anywayss, my students are gonna kick ass. Yuuta is pretty strong and he's the type to go all out you know?" He nudged you.

"Noritoshi and the senpais won't go down without a fight." You said. “Heehhh, is that so?”

You caught up a bit with him, making small talk as you made your way to the viewing rooms.

◇◇◇

Miwa later pulled you aside, "You know Gojo Satoru?! Isn't he, like, super famous?!"

"Uhhh?? He is?? … uhm I don't know. But we are family friends, he's like a brother to me really." You said confusedly. "The Tsuchimikado and Gojo clans always got along. His dad and my dad are friends."

"Ahhh I see." She nodded. She was still unfamiliar with the Great 3 clans and minor clans of Jujutsushi so it was understandable for her to be curious.

The rest of you filed into the room. The teachers allowed all of you to watch on the screens, so that you can get familiar with the goodwill event.

"Psst! Y/n sit beside me." You laughed as Satoru eagerly patted the seat beside him, sounding more like a teenager than a teacher. You scooted over to his side as he brought out snacks, chips, and popcorn. You stared at him. "You think this is a movie?"

"It's free entertainment." He shrugged.

And the event started. You all watched on the screens as both schools fought against curses while defending their home base flag and trying to take down the enemy's flag.

Todo, of course, was on the front lines, recklessly plowing into Tokyo high's home base. Hakari, a 3rd year, was facing him off, somehow holding his ground against him.

Noritoshi was following Momo around, taking down curses and stopping the other team's students from charging in.

But before they knew it, Yuuta was on the other side, flag in his hands. It wasn't a quick match but a rather rough one. At the very least, no one was injured badly.

Your eyes watched Okkotsu’s movements. It was very obvious he was new to fighting, but his brute force of cursed energy played well to his strengths. You were looking forward to tomorrow's matches.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi x you #jjk kamo #blood bound #red strings of fate #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi fluff #gojo satoru #miwa kasumi #todo aoi #jjk x y/n #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi headcanons

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fairydxll · 3 years ago

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𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

↳ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | uh fighting? Lmk if anything.

↳ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2124

𝐚/𝐧 ~ sorry I haven't updated this story in a while. But I'm back now!

masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

<- previous chapter

After a couple of days, Rory kinda got used to her new "home." Since Tony didn't know how long it would be before they went back to California, and with Pepper gone, they decided it was best if Rory just took a break from school.

Rory did eventually grow to like her new room. She was not allowed to leave the current floor, so she basically just spent all of her time there. Tony was gone all day and didn't get home until very late at night, meaning Rory had to have food delivered. She didn't mind, though. She figured that if they end up staying, she'll be able to tell Tony what all the good restaurants are.

Tony never told her anything about why they were here with the exception of, "Daddy has business."

So in order to pass the time, Rory would read or watch movies. She even took up drawing which turned out to be something she isn't too bad at.

This morning, Tony was already gone by the time Rory got up, so she got dressed and migrated to the living area. She sat on one of the couches near the large window and began sketching the tall buildings surrounding her.

As she finished the shading on one of the skyscrapers, she peered back up to see a tall man with long, black hair dressed in what looked like a Halloween costume standing on the terrace. Rory put down her sketchbook and looked closer. He was very tall and had large, golden horns that decorated the top of his head. She had no clue as to why this man was standing outside of her window on her father's building.

Rory looked to her right and noticed her father, in the Iron Man suit, land on the landing pad. The man just stood there, watching as machines swiftly removed the armor from Tony's body.

The strange man made his way into the room from the balcony. The room she was in. Rory didn't know what to do. She was frozen, scared. Instead of running away as any sane person would, Rory remained in her chair.

The large man entered the room. He studied his surroundings, his eyes eventually landing on Rory. "Who might you be?" He asked with disdain.

Rory could do nothing but blink at him, too afraid to speak. He opened his mouth to say more, only to be interrupted by the presence of Tony. "Rory, come here," Tony said blankly.

Rory immediately dropped her things and ran to her father's side. Tony wrapped his arm around her protectively, hoping to shield her with his body.

The man watched this all happen before finally speaking, "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity." He spoke as if she weren't there.

"Actually I'm planning to threaten you," Tony responded. Rory couldn't sense any different emotions other than his natural sarcastic tone.

"You should have left your armor on for that," the man bantered, walking closer to Tony and Rory.

"Yeah," Tony pushed Rory behind the bar. "It's seen a bit of mileage, and you've got the glow stick of destiny." Rory crouched down below the bar and pulled her knees into her chest. She couldn't help but let tears stain her cheeks, afraid of what was happening. "Would you like a drink?" Tony asked the man as he walked behind the bar, actively trying to ignore you in hopes you wouldn't become a target.

Rory heard the other man laugh. "Stalling me won't change anything," he said. If Rory knew what it meant, she would describe their conversation as passive-aggressive.

"No, no. threatening." Tony began making himself a drink. "No drink? You sure? I'm having one.

"The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that." His words sounded like gibberish to Rory. "What have I to fear?"

Rory watched her father casually make a drink as if nothing was wrong. "The Avengers. That's what we call ourselves. We're sort of like a team." Rory had no idea what he was going on about. ""Earth's mightiest heroes"-type thing."

"Yes, I've met them."

"Yea," Tony's smile helped calm Rory down. He had to have the situation under control, right? "It takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a headcount, here. Your brother, the demi-god," demi-god? "A super-soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend." He secretly slipped a metal-looking band on each wrist.

"A man with breathtaking anger-management issues, a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella," none of his words were making any sense. "You've managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan."

"Not a great plan," Tony walked past you and out from the bar. "When they come, and they will, they'll come for you."

"I have an army."

"We have a hulk."

Rory finally gathered enough courage and stood up carefully. She peeked her head over the bar to watch the men while also trying to stay out of the way. Tony was approaching the man as they spoke; the man keeping his ground.

"I thought the beast had wandered off," the man said.

"You're missing the point. There's no throne," Tony's voice rose slightly. "There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it."

Tony took a sip of his drink while the man took a few steps closer, a scowl spreading across his features. "How will your friends have time for me when they're so busy fighting you?"

For the first time since this scene began, Tony looked scared. The man brought his scepter-looking thing up and tapped it against Tony's chest with a clang noise. The man's face dropped for a second before he tried a second time, and then a third. "This usually works."

Tony didn't look scared anymore. "Well, performance issues, it's not uncommon. One out of five--" his sentence was cut short when the man forcefully grabbed Tony's throat and threw him onto the floor. Rory squealed and then immediately covered her mouth.

The man turned his head in Rory's direction with a puzzled look. He turned away from her as soon as Tony stood up and went for his neck again. "You will all fall before me," he said.

"Deploy!" Tony called before the man threw him out the window, shattering the glass. Rory screamed with all her might. Did she just watch her Dad be murdered? What was he going to do to her?

Rory hid behind the bar once more, watching and listening closely to her surroundings. A loud sound rippled through the room causing Rory to throw her hands over her ears to block out the noise. She peeked over the bar and saw nothing but more shards of glass and broken furniture.

The man stared Rory down. "Who are you?"

Rory gulped, "who are you?"

He chuckled. "I am Loki, of Asgard. I'm surprised you have not yet heard of me." His tone was a lot softer with her than it was with her father. "What is your name, little one?"

"Rory," she nervously answered his question. "My name is Rory."

"Let me guess; Stark's child?" She didn't say anything. Rory simply nodded. "Ah I see," he gave you an almost heartwarming smile. "Come here, Rory."

Fearing she had no other choice, Rory walked over to Loki and he crouched down to meet her gaze. He smiled at her. Rory watched her father fly up behind him. She was more than thrilled to see her father alive and more tears fell from her eyes.

"And one more thing," Loki's face dropped and he spun around to face Tony. "Get away from my daughter!" Tony shot at Loki, sending him flying backward. Rory jumped out of the way, too stunned to do anything else. With Loki knocked out, Tony looked towards his daughter, "Rory go hide, now!" He flew away into the sky, and Rory wasted no time in running to her bedroom.

She slammed the door shut and locked it. She looked around her room for anything that she could put in front of the door to make it harder to reach her. Rory tried to move the couch, but it was no use. It was too heavy for a ten-year-old to manage. She tugged on her roots as she spotted her desk chair. Once it was securely tucked under the knob, Rory ran over to her window to watch what was unfolding.

Rory couldn't help herself as she began to sob. She was afraid and she was alone. There was nothing she could do to help. Tons of thousands of aliens flooded the skies and streets of New York as Rory sat up in her bedroom, watching. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she pressed her face and hands into the large window.

More loud noises were flowing from the living area into Rory's bedroom and Rory could do nothing to stop them. She hoped that the man who called himself Loki was gone and that her Dad was alright.

At this moment, Rory really felt like a child. She felt small and helpless. Lonely and afraid. There was nothing else she could do except watch. She had no clue as to what she was watching either, which was not making her feel any better.

At long last, the aliens seemed to dissipate and things seemed to calm down. It looked to Rory like the fight was over. But who won?

Rory was drawn away from her thoughts by the sound of her father's voice calling her name. She nearly sprinted out. She ran up to Tony and engulfed him in the tightest bear hug she could manage. He was still in his suit and covered in dirt, but neither seemed to mind.

"I was afraid," Rory murmured into his neck.

"I know, bubs." They pulled away from the hug and Rory got the chance to really see the other people in the room.

There was a giant-sized man with green skin, a man with a shield, a man with a bow and arrow, a man with a red cape and long hair, and what looked like Natalie, only with shorter hair. They looked odd. As if they were straight out of a movie. She noticed Loki in handcuffs. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Rory didn't really know what he did, but she knew he lost and her dad won.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tony held a silver case in one hand and Rory's in the other as he walked alongside the other Avengers waiting to send Loki away. Tony had made it very clear that from now on, Rory would not be leaving his side.

Rory let go of her Dad's hand to let him deal with the case. Thor, as he had told Rory to call him, led Loki a few feet away from everyone else. He waited for Loki to grab hold of the glass container for the Tesseract. Before she knew it, the pair had disappeared in a storm of blue.

Once everything else was settled, Tony reached for Rory's hand again and walked her over to the rest of the Avengers. "Rory there's some people I'd like you to meet," he motioned to the team. "That's Capsicle, Legolas, Jolly Green, and the Triple Imposter. This is Rory." The others shook their heads at Tony's nicknames.

"Steve," the tall, blonde man smiled and Rory shook his hand.

"Bruce," the shorter man with grey hair politely smiled and waved.

"Yea," Nat showed you a friendly smile to which you returned. "Nice to finally meet you, officially."

"And I'm Clint," the last man with spiky hair and sunglasses introduced himself.

"Hi," you said, shyly and waved at them all.

"Bubs, you go wait in the car I'll be there in a sec," said Tony.

"Okay. It was nice meeting you all!" You said as you walked to the car.

"You ready to go, kiddo?" Tony asked as he got in the car and fastened his seatbelt.

"Are we going home? Like, back to Malibu?" you asked as he started the car and pulled out.

"Yea," he smiled. "I think we deserve a break."

"What about the tower?"

"We're working on it. It'll be fixed in no time."

"Good," you sighed

"Good?"

"I don't mind it anymore. I don't think it would be so bad if we moved here."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Really."

Next chapter ->

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

🏷 ↴

Marvel:

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padfootagain · 4 years ago

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The King And You (XII)

Part 12 : Heaven Sometimes

Hi everyone! I'm back with a new chapter for this fic of mine! I know it's been forever since I updated it (and any fic for that matter) but my mental health is not great rn, so I'm struggling a little to write. Now, that being said, here is a new chapter and I hope you will enjoy it :)

Only fluff for this one! Tooth-rooting fluff all over the place! Enjoy ;)

Pairing: Caspian x Reader

Word Count: 2534

The light was perfect. One of the reasons why you loved your flat was the view from your window, down onto the busy streets and, in the distance, the skyscrapers tickling the sky. And this afternoon more than ever before the light that came in from your window was perfect. Yellowish and yet bright. Charged in dust just enough to create rays falling onto glistening rooftops. The sky still blue was starting to turn orange around the edges, a line along the horizon that became golden.

You let out a satisfied sigh as you mixed the pigments and the oil with a brush, studying the painting you had started a couple of hours before. You still had some work to do, but the shapes were beginning to change into what you wanted to represent, the buildings now for the most part recognizable by anyone who would look by your window.

A record was playing in your living room, an old hippie music filled with soft guitar ballads that breathed of sunshine and spoke of love. Soft, calm, sunny. The music felt like the light bathing the city that afternoon. And from time to time, the soft rhythms were disturbed by shuffling sounds coming from the couch behind you.

Caspian was sitting on your sofa, he was reading one of your books he had picked up from your shelf. But he didn't seem very interested in the story, as he spent most of his afternoon watching you.

The way you moved your pencil across the canvas, and the little frown that settled upon your brow as you focused on your task, the hues staining your fingers and your old t-shirt as you made a mess, the way the light danced across your features and changed the colour of your eyes as time ran by… Yes, his view from the sofa was much more interesting to him than the piece of fiction he had selected from your collection. A dreamy smile brightened his features as he studied you, as if he were in a museum admiring an ancient statue. Not only through your beauty was he reminded of the feeling, but by the peaceful feeling that settled across his chest too. This soft and quiet peace of mind and heart that creeps through anyone who looks at a piece of art and can't look away, wondering whose hands had carved the stone to create them, or bathed the brushes in the right hues. There is a ceremonial, almost holy feeling that hovers over art pieces of that kind, a sort of respect that both draws you in and pushes you away from their world. Caspian felt exactly this way as he stared at you, like he had found the piece that moved him to his bones and yet that was unreachable, a kind of beauty he longed for and echoed through his soul, and yet he would never deserve.

You knew he was staring at you, and had it been anyone else, you would have felt extremely uncomfortable if subjected to such scrutiny, but coming from Caspian, it merely brought warmth to your cheeks.

None of you were talking, hadn't uttered a word since lunch over four hours ago, but none of you were bothered by the silence that filled the room. It was a soft kind of silence, the comfortable one that could only appear in a room filled with people in love. Affection sometimes makes even nothingness beautiful.

A few days had passed since your confession in the park, and a few more remained before you would both travel to London, but the journey ahead of you was for now out of your thoughts. For now, all that mattered to both of you was to spend as much time as you could together. To the excitement and happiness that came along a new relationship slowly coming into blossom was added the knowledge that, no matter how happy the two of you were and how right being together felt, Caspian would soon be gone. Your days together being counted, you didn't want to waste away the time you had left together by worrying. Instead, you chose to live your love for him day by day, you would take whatever the wind would blow your way in the end. For now though, you painted the street you had drawn a thousand times before with a new softness showing in every shade you chose and every stroke of the brush that you applied. Love has a way of making art better, after all.

Caspian seemed to have chosen the same path as you, and had not mentioned again the trip to London, nor what would happen there. You were both locked in a bubble that you knew would explode soon, but protected you for now.

Eventually though, Caspian stood up and walked over to your spot in the room, wrapping his arms around your frame to press your back to his chest. He kissed gently the top of your head, before resting his cheek right above your ear. His gesture made you chuckle, a grin appearing across your lips.

"Do you need something? Or are you just being clingy?" you asked with a playful giggle.

"I guess I am clingy," Caspian admitted with a chuckle of his own that made his chest vibrate against you.

"You're a hopeless romantic, that's not surprising," you teased.

"Maybe I am. Or maybe you are turning me into one. Although, I should point out that so far, you have not protested against this part of me in the slightest, and have rather encouraged it, in fact."

"What are you insinuating? That I'm as sappy as you?"

"I'm afraid so, my love."

You hummed contently, forgetting about the subject of the conversation completely as you settled more comfortably into his embrace.

"I like it when you call me like that."

"My love?"

"Hmmm… yeah, I love it."

Caspian chuckled, kissing your temple.

"Who is being a hopeless romantic now, huh?"

"Oh, shut up!"

Caspian tried to fake outrage, but could only smile instead.

You checked your watch, for the first time in this afternoon, realizing at last that time had been flying by faster than you had realized. You heaved a sigh, but put down your brush.

"I'm gonna prepare dinner, what would you like?" you asked Caspian, who tightened his hold on you as a response.

"Wait for a little longer."

"Aren't you hungry? It's quite late."

"Yes, I am. But… If you move away, it will mean that the afternoon is over and… this moment is too nice to end just yet."

You rested your hand on his over your shoulder, intertwining your fingers with his and drawing silly patterns of stars and circles over his knuckles with your thumb.

"You're right. Five more minutes, then."

You closed your eyes, and were quite certain that you had fallen asleep when Caspian moved away from you, although not without placing one last chaste and tender kiss on the side of your head. He walked over to your shelves filled with books, and seemed to be bruising across your collection. You guessed that the one he had picked earlier really wasn't to his taste, and the thought made you chuckle as you shook tenderly your head at him. You left him to his search for a better story to get lost into in favour of preparing a meal, your stomach now painful with hunger. You were almost done when Caspian came to join you in the kitchen, helping you to set up the table.

"Did you find an interesting book?" you asked as you brought the pasta dish you had prepared to your tiny table.

A mischievous and yet saddened smile appeared on Caspian's lips.

"You can say that," he elusively answered.

He was standing by the table, and by now you were used to having him not sit down before you. Some kind of extra-politeness, you guessed. He pulled the chair for you when you walked to your side of the table, and you thanked him with an amused smile while he was sitting down himself.

"Why so mysterious?" you insisted. "What book did you get?"

"Oh… huh… something about… robots? It's some kind of… machine, that… lives? Very strange but… interesting."

You shook your head at him, surprised that he would be curious about something so different from the world he knew. But then, he kept on surprising you a little more every day.

Caspian glanced at the clock up on your yellow wall, that seemed to glimmer in gold as the sun was setting, ending its course beyond the tall buildings of New York City. He heaved a sigh before speaking again.

"I should go back to Agatha's after diner, it will be quite late already by then."

"Oh… you want to go back there?"

Even if you had spent most of your time together for the past few days, Caspian had always spent the night at Agatha's, and you were fine with that. After all, it had been but a few days since your kiss in Central Park, and a few weeks since the two of you had met. And despite your time together being limited, you didn't want to rush into things either. You wanted to take things slow, wanted to simply enjoy the moments you had with him.

And maybe, despite how abundantly clear Caspian had been, there was a little part of you that still held to the hope that maybe all of this was just a misunderstanding, that perhaps Narnia, despite the odds, wasn't real at all. And then, if that was the case, Caspian wouldn't have to leave.

So you wanted to take things slow, but still, things were going so well with him, and there wasn't any denying that your new boyfriend was extremely attractive. And maybe you were ready to do a little bit more than hugging him and talking with him for hours.

Meanwhile, Caspian stared at you with a puzzled expression.

"Well… I hardly have any other place to stay."

"You… you could… stay here," you hesitantly stuttered.

Caspian considered your offer for a moment. He did want to spend more time with you, but your sofa was really too uncomfortable, and he knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep if he had to settle there for the night. And that was even without mentioning that the knowledge of having you sleeping down the hall would make it impossible for his mind to calm down enough to succumb to slumber.

He offered you a warm smile, a little teasing, with one end of his mouth turned upright and an amused glimmer shining in his brown, almost black eyes.

"Thank you for your offer. I do have to admit that it is tempting, we would spend more time together this way. But – and I hope you don't take this remark badly – your sofa is way too uncomfortable for me to stay there all night."

He was expecting you to laugh, maybe to shyly get a gulp of your water to hide this divine smile of yours. But you didn't. Instead, you were frowning at him, as if you didn't understand what he meant.

"The sofa? Why would you spend the night on the sofa?"

It was his turn to look at you with puzzled eyes.

"Well… where else would I sleep?"

"I meant… I meant to ask you if you wanted to stay the night… with me…"

It's only by the look in your eyes that he finally understood what you truly meant. And his reaction was to fiercely blush, all the way up to the tip of his ears.

"Oh… I… I…"

"It's okay if you don't want to or… if you're not attracted to me or…"

You let your sentence suspended in mid-air to hover over the room. You were all shy now, closing yourself from him, and Caspian could recognize the signs of your uneasiness. Maybe he wasn't reacting to this the way he should…

"I… I can't…"

He took a deep breath, remembering that you were from another world. And so, he adopted a different attitude.

"Is it normal in your world? To… be this… intimate before… marriage?"

You frowned at him again, but seemed to make the same realization too that, despite the two of you getting along so well and understanding each other to such a degree, you were not from the same world, and your two societies worked differently.

"Yeah, it is… not… for you?" you asked back.

"No. No, it isn't."

"Oh…"

"It… it would be… disrespectful if I…"

"I understand. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"It's okay. I… I just… I don't know…"

"Caspian, you don't have to justify yourself. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

You seemed to be the one who was uncomfortable then though, and you stood up to clean your plate even if you hadn't finished your dish. Caspian followed suit though, not allowing you to simply drop the subject and flee so easily.

"Y/N… I…"

"It's okay, Caspian. I promise you, it's okay. I just… I guess I feel a little stupid to have offered to take a… a new step when it's not something your people does."

You seemed fragile then, your confidence quite shaken. Caspian heaved a sigh, forcing you to stop cleaning your plate as he took your wet hands in his.

"It is not our way. But I… I want you to know that… I… you are beautiful, Y/N. This is not the problem, here. But I was raised with the idea that being this intimate with a woman one is not married to is disrespectful. And disrespecting you is the last thing I want to do."

You nodded, notably relaxing, and when you looked at him again, there was a spark of mischief shining in your gaze.

"I understand. And I would never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable or disrespectful to you. But… please, tell me your people don't condemn cuddling, because I love your hugs too much to give up on them."

Caspian let out a laugh, although he was blushing fiercely once more. He pulled you closer to him, capturing you in this brown stare of his you had quickly learnt to recognize like home.

"I cannot say that it would be… accepted without a few rumours and judging glances but… I will happily pay that price. To be honest, I could not resist holding you even if I wanted to."

You giggled in the most adorable of ways, hiding your face in his shoulder.

And as he breathed in the scent of your shampoo, sugary and delicate that reminded him of afternoons spent walking through the gardens, with the air filled with the fragrance of wildflowers, Caspian knew that he wouldn't have any rest tonight. How could he waste any minute he could spend with you?

His back would kill him the next day, but a few hours on your uncomfortable sofa were a small price to pay to have a chance to hold you close.

#Caspian #Caspian X #caspian x reader #king caspian #caspian x you #caspian imagine #caspian fanfiction #caspian fanfic #caspian series #narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia fanfic #narnia imagine #imagine #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years ago

Text

A Place to Belong Chapter 37: Secure

Chapter 36

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In the months that followed, the situation between Claire and Fergus remained precarious, moving slowly toward something less fragile. He began kissing her on the cheek again after about a month and a half, when leaving the breakfast table before setting off to do his work, or while saying goodnight at the hearth in the parlor, or after telling her where he was running off to instead of just disappearing. Each and every peck left Claire warmed from head to toe, feeling more grateful than she ever had. In the beginning, she told herself that he’d stop eventually, that they were just lasting effects of their reconnecting, and he’d stop coddling her. But he didn’t.

In the end, Claire was glad they’d blown up on one another. It was painful and difficult, but they were all the closer now for it. They’d been able to bare their souls to one another in ways that they’d both been hiding, protecting each other from for years. And now that those things were out in the open, they no longer had to dance around one another; they could just be.

Fergus seemed hell-bent on reminding Claire that he loved her, without saying it of course. Hence the kisses, the reminders of his whereabouts, the little ways he helped around the house and the barn where she did her healing. He was not reverting to the little boy he’d been before, devoid of his own life; rather he was creating a healthy balance of devotion to his family and the establishment of his own life as a young man.

Brianna was none the wiser to anything that had happened; Fergus had never behaved any differently toward her, or any of the children for that matter. He was still their beloved big brother or cousin, the big boy that played the monster in all their games when they needed it. He still swept them off their feet and dangled them upside-down or over his shoulders like sacks of grain, still made them shriek and howl their heads off with laughter. He still called Maggie ‘Little Faery,’ still called his sister ‘Little Rabbit, Petit Lapin,” still ruffled wee Jamie’s and Michael’s hair and carried Janet on his shoulders when she asked.

Claire had approached Fergus one day about perhaps sending him to university in France as Jamie had done, or even Edinburgh if he didn’t want to leave Scotland. But Fergus would not hear any of it.

“Don’t you remember? I belong with you,” he’d said simply. “And petit. I will not leave. Besides, I am a farmer now; what do I need with book learning?”

“Do you want to be a farmer forever, Fergus?” Claire had asked gently. “University can open so many doors for you. Or even just learning a trade. You don’t have to be stuck here. You’re a young man, I understand that.”

“I am not stuck here, Maman,” he said. “I belong here. That is different.”

Claire would never say it, in case he changed his mind, but she was relieved to her core that he did not want to leave. She wanted more for him, of course; she wanted the world for him. But only if he wanted it. And if he was content to work the fields until he found a wife to settle with, then Claire was more than happy to allow it. Not to mention Brianna would be heartbroken if her brother left her.

Brianna was growing, too; it seemed every day she gained an inch in height. She and Kitty had reached full hellion form by the time Brianna was seven and Kitty was nine. If Brianna was Kitty’s shadow before, they were one being now, morphed together, sharing footsteps rather than one following in the other’s. Terrorizing the goats and chickens seemed to be their favorite activity, though it was likely a tie between that and visiting the horses in the stable. They knew better than to rile up creatures that could trample them, thank Heaven. They were shockingly gentle with the beasts, and Brianna loved them.

She’d taken to drawing them lately, the horses. Maggie started sketching at a young age, preferring this quiet activity to the rowdy games the other children played, and by ten years old she’d developed quite a beautiful talent. Brianna took notice and started trying her hand, and, if Claire did say so herself, she was really quite talented. The horses were eerily lifelike for a sketch done by a seven year old. Kitty could not be bothered with such things; while Maggie and Brianna drew or painted side by side, Kitty was busy outside teaching the twins how to get up to all sorts of mischief.

Claire was grateful for this new side of her daughter. Not that she didn’t love her as she was before; of course she did. She could remain wild and untamable for the rest of her life and Claire would be proud as ever. But there was something beautiful about watching her focus on her page, the way she held her charcoal, the way she glanced back and forth between Maggie’s work and her own to see how it held up. Claire never would have guessed that Brianna possessed the patience in her to sit still or to have the attention to detail needed for such a task. It was almost like she was growing up in this way, maturing and blooming in something that nobody had seen coming.

It was beautiful.

Claire loved to sit in the parlor while Jenny instructed Maggie and Brianna, listening to their questions, to their grunts of frustration. Much more in character for Brianna than the patience she’d been exhibiting, she was known to tear at her pages if she was unhappy and throw the pieces in the fire, then stamp away and leave Claire to trail after her.

“I’ll never be as good as Maggie! Or Auntie!”

“Maggie is older than you, lovie. And so is Auntie, much older. That isn’t fair to yourself at all.”

Brianna would then kick the dirt or throw a rock into the stream with a grunt of frustration, then refuse to continue the conversation. Claire waited for this to be the last time, waited for Brianna to give it up every time she had a little tantrum, but she never did. And Claire was more proud than she could ever say.

Now, when Claire looked at the portraits Jenny had done of the children, she could hear her calm and lilting voice instructing the girls on proportions and shading. She kept a miniature that Jenny had done of Brianna as a baby on the mantel in her bedroom. Jenny had done miniatures of all of the children as babies. All except Caitlin, of course. Jenny kept the blanket she’d been swaddled in on the mantle in the Laird’s room, folded neatly in the space between Michael’s portrait and Ian’s portrait.

Claire liked to take the portrait down and sit with Brianna in her lap and tell her all about what she was like as a baby.

“And these squishy cheeks that used to be so easy to pinch and kiss,” Claire would say, pointing to them. “Turned into these.” She’d pinch Brianna’s cheeks and kiss them incessantly until she was squirming away and begging her to stop.

“Apparently they’re still easy to pinch and kiss, Mummy.”

“Listen to her! Apparently she says! This little thing would never give her mother such attitude.”

“This little thing couldn’t talk, Mummy.”

“Not right away. You were eight months old here. But do you remember what I said your very first word was?”

“Dog!”

Jehu always picked his head up at that.

“That’s right. And your second?”

“No!”

“That’s right, stubborn little thing.” Claire tickled her neck. “I suppose you were giving me such attitude from the moment you could speak, hm?”

“Oh, Mummy…”

The children would be due for updated portraits soon. The last ones had been done when Jamie still had baby fat on his cheeks. They hung proudly in the hall with the portraits that Claire had seen the very first time she’d come to Lallybroch, and so did hers.

Jenny had insisted on adding Claire’s portrait to the ranks about a year ago, before wee Ian was born.

“It really isn’t necessary, Jenny — ”

“Dinna be daft, sister. Ye were once Lady Broch Tuarach. There ought to be an elegant portrait of ye in the home. Yer bairn’s on the wall. Ye ought to be as well.”

She’d pointed to the foot-long portrait of Brianna at four years old, Jenny having perfectly captured the mischievous, almost devious grin that Brianna was known to sport at any given time.

So Claire had obliged her and posed for the portrait, and despite her initial reluctance, she was extremely proud to see herself hanging there beside her sister, brother, all their children, even portraits of Ellen and Brian and their children in their youth. Claire already knew she belonged, had known for years. But this final stepping stone made it all feel so generational, almost spiritual. She looked back and forth between Jenny’s work and Ellen’s and could hardly tell the difference. It was almost like Ellen was guiding her daughter’s hand in creation, to fully welcome Claire and her child to the wall of family portraits.

Apart from drawing, Maggie was blooming beautifully into a wonderful gardener and assistant healer. She was now regularly assisting Claire in the barn both with herbs and patients. The ten year old had now seen her Auntie lance boils, tend to styes, set dislocated shoulders and broken bones, and put in stitches enough for several of her small lifetimes. She’d even watched Claire deliver four babies now. She handed her tools and watched intently, never once fainting or becoming ill, despite how close she came sometimes.

She was delicate and sensitive, but not fragile. There could not be a Fraser-Murray child with an ounce of fragility in their soul no matter how sweet they were, and Maggie was living proof. Claire and Jenny had had a fair amount of disagreements over just how much Maggie should be seeing, especially after they’d had a patient die for the first time as a pair, a head injury that Claire was powerless to do anything about. Maggie was beyond distraught, and she wouldn’t come out of her room for days.

Claire knocked on the door and let herself in, sitting on the bed beside her.

“I understand if you don’t want to help anymore, Maggie,” she said gently. “It’s not easy to lose a patient. And your mother is right, you’re too young for such pain. I’m struggling with this one, and I’m a grown woman.”

Maggie sniffled and wiped her eyes. “It’ll happen again, aye Auntie?”

Claire sighed. “Unfortunately it will. If I’d have known how bad it was going to get, I would have sent you away. I’m sorry you had to be a part of it.”

She shook her head. “I just...have to get used to it, then.”

Claire blinked at her in shock.

“Jamie says you’ve seen hundreds of men die in war.”

“That’s true. I have.”

“But ye’re a braw healer, Auntie. Ye didna quit when ye got sad about death.”

“That’s right, I didn’t.”

Maggie picked up her head, wiping her cheeks and setting her eyes on her aunt’s, and Claire felt a chill down her spine, almost certain she was looking into the eyes of someone much older than ten.

“Then neither will I, Auntie Claire.”

Since that day, Claire did take better care in terms of what she exposed the girl to, but she took her training much more seriously. Her first death hadn’t scared her away; she was serious about this.

The other girls admired Claire and Maggie and the work they did, but they showed no interest in the healing side of things. Kitty and Brianna enjoyed helping in the garden, but Claire wasn’t convinced it was for any reason other than that it was permission to get themselves filthy in the dirt. They also enjoyed roaming the grounds for herbs and plants to move into the garden, but Claire had a feeling it had more to do with being allowed to romp and roam freely away from Jenny’s watchful eye. They did pay the smallest bit of attention when Claire gave little lessons about each plant they found, Brianna more so than Kitty.

Brianna’s seizures remained a small fear in the back of Claire’s mind, but it was evident by now that they hadn’t affected her cognitively in the slightest. She was bright and energetic as any child her age should be, her shimmering light only dulling when she was overcome with an episode and the following days of recovery.

She was old enough now to be able to tell an adult when she was feeling off, old enough to know her own symptoms. And Jehu was a wonderful help; the mangy little thing was practically a Godsend. He’d roused the entire house with his yapping during more than one nighttime seizure, possibly saving Brianna’s life by doing so. Claire, and more importantly, Brianna herself, felt secure. And it meant all the world.

Claire, Fergus, and Brianna were also keeping with their annual visits to Jamie’s grave. Brianna still slept with Lamb every night, even if it was no longer part of her line up of regular toys she played with, and she brought it to visit her father every year. It was beautiful for Claire to see Brianna really talk to him the older she got, as opposed to the babbling she used to offer when she was younger.

She spoke to Da about her drawings, how she was trying very hard not to compare herself to Maggie.

“Mummy says I’m my own person with my own...ehm...achievements. So I mustn't compare and I must focus on my own progress.”

She spoke to him about her horse, Alastair.

“He’s copper and gentle and just beautiful, Da. Someday, when I’m big, I’m going to ride him all over Lallybroch and feel the wind in my hair.”

She told him all about the mischief she and Kitty got up to, about Mummy’s garden, and about how she was good at helping Auntie Jenny with the baby.

“Sometimes, wee Ian doesna stop crying unless I hold him, Da. Not even Maggie can get him to stop sometimes. And Maggie is the Mother Hen. Auntie Jenny says Maggie has the touch wi’ bairns, but that Ian must have taken a liking to me.”

Claire and Fergus sat back, hand in hand, watching and listening. And despite the tears lingering on her cheeks, Claire felt at peace.

“Hello, love,” Claire said, kneeling before the stone as Fergus and Brianna disappeared from the graveyard hand in hand in reverent silence. “They’ve both grown so much, haven’t they? God, you’d be so proud of them. Fergus is coming into his own so beautifully and Brianna...she’s just remarkable, love. But sometimes…” She sighed heavily, bracing herself on the stone, fisting the rosary. “When she turns and the light catches her red hair, or I see her smile in her sleep...it takes my breath away. Because I see you. Every day, the older she gets, the more her baby face fades away...the more I see it. And it...it equal parts kills me and gives me life.”

“I wish she could meet you. God, that’s the greatest wish I have. I know you can see her, wherever you are, I know you know how wonderful she is. But for her to meet you, to feel what it’s like to be held by you, to hear your voice…” She stopped for a moment, swallowing thickly. “She knows you love her, Jamie. I tell her almost every day. But to really...feel her father’s love. That is the only impossible wish I have.”

She kissed the rosary and put it back in its place, then fingered the lettering on his name, a practiced, ingrained habit by now.

“Tell our baby I miss her,” she whispered. “I love you, Soldier.”

——

March 1754

“Mummy! Look at me!” Brianna cried gleefully. “Alastair loves me!”

“I see, darling! You’re doing beautifully!”

“Tres bien, ma petit,” Fergus encouraged.

“Merci, mon frère,” Brianna said, the French rolling expertly off her tongue. Eight years old, and she understood and spoke three languages, she was reading The Faerie Queen, she was drawing sketches, and now she was riding horses. Claire leaned on the fence, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand so she could more clearly see the joy on her little girl’s face.

Brianna had been harassing Claire about riding horses since she was four years old. Back then it was simple enough to say: “You’re much too young, darling. Wait until you grow up.”

When Kitty was six and Brianna was five, it was: “Why does Kitty get to ride? She’s little, too!” And Claire could easily say: “You’re five, and Kitty is six. You are still too young.”

But then Brianna turned six. The day after they celebrated her birthday, when she’d finished her breakfast, she’d put down her utensils and quite matter-of-factly stated: “I’d like to ride horses now.”

It wasn’t so simple anymore. Claire was still hesitant to let her do anything physically strenuous, unsure how it would affect her seizures. Claire hadn’t had a single clue how to tell her six year old daughter that she couldn’t ride horses but Kitty could because she had seizures and Kitty didn’t. There’d been quite the tantrum when she tried, lots of rotten things said. Jenny had insisted that Claire let her give the girl a spanking, but Claire had very firmly insisted against it.

“It isn’t her fault she’s too young to understand.”

Now she watched her, grinning ear to ear, her wild copper hair shimmering in flecks of gold in the sunlight. And Fergus; he was truly a man now. He'd been the one to teach Brianna everything there was to know about horses, while Claire had sat in the grass behind the fence and observed.

“Faster, Fergus!” Brianna giggled.

“Don’t you dare!” Claire called.

“I know, Maman, I know!” he answered, laughing at her excessive concern.

“You won’t be laughing when you have your own children, Fergus!” Claire retorted, though she couldn't help but smile in spite of herself.

“Remember what I told you, ma petit, you may not go very fast until you are ten,” Fergus said.

“Twelve!” Claire corrected.

“Mummy! Must ye be such a bore?”

Fergus whispered something to Brianna, and she squealed with delight.

“Fergus! Don’t be putting any ideas in her head!”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Maman!” Claire swore she saw him wink up at Brianna, and she heard Brianna giggle.

Claire smiled, but she was never one to let up on the rules she set for Brianna. “Fergus — ”

“Claire!”

She whipped around to see Jenny sprinting toward her. “Claire!”

“Jenny?” Claire called back.

“Come to the front of the house, now!” Jenny cried.

Claire turned fretfully back to the corral, where Fergus had stopped Alastair, his hand still on the bridle. “Keep Brianna back here,” Claire said.

“Yes, Maman.” There was no joking in his tone this time. He clicked his tongue to start the horse again. “Mummy has a patient, that is all.”

Fergus’s voice disappeared as Claire ran to catch up to Jenny. The closer she got, the more clearly she could see that Jenny was distraught. She was red in the face, tears in her eyes.

“What is it?” Claire asked, breathless. “The children? Ian?”

Jenny stammered incoherently and took Claire’s hand, dragging her the rest of the way to the front of the house.

“Jenny, you’re scaring me…” Claire said. “Is somebody hurt?”

Jenny once again did not answer, just kept dragging her behind her.

“Jenny, for God’s sake — ”

And then the world stopped turning.

Brianna’s hair, Brianna’s eyes, standing right in front of her on a six-foot, three-inch man.

It can’t be. It can’t be.

Claire’s breathing became shallow, her vision became narrow. She could see nothing, no shape, no color, no light, but him.

Every night for eight years she envisioned his form. Eight years.

It can’t be.

“Will ye no’ say anything?” Jenny shoved her, but she neither heard nor felt it.

“It’s me, Claire.”

God…God…his voice…It was so real…but it couldn’t be.

“I’ve come home to ye.”

She let out a pathetic, strangled sound, and all at once the feeling was gone from each of her limbs.

She hit the ground with an unceremonious thud.

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jiangchengrights · 4 years ago

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i’d always been rigid before you

also available on ao3

The world around Wei Ying is a delightful shade of, of, fuck, what was it all the pretentious photography majors have told her? The one that’s all hazy orange and blurred edges. That makes everything feel old and fragile and romantic. The one Wei Ying likes best. It’s not black and white or the one on, on, dague-daguerreotype, but a-

“A calotype,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself, rubbing at her eyes as she stares at the ceiling from her spot on the ground. The world is only spinning a little bit, “Sepia!”

“Shut up, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng throws at her, lacking all the heat it normally carries. Probably because he’s also fairly drunk. Makes him softer, like a cat. Wei Ying giggles to herself and reaches a hand out, wrapping warm fingers around Jiang Cheng’s ankle, pleased when he lets it rest there, “Did you order your food or not?”

“Oh!” she gasps, using his leg as support to claw her way up and into a sitting position, squinting one eye shut so she can focus on the tiny little words that light up her screen. Why were her letters so small? Why didn’t she set them to be big, like when she reset Jiang Fengimen’s for him? Absolute fool, she thinks to herself as she navigates the doordash app, hoping beyond hope that the app doesn’t crash while she’s ordering because she does not have the mental capacity to deal with that right now, “Yes!”

“Good, because if my order gets here before yours, I’m not sharing my fries with you,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, sounding absolutely put upon and yet, Wei Ying thinks smugly to herself, he doesn’t shake her off his leg. She counts that as a win.

“But didi,” she languishes, flopping across his feet dramatically, laughing when he nudges her just on the side of a kick, “I fully plan to share my pancakes with you!”

“I don’t want your pancakes, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, “And you still can’t have my fries.”

She pouts and pouts and whines at the ceiling but gets no further response from Jiang Cheng besides a few grumbles and a grunted out question of horror or comedy? Her cheer of horror! is accepted and her glass is absolutely not refilled because obviously Jiang Cheng hates her. And of course his food does in fact get there first (probably because he’d ordered it a solid twenty minutes before she had even started looking at the iHop online menu but that is neither here nor there) but she does manage to steal an entire handful of fries from him and a sip of his coke because he loves her even if he pretends he doesn’t. Another victory.

She turns her pout towards her phone now, opening the doordash app to message her driver. She wants an ETA on her phone but she’s not willing to risk her food being spit on and she is very grateful that someone out there is willing to brave the cold to bring pancakes directly to her door so instead she opts for a completely casual and friendly, i love you ❤️

She doesn’t really expect a response, figures the doordash driver is busy or unwilling to talk or (hopefully) driving but her phone dings with the standard Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. And then, I love you too.

She reads the message four times, mouthing the words to her screen with a heavy tongue before she throws her head back to laugh, feeling light and fuzzy because this stranger is playing along with her. She clicks back to her app to check the name of her driver and spends ten minutes tracing the letters on her screen that spell out Hanguang Jun.

Her food arrives with a perfunctory knock and she half stumbles her way to the door, fairly certain the floor is moving erratically beneath her just to slow her down. Even though she yells, “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” (words nearly unintelligible with the way they stumble and slur out of her mouth) and she throws the door open with all her might, she doesn’t make it in time to see her dasher. She thinks she catches a glimpse of long shiny black hair, but really that could be a shadow.

She leaves a five star review on the dasher anyways, for being lovely.

The next day she slides into her seat in her criminology class, right at the front, 8AM sharp (8:08). The front row of class is, generally, not her favorite spot, especially in big auditoriums like this. She’d rather be somewhere in the upper middle, where she could sink low if she needed to but still be heard if she has questions or comments. Especially, especially, when she is hungover enough that her ice coffee does nothing to curb the throbbing in her head.

But.

But Lan Zhan likes to sit in the front row and Wei Ying likes to sit next to Lan Zhan. So. So she will suffer through her Professor’s half glare as she stumbles in late and slides into the (thankfully) empty seat next to her. Lan Zhan doesn’t bother looking at her, too busy jotting down little notes in her journal, watching the screen as the professor discusses a future class assignment. Wei Ying sets her drink down carefully and then continues to messily rifle through her bag in search of a scrap of paper and anything to write with and comes up remarkably short.

A carefully sharpened pencil and a neat, small, stack of notebook paper are pushed her way, even as Lan Zhan continues to look forward. It’s so small and stupid but it has Wei Ying grinning like a fool, leaning close enough into Lan Zhan’s shoulder to whisper, thank you, lan zhan, my hero. She’s fairly certain Lan Zhan mostly just tolerates her, but god, tolerates her in the nicest way possible.

She turns back around and listens for the rest of class. By “listen” she means she is secretly recording the lecture on her phone, which she will absolutely listen to later, and maintains half attention while also drawing a bunny on one of the sheets Lan Zhan gave her. She’s pretty certain bunnies are Lan Zhan’s favorite and so she is ever perfecting the art of drawing them; realistically, cartoon-esque, blocky orbs that mostly just look funny to Wei Ying herself, but in all ways she practices. This one looks pretty good, she decides halfway through class, and so she will give it to Lan Zhan when their professor finally stops talking.

(It crosses her mind that Lan Zhan might not appreciate the waste of her own paper but she hopes the cuteness of the bunny will make up for that)

She’s just adding the finishing touches to the piece when the professor wraps up class, the music of end of class clatter lighting up the room; laptops and notebooks being shut, zipped away safely in backpacks. Wei Ying has no such noise, being that none of the supplies on her desk are her own besides her mostly empty coffee cup. She turns to Lan Zhan without a second thought, tapping lightly on her shoulder, and smiling what her sister calls her “winning smile” (Jiang Cheng refers to it as her “shit eating grin” and that is why he is not her favorite sister. Although, he still holds the title for her favorite brother. Don’t tell him that) as Lan Zhan tilts her head gracefully in her direction.

“For you!” she half shouts, giddy like a small child, pressing the drawing into Lan Zhan’s notebook.

“Me?” Lan Zhan questions, brows furrowing just the slightest amount, enough for Wei Ying to have to fight the urge to reach out and smooth the lines that crinkle there. Her eyes widen, though, when she looks down and sees the bunny and god, oh my god, her lips pull up on one side in what is definitely a Lan-Zhan-smile. She is smiling and all because of Wei Ying.

“Bunny,” is all she says, sounding reverent as her fingers reach out to stroke the page, as if it might carry any of the real softness of rabbit fur.

This is the best day of Wei Ying’s life.

“I thought you liked them!” Wei Ying shouts, oblivious of the students who are trying to filter out of their seats around them. She leans to the side, so that her forehead touches Lan Zhan’s shoulder, just enough pressure to really feel each other and says, “Thank you for always taking care of me, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan is stiff beneath her, but she nods anyways and then reaches out to carefully fold around the rabbit and place it safely in her notebook, humming as she does. She’s keeping it. When Wei Ying lifts her head off the girl’s shoulder, Lan Zhan fully turns to look at her, eyes scrutinizing everything from Wei Ying’s twisted ponytail to the bags under her eyes, “I am surprised Wei Ying is here today.”

“What!” Wei Ying squawks, “This is my favorite class!” this is my lan-zhan-class!

“Mn,” Lan Zhan nods, and then purses her lips when she catches sight of the coffee sweating on the corner of Wei Ying’s desk, “Wei Ying should drink more water.”

“Ahh, there you go again!” Wei Ying laughs, finally hefting her bag onto her shoulder and moving to stand up, “Always trying to take care of me!”

The tips of Lan Zhan’s ears turn tomato red and she doesn’t respond to that comment, so Wei Ying figures Lan Zhan’s tolerance for her up for the day. Ah, well, she had a good run today! Enough to hold her off until Wednesday (that is, unless she sees Lan Zhan walking around on campus between now and then. She’s never had very good self-control around Lan Zhan).

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, Lan Zhan!” she calls over her shoulder as she bounces her way out of the class. She’ll draw a better bunny on Wednesday, she’s sure, one good enough to make Lan Zhan look at her twice. She will.

She’s halfway through her jog on Tuesday when Wen Qing calls her. She answers the phone without bothering to stop running, much to the distaste of Wen Qing, who has to listen to her pant.

“We’re drinking tonight,” is how Wen Qing starts this conversation.

“Wow, hello to you too,” Wei Ying says through heavy breathes, just to be an asshole, “I’m good today, how are you?”

“I’m fucking shitty, why else would I be calling you up?” Wen Qing snaps, as though she doesn’t call Wei Ying minimum three times a week on top of lunch dates every Thursday.

“What happened?” Wei Ying asks, rounding the corner of the park and heading in a straight line towards her apartment complex.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Wen Qing says, sounding remarkably impatient for someone who started this phone call. And with Wei Wuxian of all people.

“Ah,” Wei Ying nods to herself, “So Mianmian then.”

“I didn’t say that!” Wen Qing snaps.

“Didn’t have to,” Wei Ying reminds her, coming to the flight of stairs that lead to her apartment, “I know of all your woes, Qing-jie.”

“You don’t know shit,” she hears from multiple angles.

“Are you already-” she begins asking, but cuts herself off when she reaches the top of the stairs and sees Wen Qing standing angrily outside her door, two bottles of Vodka in hand, “Alright then.”

“Just open the door, Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing demands, stepping aside as Wei Ying comes closer, “I’m tired of holding these fucking bottles.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wei Ying laughs, unlocking the door, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“You know I will.”

The world is once again hazy, less nice this time because her stomach still feels a little squirmy from the last hangover. She misses her recovery time from high school (read: no hangovers ever), now she’s just an old lady who can only drink, like, once a week. A tragedy.

Yet, here she is, on the floor once again because she seems to always end up on the floor when she’s drunk. It’s a nice spot; safe and big, big enough to spread her long limbs out wide.

“I want pancakes,” she says to the ceiling fan, expecting no response.

Instead she gets, “You already ordered your fucking pancakes, it’s not my fault you always take forever to actually order.”

“But Qing-jie!” she whines, rolling on her side to give Wen Qing her puppy dog eyes, “You got your food so quick and I’m still waiting.”

“Again, not my fault,” Wen Qing snaps before shoving an ungodly amount of burrito into her mouth, “Just message your driver to see where they’re at.”

“Oh yeah!!” she whips out her phone so fast it goes flying across the room and she has to crawl on her belly like a snake to get it. Her driver’s name is weird, Hanguang Jun, familiar even though it’s strange and... “It’s my driver from last Sunday!”

“Okay?” Wen Qing says around her burrito, rolling her eyes when Wei Ying waves her off.

u r my soulmate, she sends with zero hesitation, grinning when her phone buzzes almost immediately.

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. It says, yet again, and then, Really.

So dry, so cute! Wei Ying doesn’t know this person but she likes them already. The ability to play into her antics is not one possessed by everyone, so she will value it when she finds it, yes 😳

I am glad to know that, Hanguang Jun replies in an instant.

Wei Ying wants to play it really cool and really fun but she’s also absolutely starving and so she sends, what’s going on over there

A long line.

Then, because she decides she wants to go back to being fun she types out, its okay just hold on i cant wait to see u

I cannot wait to see you either.

And then Wei Ying just about dies and stays that way, arm thrown over her eyes and groaning like a fool on the vaguely dirty carpet of her apartment until she notices Wen Qing trying to fill her cup once again.

“Wen Qing, don’t drink all the Vodka!” she shouts right as there is a knock on the door and she jumps up, hoping if she hustles to the door she can see the illustrious Hanguang Jun this time. It’s a no-go, but she does find her food placed neatly on her doorstep with a small handwritten note that says For my soulmate.

So five stars once again.

She slides into her seat somehow even more haggard than on Monday and barely has time to look at Lan Zhan, sitting prim in her seat, hair straight and long, with a powder blue sweater over a white dress shirt and a short black skirt to match, long legs covered by black tights, before the other girl thrusts a huge water bottle her way.

“Drink,” Lan Zhan says by way of greeting, staring Wei Ying down until she hesitantly opens the bottle and takes a sip, smiling unsure when she pulls away.

“Lan Zhan?” she asks, screwing the cap back on slowly.

“Water is good for Wei Ying,” she states, turning away. Wei Ying stares at her for a second more and then nods, pulling out her now-found notebook with a smile.

“It’s almost like you care about me, Lan Zhan,” She whispers, smirking when she sees Lan Zhan’s fingers tighten around her pencil.

Lan Zhan doesn’t dignify that with a response, so she leaves it alone for now, tuning back to her own page to maybe take notes this class. Maybe.

Lan Zhan follows her out of class that day, lets Wei Ying latch onto her arm like a fool and chatter away as they mill about the crowds of other undergrad students. She hmms and mms at all the right moments and sometimes, very rarely but sometimes, she seems to cling back to Wei Ying as much as Wei Ying clings to her.

Wei Ying is a little in love.

Before she can do something stupid, like say that, Lan Zhan turns, and meets the eyes of Nie Mingjue, who looks smug and stern as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Lan Zhan’s eyes widen and she hastens to disentangle herself from Wei Ying’s grasp, taking a side step away.

“Hey isn’t that your brother’s best friend?” Wei Ying asks, but by the time she looks up Lan Zhan is gone, lost in the throng of people.

Wei Ying stands alone in the quad center as people mill around her, feeling lost and a little hurt by the sudden vanish of her friend, meeting Nie Mingjue’s pitying gaze only once before she hustles along to the buses.

Lan Zhan had done this in high school, too. Had run away from Wei Ying anytime someone significant came into view of them. Had shoved Wei Ying off and called her shameless and walked away from her without ever turning around. Wei Ying remembers a lot of Lan Zhan’s back, always walking away, always a little out of reach.

That was okay though, they were kids, still working through everything. Wei Ying always assumed it was just hormones or Lan Zhan working through her own inner gay crisis combined with Wei Ying’s own puberty induced irritatingness. She assumed that would stop now; they were adults and Lan Zhan had really come into her own and Wei Ying had calmed down ever so slightly. What did it matter if her brother saw her with Wei Ying? What could it hurt?

Just Wei Ying, it turns out. It could hurt Wei Ying.

Wei Ying spends maybe, slightly, too much money on food delivery. It’s just, she always wants food when she’s drunk and she’s very against drinking and driving and she never has the forethought to get food before she starts drinking so here she is.

Your driver is on their way! The app notifies her and only then does she remember to check who is picking the food up for her, squealing when she sees the name.

Hanguang jun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. She gets and then, Yes.

its u again!!!

Hanguang Jun: It is me.

Wei Ying: u r the love of my life

Hanguang Jun: I thought I was your soulmate?

Wei Ying: r u saying u cant be both 🥺

Hanguang Jun: I can be whatever you need.

That has Wei Ying blushing from head to toe in her thankfully empty apartment. She has to take a moment to breathe before she can reply with, ah so smooth hanguang jun

There is a brief pause, one that has Wei Ying waiting, staring at her phone with a too cheesy smile on her face, Mn. For you.

She squeals in excitement so loud she almost misses the knock on the door. It's distracting enough to slow her down, so still no sight of Hanguang Jun tonight. Their chat disconnects but it’s okay, there will be a next time.

(Wei Ying hopes there will be a next time).

Rate your dasher: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Wei Ying’s criminology class is not a small class. Small classes have order and structure; you get to know your fellow classmates and an informal seating chart begins to appear usually after the second week of class. This one, however, is set in a wide auditorium that fills with too many students to even know any of them, who always seem to be moving around, always in new spots. Which is why it continually surprises Wei Ying that her spot is always empty and waiting for her when she stumbles in ten minutes late. She voices this out loud only to receive an eye roll from Lan Zhan.

“It is Wei Ying’s spot,” is all she says, turning forward once again. And it is her spot but that’s not the point of Wei Ying’s argument, now is it?

“Hmph,” she sighs to herself, digging around in her bag until she finds the two bunny pens she had purchased this weekend on a whim at some novelty store. They’re both silicone smooth, with rounded bunny heads on the end and ears that extend maybe a bit too far. She pushes the black one onto Lan Zhan’s desk and whispers, “That one is for you.”

“For...me?” Lan Zhan asks, lips parting as she looks down at the pen in her hand and then back up at Wei Ying, the hint of a smile in her cheeks.

“Of course! You’re my favorite Lan Zhan, who else would I buy a pen for?” she says back, feeling utterly pleased with herself to have gained such a positive reaction, wiggling closer in her seat to press her arm against Lan Zhan, “You’re my favorite.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, not quite a whisper, but soft and intense, one of her hands reaching out to grab at Wei Ying’s own. Wei Ying is delighted to find the other girl has rough calluses on the tips of her fingers that scrape gently against her knuckles, “Thank you.”

“Lan Zhan, ah, it’s no big deal, really,” she whispers, suddenly shy, using her free hand to rub at the back of her neck, “I was just thinking about you, you know?”

Lan Zhan stares at her for just a beat too long, before she pulls away entirely. Before Wei Ying can panic, though, she neatly puts her original pen away and picks up the bunny pen, smiling down at her notebook as she writes her notes, trying to hide the biggest smile Wei Ying has ever seen from the other girl.

She’s so warm next to Wei Ying and she never looks like she even considers switching away from the bunny pen even though it's surely not as nice as the gel one she’d been using before. When the professor dismisses them a mere minute and a half before their class is scheduled to end, Wei Ying finds herself in a panic, desperate not to let Lan Zhan slip away just yet.

“Hey,” she says, one hand reaching out lightning fast to grasp Lan Zhan’s elbow, “Do you want to get coffee?”

Lan Zhan frowns, goes to open her mouth but doesn’t manage to get a single sound out before Wei Ying half shouts, “Tea! Tea! I know you like tea instead of coffee, let’s get tea, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan stares at her long enough that Wei Ying begins to squirm in her seat, words on the tip of her tongue to take it all back, rescind her existence entirely when Lan Zhan asks, “Wei Ying...knows I like tea?”

“Well, yes,” Wei Ying nods, hoping this doesn’t make her seem like she’s been paying too much attention to Lan Zhan, “It’s just, you never bring coffee to class, always tea. So, I just, like, assumed. But, tea?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, “Let’s get tea.”

So they get tea in what is the best and most excruciating forty five minutes of Wei Ying’s entire life. Lan Zhan sits across from her with the poise and beauty of a marble statue, sharp lines carved from stone only to be softened when she laughs at Wei Ying’s silliness. She steeps jasmine tea in a teacup and bats it around with a spoon, slow, careful, sure enough in her practiced movements that Wei Ying finds herself enraptured, watching those fingers with a single minded focus. She’s never been enraptured by tea before. She doesn’t even really like tea.

They sit close enough that their knees brush every once in a while, whenever Lan Zhan recrossses her legs and it's enough to send sparks up Wei Ying’s leg, through her sweatpant clad knee. It is the best feeling in the world, she’s sure. And yet, also a special kind of hell to sit here, next to a Goddess and not be able to reach out and touch, to ask for more.

She wishes Lan Zhan wanted more.

But, she’ll take friendship and tea over nothing, so she keeps her complaints to herself and regails Lan Zhan with every funny story she can think of, preening when Lan Zhan smiles at her.

“I had to explain to my professor the entire concept of Star Trek, Lan Zhan. Like I had to sit there in this highly academic room and be all well you see, sir, the entire doctrine of the Prime Directive contradicts everything he just said so that’s really not a suitable analogy to make. And I’m not even the one who brought it up!” she half yells, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “Now I’m the one who looks like some kind of scifi nerd to our professor!”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, blowing into the steam of her tea, “Wei Ying has seen Star Trek though?”

“Well, yes.”

“A lot of it?”

“I mean, what do you consider a lot? That’s very subjective, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying smiles, working around the statement just to be coy, just to see the faint amusement that lights up Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“Wei Ying.”

“I may or may not have seen all of it, but that is so not the point!” Wei Ying counters, pointing her finger at Lan Zhan just to make her point.

“It seems then,” Lan Zhan starts, taking a sip of her tea, thoroughly uncowed, “that Wei Ying is some kind of ‘scifi nerd.’”

“Lan Zhan!” she squawks, throwing a hand over her heart in faux hurt, “I have never felt more betrayed than in this moment, more hurt, more wounded, more heartbroken.”

“Mn, Wei Ying has had it easy then,” Lan Zhan nods, tracing the rim of her teacup with the tip of her finger, “Someone has to make it more difficult for her. What did you say earlier? It ‘builds character’?”

“Lan Zhan!” she squeezes the hand over her heart more intensely, sighing long and winded, “How could you do this to me, Lan Zhan, your dearest Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes move from roaming over Wei Ying’s face, to glance over her shoulder, widening slightly at whatever she sees. She stands without another word, fumbles with her wallet to drop a note on the table and says, “I must leave now, Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan leaves without a second glance, turning away from the front entrance which is a much straighter shot out of the cafe and onto the main street, to quite literally sneak out of the side door, that leads only to an alley and a trash can. Wei Ying stares after her, shocked mostly, until she hears the front bell chime. She turns to see a man walk in with dark silky hair, wide shoulders, and well tailored clothes set in a deep blue that compliments his skin perfectly. He wears a warm smile and allows the smaller man next to him to walk ahead, a hand rested firmly but respectfully on the small of his back.

Lan Xichen.

Ah, Wei Ying thinks to herself as it dawns on her, spinning around the spoon in her tea idly, feeling brittle and cracked all at once, she just didn’t want to be seen with me in front of her brother.

That’s fine, it really is. So maybe nothing has really changed since high school. They weren’t friends then and they aren’t now, not really. Wei Ying was foolish to ever get her hopes up for anything more. She 100% understands. She is loud, and talks with her mouth full, and once almost got kicked out of university just a little bit. She should have expected this, if she was being honest with herself.

She still can’t manage to bring the smile back to her face though.

She manages an entire three days of being sad and not drunk before Wen Ning waltzes into her apartment unannounced (when he got a key she will never know) and plies her with long island iced teas.

“She’s just so nice, A-Ning,” Wei Ying moans, face down on the floor, “She’s so nice and pretty, god she’s so pretty A-Ning, and she’s always wearing these skirts, her legs are to die for.”

“But she did not want to be seen with you?” Wen Ning clarifies from where he sits, perched on her couch, leaning over to place another drink next to her head.

“No,” Wei Ying whimpers again, sounding absolutely miserable. She knows she might be acting a bit over dramatic, it's just, she’s known Lan Zhan since she was fourteen, had followed her around then, berating her until she got a reaction. And maybe that had been nothing more than a nuisance to Lan Zhan but it had meant a lot to Wei Ying. Too much probably. She had cried actual tears of joy when she discovered they had both enrolled at the same university, that first semester on campus. And sure maybe they weren’t best friends of anything but Lan Zhan was one hundred percent Wei Ying’s sexual awakening.

And Wei Ying just might be a little, tiny bit in love with her. Or like, on the road to being in love. Very close. In need of only a few kind words and maybe for Lan Zhan to kiss her.

“Hey,” Jiang Cheng snaps from the other side of the room, like actually snaps his fingers at her until she lifts her head to look at him, “Listen, you stupid little peabrain. Stop thinking with your dick and start thinking with your head.”

“I don’t have a dick,” she complains, rubbing her cheek into the carpet, “Maybe if I did, Lan Zhan would be less embarrassed of me.”

That earns her a pillow thrown straight at her head, “Peabrain! If she doesn’t want to be seen with you, that’s not nice.”

“But-”

“Being pretty doesn’t make her nice!”

“She-”

“Having nice legs doesn’t make her nice!”

“But she is nice!” Wei Ying shouts, pushing herself up enough to sit as she stares angrily down at Jiang Cheng, “She lets me sit next to her in class, and smiles when I give her bunnies, and puts up with me whispering to myself while the teacher talks and-”

“All I hear is puts up with and lets me, Wei Wuxian, that’s not what nice is!” Jiang Cheng shouts right back, glaring at her the whole time, “You should waste your time on someone who is actually nice to you.”

“I am.”

“Would you ever let me date someone who was ashamed of me, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asks, face serious as he leans in closer to her, “I’m your didi, would you let someone treat me like that? Would you let me treat me like that?”

She doesn’t have a response for that so she lays in silence, staring at the blades of the ceiling fan that spin around and around and around.

“Maybe she is very nice, Wei Ying,” Wen Ning interjects, breaking the silence, reaching one hand out to pet Wei Ying’s hair, “But maybe Wei Ying should be nice to herself too. Do you feel good right now? Have you been nice to yourself?”

“You don’t understand and I don’t want to talk to either of you anymore,” Wei Ying pouts and lets herself drop back to the floor, curling on her side around her phone, “And I just want my fucking pancakes.”

She checks her order status and lo and behold, there they are again. Hanguang Jun.

hanguang jun will u be my wife, she asks and then doubles back, im a lesbian.

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order. She gets and then, Yes.

yes ull b my wife or yes im a lesbian

Hanguang Jun: Yes, I will be your wife.

thats great!!!!!!! Wei Ying sends back, with exactly the right amount of exclamation points, smiling into her phone screen, hey now that we r married will u stay at my door long enough for me to c u

Hanguang Jun: Hm. Are you intoxicated?

hanguang jun what kind of ? is that!!!!! of course i am!!!! why else do people get food delivered!!!!

Hanguang Jun: For many reasons. If you make it to the door fast enough, you will see me.

hanguang jun!!!!!!!

This time, the knock is a barely there tap that Wei Ying is absolutely sure is on purpose and despite picking herself up and essentially running to the door, she still only manages to catch a glimpse of long hair and a blue shirt.

She opens her food in miserable silence, only breaking out of her gloom when she sees the little note: For my wife. written on the lid of the box. She lets herself focus on that instead of the crushing reality of Lan Zhan’s embarrassment of her, smiling every time she shoves a too big bite of pancake into her mouth.

Rate your dasher: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Monday roles around too soon and the next thing Wei Ying knows, she’s skulking into her criminology class exactly twelve minutes late, staring at the empty seat next to Lan Zhan. The thing is, the fresh sting of it all has soothed into a deep ache, more bearable to wear in public. Now she just finds it all awkward. Like, it’s awkward to just all the sudden ditch out on Lan Zhan and try to find some other non-shitty seat somewhere else, right? But it's also awkward to sit next to Lan Zhan when it seems Lan Zhan doesn’t want that, not really, not publicly.

The walk into the classroom is too short to solve any of these problems, so she just slides into her usual seat, carefully keeping her face forward, keeping to her own space instead of spilling out into the seat over to brush against Lan Zhan. Which is. Fine.

She takes studious notes and never once lets her eyes waver to the seat next to her. It takes a lot of mental energy. When the class is over, she doesn’t bother digging her stuff back into her bag, her only thoughts on how to get out of there as fast as she can, gathering them all into a messy pile in her arms and standing before the professor has even said goodbye.

“Wei Ying,” a quiet voice says next to her, a gentle reaching out to cup the ball of her elbow. Wei Ying takes a single deep breath and turns back around with a hopefully believable smile on her face. The black bunny pen is laid haphazardly across Lan Zhan’s notes. She was still using the pen. Ah, Lan Zhan is so nice, Wei Ying thinks to herself even as she feels her bottom lip wobble dangerously.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, I’m kind of in a rush today, okay? Gotta get going!” she chirps, looking anywhere but the steady hand that still hold her arm. Lan Zhan stares up at her, trying to meet her eyes, sighing when she seems to realize Wei Ying has no intention of looking away from the floor.

“Okay, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs again, letting go of her arm to fold her hands properly across her lap, “I will see you on Wednesday.”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Wei Ying chants and skids out of the aisle as fast as she possibly can, never once looking back. She doesn’t see Lan Zhan watch her leave, a tiny confused frown painting her lips.

This time, Wei Ying isn’t even the one to make the first move. She doordashes chocolate and gatorade and mini donuts from the nearest gas station and decides to sulk on her couch until it arrives (and ignore the paper she should be writing. She has time though, it’s not due for another 43 hours).

Her phone chimes from where it rests on the couch next to her, revealing a doordash message.

Hi, this is DoorDash connecting you to your Dasher for updates about your order.

Hanguang Jun: Are you drinking at 10:30 in the morning?

is that judgement i hear, Wei Ying responds, snorting a laugh as she does. Hanguang Jun might just be a fuddy duddy.

Hanguang Jun: We are speaking through an instant messaging service. You do not hear anything.

potato tomato, Wei Ying responds, just to be difficult and then a quick, also no im not drinking im just sad

The pause after this is long, stretching out enough that Wei Ying sets her phone down entirely and turns her attention back to the shitty soap opera she was watching, when the phone dings again.

Hanguang Jun: Why are you sad?

hanguang jun so invasive! She responds with a laugh, adding, i guess u r my wife now it is ur right to know

Hanguang Jun: Mn. Have to keep track of you.

hanguang jun! Wei Ying would yell if they were talking in person. Hell, she yells now into the fabric of her pillow, ur making me blush

Hanguang Jun: Good.

anyways, Wei Ying directs, because it seems otherwise they’ll just keep going in a circle of Wei Ying blushing and Hangunag Jun being, well, whatever it is they are being, there is a girl.

Hanguang Jun: A girl?

a perfect girl. the best, most beautiful girl, way out of my league, Wei Ying explains, hoping that with this fresh new person she can convey just how wonderful Lan Zhan is, seeing as how that didn’t go over well with Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning (although, Wei Ying is pretty sure Jiang Cheng has hated Lan Zhan since high school, she’s just not ready to unpack that yet), but she doesnt like me back. or like at all really i dont think she even wants to be friends with me

Hanguang Jun: You are sure of this?

yes!!!! Wei Ying sends back, rapid fire, she presents all of the wei-ying-is-annoying vibes

Hanguang Jun: And what, exactly, are the ‘Wei Ying is annoying vibes’?

well thats just too much to answer theres so many, Wei Ying, sinking deeper and deeper into the crest of her couch; this conversation is definitely not making her feel better the way she hoped it would.

Hanguang Jun: Hm. This seems unlikely.

unlikely????

Hanguang Jun: Mn. Wei Ying is a delight to be around, impossible to dislike her.

hanGUANG JUN

Hanguang Jun: Then how do you expect someone to show they like you? Romantically speaking.

oh thats easy, she types, thinking about the things she wants Lan Zhan to say to her, just ask me to get food really. im always down for food i think its a good first date, so if i say no to that i definitely dont like u lol

Hm, is all Hanguang Jun has left to say so Wei Ying goes back to being sad on her couch and dutifully waits for her cool blue gatorade and kitkat bar, not even bothering to run to the door when she hears the knock. She’s fairly positive Hanguang Jun isn’t planning on waiting around for her anyways. She still rates her five stars though; doesn’t want to fuck up her rating or whatever.

She repeats her routine, slinking into class late and trying her very hardest not to be a nuisance to Lan Zhan, leaning in the opposite direction and keeping her elbows to herself. Better to not annoy the other girl anymore than she already has. She thinks back to the beginning of the semester, when she’d draped herself all over Lan Zhan, happy and sure of herself, only now all she hears over the memory is Lan Zhan’s voice, angry and disappointed as she calls Wei Ying shameless.

Wei Ying does, in fact, have shame. A lot of it. Too much of it. Enough to keep her quiet and complacent for the hour and twenty minutes she must sit beside Lan Zhan knowing well enough the other girl doesn’t even respect her enough to be seen with her in public.

She tries to slip out of class as quickly as possible but there is Lan Zhan’s hand again, shooting out to grab her and pull her back.

“Wei Ying,” she says, eyebrows furrowing in that way they always do when she’s stressed about something. It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s restraint to not reach out and soothe the taught skin there back into place. Would Lan Zhan like that? Be okay with Wei Ying touching her like that in front of everyone? “I would like to ask you a question.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying nods to herself, fingers digging into the notebook she holds tight against her chest, “Is it about the homework? Ah, Lan Zhan you know you’re better at this than I am anyways.”

“It is not about the homework, no,” Lan Zhan shakes her head, looking solemn, shoulders drawn up as she rises from her seat, her bag resting over her shoulder, neatly packed up like she’s geared up to make a quick getaway too, “Would you like to get pancakes with me?”

Even the word makes her sweat. All the nights she’s spent eating pancakes (they’re her go to drunken craving) only to throw up the surgery sweetness later, to feel it twisting around in her alcohol burned stomach, acid and sugar making her raw and dizzy and nauseated; so good when she’s eating them under an alcohol induced haze and utterly ruined for her when she’s sober.

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head, “No, I don’t like pancakes.”

Wei Ying’s mouth is still open, about to suggest a different option, when Lan Zhan’s whole face shutters in a range of emotions Wei Ying can’t dare to name, and ends in smooth porcelain, eyes no longer meeting Wei Ying’s own, but staring past her likes she burns to look at.

“I see,” Lan Zhan says in a tone so flat, Wei Ying feels a little hysterical, what does she see what does she see, “Goodbye, Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan is out of the classroom before Wei Ying can grab her, though she calls to her long after she loses sight of Lan Zhan’s baby blue scrunchy, lost in the crowd of undergrads milling about, always in Wei Ying’s way.

Lan Zhan had looked at her like Wei Ying had said exactly what she’d feared only that didn’t make sense. How could Wei Ying have let her down when Lan Zhan had no hopes for her to begin with?

She drinks with Nie Huaisang that night and orders food and some random named Athony delivers it to her. She doesn’t opt to message him.

She only eats half of her pancakes, feeling incredibly abandoned and incredibly lonely.

On Monday she gets to class early. Like actually early, as in fifteen minutes before the class is even scheduled to begin, not just on time. It’s a first for her and she’s very proud. She’d hoped that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be there yet, that she could set up her stuff in peace and then when Lan Zhan came into the classroom she could see where Wei Ying was and decide if she wanted to sit next to her or not. She’d looked so upset on Wednesday, afterall.

But, of course, Lan Zhan is already there.

She looks gorgeous from where she sits, posture straight, perfect, shoulders drawn back making her look confident. Untouchable. Her makeup is lightly done and perfectly applied, lips shiny with tinted chapstick, notebook ready on her desk, bunny pen laid gently on top of that. And in the spot next to her, Wei Ying’s seat, rests her bag, taking up the entirety of the table, a warning to all intruders.

Wei Ying walks up extra slowly, trying to determine whether or not she is welcome, tiptoeing her way down the aisle, hoping Lan Zhan won’t look at her, hoping she will.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, her voice nothing more than a whisper, not loud enough for others to hear, ready to be hurt.

“It is Wei Ying’s seat,” Lan Zhan replies instead, keeping her eyes on the ground even as her hand reaches out to pull it out of Wei Ying’s way. This is the first time Wei Ying has seen it up close, has gotten to see the little cloud patterns, the letters embroidered into the fabric, spelling out, h a n g u -

Hanguang Jun.

Hanguang Jun!!!

“Hanguang Jun?” she blurts out before she can stop herself, “You, you’re...”

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, only now looking up at her, that same confused furrow to her brow, “It is my nickname, from high school, from the-”

“From the volleyball team,” Wei Ying nods with dawning horror, “You are you, do you, Lan Zhan, was that you the whole time?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, nods to herself really, as if the simple act of saying her name provided comfort, “I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I thought, I didn’t know,” she finishes lamely, feeling her cheeks burn as she thinks back to all the things she had sent to Hanguang Jun. She looks down at the bag to keep her eyes focused elsewhere and remembers, “Hey it’s on my desk.”

“Yes?” Lan Zhan replies, though it feels like more of a question.

“Have you been saving me a seat this whole time? Is that how I managed to get a good seat this whole semester, even though I was late everyday?”

Lan Zhan’s ears go red, stark against the black hair tucked behind them, but she nods firmly, unashamed, “It is Wei Ying’s seat.”

“You, you actually, you wanted me to sit next to you?” Wei Ying asks, feeling only halfway hysterical, “I didn’t force myself on you? You’re not embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Lan Zhan’s frown deepens at this, angry, “Could never be embarrassed of Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-” Wei Ying begins, only to be cut off by their professor.

“Everyone, please take a seat,” Professor Whoever The Hell says, making eye contact with Wei Ying and she sits down, utterly stunned.

“Lan Zhan,” she whispers when he turns around, “Can we talk after class?”

Lan Zhan looks at her for a long time then, calculating, assessing, before nodding her head with a firm, “Mn.”

Before either of them can escape, Wei Ying tangles her fingers with Lan Zhan’s and drags her out of the class behind her, pulling her into a little alcove surrounded by trees with little dangly purple flowers. It would be pretty on any other day when Wei Ying doesn’t feel like she’s about to burst out of her rib cage.

“Lan Zhan, it was you the whole time?” she asks again, still a little dazed from that realization.

“Yes, Wei Ying,” she nods, still hiding her eyes from Wei Ying, “Was certain you knew, thought you were...”

“You thought I was??” Wei Ying urges, a hand reaching out for Lan Zhan before she can stop herself.

“Thought you were flirting with me,” Lan Zhan admits, in nothing louder than a whisper, shaking her head as she does, “It is stupid.”

“It wasn’t!” Wei Ying half shouts, throwing her hands in the air, “It wasn’t, it wasn’t, Lan Zhan, I promise.”

“You did not know it was me, and...” Lan Zhan trails off again, wringing her hands together in front of her. It is the most unsure of herself Wei Ying has ever seen her; it breaks her heart just to watch.

“And what? Lan Zhan, you have to tell me,” Wei Ying all out begs, gasping when Lan Zhan’s eyes finally raise to meet her own; they’re red rimmed and miserable.

“Wei Ying said no,” she says after a long while, lips twisting in a grimace, “Wei Ying said no to food, so she definitely doesn’t like me.”

“I didn’t say no to you!” Wei Ying shouts, loud enough to attract the attention of passersby, “I said no to pancakes, not you!”

“Wei Ying, please, do not patronize me,” Lan Zhan resists, eyes hardening even though she is still clearly sad. God, how could Wei Ying have missed how sad she was? “I have been delivering pancakes to Wei Ying for weeks.”

“That’s exactly it!” Wei Ying rushes out, one hand shooting out to wrap around Lan Zhan’s wrist like she’s afraid the other girl might run away, “That’s what drunk me eats! And I always, always get sick, Lan Zhan! I can’t eat them when I’m sober, I’ll puke!”

“You...don’t like pancakes,” Lan Zhan repeats, working the words around her mouth like she’s trying to make sense of them, “But you do like...me.”

“Yes! Lan Zhan I like you so much! And I would’ve asked you out sooner!” she shouts again, and then realizes where she’s led this conversation. The shame burns in her cheeks so she focuses on digging the tip of her shoe into the ground, “I would’ve asked you out, but I thought you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”

The words still taste bitter in her mouth, ache in her throat and burn her cheeks but she’s said them, they’re out in the open and now they can deal with them. She expects a scoff, maybe an eye roll. She does not expect two soft hands to cup her cheeks, forcing her to look up, rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan scolds, “Could never be embarrassed of you. Wei Ying is...Wei Ying is everything.”

“But you, you hid. From your brother and Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue, because you were,” her mouth twists uncomfortably at this, the memory of being abandoned in the cafe fresh enough to hurt her feelings, “because you were with me.”

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says, the tips of her ears turning red again. Good, Wei Ying thinks, We can be embarrassed together, “That was not...because of you, more like...about you.”

“Huh?”

“Brother is...he likes...” Lan Zhan trails off, letting one of her hands drop from Wei Ying’s cheek to her neck and Wei Ying is not about to let her get away just like that so she reaches out her own hand, grabbing onto Lan Zhan’s hip and dragging her closer. This seems to make Lan Zhan release all of her tension at once; a full body shudder goes through her as she dives into the crevice of Wei Ying’s neck, hiding there, safe, and mumbles something completely unintelligible.

“What was that, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, petting a single hand down Lan Zhan’s back through her hair and up again.

“Brother likes to tease,” Lan Zhan breathes into Wei Ying’s skin, one hand digging tight into Wei Ying’s ribcage, “He knows of my...feelings for you, if he had seen us at the cafe he would have, and Wei Ying I was sure you didn’t, there was no...reciprocation.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you hid because you didn’t want to get teased?” Wei Ying laughs, delighted, as she pulls back from Lan Zhan to get a good look at her, eyes sparkling, “Lan Zhan, that’s so cute.”

Lan Zhan dives back into her shoulder and bites in retaliation, muttering, “Wei Ying is cuter.”

Wei Ying lets her stay there for awhile, petting her hair and wiggling as close as she can get before finally asking, “Hey, you wanna get some food with me?”

Lan Zhan draws back to look over Wei Ying’s face and must like what she sees there because she smiles and presses a half kiss to the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth and nods her head, “Only if Wei Ying will be my girlfriend.”

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, didn’t I already propose to you?” Wei Ying laughs, laughs even louder when Lan Zhan blushes again. She wags her finger in Lan Zhan’s face, trying her best to look stern, “Don’t think you can back out of our marriage so soon, wife.”

Lan Zhan bites her finger and keeps it there, warm between her teeth, only digging in harder at Wei Ying’s cry of indignation.

“Lan Zhan, you monster, you monster,” Wei Ying laughs, wiggling her finger still on the inside of Lan Zhan’s lips, “Hey, Lan Zhan, you should let go of my finger.”

“Hm.”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I can’t kiss you with my finger in the way,” she whines, even as Lan Zhan lets go and moves forward, “Would you deprive your poor wife like this? I waited so long for you-”

Lan Zhan, it turns out, tastes like strawberry chapstick.

Four Months Later

Wei Ying wakes up warm and sated, a leg thrown over her waist, a hand slipped inside her shirt, resting casually against the skin of her back, a heavy body breathing softly, rhythmically against her chest.

The moon is still high in the night sky, washing the room in pale silver-white light, turning the skin on Lan Zhan’s neck into cream sheets, soft beneath Wei Ying’s touch. She’s breathing out little huffs of air, dampening the collar of Wei Ying’s sleep shirt but Wei Ying could never find it within herself to complain. Not when she gets this; Lan Wangji safe and content in her bed, never hesitant, never ashamed to pull Wei Ying into her chest and hold her there for hours. To hold Wei Ying as close as she can, like she’s something special. Something important.

Wei Ying still can eat sober pancakes, she muses as she rubs slow circles into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, thinking about what they’ll eat in the morning when Lan Zhan inevitably drags her out of bed way too early to be considered normal, seat her at their table still wrapped in a blanket, and feeds her warm foods and coffee.

There are other foods to be eaten though, a never ending list of things to be enjoyed with Lan Zhan right there beside her.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, I’m really glad you brought me pancakes,” Wei Ying whispers, dragging one of her legs up to slot nicely between Lan Zhan’s, “And I’m glad you make me eggs and congee and potatoes when I’m not drunk.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply to this, obviously, still huffing peacefully against Wei Ying’s chest. She starts again, rubbing circles into Lan Zhan’s back, “Hey, Lan Zhan, I’m glad you’re not embarrassed of me. I’m glad you let me kiss you even if your brother is around.”

She presses a kiss to the top of Lan Zhan’s head then rubs her nose against the hair there, still smelling fresh with shampoo.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers to the ceiling, knowing it is well past Lan Zhan’s bedtime and she’s not usually one to sleep in fits and starts, “Lan Zhan, I love you.”

Lan Zhan’s face rubs against Wei Ying’s chest like a cat, lips catching on the fabric of Wei Ying’s shirt when she whispers back, “I love you too.”

(Wei Ying still gets drunk pancakes. She saves a minor fortune on never using the app again though; instead she lets Lan Zhan wrangle her into the passenger seat of her car, buckled in and safe, while Lan Zhan drives them to the local iHop. She lets Lan Zhan manhandle her into a booth and feed her bits of pancake and fruit, never too much, never enough to make her sick the way she would have had she been on her own. Lan Zhan always takes such good care of her; these pancakes taste better than any Wei Ying has ever had in her life.)

Coda:

“Hey, Lan Zhan, isn’t your family, like, rich?” Wei Ying asks, swinging their threaded hands in between them as they march to the nearest cafe, both of them glowing in the sunlight, happy, “Why were you running for DoorDash in the first place?”

“My family is well off,” Lan Zhan confirms politely, all while Wei Ying thinks to herself Yes, exactly what a rich person would say, “But there are things my Uncle does not approve of, and for that I prefer to use my own money so that he does not have a place to stand in telling me no.”

“Lan Zhan, how devious!” Wei Ying delights, leaning in to press an excited kiss to Lan Zhan’s cheek, “So what’d you get? Something cool? Dirty? Lavish? Tell me, Lan Zhan!”

“Bunnies,” Lan Zhan replies, cheeks speckled soft pink.

“Bunnies?” Wei Ying asks, head cocked to the side.

“Bunnies,” Lan Zhan confirms, nodding her head, “Uncle does not approve of pets but I approve of having bunnies and wanted two of my own.”

“Lan Zhan, stop, I’m going to die of cuteness,” Wei Ying whines, burying her face into Lan Zhan’s shoulder to moan more properly.

“Your repeat business helped to adopt them and purchase their housing,” Lan Zhan continues on because she is mean and has no sympathy for Wei Ying’s plight.

“Them? As in multiple?”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan nods, fishing her phone out of her pocket, “Their names are Fluffball and Pancake, would you like to see?”

“Would I like to, oh my god,” Wei Ying shouts, looking at a picture of Lan Zhan cuddled up with two rabbits, looking soft and content. One of them is snowy white, tail big and bushy, like a little snowball in and of itself. She guesses that one is Fluffball. The other is light brown, slightly bigger than the last and very, how does she nicely put this, round. That one must be Pancake. Wei Ying is absolutely not ready to guess the implication of the bunny being named Pancake. She is going to die, “Lan Zhan, I am going to die. You’re going to kill me. How are you so cute?”

“Wei Ying will be fine,” Lan Zhan reassures, placing a hand on the small of her back to lead Wei Ying along, “Promise to keep Wei Ying safe.”

“Lan Zhan!”

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan zhan #lan wangji #fem wangxian #rule 63 #modern setting #wen qing #wen ning #jiang cheng #my writing #my fics #jiangchengrights

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years ago

Text

A story by heroes and villains

Logan Anker: Pupil

In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn.

Sweets had been gushing about 10b for two years when Logan finally caved and decided to put aside his opinion on under age heroes in training and take a look for himself.

He had to admit, he seemed to be very talented. Most people had two abilities at the most.

10b, however exhibited enhanced strength and speed, flight, several shields, projectile and close combat weaponry. And he had excellent control of all of those.

He nodded to Sweets, who called out to the young hero in training as he finished off his target practice sequence.

“Good Job 10.b.” The kid, because no one could fool Logan, this child was nowhere near finishing high school, looked around and lower himself to the ground, eying Logan curiously.

Or at least, that is what Logan gathered from his body language since the protective gear was hiding the hero in training’s face.

A child. Around Virgil’s age. He might’ve be been in Virgil’s class at some point. A boy who thinks he can face what is out there. He knows Thomas hasn’t told this potential hero about Him yet.

It was Logan’s job to make sure the hero was ready for that information, for the world.

The hero was looking him up and down. Logan had updated his disguise from his old villain getup to a more inconspicuous outfit. One he could be seen wearing in the normal world, though he had it shift colors between a friendlier grey and sometimes navy blue to the deep black he chose for the meetings in the basement. His shading and voice modulating technology had gotten even better and was now integrated in his tie and his glasses. Making for a seamless transition from entering the elevator as Logan to exiting as Brainstorm.

“10.b, this is Mr. BrainStorm. He’ll be assisting us with training and provide you with the tech you need to be the best hero you can be,” Sweets explained.

The shocked reaction was expected. 10b was on edge. Logan supposed he should make him more comfortable around him if they were to work together.

“I see my reputation still manages to precede me,” he stated as calmly as he could. Though he really whished it didn’t. It’d been well over a decade since he’d done anything that made the papers in a bad way. His creations and discoveries had gotten him more than a little credit. The new police chief was actually giving him the benefit of the doubt now, while the former chief had treated him like a criminal every chance he got.

At the end it got so bad that he’d had to hold his talisman clenched in his fist every time the man was in the same building, or even on tv.

Chief Davies was firm and called him out when she needed to. But she truly did have his back when he needed her to support his ideas.

Sometimes he wished he could publish his research under his own name. He wanted Virgil to see the good he put into the world and be proud of him. But that might lead to pesky questions. Ordinary professors didn’t work on the level he did. And he couldn’t draw any attention to himself. Lest He take notice.

On the subject of his son though. Thanks to Virgil he had connected with his students a lot better the past few years. And if he was right about this boy’s age, his experiences with Virgil might help him connect with the young hero too.

“Would it be more comforting if I told you that the initials of my moniker are no coincidence?”

A second’s silence and then an artificially deepened snicker. Success.

“I suspected you might find this funny. I came up with it when I was about your age and thought it was really clever of me. Though I didn’t actually use it until I was closer to twenty.”

Logan was glad his face was hidden, because if anyone could see the pain in his eyes now…

He’d been 19 to be exact. Freshman in college, close friends with Thomas. When Caleb…

And then Helena got the diagnosis… He’d wanted to help. Needed to help.

He didn’t even talk to her long enough to let her tell him her good news… Not until that last day. And then he’d gotten mad. He’d been hurt, angry with her and himself.

And that was the last conversation he’d ever had with his big sister…

“10.b” his new pupil introduced himself as he offered his hand.

Logan appreciated the young man’s restraint. Many would ask him all about his past given the chance. But 10b didn’t. He nodded his appreciation and accepted the offered hand. “BrainStorm.”

Training 10b was a rather interesting endeavor.

Driven was one word to describe him. That much was clear. Logan tried to make him understand that even he had limits. But so far, he struggled to find one.

10b just kept outdoing himself. He was almost tempted to let him go out. But…

“So? Am I ready yet?” Even through the voice modulation Logan could hear the hopeful tone in his voice. 10b was still far too eager for approval. And that was a dangerous thing to want as a hero.

So Logan just shook his head. “No.”

The most concerning example of his stubbornness and need to prove himself was when he kept training from noon to almost midnight with almost no breaks one late summer day.

Logan would be annoyed, he would’ve liked to spend some of the last day of summer with his son, but he was more worried.

“Go home. Your body can’t keep up with your stubbornness. I’m sure you have places to be tomorrow.”

The boy grunted. “I’m not done…” he insisted.

“I am.” Logan turned and left the campus, hoping that his absence would force the boy to quit for the night.

When he arrived home, he planned to check in on Virgil who should be fast asleep at this hour, before getting to bed himself.

But instead he was tackled by his sobbing son. It’d been half a decade since Virgil had hugged him as soon as he walked through the door. After that he had started to learn that his father was not truly comfortable with physical closeness and had made an effort to at least warn him when he needed a hug.

“You are back. I thought… You’re never out this late and… I thought something bad had happened.”

Virgil rambled as he sobbed into his shirt.

“It’s okay Virgil. I’m alright. I’m sorry, I forgot to let you know work was running late.” He hated keeping secrets from Virgil. But it had regretfully become a habit of his it seemed.

He still didn’t talk about Helena or Caleb, despite the fact that Virgil had asked about them a few times in the past already. He had a right to know. But whenever he tried to talk about them to him, his throat closed up and fear and shame overtook him.

And he couldn’t even think about telling him about his powers, his mistakes and therefore his redemption or his second job. So whenever he had to train 10b he said he had to work on a project.

He’d thought Virgil had been fine. Though he noticed that he’d gotten more quiet since he started high school. In light of recent events, that might not have been just normal teenage behavior.

He had figured, if his son was struggling, he would tell him… apparently not.

“It’s alright Virgil. I’m here. We’re both alright,” he muttered.

It took him about thirty minutes to calm Virgil down.

He brought him up to his bedroom and tucked him in.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow when you get back from school alright? Try to sleep,” he instructed.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured as he pulled the blanket closer to himself.

Before leaving in the morning, Logan checked in on Virgil and found him curled up in his bed, sound asleep. He was about to leave when he noticed Virgil was holding something. Upon closer inspection he saw that it was the old stitch doll , wearing Virgil’s comfort blanket as a cape.

Had they been moved back to the bed at some point since the last time Logan saw them on Virgil’s desk? Or was this something he only did when he needed the extra comfort?

Logan didn’t think Virgil would tell him even if he asked. So he made a note to pay more attention to the doll’s location whenever he came up to the room. If nothing else it might be an indicator to Virgil’s mood. It would be something to consider later.

In class he had a hard time concentrating. He expected as much and apologized in advance.

He greeted each class by looking through his note cards, though after the first he didn’t need to, he found that the ritual was part of the appeal for his students.

“Good day everyone. I’m afraid I’ll be a bit off my ‘game’ today. Suffice it to say, the past night was a as you say ‘big oof’,” he held up the card and flashed it to his students.

A chuckle ran through the class and he smirked, feeling a little bit better after every time.

During lunch hour he called Picani. It’d been a while, but he needed some help and another session.

“He couldn’t breathe. He was terrified. He was… I’ve never felt so helpless,” he confessed quietly.

“Well, sounds like Virgil is certainly dealing with some things. I of course can’t be sure after just this one conversation but could you answer a few questions for me?”

Logan tugged at his hair. “Yes of course.”

Picani proceeded to list a few observable behaviors, things Logan had in fact noticed in Virgil. Small changes that just seemed logical developments from certain things he’d had since childhood. But, as it turned out…

“I would have to talk to Virgil in person to be sure. But from what you told me, he might have heightened levels of anxiety.”

Logan thought about that. That made a good amount of sense.

“Can you… I’m pretty sure he won’t want to talk about this. If he did, he would have done so already. But is there a list of some sort he could fill out? I’d like to be more certain before I bring up anxiety.”

Picani sent him a list and instructions on how to interpret them. He printed them out and was just reading through them when there was a knock on his door.

“Yes?” he called.

“Hi there Logie! How are classes going?” Patton asked as he walked in.

“Hello Patton. Classes are going satisfactory,” he informed him pleasantly.

“But…”

Logan chuckled. “Nothing gets past you does it?” Patton was a god sent. He was patient with Logan’s social ineptness and didn’t mind if he ranted about Virgil or whatever scientific article had his attention at the moment during most of their conversations. He didn’t ask about his past, he didn’t press if he didn’t want to talk about what upset him in the present. He was amazing.

Logan had fallen for Patton Bonair and hard. He felt like an idiot. Like a middle schooler unable to just tell his crush that he liked him.

But would Virgil be able to handle such a big change? Would he like Patton? Would Patton be able to handle forever having to take second place in Logan’s life?

Too many variables. Patton wouldn’t even be interested in him in the first place.

Things worked fine right now.

“Just teenage trouble. Nothing you can do about it I am afraid. How are you?” he asked. Patton nodded, accepting the change of subject.

Logan didn’t have any evening classes, and 10b had no training planned today, so he was home first and made a pot of chamomile as he waited for Virgil.

“Home!” Virgil’s voice came from the hallway followed by the sound of a closing door.

“Kitchen!” Logan replied as he poured two cups from the pot.

Virgil sat down and accepted the cup Logan handed him.

Once they both sat down Logan looked at Virgil, feeling hurt when he saw his son avoiding his eyes. When had that started? He had thought a lot about what Virgil might be going through and why he wasn’t aware until now.

He landed on the reason Virgil had given about not telling him about bullies.

“Virgil, I want you to know that you are not in trouble. I am not mad or upset with you in any way. Alright?” Virgil nodded, still not quite meeting his eyes.

Logan pressed on, speaking gently to ensure that he didn’t give Virgil the idea that he was frustrated or hurt.

“Last night… Was that the first time you went through something like that?”

What little progress Virgil had made in looking at him vanished in a second. His hands tightened around his mug. “No…” he admitted. Logan had feared as much, but still it stung to know his son had suffered on his own. Or maybe, hopefully, Janus had been there for him. Like he’d been there for the bullies.

“Sometimes I just think too much and I worry and then I freak out and… It always passes, but it’s…” His voice started shaking and Logan caught the glistening of tears in his eyes.

Logan recalled Virgil’s behavior of the night before, the thought’s he’d mentioned running through his head. Imagined being in his place.

“Frightening I’m sure.” His statement finally got Virgil to look at him. Tears still in his eyes, but more than that surprise.

“Virgil,” he began as he pushed the list and pen he’d laid ready towards him.

“I have a list for you, I’d like you to read over it and indicate next to each item how often you experience them on a monthly basis. It’s important to me that you are honest. I have a suspicion of what may be causing this, but I get that talking about it might be hard for you. Therefor I provided you with this as a way to boil it down to simple facts. Can you do this for me?” It was factual and to the point. He didn’t want to add to Virgil’s nerves by making the conversation even more emotionally charged.

Virgil nodded and accepted the paper and pen.

Logan let him fill out the list focusing on his tea. Once he heard the scribbling of the pen stop he looked up. Virgil seemed about to push the paper forward, but his whole body was tense.

His face was pulled in a frown and he was biting his lip.

Anxious about the results and his reaction?

“It’s alright Virgil,” Logan said gently. “I know I’m not always, good, at expressing my emotions, but I do love you. More than I expected to when I first agreed to take care of you. Nothing could prepare me for how much I love you and how proud I am to call you my son. Whatever you wrote down, won’t change that.”

It was a moment of unfiltered honesty and apparently that was what Virgil needed to hear.

He took a deep breath and then the paper was in front of Logan. He read it over and it became apparent rather quickly that Picani was right.

“I’m sorry you’ve been struggling with this on your own Virgil. Can I ask for how long?”

Logan dreaded the answer. But it was vital that he knew this.

“Um… start of last school year?” That wasn’t as long as Logan had feared.

“I didn’t notice it was bad until shortly after Christmas though. I was in the park and started freaking out. After that I was more aware of it I guess.” he explained.

Logan nodded, not showing his relief. When he went over external behaviors with Picani he’d come to fear that Virgil had been dealing with this for years. And perhaps he had. But he’d only known for the past eight months. Still, that was a long time to harbor such a secret from a loved one. Logan should know. Every day that he didn’t tell Virgil the whole truth about himself pressed like a heavy weight on his chest.

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me this?” he asked worriedly.

Virgil squirmed in his seat. “I… I wanted to… but then I started freaking out about freaking you out and…” Logan was about to try and talk Virgil through a breathing exercise he’d researched but Virgil already centered himself with a deep breath and a slow sip from his tea to give himself time to calm down. “I just figured I could deal.”

That was understandable. Logan had certainly used similar reasoning in the past in order not to burden Thomas, or his sister… That had not ended well for him though. And he would not let Virgil suffer because of a misplaced need for independence.

He had tried to teach him to ask for help when he needed it when Remus was taken out of school. But it clearly hadn’t sunk in.

“Virgil, I think you might suffer from heightened levels of anxiety. That doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. I would like for you to talk to someone about it though. If only to help you figure out a way to handle these attacks and the thoughts that come with this better so it doesn’t have to interfere too much with your life. Does that sound agreeable?”

“A shrink?” Virgil asked nervously.

Logan was glad he had so much practice keeping his emotions in check. He had perhaps been a bit too vigilant in shielding Virgil from his problems. “I know there is a stigma against it…” He had to do this. If he wanted Virgil to trust him on this, to open up more to him in general. Then he had to open up first. “But my psychiatrist has helped me a great deal with your mother’s death. I hope he, or one of his colleagues help you with your anxiety.”

“You… you went to therapy?” Virgil’s shock was proof that he had probably done too well of a job of seeming put together and in control at all times. He did it to assure Virgil of a stable figure to rely on. But he had deprived him of someone able to truly understand emotional vulnerability it seemed. “Still do from time to time,” he nodded, recalling the appointment he had scheduled for the weekend, making a note to announce it as such when he left. Perhaps he should have normalized his visits to doctor Picani the same way he’d normalized his attraction to men.

Virgil seemed to seriously consider his request now that he knew his father had a history of going to therapy.

“Okay…” he finally said, much to Logan’s relief. “just… can this stay between you and me?” Logan wanted to question why Virgil felt the need to hide this from Janus. Thomas he could understand. Virgil’s honorary uncle was of the helpful sort and might fuss about Virgil just a bit too much. But surely having a friend at school who knew about the potential for attacks and the ways to treat them could be beneficial?

He held these questions back though. Mental health was like your sexuality in that regard. It had to be your own choice when you told who about what parts of yourself. Including the reason you aren’t ready to tell your best friend you are struggling with certain issues.

“If that makes you more comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Virgil smiled before leaving the table with his tea to make homework in his room. Picani planned in a two hour take in session for Virgil early October.

In the meantime Logan paid extra attention to Virgil’s behavior. Trying to stay vigilant without becoming overbearing. It was hard, but he felt like he managed not to overstep.

He checked in with Virgil every night and found that indeed, Stitch only occasionally ended up in the bed. Usually preceded by a very quiet evening.

So Logan made an effort to coax Virgil into talking to him more when he seemed to hide in his own head. Sometimes he was successful. Other times Virgil asked him to let him just be for the evening and Logan backed off.

Picani managed to soothe Logan’s worries about being a bad father. Normal behavior for this age and such. They did discuss the possibility that Virgil might need some more affirmation. While they deduced that Virgil expressed his love through acts of service and gift giving. He usually paired those with clear verbal statements of his feelings and intentions. Possibly because he himself struggled to ‘assume’ that any action was made with the intention of showing love or appreciation.

The month progressed and when Logan dropped Virgil off for his first session he was probably as nervous as Virgil. He wanted to blow of some steam, but he held firm in his decision to never use that part of his abilities again. So instead he went for a run. By the time he was freshened up it was time to pick Virgil up. Sure, his son was old enough to take the bus, but he remembered how much his own first meeting with Picani had affected him and how intense the man’s idea of a good first impression was.

So he wanted to make sure Virgil was comfortable afterwards.

To his relief Virgil had ended up liking Picani. A second appointment was made for the next week and Virgil actually opened up a bit more after that. He started showing his drawings again, he hadn’t been comfortable sharing his art in what felt like forever.

And Logan must say, though he was never very creative or in touch with art, he could see that Virgil had talent. He could discern the patterns in the pencil lines and could see which sketches were made absentmindedly and which had been drawn in moments of tension. Each and every one though, without fail, was something Logan couldn’t phantom creating himself. He told Virgil as much and it made his son happy.

The name Roman started coming up in conversations again. Apparently he was Virgil’s lab partner this year and if the way his son seemed to struggle not to smile when talking about him was any indication, the crush Logan had suspected in middle school had returned. Or maybe it never faded in the first place.

10b was still training hard to become a hero and still eager to try his skills out in the real world. Logan was starting to worry he might run out of logical reasons to deny him this soon.

“We are done today,” he decided one Saturday afternoon.

“What? No! Why!?” the boy demanded.

Logan sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, taking a resolute stance. “Because, if you are going to be a hero any time soon you’ll have to learn to balance out your hero duties and your own life. School, work, friends, family…” If he’d been better at that aspect things would have ended up differently.

“Sweets and Manifestor both already left to return to their lives. You and I should do the same.” He didn’t wait for a reply and left. Virgil would be returning home from his appointment soon and Logan wanted to be there for him should it have been a difficult session.

Once he got upstairs he received a message from the front desk.

‘There is a young man who claims to be your son waiting for you.’

Logan smiled as he read this. He was glad Virgil had chosen to seek out his presence rather than just taking the bus home.

When he approached the front desk though he could hear the sound of sharp intake of breath, stuttering gasps and high pitched attempts at vocalization.

He was transported back to that terrible night and set of in a sprint.

“Virgil!” he called out, hoping his son would register and identify his voice and calm down.

He rounded the corner and found Virgil doubled over, gesturing frantically with his hand.

He rushed over and grabbed it. “Virgil if you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” he instructed.

“Fine, fine,” he gasped with a squeeze. Then he said something but Logan could only make out the words “Cant” and “God”.

“Virgil, are you having an attack?” he asked worriedly.

Much to his relief Virgil shook his head before starting to take in slow, deep breaths.

Once he had control over his breathing he whipped at his eyes smearing his running make up even more.

When Virgil looked up he had the widest grin. “You are using the vocab cards.”

Logan cocked his head, confused about why that was so funny.

“Of course. They were a gift from you, why wouldn’t I use them at any opportunity?”

How did he even learn this information?

A muffled squeal answered that question. Logan didn’t even need to look up to know who this was. Patton. Patton met Virgil and talked to him and apparently made him laugh so hard he could barely breathe. Patton had been talking about him with his son.

Virgil luckily snapped him out of his mild gay panic.

“Yes, because you were complaining about not understanding some of the things your students were saying. I didn’t expect you to actually start yeeting your trash,” he chuckled.

Now, Logan was pretty sure Virgil was aware of the nuances of modern slang. He did take meticulous care of making the cards and the updates on every gifting opportunity on top of whatever ‘real’ present he’d gotten him.

Virgil might have just been joking, with little care for accuracy. Regardless Logan adjusted his glasses and looked his son in the eye before informing him that: “Yeet is for distance. For trash I need accuracy, therefore the term used is ‘cobi’.”

And just like that Virgil was doubled over again, though this time the laughter died out on it’s own much sooner.

He straightened himself and addressed Patton with a smile.

“Anyway, great meeting you Patton. It’s good to know dad has someone so nice looking out for him.”

And then, out of nowhere he turned back to him. “You should invite him over for dinner some time. He’s a lot of fun.”

Logan felt his face flush. What? When? Did Virgil just…“Well, you two talk about that, I’m going to wash my face.” Before Logan could collect himself enough his son was out of sight. In hindsight it was foolish to think that Virgil had given up his matchmaker tendencies.

He simply hadn’t had any targets until now. Logan had hoped that after he and Thomas had a fight about the later’s attempt at setting him up with Sweets of all people for some unknown reason, Virgil had come to understand that he simply was not interested in dating anyone. Apparently not. And Virgil had just basically asked Patton out for him.

He looked over to Patton, about to make excuses for his son but then froze. Patton was blushing and playing with his sweater sleeves.

“Patton are you alright?” he hoped Virgil hadn’t made him uncomfortable? What had been said before he arrived?

“Will you have dinner with me?!” Patton blurted out.

Logan blinked in shock. “As… Like…”

“A date! I’m asking you out on a date,” Patton clarified.

Patton wanted to go out with him? “That would be acceptable,” he nodded.

Patton’s face brightened. “Great! Pick you up next Saturday around six? I’ll call you with the details,” he suggested. Logan nodded. “Yes. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Right! At work. Right here… Bye!” Patton giggled before walking off.

Logan meanwhile was trying not to lose his mind over this.

“Dad?”

Virgil had returned while Logan had stood here frozen for who knows how long.

“Dr. Bonnaire asked me on a date,” he breathed, still wrapping his head around that fact.

“I think you can call him by his first name if that’s the case.” Logan couldn’t see him right now but he was sure his son was finding this funny.

“I… I suppose…” He had a point. Not that he hadn’t been on a first name basis until now. But… Well he always called him by his last name whenever anyone else was around.

It was a habit he couldn’t quite explain.

“You did say yes right?” He must look really out of it. To be honest, Logan was starting to doubt if the last two minutes really happened.

“I… yes, I don’t know what came over me… I’ve never…” After over a decade of telling himself that he had no time… No business having a romantic relationship…

“Wait… you’ve never been on a date?” Virgil gasped incredulously.

“Not like this!” he clarified frantically as he gestured wildly. Last time…

“Last time, I was an arrogant college student who felt like he had to answer to no one but himself. Now, I am a single father, going out with a coworker. This is an adult outing. I can’t just…” How to even explain his dilemma?

“You really like this guy huh?” Virgil’s voice became soothing, sympathetic.

The flutter of butterflies and the flush of color on his face probably told Logan enough.

Logan sighs and nods with a blush. “He’s so patient and friendly and… I just never thought he could ever…”

“Now stop it right there,” Virgil snapped sternly. “Me turning out like a somewhat stable person, proofs you are awesome. And you just showed him all the reasons why he should date you while taking care of me. You’re welcome by the way. Patton is cool. He’s already met your kid and passed the test. The scariest bit is over.”

That finally caught Logan’s attention. He turned towards his son, who had washed off all make up from his face, and grabbed his shoulders to convey how serious he was.

“You’re really fine with me going out with him? With me possibly entering a romantic relationship?”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I’m not a fan of the change, but I want you to be happy. And if Patton is your pick… I wouldn’t have suggested he come over for dinner if I didn’t like him.”

Virgil was doing his best to sound casual about it, but Logan was filled with unmatched joy. He found that words alone were not sufficient to convey his feelings. So he hugged him tight. “I am fortunate to have you as a son,” he told him sincerely.

Virgil shoved him away, blushing awkwardly. Logan didn’t take it personally. It was his own fault that Virgil didn’t know how to react to him initiating physical contact.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever Logie.” What? Had Patton… Oh god. Virgil was much too pleased with Logan’s flustered reaction.

“Let’s go home,” he suggested with a smirk before heading to the parking lot.

Things changed over the next week. He and Patton engaged in more flirty conversation and it had his stomach in knots and his heart racing. But he didn’t mind that too much. Logan was pretty sure Thomas caught on, but he was kind enough not to mention it.

And then Halloween came around. Virgil’s favorite holyday.

They always dressed up together to hand out candy and Logan wondered if next year there would be an extra costume to be put together.

Virgil had been adjusting store bought costumes and doing their make up with enthusiasm ever since he outgrew trick or treating. He’d gotten quite good. From the start of September he’d be designing, sowing and practicing. The past two years it was the only time Logan saw his eyes light up again like they used to all the time when he was little.

This year, Virgil came home beaming.

“And so then I said ‘but ruling sounds like a lot of work’ and everyone laughed!”

Virgil was glowing as he told the story of how Roman had pulled him into a little improvisation.

“You should bring this boy over some time,” Logan suggested. Virgil’s hand, which had been turning him into a zombie professor, froze near his throat.

“I… We’re not… I mean he doesn’t…. We aren’t that close,” Virgil stammered. Logan let it go. Virgil wasn’t ready yet.

Logan had other worries that weekend than Virgil maybe trying to catch the eye of his classmate.

He was checking his tie for the millionth time and Virgil was wordlessly handing him the things he’d forgotten. Keys, wallet, phone…

He was a mess. “You look great dad,” Virgil assured him as he smoothed out his jacket for him. “He’s going to be blown away.”

“What would I do without you?” Logan wondered.

“Still pine from a distance I’m guessing,” Virgil smirked and just then the bell rang.

Logan took a deep breath, checked his pockets one last time and opened the door.

God, Patton looked so good in formal wear. He always looked charming, but now…

“Hya Logie! Hey Virgil! Thanks for letting me steal your dad for the night.” Patton winked.

“Hey Pat,” Virgil greeted.

Logan looked back with worry. “Are you sure…” he started, suddenly not comfortable with leaving his son alone for the night.

“Yes!” Virgil groaned with a roll of his eyes. “Just have a nice time. Text when you arrive at the restaurant and when you leave. I don’t have school tomorrow so don’t hurry home. Pat, steal his phone if he checks it even once during dinner.” Virgil was practically pushing him out the door at this point.

“I will,” Patton winked.

“Good, you crazy kids have fun and don’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to do.”

Logan flushed. “Virgil!” he chastised.

“Love you too!” he shouted as he shut the door in their faces.

Logan felt something twist in his stomach. Was Virgil trying to make sure he didn’t chicken out? Or… No. Virgil wouldn’t go behind his back.

“Logan?” Patton pressed gently.

He took a deep breath and smiled at his date… His date. The smile that appeared at that thought was almost painful.

“Apologies. Father instincts,” he shrugged by ways of explanation.

Patton giggled and hooked their arms together. “Don’t worry Logan. You’ve raised a wonderful boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Yes, you are right. Let’s enjoy our evening.”

The restaurant was lovely, the food delicious, and the company perfect.

Patton didn’t need to steal his phone, though Logan was always aware of its presence in his pocket. They talked about much more personal things than he’d ever allowed for at work. He learned about Patton’s love for animals and his ongoing battle with the kitchen, though he was good at baking for some reason.

Patton learned about his fascination with everything space related. They discovered they both loved Sherlock.

Patton really loved his puns. Something Logan found both endearing and frustrating. But he was sure his rants about complicated subjects could be a bit annoying from time to time too. They had fun discussing a few philosophers together and before they knew it it was time to pay. Logan texted Virgil as they waited for the bill.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Patton told him on the ride home.

“As did I. I’m glad you asked me out,” Logan nodded.

“Me too.”

And then they parked in front of the house. Logan spotted slight movement at the curtain of the neighbors. Celine was a curious person but she could keep a secret. He was sure she would ask him all about Patton next time they crossed paths, but he also knew that unless he told her it was okay, her husband nor her son would hear about his new relationship from her.

The lights in his own home seemed to be off. Virgil was probably in his room.

He cleared his throat. “So I guess now it is my turn. Next Friday? There is an exhibit I wanted to visit and I would very much like for you to accompany me.”

Patton smiled. “It’s a date.”

Logan nodded and left the vehicle with a final ‘good night’.

He had wanted to kiss him. Very much so. But he didn’t feel they were ready for it just yet.

Maybe after a second successful date.

When he got to Virgil’s room he noticed that the light was still on, so to be safe he gave a gentle knock on the door. A pause. “Come in.”

When he opened the door he saw Virgil was sitting on his bed, his headphones around his neck and his hair a mess. He’d been listening to music.

“You should be asleep,” he pointed out. It was rather late. He should at least have been trying.

“I wanted to make sure I could tell you good night. How was it?”

Virgil tried to be casual, but Logan could hear how tense he was. Whether it was worry or excitement, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it told him Virgil had worried about his night going well and that meant a lot. But Logan was not going to risk keeping Virgil up even later by rambling about the date.

“I will brief you in the morning. Now you should get adequate rest. Sleep deprivation is detrimental to both your physical health and creativity.”

“Okay, night dad,” he muttered in surrender as he got up to get ready for bed.

“Night Virgil… I love you.” He’d gotten much better at saying the words over the last month and he could see Virgil appreciated the effort.

“Love you too dad,” he smiled gently. And with that Logan closed the door.

How did he end up this lucky?

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris

5) Let them go.

Masterlist

#sanders sides #ts sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logicality #mention of #prinxiety #hero au

19 notes · View notes

jj-ktae · 5 years ago

Text

Papers, II

Title : Papers Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!Reader Genre : Victorian Era, Romance, Fluff, Angst, smut-ish, Words : 2484 Summary : In the merciless 1850′s, Park Jinyoung finds solace in tiny pieces of paper and their owner. Will be updated every Wednesday at 9 p.m CEST.

Prologue - I -

II,

Jinyoung wouldn’t say he is easy to disconcert. He saw too much to be concerned about trivial issues and his personality took the same way; he cannot be bothered easily.

Still, after recovering from the initial shock, his mind went into chaos. He blamed it on his overly imaginative self even as he tried to understand who the person could be.

She isn’t a student; none of them would wander the school outside of their usual schedule. They call themselves artists but their involvement with their surroundings is close to non-existent.

She can’t be a teacher. There is only one woman teaching and she hasn’t been around lately.

As Jinyoung falls on the slightly ripped couch and breathes the humid ambient air, he comes to the only conclusion he can feel satisfied with.

She has to be one of the persons in charge of keeping the school clean. He had seen a couple of women, all in their forties, walking around with their brooms.

They usually never work during class hours and hug the walls in fear of being noticed covered in dirt.

Jinyoung snorts, it’s not like they are doing the dirty work because the spoiled kids can’t take care of themselves.

So it makes sense. An old lady being bored and finding entertainment in chatting with a young gentleman is not shocking. It’s a good way to go unnoticed.

“I’m hungry,” Jackson cuts his thoughts with a grunt, “all we have are onions.”

“I thought there was bread left…” Jaebeom answers as he starts looking around the minuscule kitchen. He comes back with an old piece of half mouldy bread and tilts his head.

He hates that he even has to fill his stomach.

Money is something that comes in very little among for them. They usually take turns helping around in a small factory nearby but Jackson had to punch one the guy there.

It seems he didn’t like being called the filthy and useless orphan.

“There’s only the mine left.” Jinyoung concludes, “I will go tomorrow and ask if they have something for us. Next time keep your anger to yourself, Jackson.”

He sounds like he is scolding him but he is boiling inside. Jinyoung would have done way worse than a punch but he knows better than to let himself starve. There is only one way to survive and it doesn’t involve fighting for your own principles.

Sadly.

Jackson doesn’t say more but still, he joins Jaebeom. “Let’s just make a soup with the onions.” Jinyoung hears him cough loudly for a good minute before leaning against the couch.

He cannot stand the situation anymore.

He shouldn’t be worried about surviving; he should enjoy youth and have minor problems. He wants to worry about his future for a good reason, he wants to wake up without grimacing at how his stomach hurts.

His childhood was one of an orphan. It started with death and kept being surrounded by it. The orphanage wasn’t only a place of regular beating and fighting, it was also where they took the kids to work.

It was common until recently. Children would work wherever it was needed. The orphanages were the easiest place to find young people without family to put them to work.

From six to thirteen he, Jaebeom and Jackson wandered the coal mines, covered in dust and breathing the disgusting air. Several acts were made, but these applied to the kids with family who could report to the police.

It certainly didn’t apply to orphans whose only guardians were greedy people.

It’s a mystery how they survived, for most the other kids developed diseases or even died while working.

Jinyoung remembers how Jackson would try to protect them by working the most. He would be doing the job of three kids so that Jinyoung and Jaebeom would rest while no one was working. Back then he was already the most robust and lively of them three.

Hearing him cough so loudly puts him in such a state of rage.

There is nothing he can do about it; Jackson is stubborn and keeps on practicing swordsmanship while working an insane number of hours to bring money.

He barely lets them go in his place, explaining they have better things to do, almost begging them to make it with their intelligence and rely on his strength to take them out of here.

Guilt often adds to the number of things Jinyoung worries about.

So he fights, even though literature is annoying, even though he wants to run away and hide somewhere safe.

Jaebeom puts a worn-out bowl of soup in front of him and again, he wants to cry.

The amphitheatre is huge, Jinyoung thinks. They barely ever enter this room as most of their class are held in smaller rooms. The art department takes most of the space since many more students attend their classes.

Painting seems to be much more coveted.

He sits in silence, his shabby-looking bag now on the floor. He never uses it, mostly because it looks like a rag, but also because he hates weighing himself down with useless things. Today though, he has to go and find them a new place to earn money and he can’t risk his notebook falling into coal.

The teacher enters and starts explaining the importance of commas in sentences.

Jinyoung wants to sleep already.

It lasts for what seems like an eternity and Jinyoung ends up trying to find more inspiration. He takes the notes you had left behind in hope it would help and surprisingly it does. He writes five pages of his story. It evolved from the encounter of two people hidden behind pieces of paper to interrogations about the society and what it holds. He kept the identities secret, just like they are in reality.

Jaebeom has to nudge him when the class ends, so he absent-mindedly throws his notebook in the bag and walks away. He should hurry before the mine’s chief leaves.

He apprehends going there but he has no choice. He knows none of them want to go back there but it is the easiest way to get money without dealing with disrespectful people. The mine is like hell but everyone is the same under the ground.

It doesn’t take long to convince the chief. He is glad to find more people willing to risk their lives as apparently, he lost a few recently. The wage isn't big as expected, but it’s enough to eat more than rotten onions and mouldy bread.

“Why do you want to take turns? I’ve got kids working all day here.” The chief doesn’t know how painful these words are.

“We are students, sir.” Is all he answers; he certainly doesn’t want to explain how none of them are going to ruin their lives here daily.

The man is bewildered but he smiles, his dirty teeth appearing. “Why do you want to work here if you have money-”

“We don’t. We are orphans.” Jinyoung cuts through gritted teeth.

The chief ends up laughing so loud that Jinyoung wants to beat him up.

“I see...we can’t have you leech off society, right? Do as you please, I want one of you here every day. Money is once a week.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath before nodding.

“Starting tomorrow, 8 p.m. until 8 a.m.” is what seals the deal. Jinyoung is absolutely not pleased as he leaves the place.

He is about to go back home when he feels his bag lighter than it is supposed to be.

When he opens it and notices the notebook missing, he runs back into the mine at full speed.

When you hear about the classroom not being used anymore your first reaction is to be relieved. You don’t know why but something seemed abnormal with this gentleman and his questions. You have no idea if he saw your answer but there is no need for you to worry about it anymore.

Life is about to go back to normal and you don’t know if it is for the best or not.

Vivienne has been teasing you about how you had been anticipating this exchange and you had brushed her off, explaining that there is nothing to be excited about.

This could cost more than it could bring.

You enter the numerous rooms one after the others, not without secretly checking under the tables.

It makes you wonder.

What would have been his answer?

Maybe he would have agreed; the rich love being flattered, anyways. He would have written about how true what you answered was, about how the wealthy are the cornerstones of the society and how everyone should be thankful for their hard work.

So yes, it’s probably for the best.

“They told me the main amphitheatre would be used for more classes now. The one where you have been sticking the notes is going to be renovated.” Vivienne announces from behind you.

“I know…” you utter.

So much for being relieved.

You open the door of the amphitheatre and start from the tables. You hate this room; it is big and it means more work for you but today is payday and you promised you would buy a cake for Vivienne’s birthday even though she told you to keep your money.

“Do they not teach them how to use a bin?” The latter is already complaining, making you smile in the middle of your work.

The sun is rapidly falling, painting the room with shades of pink and purple so you work faster. You don’t want to go back home at ungodly hours again.

Yesterday you spent an hour cleaning the stains of paint on the floor and even your skin itches from the amount of alcohol you used.

You’re sweeping between the tables when you find a notebook.

Vivienne is cleaning the huge board when you pick it up, puzzled. You look around before kneeling to grab it.

The handwriting is messy but it looks like it belongs to a student. There are notes, tiny drawings and lost sentences. Pieces of paper fall from between two pages. You pick one and your eyes go wide when you find your own handwriting.

These are the notes you left to the young gentleman.

“Sir, if you’re looking for the room being renovated, it is in the other part of the building.” Vivienne speaks loudly, making you look up from your spot between the tables.

You turn around, surprised to see a guy standing. He is breathless, his face and clothes are covered in coal and he is way too sweaty.

“Sir, I can take you-”

“I’m not here to renovate this goddamn place.” The answer startles the two of you but when you find him looking at you before approaching, you don’t need more explanations.

You get up, the notebook in your hands and the pieces of paper back on the floor.

He stops before you, his eyes so deep it makes you take a couple of steps back.

Jinyoung looks down and finds your answers, forgotten between dust. He sighs and leans to pick them up before extending his hand.

“I forgot my notebook.”

You blink, mouth opened. Didn’t he say he is a student? Why would a student be covered in coal and be this dishevelled?

“...you are...a student?” Vivienne gasps, realizing she had been speaking this way to someone who isn’t part of the school personnel. “I’m sorry sir.” she lets the dirty sponge fall back into her bucket before hurrying toward you. “We shall leave.” her eyes find the floor instantly.

Eye-contact with a wealthy person is something no sane - and poor - person should do.

She grabs your arm to take you out but Jinyoung is quick to grab your arm.

You’re done for. You are going to get fired, beaten, criticized by the whole neighbourhood for doing such a rude thing.

Jinyoung sees it, the way fear appears on your face, the way you wish the ground would swallow you. Even covered in coal, dirty and smelling like sweat and humidity, you still think he belongs to a class that you should bow to and beg for mercy.

Anger takes him, makes him forget about how absurd the situation is, blurs his vision, covers everything from the ground to your devastating beauty.

He snorts and tilts his head. “So, care to tell me what you think about the rich again?”

How did he even know it was you?

Vivienne freezes, a hand going to her mouth but before she can beg you again to leave, you stop her.

“Wait for me outside. You have nothing to do with this so leave.” You look at her with a tender smile, one she recognizes as resignation toward your fate.

“I will...wait for you.” She whispers, not daring enough to look at a fuming Jinyoung.

Once she is gone you hand the notebook to Jinyoung before freeing yourself from his grip.

“I am sorry for what I did, sir. I didn’t wish to look into your belongings nor did I think before answering the notes I found. I will leave and never find myself before you ever again so I beg you to forget about my friend who isn’t involved in such idiocy.” It is your only option. You will endure everything before leaving and pray for this incident not to spread in any way.

You know how things go when someone makes a mistake. No mistake is allowed for people like you.

Jinyoung grabs his notebook before shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer.” is all he says.

You want to cry when you bow to recite the praises.

“As I already answered, the rich are the essence of-”

“Is that what you really think? Even covered in dirt, even when you have to kneel every day, beg for forgiveness, fight for food and act like you are invisible?” Jinyoung is smiling when you get back up. “You don’t want them to disappear? You don’t want the rich to pay for the way they treat the poor? YOU DON’T HATE THEM?” He ends up yelling when he finds himself unable to control his feelings.

“No, sir.”

Jinyoung laughs, “Well, I do.” he says before turning around. His knuckles are turning white from how tight he is gripping the notebook.

It takes a while for you to process the words but when you fully grasp what he just said, you speak again.

“Why?”

Jinyoung stops. He doesn’t turn around, but you guess he is still angered by the situation.

“Because of how frightened you are. Because we must beg for forgiveness even when we did nothing wrong. Because no matter how I torture myself, I will never understand how inequitable this bloody society is. Nonetheless, you risk nothing with the filthy me, young lady.”

And he leaves.

79 notes · View notes

smearsyd · 4 years ago

Text

Day Again | Sehun | Part Three

Kim Haru knows loss. She knows what it means to miss someone, to find out what isolation looks like in the flesh. These things, she expects them and she patiently waits for the day she may wake up and greet them as griefs of the past.

What she does not expect, is the same grief reflected back in another’s face. She doesn’t expect to find solace through this person either, nor does she expect to cherish her days with him, rather than wait them away.

characters:

+ oh sehun (exo), you as kim haru (because names are important)

what to expect:

+ christmas + friends to lovers + fluff and romance

warnings:

+ mentions of death, grief + sensitive topics

length:

+ five parts + 30k plus total

read it here: (updating… stay tuned)

+ masterlist + part one + part two + part three

author’s note:

+ this was late merely because I was too lazy to update it oop

@i-peachesandstrawberries @itsmesa

if you want to be tagged, please reply to the masterlist!

Golden Hour

I held the slightly crinkled note in the palm of my hand, feet antsy in anticipation of those stormy eyes. My stomach fluttered at the memory and I tried to swallow it down, to pretend I was feeling nonsense, but the wings of his touch and those grey, grey eyes of his were too encompassing to let it pass.

My fingers traced the spot where his feather like kisses were branded into the crown of my head and my heart thumped against the cage of my chest in half-faltered beats as if it were still attempting to match tempo with his. Is it normal for your body to remember someone, to long for someone, when even your mind is still lagging in the words to comprehend your emotions?

His writing was soft and rounded, not at all like I would expect.

I’m sorry I have to leave…

Don’t go, I wanted to say at the parchment.

You are sleeping so peacefully. I don’t want to wake you, but I have to pick Jisung up from his friend’s house…

Wake me, I don’t care.

I’m glad we ran into each other once more…

So am I.

If you’re not busy, come next Sunday at 7. Jisung is having a party. He’d love to see you— so would I…

I wouldn’t miss it.

Call me sometime, okay. So, I can hear your voice.

Always.

A week had passed and yet, I hadn’t stopped reading his note as if I were reading it for the first time, discovering something new within myself as I overlooked it. Oppa would laugh at me if he knew the way I was feeling about his best friend. Or perhaps, maybe he always suspected, and I was the one who laughed it off.

The thought slipped away from me as I neared Sehun’s building, my ears perking at a familiar, short chuckle. His broad shoulders and tall frame took over the center of my eyes and I found myself walking faster, drawn like a hummingbird to its favorite nectar. He was unloading his truck, a fresh Christmas tree in tow; it was bigger than any I had ever seen, and the green thistles were cascading all around him like imitation snow.

I found myself calling out to him as he sat the tree down and closed the back of the pick-up. His head quickly turned in my direction, a bright smile lighting up the frosted bits of his nose and cheeks. We spotted one another and then he was taking the few large strides to my side and enveloping me tightly in his arms. I breathed him in, his usual scent of fresh pine and a vibrating greenness from the trees he handled coursing through my senses.

“Haru-ya,” he whispered into me. “You should have told me you were leaving, I would have come and gotten you, so you didn’t have to take the bus.”

I pulled back, taking in the pooling, content lightness of his stormy eyes in delight. “The walk was nice actually, and you were working anyways.” He was still wearing the thick, cargo jacket and sporting a black task belt filled with different equipment I knew nothing about. The title Environmental Field Specialist, Oh Sehun, was shining brightly on his chest.

“The walk was nicer than riding in a warm car with a handsome man?”

“A handsome man?” I pretended to look around, my eyebrows scrunching as I searched for such a culprit. “I’d have to find one first to know.”

Sehun tsked and I broke out into a light laugh, moving my hands to brush the snow and stiff thistle from his broad shoulders. “It was nice,” I stressed, “because I’m still getting use to the new neighborhood and I’ve found that there is lot to explore.”

Sehun let out a half-defeated-half-reprimanding sigh. “Still, call me next time,” he insisted, his fingers going to tuck a lock of my hair away. His touch was warm, and dare I say it, nicer than anything else.

I waved him off with a playful jest to my eyes anyway, taking a step away, but then he pulled me gently back, his stormy eyes suddenly serious. “Promise me, Haru. We can explore the neighborhood together if you want, just don’t go alone anymore.” He muttered gently, as if the thought of me walking alone in the cold pained him.

The air caught in my throat and I was struck silent by the pervasiveness of his demand, but regardless, a calming warmth spread through my body and I found myself nodding yes. His hand fully laced with mine, a thumb going delicately over the bend of my knuckles.

“C’mon,” he smiled, “Jisung and his friends are all inside.”

He pulled me up the stairs and into the small apartment he had always stayed in, the familiarity hitting me like a wall of cool, crystal water. The numbers 203 were gleaming in my mind as a photograph revisited countless times when he opened the door and led us inside. The first thing I remembered was the light.

Sehun always kept things so open and bright. Now, as the sun was setting, the apartment was basked in golden, beautiful light that illuminated the space and highlighted the blonde crown of Sehun’s locks in a halo of warmth. He looked lively then more than ever, a kind smile blooming on the quiet of his face and his fingers drumming lightly against mine as he watched me watching him.

The second thing I noticed was the homey kind of chaos that ensued around the space. Sehun’s small dog, Vivi, came running to my feet with a trail of whimpers following him, and in the living room, playful yells could be heard from the booming entertainment center.

“Hello,” I cooed, reaching down to pet an awfully vibrant Vivi, who was usually stuck up and only responded to Sehun. “Did you miss me? I missed you!” I patted his head and Sehun simply chuckled, looking fondly at the two of us before turning to call across the house for Jisung. Shortly after, Jisung came trotting out with six other boys in tow.

“Noona! You came!” He exclaimed, running over and embracing me in a quick hug. “I’ve missed you being over all the time.” I squeezed him tightly back, his young face twisting my heart. He looks exactly like Sehun did at that age— except somehow so much taller.

“I missed being here too.” I smiled, patting down his messy hair. “Are these friends from school?”

“We all play basketball together.” One of them said, sporting a boyish smile and kind eyes. “I’m Mark, the captain. It’s nice to meet you Noona.” He shook my hand and I couldn’t help but to return the smile.

The rest introduced themselves one by one. Renjun, the small one, and Jaemin, the oddly charismatic one, bickered about how Jisung is always forgetting his water bottle at home— to which Sehun glowered at. Chenle and Haechan, the loudest ones, were in a heated debate about something regarding the game they were playing. And lastly, Jeno, a mildly shy boy, shocked me by asking for a hug— something he apparently likes to do when greeting all new people. Sehun shook his shoulders at me as if to say it shocked him as well, but of course I gave him a hug.

Then they were back off to their game and it was just Sehun and I again. He nudged me before trailing off into the hallway that led to his room, throwing me an all grey look over his shoulder to make sure I was following. My feet shuffled after him, but all I could think about was my brother’s nasally kid voice always telling me I wasn’t allowed down there with them, that girls were a bore, especially little sisters, he would say.

Then Sehun would let me in anyway. I let the memory sit on my shoulders, its weight getting easier to hold.

Sehun’s room was just as I remembered it— well lived in and a little messy, but organized in his own fashion. The bedspread was still the same warm chocolate color and his walls were still the same shade of his light eyes, the ones he is flashing me now.

“The only thing that’s changed in here is you,” I remarked, touching the edge of his over-spilling bookshelf.

Sehun tilted his head in question, sitting back on his bed as he watched me lazily look through his room. “I’ve changed, really?” His hand was propped under his chin and his blonde hair was falling into his eyes. My fingers began to tingle in desire to run through the slightly knotted locks, to pull the strands through my digits and feel—

I blanked when an amused bend to his lips graced his angled face as he caught me staring. I turned away, pretending to look at the books so he couldn’t see the flush of color rushing to my face. “Yeah…” I almost coughed, “you look old now.”

Sehun snorted, throwing his head back. “Is that so?” He asked, a layer of husky playfulness coating his voice. “What exactly about me looks so old, huh?”

His laugh was contagious, and I found myself turning towards him. I neared his spot on the bed and he reached out to me, pulling me closer so I was standing over him and in between his legs. I pretended to inspect his face, drawing my eyes lightly over all of his features and following their movements with the pads of my small fingers. He let me, leaning gently into my touch as his hands rested on my hips.

“Your nose is longer,” I started with a short chuckle, tapping the bridge lightly. He raised a brow at me, but his eyes were sparkling. “And your face got quite bigger.”

“Seems like fair signs of aging,” he played along as I traced the outline of his face, coming to wrap his arms around my waist. We melted into one another, seemingly forgetting the painful circumstances that haunted us as our past became a point of comfort, of familiarity that propelled us together rather than pulled us apart. In the moment, there was just us two and nothing else mattered.

“Of course, there are so many wrinkles now too.” I finished with a smirk.

Sehun pretended to be offended. “Me? Having wrinkles? You must be blind.” He spilled out, reaching for my face to gently lower it to his. “Is there something wrong with your eyes?”

This time it was his turn as he looked over me, slightly prodding my skin and pinching the apples of my cheeks until I was giggling slightly under my breath. “Hmm,” he whispered with a crescent fall to his lips, his breath falling over me. “Nothing’s wrong here, they’re just as beautiful as ever.”

Somewhere along the way, we had ended up face to face. His nose was brushing against mine and all I could see was his stormy eyes gazing at me, the golden hue of the sunset filtering in through the window and surrounding us. I leaned into him and his warm hand settled on my cheek, pulling me closer as his—

The door slammed open and I jumped back. The two of us separated from shock, but at seeing that it was just Jisung’s form in the doorway, Sehun seemed to instinctively pull me closer again. It wasn’t until we really looked at Jisung, however, that we noticed his puffy red eyes and the blank look on his face as he stared down at his feet. He was holding his cellphone haphazardly in the palm of his hand, looking as if it were about to lose its grip and fall from his grasp at any second.

I went to ask what was surely on both of our minds, but Sehun beat me to it. “What happened?” He breathed out in building question.

Jisung took a slow, shuffled step forward before finally meeting Sehun’s gaze, a loose tear running down his small face. “Hyung��” he broke off, more tears falling freely.

Sehun stood up almost instantly, grabbing Jisung on the shoulders as he looked back and forth between him and the phone. “What’s wrong? Tell Hyung what happened.”

“M-mom called…” Jisung finally got out. Sehun’s face went blank, but his eyes darkened significantly. “She was trying to get me to meet her somewhere, b-but when I refused, she—” he choked, his face splotching in red. Sehun tried to calm him, one hand wiping tears away as the other patted his back. All I could do was stand helplessly, the image of them two weighing down the same image of my brother and I.

Jisung struggled. “—S-she got really mad and started yelling—”

Shh, Sehun soothed, his voice quivering slightly, but from the growing look in his eyes and the stiff posture building in his muscles, I could tell it was from anger. “You don’t have to say it.”

Sehun glanced over his shoulder and I froze from the pure intensity he was giving off, but his gaze softened as it landed on me. His eyes conveyed everything I needed to know in order to see that he wanted help. I quickly took the few steps over to them and Sehun maneuvered the phone from his grasp and stepped out once I had a hold on Jisung. His footsteps were booming as they walked from the room and through the front door, it slams behind him.

“Come here,” I breathed out, taking his hand. “Come sit down.”

“I hate crying.” Jisung sniffed, letting me pull him over to Sehun’s bed. He folded in half, rubbing his tears away with small fists as I patted his back lightly.

“There’s nothing wrong with crying.” I offered smally, not expecting his remark. “Noona cries all the time, so does your Hyung.”

Jisung looked up then, his red eyes watery and unbelieving. “Does he really?” He asked in a cracked voice.

“Of course. Everyone cries sometimes, there is absolutely nothing wrong with letting out your emotions and feeling whatever it is that you are feeling at this moment. Sometimes Sehun and I even cry together.”

Jisung’s face scrunched up, the tears slowly coming to a stop, but he didn’t say anything else or try to rub them away. We stayed silent until he had completely caught his breath, some healthy colors returning to his face.

“I don’t get it…” he trailed off, looking at the ground as if he was waiting for it to provide him with all of the answers to his questions. I found myself looking too, hoping in a sliver of chance that maybe it would. He let out a reserved huff, one that resonates the guttural exhale of what it means to be a young boy expected to handle everything like a grown man.

Men were pitiful like that, I’ve realized, stuck in a box that was their body, confined and betrayed by even their ability to express. I looked at him and was reminded of my own brother, a tightness surrounded my throat and my eyes began to burn. I set my hand atop his shoulder and tried to radiate every bit of support I could through my fingers and into the cool fabric of his red jersey.

Sehun entered then and the door creaked open as he pushed through the small wooden frame. He had to bend a little as to not hit his head, his large hand rested backwards onto his neck as he feverishly rubbed his blonde locks around. He looked tired as he made eye contact with me, the tired that is mental, the tired that rests in your bones. I knew this, for I too understood that unwarmable ache.

Pleasantries never worked, nor did your favorite movie on a Saturday night wrapped in pajamas that you deemed just right. You still clicked the TV remote off and let it sink back in, let the tired rest into your bones and whisper silence louder than any attempt to lighten yourself had ever spoken. I smiled at him, albeit a weak one, but it was genuine. He returned a soft gaze of his own, one that was so Sehun-like that I felt like no other gaze amounted to it. Stormy eyes blinked out a gentleness; a comfort that had always been there.

He rested next to Jisung and placed his hand in the same position as mine on his opposite shoulder, rocking his younger brother a bit before pulling him into his chest. My hand fell away and I closed them together in my lap, so I didn’t have to feel the absence of warmth.

The sight of brothers clinging together, always together, brought a tender image I felt connected to, yet so far distanced from that I found myself looking away, sniffing to acknowledge to myself that I was indeed real in this moment. Sehun stroked the top of Jisung’s identical blonde locks and looked down at him with a wiseness that he seemed to carry on his shoulders. It was the same look he would give my brother when they were growing up, and at times, would even give me.

It was a look he always had, even when he was young, and I, even younger. A soft smile of bitter sweetness glimpsed my face as I remembered.

“Halmeoni!” She cried with the anguish of tightened muddy fists and a tarnished dress, painted with the throes of play gone wrong. “Halmeoni!” She looked at the familiar, yet unfamiliar way in which strangers moved past her, their eyes reflecting the muddy remains of her dress.

“Whose child is that?” They whispered. “Who cares.” Another says.

Haru pushes past, suffocating within the bends of foot traffic and bike whistles, distant radios and patron chatter. Her eyes blur and she wails out in desperation just as someone grabs her arm tightly, pulling her to the side with the grip of heated intent.

“What’s the matter, my puppy, what happened? Where’s your brother at?” She recognized the sweet sigh of her grandmother’s voice. The distant, but firm smell of earthy mushrooms from their shop and the blue starch apron that was always wrapped around the bend of her wide hips. Haru collapsed against her side with huffs of pink lips exhaling the remainder of her stress and releasing the stares from cold, careless faces.

“Halmeoni, Oppa needs help!” She begged with tense eyes, taking fistfuls of that blue apron into her tiny palms. “He falled from the top, the top top Halmeoni! I-I told him to get up, to stop picking on me like you told me to do, b-but he won’t get up! Halmeoni,” she whined, tugging again, “Oppa won’t get up! Oppa won’t get up!”

“Oh, my puppy, my sweet Haru, what am I goin’ to do with you.” She clicked her tongue as her hand caressed the brown locks of Haru’s tangled hair and tucked them behind her ear.

“Dry them tears baby, here comes your Oppa now, and that handsome Oh Sehun boy beside him. Go on, look,” she coerced with a slight push, unfurrowing the small hands from her apron and giving them a loving pat. She reached down and pinched the soft flesh of Haru’s pink cheeks and Haru giggled, a tinkle of soft bells, before nodding her head and turning anxiously to find her Oppa.

She gasped once seeing them indeed coming up the road, her brother waving an arm in the air and Oh Sehun gazing on with that particular look of his. The grandmother simply chuckled before turning back around to tend to her rows of turnip roots, mushrooms, and other vegetables littered throughout the small shop.

Haru had a fresh set of crocodile tears falling down her face by the time she reached her brother and his best friend. She ran into his arms and he patted her head like older brothers do.

“Why you didn’t get up?” She accused, her fiery eyes demanding answers while sneakily running her gaze over her brother’s body, inspecting for wounds the size of watermelons she would beg her grandmother to cut into bite sizes during the summer months.

Her brother simply smiled. “I’m sorry, I was just catching my breath. Sehun will tell ya’, won’t you?” He nudged his best friend with a look of obligation, but Oh Sehun was already patting her small head with the same look of love her brother had given her.

“You don’t have to worry Haru-ya,” Sehun announced, his voice steady and warm. “I’ll take care of all the bad things before they happen, that way you won’t have to cry again.”

Haru dried her tears and held out her small pinkie finger as a response. “It not true if you don’t promise it.” Sehun laughed, but held his hand out, nonetheless. “And don’t forget to stamp it!” Their fingers pushed up against one another like walls of support and they both smiled, innocent, loving smiles.

A light hand fell against my knee and I blinked the memory away, looking at the large palm of Sehun’s warm hand as it rested against the dull material of my jeans. I had the urge to envelope that hand into my own, to hold onto it and force it to promise me like it did once ago to drive away all the bad things, to turn back time and make everything better again.

I wanted, in an unfair pleasure, to have Oppa back, to laugh with him and do normal things with him. I wanted to receive texts way after I had shut myself in my room, asking if I wanted ramen and if I wanted spicy or savory because he knew my answer would always be yes. I missed the constant chatter, the TV blaring as soon as I walked through the door because he constantly forgot to turn it off. I missed being loved, unconditionally, by one person who would always be there.

Was supposed to always be there.

It was unfair, but it isn’t a fairness I could change. And it isn’t a fairness Sehun could change either. He wasn’t ever able to, which in itself, is the most fitting, and yet unfitting thing to say about him.

I decided to hold his hand anyway. It felt nice in mine; it felt like it could warm my bones. He rubbed his thumb over the back of my knuckles and squeezed tightly. It was like he needed something to ground himself on— just as I held onto myself for reassurance, he reached out and held onto me. The grip, though warm and gentle, felt foreign, like the grip only knew how to comfort, not to receive.

It made me wonder, who was ever there for him?

Just as easily as he held on, he let go. And as if one was normally able to see warmth leave your body, I saw it leave his with a tremble of his fingers and a dullness of responsibility in his gaze.

“Listen,” he spoke clearly, pulling Jisung back to look him properly in the eyes. “There are going to be people in this world, no matter where you are, that will try to tell you how to feel about yourself. They’re going to tell you that what you feel isn’t real, that what you feel isn’t right. They will de-validate you every chance they get in order to validate themselves. Do you get what I mean?” He asked firmly, his stormy eyes searching intently for something I wasn’t even sure of.

Jisung sniffed, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. I pushed a tissue from my pocket into his palm, to which he took absentmindedly. “I guess… I just don’t get why. Why would she call me after such a long time, call me close to Christmas,” he seemed to correct himself, his words like embers from a dying fire. “Why call to just tell me that she’s tired of trying and that I’m a lost cause? What does that even mean?”

Sehun sighed through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for the smallest of moments before pulling Jisung back into a hug. He looked almost motherly then, as if he was willing to be, to do, whatever it took to protect Jisung. Protect, though, felt like a small word in light of what I felt Sehun would do for those around him. He was extraordinary in that way, selfless in the most self-driven way.

“She says those things because it is easier for her to believe that you are the problem instead of acknowledging that she is the problem. That’s where you have to know inside that what she says isn’t true, that everyone else doesn’t get to say who you are or what you are capable of being. You and only you get to decide that.

“It’s an awful lot to ask of one person, but I need to know that you understand that there is nothing wrong with you. Can you promise me that you won’t listen to her when she says things like that?”

It was Jisung’s turn to sigh this time, his though, was short and contemplative, it came from the head instead of the gut. “I promise... I guess.”

“You guess?” Sehun asked in the same way Oppa used to when I back talked him.

Jisung turned and looked at me instead of answering Sehun. It shocked me inside and my eyes widened, remembering that I was here too, not just watching from the outside, but actually a part of something important. Jisung pouted his lips out, but his eyes were suddenly dancing. I knew that look and for a few seconds, I felt light in anticipation.

“Noona,” he deadpanned in a very no-nonsense manner. I looked at him straight before he said rapidly in one breath. “Please-date-Hyung-already-he’s-an-inch-from-being-seventy-years-old-and-I-fear-that-you’re-his-last result-for-liveliness-I-mean-you-should-have–”

Sehun let out an indecipherable blurt of words, quickly reaching for Jisung’s mouth to stop him from continuing. Jisung’s laughter escaped through his palm, however, lightening the room with every outburst. “–shood’ve heen ‘em pashin’,” he struggled against Sehun, his eyes turned half-moons before finally freeing himself from his grip “–waiting for you to call!”

“Oo-okay,” Sehun ended, picking up a cackling Jisung by the arms and pulling him from the bed. Jisung gave me a few half attempts at winks over Sehun’s large body before Sehun covered his face with him palm and pushed him out the door. “Since you are so funny now, go be funny somewhere else.”

“Ahh Hyung,” Jisung whined, looking like the smallest fourteen-year old I had ever seen. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as Sehun slammed the door in his face, completely unmoved by Jisung’s efforts. It was times like this that I remembered they were siblings, young siblings, before everything else. Maybe it was the most important thing to remember about them, yet the easiest forgotten.

Sehun waited patiently by the door until he heard the video game music cue backup and Jisung laugh at something one of the boys had said. His shoulders seemed to relax then and he finally turned away, coming back to the bed and plopping down beside me.

“I’m sorry,” he directed at me around a huffy laugh. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were lightly dusted in petal-like pink. I thought he looked awfully cute then, and though a small part of me felt that feelings as such were too unfitting of our circumstances, another significantly disagreed.

“Don’t apologize,” I said as I fell onto my back beside him. “I’m just glad Jisung is feeling a little better. Your mom sounds…” I trailed off, not wanting to say anything to worsen the mood— although like an asshole, was resting on the tip of my tongue.

Sehun hummed in response, a low, guttural one that made my insides tingle and a soft shiver to run up the expanse of my back. A swirling haze of clouded grey was pooling in the depths of his eyes that felt endless as we sat still and breathed on another in. His eyes housed a lifetime of enduring, of letting it all in and swallowing it down one grain of salt at a time. A grain for every loss of innocence, a pinch for each disappointment, a spoonful for building regrets, and a handful of molding heartache— he was cooking inside, and it was bubbling up, over, and into the space he allowed me to exist in. There was only a small crack he hinged open to fit a hand through in hopes that someone would hold on.

He gazed on at me and I gazed back, as simple and completely un-simple as that.

“There were times that were good,” he furrowed his eyebrows as if it was hard to speak. “It wasn’t always this way, I guess. But still, you can say it, she is an asshole,” he smiled one of those not so happy smiles and I tried to return the favor, but the notion didn’t quite translate.

“When Jisung was born, I really thought they had changed. Dad came back from America and ran the business remotely, and Mom stopped—” he paused, and my insides broiled, but he knew I had known for a long while and so he settled on, “—the abuse.

“They love Jisung, they really do, even if they suck at being parents. But even so, they aren’t good to be around and there’s no way I can sit and let her do to Jisung what she did to me. Especially since Dad left and I am no longer the small, easily manipulated boy anymore. There is no one else but Jisung to take her anger out on.

“He misses her, though, I can see it when he looks at the other mothers at his school or comes back from his friend’s houses and talks about how kind their parents are.” He gulped as he looked into me with unsteady, dissolving ends. “Sometimes, I’m worried I am not enough.

“Am I doing the right thing Haru?” He whispered and the crack in his large wall grew a little more.

I felt overwhelmed in the moment, a wall of frost falling around us and encapsulating the sacks that held the soup of us inside. Sometimes, I’m worried I am not enough. Sometimes, I’m afraid to figure out what enough is.

Instinct, really, is what drove me to reach out for him, to stop the numbing and reach for the fire. To say it was anything else would be purely extrapolation. It was embedded in me to reach out, but for him, it was a new sensation, a bleeding of orange and yellow ink into the thin lines of his torn skin. He held on, though. And when our foreheads rested against one another’s, his body was left shaking and needy, dripping the salty exhaustion of boiling so much frost inside.

I spoke when he was warmed.

“I think that enough and right thing will never be a judgement I can make for you, maybe not even for myself. I can’t tell you what makes sense or why things are the way they are. Those are all things we have to come to ourselves, in our own time.” My hand reached out and gently grasped the side of his chiseled face. His skin was warm and soft, and he closed his eyes against my touch. “I can tell you that being here, right now, and feeling upset, afraid, doubting yourself, being unsure of the future, or anything else, is okay. Sehun, it’s okay to not know and it’s okay to not be okay.

“All we can do as people is feel everything there is to feel, soak it up and process it, but then we let it go. What we decide to do from there is exactly what we were meant to do— enough and right thing will never factor into that because you are simply you and your actions will only ever be yours.”

His eyes fluttered open, his long lashes bouncing with the weight of unshed tears— tears that I would guess hadn’t seen daylight in a long time. “Jisung loves you and he is protected, loved, and accepted unconditionally by you. Those are things that you, solely, provide for him with no guidance and no one asking you to do it. If enough exists, then you will always be enough for Jisung.

“And for me.” I added as an afterthought.

He took a while to say anything and I imagined he was soaking it in as he slowly evolved me into his grasp. His fingers became nimble petals, leaving light traces of growth on the small of my back and the soft of my arm as he bloomed all around me, sliding his tender rooted fingers into the locks of my hair. He breathed in my oxygen and I breathed in his grounding presence until we were buried into one another.

“You won’t leave me, right?” He asked in tightened fingers and pollinated yellows.

“No,” I promised. “And you won’t leave me?”

“I’m yours, Haru-ya, that’s never changed.” He planted a delicate kiss across the loam of my forehead and breathed out the words I knew I had wanted to hear for a long time. “And if it’s what you want, then we can be each other’s.”

thank you for reading

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#smearsyd writes #exowritersnet #exo scenarios #sehun x oc #sehun scenario #exo fluff #exo romance #exo hurt and comfort #exo #exo sehun #sehun series #oh sehun #mywriting #exo fanfic

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aliceslantern · 4 years ago

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Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 14

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Ienzo and Riku continue to pass the time together. Ienzo realizes something about their relationship.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The next few days settled into a mostly peaceful rhythm. Riku showed him more of the island sights; they spent most of a full day with Kairi shopping in the bazaar. Ienzo met a few more of Riku’s other friends as well, and like his parents, they were somewhat mystified by his “alien” presence. Already Even had messaged him asking him when he would be done “lazing about” and when he could be expected back, but Ienzo hadn’t responded. He didn’t want to think about Radiant Garden right now.

He knew at some point he’d have to tell Riku the whole ugly truth of his past, and while he knew Riku was unlikely to vilify him for it, he nonetheless wasn’t looking forward to it. He was content in their soft, sweet bubble, in this reality that they were just a normal couple.

They made out often and tried touching each other several more times, and each time Ienzo would draw so awfully close to just coming already. Riku tried doing it a few different ways, but it really did seem to be his mind stopping it all from… functioning. Ienzo wondered if at some point he’d just get so pent up his body would win the fight. He hoped it would happen soon; all of these hours spent getting hot and bothered and going nowhere was practically making him ache.

Riku said that day was “cooler”, so they would go to this mysterious falls at last. “It’s a hike, but an easy one,” he told Ienzo. They took the bus (which itself was a fascinating and strangely nostalgic experience; he couldn’t be sure if he had vague memories of taking a streetcar with Even) to the trailhead, and when Ienzo looked up at the incline he almost balked. At least this all seemed to be shaded by trees. This might be easy for Riku, who was physically fit and had probably gone through far harder on his journeys.

But Ienzo was a sedentary researcher.

Noticing his trepidation, Riku squeezed his hand. “I promise the first part’s the hardest, and then it all gets really gradual. It’s worth it, I swear.”

“It better be. You may be carrying me out on a stretcher.”

True to form, the first incline was utterly nightmarish. Between the humid air and his general softness, Ienzo was struggling to breathe, and he felt like a quitter every time he had to ask for a break. There was not a part of him that wasn’t sweaty, and he found himself glad he’d actually bought a pair of decent climbing shoes like Riku had advised. He actually felt dizzy. At the top, he had to sit and rest against a rock. Riku didn’t even look out of breath. “You okay?” he asked, cautiously.

“I’m alive,” Ienzo said, still gasping. “Barely.” Once he had caught some semblance of breath, and drank down some water, they kept going. It was easier, but not as easy as he’d hoped, and he found it hard to appreciate the wildlife. Ienzo tried to push through the pain. At first he thought the noise he heard came from his heart throbbing in his ears, but it turned out to be the falls. At last, at long last, they reached the peak.

And Ienzo understood. “Oh,” he said, softly.

“It’s thought that the islands formed out of the magma from volcanic explosions,” Riku said, in a low voice. “That volcano is right there. But over time… and I’m sure you understand the science of it better than I do, the volcano became a spring.”

“Oh,” Ienzo said, utterly losing eloquence. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he was hot and sweaty and nauseous and his legs would be aching for days.

He’d seen a lot in his days as Zexion. But again, he’d never been there to be a tourist, to appreciate the worlds he was trying to strike down.

There were crystal and mineral patterns in the falls caldron all the way down, in at least a dozen colors, glimmering faintly in the diffuse sunlight. The freshwater flowed from the top, almost deafeningly loud, to a large pool at the bottom, the water a slight bluish color from the minerals. Ienzo could see a manmade path weaving all the way down, a wooden safety rail lining it. The water washed up onto a shore of black sand.

Riku took out his phone. “Want a picture of you with it?”

“I’m sure I look awful.”

“You look like you’ve conquered something.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Only if you’ll join me.”

It took a bit of fineagaling to get an image that was halfway decent. This settled, they started making their way down. “Weird, normally this place is packed,” Riku said. Only a few people were down swimming in the caldron. “Oh well. I won’t question it.”

“It’s the semifinals,” Ienzo said. “Your father was talking about it.”

He laughed. “Design by accident.”

The walk down was fairly easy, but Ienzo dreaded the climb up, then down again. He’d worn his bathing suit, at least. They had a quick, simple lunch. At least here by the water it was mercifully cool, and Ienzo nearly moaned aloud when they finally eased in. Considering it was springwater, it was cold, but a welcome cold. The water had a slightly metallic tang against his lips.

“Worth it after all?” Riku asked, smirking.

“God, yes.”

They floated here a while, just enjoying the water and each other’s company. Eventually Ienzo felt brave enough to explore by the falls, where the water got deeper. The mist threw up so much light that the bands of rock glimmered.

At some point they had to leave, though, and by that point with the hike up and the swimming Ienzo was exhausted. Considering aside from the climb out of the caldron it was all basically downhill, Ienzo hoped this would be easier.

It wasn’t. This side of the trail was less shaded, for example, and the heat felt all the more brutal now that he was reasonably cool. His calves were starting to cramp, his nausea had returned, and now on top of it he was starting to feel weirdly faint, trying to figure out why.

“Ienzo?” Riku prompted, but his voice sounded like it was underwater.

The next thing he was aware of, his head was in Riku’s lap and there was a cold cloth over his face. Riku was on the phone, his voice shaky. “Yeah, dad, the trailhead. No, I don’t think I need any help. Thanks a bunch.”

He blinked and tried to sit up, feeling weaker still.

“Easy. Easy. I thought the stretcher thing was a joke.”

“It was,” Ienzo said. “I’m sorry. I’m fine now.”

“No, you’re not,” Riku said, sternly. “You’ve got heat exhaustion. If you keep pushing it it’ll get worse. Drink this.” He handed him a bottle of water. “You’re probably dehydrated too.” He dabbed the sweat off of Ienzo’s face.

Ienzo did, realizing how thirsty he was. “I tried to be careful.”

“No, it’s my fault. The island heat really is brutal, and you’re not used to exercise like that.” He sighed. “Even if you were careful your body still got overwhelmed.”

“And not in the way I’d like,” he muttered.

“Gather your strength for a few minutes. I used Cure on you, but you should still take it easy. My dad’ll drive us back. I wonder if we should take you to a doctor--”

Ienzo felt mortified. “I don’t think that’s necessary. The bus is fine.”

“I don’t want us to wait out in the heat more than we have to.”

Ienzo exhaled. Somehow this felt like another thing he had failed at.

“Really, Ienzo, this even happens to islanders,” Riku tried to reassure him. “I should’ve known better.”

“At least we got a pretty picture out of it.”

When he was finally strong enough to carry on, it felt late. They weren’t all that far from the road at this point. Riku had wanted to carry him, but Ienzo drew the line there. He was more grateful than he wanted to let on that Matsuda was waiting for them.

“Hey, you’re a true islander now,” his father said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s happened to all of us at some point or another.”

“I told you,” Riku said.

Ienzo wished he could enjoy riding in a car more. It was smaller, lower to the ground, than the bus, and much cooler inside. “Thanks for this. I’m sorry to interrupt your workday.”

“Ah, I had to run an errand anyway,” he said blithely. “You don’t think we need to go to the--”

“No, no, please, I’ll be alright,” Ienzo said quickly.

Ienzo was still feeling a bit dizzy. He had to cling to the banister to get up the stairs. Riku insisted he lie down. His skin felt hot, strangely enough. Riku tugged the curtains shut. He heard Riku leave the room and then come back a few moments later with something pink in a mason jar. “Here. This’ll help. Mom’s recipe. It happens all the time to the neighborhood kids.”

Ienzo sipped. He tasted more coconut, some other fruit, and below it all the oily slickness of potion. “I’m so sorry. I ruined the day.”

“No, this is on me. I should’ve known you’d push yourself and not say anything, cause I would’ve done the same thing.” He sighed. “Drink it all. I’ll get you more.”

The juice helped, though he didn’t feel good by any stretch. He wanted to get changed, to get cleaned up, but he just felt weak and exhausted. “If you’re tired, rest,” Riku told him.

“If you’d rather go do something while I’m just lying here--”

“No,” he said, firmly.

After two jars of the juice, Ienzo fell asleep, and wondered if it was something in the medicine. When he woke at last, he realized it had been hours, and the early morning sun was peeking out between the curtains. Dazedly, he looked around for Riku, found him nowhere.

Groggy, he took a shower and went to take the mason jar back to the main house. True to form, it hurt to walk, and he winced.

“Oh, Ienzo, how are you feeling?” Mariko asked, startling him.

“Much better,” he said. “Thank you for this.”

“I always keep a pitcher of it in the fridge in summer. Sometimes I swear the weather is only getting hotter.” She sighed.

“Where’s Riku?”

“Well, he came down a little while ago asking if I thought you needed anything else. I said maybe something nice for breakfast.” She smiled a little. “He should be back soon. Can I get you anything? Anything at all? You know what, I’ll go make some coffee.” She flounced off into the kitchen, her loose shawl fluttering behind her.

Ienzo found himself again looking at the photos on the mantle. Riku’s parents’ wedding day, photos of a younger Riku in school. Matsuda holding up a large fish, his son grinning toothily, the front two missing.

“...Here you are, dear,” Mariko said.

“Thank you so much,” he said.

“Why don’t we go sit on the patio while we wait? You can see the ocean.”

He followed her. The temperature, for some reason, felt much more bearable, despite the hot coffee. They sat on a pair of wicker chairs facing the small yard.

“Alright?” she asked him.

“I was just thinking it’s no longer so warm.”

She chortled. “That’s not true. You’re just forming a callus.”

“To the heat, you mean?”

“Yes. I thought this might happen. Riku was in a panic, Matsuda wanted to take you to the clinic. I’ve seen this before and I said you’ll be right as rain. And you lived, right?”

Ienzo sipped. “Thank god for that,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Well. It has been nearly two weeks.”

“Already? The time is flying.” He almost said that if he were too much of a burden he would be happy to go stay elsewhere, but then he remembered that Mariko would find this rude. “Is there anything I can do to thank you for the welcome you’ve given me?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

She thought about it. “How about you make us one of your dinners, from your world? You explained, but I’m dying to know.”

Ienzo smiled. “That I can do.”

They both looked out at the ocean for a few minutes. Finally, Mariko said, “You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?”

Ienzo looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“You… and Riku. There’s a certain… darkness, in your eyes. Something a little haunted. At first, with him, I thought it was teenage angst. But I think he’s gone through a lot more than he lets on. You too.”

Ienzo blinked. “I suppose that is true,” he said. “This… beautiful life, the three of you live here. That all feels so abnormal to me.”

She nodded sadly.

“I’m… an orphan,” he admitted. “My adoptive family, well meaning as they initially were, did not raise me to live an average, happy life. It’s making me realize what I’ve missed.”

“I see,” she said. “Well. You’re always welcome in our family.”

Ienzo felt a sudden wave of teariness. “That’s very kind of you.”

After another moment, “you love him, don’t you?”

Ienzo took a quick breath. “I think so.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand once. “You’re good for each other.”

The back door opened. Riku was carrying a paper bag and a drinks carrier with what looked like smoothies. “Oh… Ienzo. You’re up. How do you feel?”

He looked at him. In the early morning sunlight, his silver hair carelessly braided over one shoulder, Ienzo knew. “Better. Much better.”

#give/take #ienzoku #ienzo/riku #ienzo is trans

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dredgenridge · 5 years ago

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I am desperate to leave the living situation I am in. I need help. I have tried other place in the past and not a budge. It's a stretch for me to try here. It's a hit or miss deal.

I am 21 years old, working 40+ hours a week with $10 an hour, no vehicle* and I am living with my homophobic family. This has been my life for a while now in this broken down house, literally. I'm in hell.

I do love my job and the family I work but 10 and hour doesn't cut it to live on my own. I hate asking money from them because they have treated me so well in the past. I always feel guilty asking. (This family has gave me gifts amd money to help me get items I need like the special boots I had to order. I need to replace them since they are beat up but they were not cheap for me and work helped me.)

These are the KURU Boots they helped me get because I work outside all day and I am on my feet. I have had these for around six months but they are done. I need to buy a new pair of KURU shoes but I am holding off for at least a few more weeks. (I have plantar faciatis. Work has worked around that fact with me.)

Before you ask, I have tried to do another job, ended up quitting because it was too much to go from outside retail (from 8am-6pm depending on what day it was) to a restaurant (on weekend nights) and didn't get to go home til around midnight a few times? (and for them to ignore some of my notes on my resume about my mental health? I was not going to stay so I quit there and continued to work at my current job.) I have applied for other part time jobs and got one call back but couldn't make it and asked to be rescheduled and they say' "Yes. We can do that." Then that time comes and never get another call?

*In April, it will mark two years my own vehicle has sat in the yard. TWO. YEARS. I do, however, have someone coming Friday night (Mar 13) to look at my truck and then return Sunday afternoon to work on it. So I won't be vehicleless too much longer, hopefully. I've seen his work but I am afraid to be screwed over because I have issues with that. I am always scared since I have been screwed over before.

That truck is my golden ticket outta here.

I am the only LGBT+ person in the house. I know my family is homophobic because they wear it proudly on their sleeve. I have heard their vile bullshit. I hate living in south North America.

It is like they don't think I can hear them when I wear my headset but boy oh boy, all the shit I've been fucking stuck hearing? I have had no privacy in 5 years. FIVE. Look at this.

I am near my bed right now and that is my view to the living room and kitchen. I hear everything. I hear the fighting between my parents, my brother when he talks about me. When I make comment about it they go back and say, "That's the point." when it comes to them talking about me. They clearly are too thick to see how much that has mentally damaged me.

Right behind this wall, is a health hazard.

From the sock over to the dresser is damp on the carpet be cause for over a month we have had a water leak from our water heater tank.

When I opened the door in the room to the water heater tank is, in the room beyond that brick wall- this is what I saw.

A brick wall is literally keeping me from that right now. I am sure that is black mold. I have not felt the best since I opened that door and took those pictures.

My so called father knows about it and hasn't done shit.

You see this?

The bathroom with the working shower has looked like this since at least 2017. That plywood is starting to get bad because of us showering.

In the other bathroom a light could fall in any moment. Been like this for roughly a year or more. I don't know anymore.

We live down the road from a restaurant and when they spray for roaches, we know. We know because my brother works there and they are in our house for a few weeks. I got up late one night to go get some water, flip the switch and I managed to see three small roaches scuttling into dark areas of the kitchen.

Do not get me started on mice during the winter. I don't see them but I can sure as hell hear them.

Another thing. The house is old so the foundation is not stable. The living room floor is warped in different areas and we have a leak under the house with our sewage line I believe. But at least once a month, under the house has to be pumped out of water. We do not have a basement.

My dad clearly does not give a flying fuck about anyone but himself. I think my absent father is a scociopath. Let me clarify. Physically there but never interacted with his kids. HE DOES NOT AND WILL NEVER KNOW HOW TO INTERACT WITH HIS FUCKING FAMILY.

The audacity to think I wanted a rifle that I will never shoot as a high school graduation gift?? I told him I wanted an xbox for graduation around the time he was about to get the rifle and it baffled him. I have always had a high interest in video games and I had not owned my own gaming system like an xbox or playstation of my own up until 2017. It was always share the Wii or PS2. He doean't know me at all.

I've heard my parents fight for at least the last few months and I am so sick of it. My friends are fucking worried beyond belief. They are stuck fucking hearing it when I am in a voice party with them and it is so embarrassing.

Just get a fucking divorce already. I am really tired of playing mom's therapist. I get that she needs to vent and all but to your traumatized, mental disordered child? I already am suffering enough from lack of needed treatment. It has taken such a strain on me that my facade is completely crumbling away at work. I can't hide my pain much longer.

I have wanted to kill myself twice in the last year alone to escape this. I have wanted to make it quick and the least messy as possible with one of the many hand guns thay lay around in the house. I was so close to going through with it the second time I thought about it.

I had made my mind up. Write a letter and a will for what my friends get and what to throw away. I was about to start writing it once I decided that I was ready to die. I scared some people and they told me to go to a hotline to talk me out of it.

That was seven months ago.

I need to escape and this is my last shot on asking for help. (I have asled help for different things and I have been overlooked.) I know friends who want to help me are unable to. I am not mad at them. They are already doing what they can to help themselves first beofre me because I care aboit them and want to make sure they are in a good spot before anything else. They aren't in the best situations either.

I need financial help to help me move. I am only asking for a total of $5000. If you can only donate even just $1 dollar, I will be more than thankful for you help. I am also opening commissions at this time. Please bear with me on timing. I am working 40+ hours a week right now and will work on the commissions as soon as I get a breathing chance when I get home.

My Commission Prices

$10 for a sketch and that will go from a bust to full body. I only do traditional- so pencil and paper. No sketch lines, just a clean pencil drawing. No limit to characters on one drawing. You will be charged for more than one character if you are going to have them on individual papers.

+$1 if you want it inked.

Note- I will not draw backgrounds, do shading or draw any NSFW. I am not adept in those fields.

My Paypal-

Thanks for at the very least reading through. Please help this be spread around. I will follow up with weekly updates through reblogs.

#tw suicide #abuse mention #tw abuse #emotional abuse mention #im desperate for help #i have no where else to turn #im scared that i will be stuck here longer than i already want to be #please #anything really helps

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thisbitchinthecorner · 5 years ago

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December 31st 1799 Day 31

This is very late, but better late than never, right?? For @drawlight

Auld Lang Syne Prompt

“Did getting locked up in the Bastille teach you nothing? You continue to dress in such an outlandish manner, you’re going to get yourself discorporated and you can’t say that I didn’t warn you.” Crowley groaned as the shuffled by a group of young British officers as they made their way down the street.

“Oh come now! I’m not that overdressed and at least I’m not looking as ghastly as you!” Aziraphale bickered. “Honestly, those pants of yours are practically obscene!”

“At least I know how to blend in, you just stand out, literary everywhere you go. Lucky it hasn’t caused more problems for you.” Crowley

grumbled. “So you’re finally going to let me see what you’re done to your little bookshop then? Feels like it’s been ages since you’ve let me into your humble home.”

“It’s not a little shop anymore, Crowley. I made some changes.”

“About time, that tired old building has been your base of operation for...well, since forever.”

“It was in need of some updating, and my last place was more of a library, this is, ah, just see for yourself.” The angel glowed with pride as they turned a corner and stood in front of a stately stone building.

“You have been a busy little bee, haven’t you?A.Z. Fell and co?” Crowley read. “Who is the co?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It’s just a title really. Would you like to come in?” The angel and demon stood together at the threshold, as Aziraphale opened the door.

The space was large, warm and still the remarkably unorganized chaos that Crowley knew so well. Four grand pillars now stood in the center, above them, a massive window allowing Heaven’s light to filter in, filing the room with a pale light. In typical Aziraphale fashion, the furnishings were just a bit out of style to ever be mistaken for modern.

“I see you kept the old furniture.” Crowley remarked.

“Can’t expect me to change everything.”

“The silver tea set is new. Angel wings on the cups? Really?” Crowley snickered as he picked up one of the polished pieces. The angel pretended not to hear him.

“Seems like you have no intention of actually selling any of these books.”

“I have some intention.” The angel scoffed. “But not much.”

“A lot of work to open up an enormous book shop with the intention is not to sell any actual books.” Crowley meandered around the room, admiring the splendor and noting the personal touches the angel had installed. “I do like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Oh thank you.” Aziraphale said as he tidied some leaflets.

“Gabriel approve of it? I mean, all these little Heavenly touches must really put a cheery smile on that face of his.” Crowley grimaced.

“I didn’t exactly tell them yet.”

“You didn’t tell them what?” Crowley asked, carefully studying the angel’s posture change.

Aziraphale answered by gesturing, a grimace overcame him as he genuinely feared Heaven’s reaction.

“How could you not tell them? You’ve been talking about having a proper book shop for the last 200 years now.” Crowley said with surprise.

“It never came up. It’s been ages since Gabriel or any of them have been on Earth, and I haven’t been summoned to Heaven since the birth of Christ.”

“You just miracled this immense building into existence and you expect Heaven not to notice?” The demon laughed over the angel’s boldness.

“I didn’t miracle anything. I built it myself.” Aziraphale said quietly.

“All of it?” Crowley looked around with wonder. “By yourself?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale fiddled with his collar. “I rather like the work, and it didn’t take that long to finish. Mostly a labor of love, so to speak.” The angel ran his fingers over the marble pillar, seemingly impressed by his own handiwork, despite his efforts not to show his vanity. “But anyway, this is the new shop and you’re the very first to see it completed.”

“I suppose we should celebrate, seeing how this is the last night of the century and the realization of your bookshop finally coming together.”

“Well, we have celebrated much lesser achievements, and I do have some single malt scotch I was planning on drinking soon anyway.” The angel mused as he pulled the glasses off their shelf; two of them, no more, no less. “Where would you like to go this time to ring in the New Year? Obviously Paris is out. Florence? It’s been a while since we’ve been there. Perhaps Edinburg, you like Scotland and they are an exciting bunch.”

“Actually angel, I was thinking we should just stay in and celebrate here.” Crowley said with a shrug.

“You mean you don’t want to parade yourself around an adoring crowd?”

“I was thinking it could just be us.” Crowley bit his lip. “Just a quiet night in, you and me.”

“Alright then.” Aziraphale poured them each a drink. “Cheers.”

“Angel,” Crowley began. “This place really is lovely.” He watched the angel blush as a smile spread across his face.

“Thank you. It’s a bit formal and open. I have a room towards the back that I believe might be more comfortable.” Aziraphale noted the demon’s propensity to sit awkwardly in chairs, especially the fine vintage pair in the center of the shop. “Follow me.”

Aziraphale’s office was more an intimate space, with tidier shelves and a large chaise, perfect for lounging. The angel lit the oil lamps, their shades cast a crimson color across the room; a stark contrast from the swathe of golden sunlight in the main room.

Crowley settled upon the green and tan upholstered chaise and allowed the plush cushions to curve around him. “Oh, this I like.” He hissed in approval.

“Care for another drink?” The angel asked.

“Have you ever known me to say no to you?”

“My dear, it’s been so long that I cannot recall.”

“Angel, do you really believe that God intends for all of this to end one day?” Crowley, ever curious asks after several drinks.

“I don’t like to think about that.” Aziraphale confessed. “In the beginning, it was easier to keep myself detached from them. But now?”

“Oh come now! You’ve been fond of them right from the start! You gave away your damn sword, remember?”

“Right.” The angel shrugged as he slung back the rest of his drink.

“What was I saying?” Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. He set them down on the table as he began to walk around.

Aziraphale said nothing as his eyes lingered over the demon for a little too long.

“Oh never mind.” Crowley said as something caught his attention. “Do you hear that? Sounds like singing.”

“It cannot be morning already?” Aziraphale fumbled for his pocket watch, squinting to see the lines. “Apparently, we’ve missed the arrival of the new year.”

“And the new century!” Crowley grinned. “How about it, angel, fancy making a resolution?”

“I resolve to do good, more good, oodles of good deeds. What about you?” Aziraphale hiccuped.

“Me? No resolutions for me. I’d rather get a New Years kiss.” The demon winked while the angel once again pretended not to hear him.

“It does sound like singing. Let’s go listen!” Aziraphale leapt from his seat, grabbed the demon by the arm and dragged him out of the shop onto the street.

There was a crowd gathered, men and women, young and old standing across the street from the shop. They were singing an old folk song, yet the lyrics were different.

“Auld Lang Syne.” Aziraphale said knowingly. “It’s by a remarkable Scottish poet. Honestly, my dear, do you read at all?”

“Not if I can help it.” Crowley muttered, knowing his words would draw the angel’s ire.

“I love the promise each passing year brings. The chance to improve, to progress and to create. There’s no other time I feel as optimistic as I do on this day. Happy New Year.” Aziraphale nudged his counterpart gently in the arm. “You’re not wearing your glasses! You’ve left them in the shop. I will grab them for you.”

“S’alright angel.” Crowley turned to face the angel, their eyes meeting under the canopy of stars above them. “Happy New Year, my old friend. Here’s to your bookshop, and for what it’s worth, I think Heaven should be proud of your accomplishments.”

Crowley continued to keep his eyes upon the angel. All the moments we’ve shared together, I know you better than any angel, and you, you know me better than any demon. He thought. When will you see that we don’t belong to them, that we belong to each other. We are on our own side, together until the end.

As the crowd dispersed, the pair made their way back into the bookshop. Aziraphale said goodnight, as he prepared to officially open the store to the public in the morning. Crowley called for his carriage, and he was whisked away to his home. He sat and decided that it was time to compose a letter; a letter that may not ever be delivered, but one that he needed to write none the less. A letter telling him everything, all the things Aziraphale deserved to hear and all the things he wanted to say.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #justenoughofabastardtobeworthknowing

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lady-olive-oil · 5 years ago

Text

Work Out: Chapter 5

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! It took me a while to get this out but it’s here. I’ll be on vacation next week and so I’ll be writing just not updating per-say. If you or anyone has experienced a loss of a child or family member, and you want to talk about it my inbox is always open. It’s chapter 5. That means it’s time for another project to be started. I have 4 started already and I am going to pick which one i like best to start typing chapters for. Which will most likely be Chris Evans x Roxie in So Into You. There’s one line in here that I asked to use from my good sis @madamslayyy and it’s in here. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future projects.

Warnings; child death, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), language

Word Count: 5,029 [my village knows this is was gonna be long]

Lil Nasties: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @themyscxiras || @crushed-pink-petals || @honeychicana || @dc41896 || @chaneajoyyy || @jojolu || @titty-teetee || @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove || @ljstraightnochaser || @mimigemrose || @fumbling-fanfics || @amelatonin || @screamingdrago || @breddiefrooks || @ellixthea || @designerwriterchic || @destinio1

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It was 3 am, dark and eerily quiet. Only the sound of my Sunter oscillating floor fan being on, and Florian’s occasionally snoring, could be heard. He took my offer on staying at my condo, instead of a hotel when he’d come to New York. Missing him from going back and forth from here to Munich, Germany, did some things to me. I never felt like this in a while about someone.

Only thing I could see in the dark from the moon, peaking through the window shades, was my big brown bear with an ‘I Wuv You’ pillow attached to it. Florian has shipped it to me from visiting his family.

He’s done something to brighten up my life, that I didn’t think needed to be brighten up. I couldn’t sleep. I could never sleep around 3 am and there’s a reason for that.

It had been a couple months or so, nearly in March now with the spring weather, and things were starting to look up a bit. That is until the gut wrenching moments with Jake happened. The bad memories came flooding back and the nightmares became worse, and worse. It came at least once or twice a month, but now they’re more frequent.

Around this same time I’d have the same recurring nightmare: me losing my baby girl at just 16 weeks. I let the dream play out this time. Normally I’d wake up in different scenes.

I was at work with a client and my phone rang to a news flash. Typical news about politics, and crazy folks. At the time time Jake and I weren’t on speaking terms due to his infidelity. I went home that day, around noon, to an infuriated Jake.

“Where the hell have you been?!” He yelled in my face,’I could smell the alcohol on his breath. This wasn’t the first time I say him this frustrated.

This time it was his job at a restaurant; he got fired, again. He always blames me for his misfortunes when I’ve been holding him up. I’ve been there for him time and time again.

“At work. Where else would a 3 ½ month pregnant lady be? I have bills to pay Jacob, and a baby to feed soon.” Apparently he didn’t like the hint of attitude in my voice, because the next thing I knew I was being thrown against a wall with force.

The wind was knocked out of me; my throat was sore from screaming and he was in my face.

“You know where you need to be at all times. You are MINE, and no one else’s.”

“We’re separated remember? Or did you forget?! Hey out of my face and out of my house now.” I pushed passed him, on my way upstairs, till I felt an even more powerful force push me down. I had landed on my stomach, the pain was too much to bear.

I froze in place, crying and praying to the heavens, hoping that my little Angelique would be alright.

“Geneva? Oh my god, please come on baby.” Jake was frantic, picking me up and taking me to the car. Making our way to the hospital I was in too much shock to love around.

Several hours later of being in the room, the doctor gave em the final verdict. It was too much damage to be done for my baby. I was stunned. Too traumatized to even move. The doctor gave us some time to ourselves, after the procedure was done.

Jake reaches out to touch my hand and I draw back from him.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I seethed through my teeth, not even glancing in his general direction. I could tell he grew impatient with me, by the way he yanked my head to face him.

“If you weren’t so disobedient, we’d have a baby soon. But you just had to defy me and get hurt. I thought you loved me, Geneva.”

“I do. But you make- you’re blaming this on me? You’re blaming the death of our baby on me?!” My anger surfaced as my parents walked through the door.

Jake was faster than they were, because he tried to choke me. His grip was too tight, my nails dig deep in his arms. Deep enough to draw blood. My dad was pulling him off, with my mother in tow. My vision grew dark, I couldn’t move again. All I could hear were my parents screaming for the doctors to come help. The nightmare ended.

I woke up screaming in the dark, causing Florian to wake up abruptly and be on the lookout. I felt bad for waking him up but I’m glad he did.

“Geneva? Is everything ok?” He held me close to his chest, as I cried in heavy sobs. I finally let the dream play out. I explained to him what my dream was, his rage about my ex increased ten fold.

Pulling me close to his chest even more, he mumbled something in German as she rocked me back and forth. He couldn’t fathom how any may would I ever lay his hands on a woman like that. Pregnant or not. He know his own mother would be livid if he went that route.

“I vow to this very day, he won’t come near you. I know you gave me the green light to rough him up, and I did, but I need full control Genevieve. I need to you give me full control, my love.” The sincerity in his voice was calming. It was as if he was sent from the gods to protect me. As he caressed my cheek, I kissed his hand on instinct, holding on to his hand.

Looking into his soft green eyes, the moonlight shining through the windowed curtains, making them glow with love. Upon resting my head on his, he snaked his arms around my waist.

“You made a promise to keep me safe and I believe you. So without question, I give you full control, Florian. Full, control.” Whispering against his lips, he smiled at me genuinely and held me close. He fell back against the fluffy pillows, taking me along with him. The still calmness made it easier for me to fall asleep next to him.

I think I’ll keep him a little while longer.

-The Next Day-

“Ain’t no way in hell! You can’t do that!”

“The hell I can’t. House rules cuzzo, house rules. Now draw your 4 and the color is red.”

“You ain’t right.”

Game night has been a tradition in my family for generations. To keep it alive, I had the crew come by my half finished apartment, along with the typical game night food. First game of the night was Uno. Not just any old game of Uno, it was Uno Flip. It brought out the worst in people but it was all in fun.

“Now she taught me this game last night, simply because it’s new, and even I knew she’d say ‘house rules.’ ” Florian was invited as well, why wouldn’t I invite the guy that I heard beat up my ex?

“You trained him well, sis. I like him.” Nefertiti, Winston’s girlfriend of 3 years, was always the insightful one of the group. She was always busy with her stylist job, but when she has time she comes back home and chill.

“Yeah but you still can’t do that. Cheater.” Mike mumbled under his breath, which earned him a smack upside his head by Johari.

My dog Dragon, my reddish-brown Pomsky, was asleep in his kennel in the laundry room. He loved it when Florian came over to visit, because he had someone big and strong to play with. He clearly loved the fact that I had someone too.

The vibes were perfect for a night in with no responsibilities. I was already out of the game so watching was always my forte. Joahri was looking at Florian and I, as I was snuggled into his side as he played the card game.

“So what are y’all exactly? Cause y’all for sure as hell, ain't friendship with benefits. Y’all emotions are too attached.” The question threw me off, because I started choking on my Seagram's Jamaican Me Crazy wine cooler. Johari was never one to hold back, and that’s what Mike loved about her.

Florian couldn’t help but chuckle and rub my back a little to calm me down.

“Uh well. We’ve just been hanging out lately. Enjoying each other’s company.” I looked to Florian to help.

“We like hanging out with each other. I enjoy her company and she enjoys mine. Why put a label on things?” He explained a bit further and the look on Jojo’s face was unwavering. She wasn’t falling for it at all. Heating the doorbell ring, we were saved by the bell.

“What he said, labels aren’t needed. Imma get the door.” What did I want? I wanted him but I couldn’t say it yet. Answering the door, Cynthia and John stepped in, along with Destiny and Ryan. Filling the room with more love.

Just by the look on Florian’s face and the tone of his voice from earlier, he seemed to want things to go further that what they were. I couldn’t tell.

Did I want things to go further? I’m still married to the asshole who won’t sign the papers. Maybe it is time for a new outlook on life.

-Florian’s POV-

Did I want Geneva to be mine? Did I want her to feel safe; secured, loved and wanted? Did I want her away from Jake anyway? Yes I did.

I didn’t want her to feel unwanted anymore. I can’t stand seeing her hurt anymore either. With all the stories I’ve heard about Jake, and how he’s mistreated her. I just knew I had to make things right for her.

While she was distracted with the girls in the kitchen, I had to ask the guys for some help with a very creative strategy.

“Guys, I need your help with something.” I was nervous to say the least. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and I think it’s time I make my feelings known.

“What’s up? You need help asking Geneva to be your girl?” Mike went straight to the point.

“Oh you tryin to ask our sis to be your girl? This outta be good.” Ryan chuckled gently, glancing around the room real quick.

“Well since we’re playing games tonight, got anything in mind?” Winston asked curiously. I had never met Winston fully, just in brief passing with Mike at parties.

“How about scrabble? We each form a word for me ask, I’ll take the last word.” Letting the guys know my plan, they all were in agreement and helped set up the board.

The guys gathered the game up and set it up. I had a necklace in my hoodie pocket I was gonna give her tonight anyway. Now was the best time.

“What y’all up to?” Once I heard that angelic voice I had to move fast, giving every team their pieces.

“Just getting ready to play scrabble. We’re doing teams, so little mama come here.” The slight blush on her caused the whole group to chuckle, as I placed her on my lap on the floor.

“Team scrabble? Interesting. Alright I’ll play.”

-Geneva’s POV-

The game went on for about an hour or so. My ass was getting sore from sitting so long, so I had to get up to so I could stretch. Placing a kiss on Florian’s head, I made sure to give him some love.

“Y’all need anything while I’m up?” Making my way to the kitchen, I grabbed the empty plates and cups. Turning up the volume on the speaker a bit.

“A few beers and Seagrams. I’ll come with ya.” Johari got up to help me while the others continued to play the game.

“So what’s up with you and Florian? Foreal sis come on now. No games, no shade.” Leaning against the counter, sighed gently with a smile.

“I like him. We mesh well together and he’s great company. I do kinda wanna date him though, it’s only fair since Jake moves on.” I started biting my lip thinking of all the moments Florian and I have shared over the last few months.

“You should! It’s your time now. Plus he sounds like a keeper.” Johari was glancing back into the game from for some reason.

“Gege! Come on it’s your turn with Florian!”

“Coming! He is. We should get back to the game.” Grabbing the bottles, making our way back to the game, I snuggled back in Florian’s lap. He moved to the couch this time.

For some reason the room was more mellow than normal, and the girls were giddy. What was going on?

“Alright. Mike went; Winston went next, Ryan and John. Now it’s my turn.” Florian explained and kissed my cheek. I was too preoccupied with my phone.

My mom had texted me about graduation, and when it was. I kept forgetting to let the family know about the date and time. Florian took his turn and tapped my thigh to let me know.

“Alright guys we are all out of tiles. I’ll tally up the scores.” Grabbing the notepad and pen, I glanced at the board once or twice. I saw something and I didn’t know if I was reading it right.

The group was minding their own business, till I got their attention by reading everything out loud.

“ ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’ How did y’all- oh my god.” I immediately looked at Florian with tearful eyes and the group erupting in cheers.

“Couldn’t think of a better way to ask, with the blessing of your friends of course, and Mike. So Geneva, will you?” Florian’s soft voice pulled me in, as the sounds hushed around us.

All I could focus on was him and him alone. Holding his face in my hands; taking in his after rain scent and resting my forehead on his I knew I was home. With him I was always home.

“Yes. I’ll be your girl, Florian.” Kissing him with everything in me, he held me close to his hard body but he felt soft in my hands.

“Ahem. Y’all we got others games to play.” Mike cleared his throat, before having to pulling us apart.

“Sorry. Oh Geneva, turn around real quick.”

I did as instructed and felt cold metal hit my neck. Glancing down, I noticed my zodiac sign around my neck, shining in the light of the ceiling fan. He clamped it shut and turned me back around.

“Perfect fit. Alright now, let’s play.” Kissing me gently, Florian busted out Jenga.

-3 games and yelling matches later-

It’s an intense game of Jenga going on. It was my turn to go, and I was nervous as hell.

“Ok babe. You got this. Don’t be nervous.” A little encouragement from the new boo, made it even worse.

Pulling the block from middle, watching the tower lean for he left I got nervous and it all came tumbling down.

“In that rubble, lies our relationship.” The mocking hey joking tone of his voice, caused me to smile.

“Ok Kyle.” Patting his cheek gently, I was gifted with a gorgeous smile that he is never afraid to show. The smile that would put the stars on Egypt to shame.

His type of smile though, was like no other. His smile was so bright and happy; full of life and wonder. Like a kid in a candy store, or a kid on Christmas Day. His smile was truly contagious.

John nodded towards Florian, to grab his attention. “Hey Florian can I ask you something?”

“Sure. What’s up?” Draping his arm around my shoulder, drawing me closer.

“Seeing as though Jake fucked up everything for himself, I want you to be one of my groomsmen. I see how well you’ve been treating Geneva and I think you should walk down the aisle with her. You’ve gained a friend in me.” He paused a bit and did the typical bro handshake with him.

“You’ve gained a brother from Ryan and I. Welcome to the group man.”

The look on his face was priceless and full of pure excitement. He couldn’t have been happier to be included.

“I’d be honored John. I’d love to walk with Geneva.” I felt his lips on my forehead, making my body feel all all warm and inviting.

“Game over let’s do something else. Mortal Kombat anyone?” Breaking my concentration wasn’t ever easy, but Florian managed to do so.

“Sure. I’ll play. Not sure how to do so, but I can always learn from a great teacher.” Sending a wink in his direction, I grabbed the other controller for the PS4 and got into position so her could “teach me” how to play.

Everyone else was in their zone, minding their own business, as Florian was giving me the rundown on the game. Little did he know, my two brothers taught me how to play whenever I’d come home on the weekends from college. They prepared me for this moment.

“Ready, draga?”

“Bring it.”

Fifteen minutes into the the game, he was kicking my ass in both matches. Time to kick it into high gear. The gag is, I was just messing with him.

“I’m gonna change my character real quick. If that’s ok with you?” The gentle tone of my voice made that precious smile come back.

He shrugged. “That’s fine with me baby girl.”

Going through the character list, tuning out everything around me, I focused on my strategy. I found the right character.

“Jade. Let’s do this baby.” Pressing start on the controller, I maneuvered in my spot on the couch and started to annihilate Florian in this game.

“What the hell…” he was in shock and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Finish him!” The tv yelled through the Sony speakers, placed around the 75” flat screen.

With a sly smirk, and a burst of energy to leap up to squat on the couch, I caught the attention of our friends and they gathered around.

Michael got too excited, stomping his feet against the hardwood. “She’s gonna beat you bro.”

“Not by a long shot.” Florian gritted through his teeth, maneuvering the buttons on the controller.

“Final kill shot…”

“Nice try babe.” With one final move, Jade had sliced Raiden’s head clean off and stood proud with her staff.

“Fatality!” The room went silent, Florian dropped his controller in defeat and was wide eyed.

“How in the hell? I just taught you 5 min ago?” He looked at me in utter disarray.

I chuckled a bit. “No you didn’t.”

“Uh were you paying attention when I taught you earlier?” He was in straight disbelief and I was living for it.

“I was. But you forgot that I have two brothers that play this on the daily baby. I faked it, unlike other things.” Sending a wink in his direction, I got up to clean the rest of the plates.

As the party died down, our friends left for the night, I was left cleaning and Florian was messing with something in the house.

Next thing I know, I hear some Michael Jackson music and the adrenaline kicked in with me. Grooving to the beat to past the time, I felt his strong hands on my hips.

“Oh so I take it you’re feeling better after getting crushed?”

“You wound me Printesa. You wound me.”

Placing a kiss on his cheek, I moved my hips along with his to the funky beat of Pretty Young Thing. Truth be told he’s the first person I’ve danced with in my house. I never got to do a lot of things with Jake because he’d always be “busy” with work and it affected our relationship a lot.

I cherish the little moments I do get with Florian. When he’s away I find something to do, but it makes it all worth it in the end, when we meet back up in my hometown. The song shifted to a real old song that brought back memories and just felt right.

“Do you remember, when we fell in love. We were so young and innocent then.” He sung in my ear so elegantly, as he swayed with me in solitude and confinement.

I couldn’t help but sing back to him, doing a little spin turn, to have my back pressed against his chest.

“Do you remember, how it all began. It’s just seemed like heaven, so why did it then.”

His strong arms that were wrapped around me just right. I felt safe and secured in his embrace, I never wanted to leave. We continued to sing the song to each other, and gravity took us both towards my bedroom.

There was a glowing light illuminating from my room. The closer I got, the more the room came in visual and it was sight to behold.

It seems that when I was cleaning, he was setting this all up for us the whole time. I felt the tears on the edge of my eyes, one shed as I held my face together. Turning towards him I sniffled.

“Florian. What is all this for?”

He held my hand and guided me towards the grand king sized bed, that took up a good portion of space in the master bedroom. This condo was perfect in every way and I still have yet to call it my own.

“Well seeing as though we just started dating a few hours ago, 6 to be exact, I thought we’d consummate our relationship. By making love to my lady love.” We both looked into the mirror I had installed and just took in each other’s reflections.

He truly listened to me. It was rare to find a good man that listened. I was going to enjoy this by any means necessary. Changing the playlist to smooth jams, I faced him fully.

“You do listen to me. I’m glad you do.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

The music pulled us and guided us like a magnet. I took his black v-neck shirt off first, tracing the hard muscles with my nails with a featherlight touch. Our foreheads were touching, his hands were under the grey racerback I was wearing. My skin was on fire, but I loved every second of it.

Our lips were ghosting one another’s, a teasing game that only could be won by one. He gave in and smashed his lips against mine. Our lips moving in synchronization to the rhythm of our heartbeats, drawing me closer to him.

He broke the kiss for a split second, analyzing the room once again.

“Don’t need us both being poked with electric candles, now do we?” He set all the plastic candles on my dresser, then came back to me.

“No we don’t. But we do need less clothes.” Trying to be sexy, I slipped my tank top off. Only remaining clothing were my shorts; white lace bra and matching undies to hide my heated desire for the man standing in front of me.

I took it upon myself to slide off his basketball shorts, eyeing the man in front of me in all his naked glory.

“No boxers or briefs huh? You were thinking of getting lucky today weren’t you?” Kissing his chest softly, my hands gripped onto his ass tightly, gaining a moan from him.

In a blink of an eye, he yanks the rest of my clothes off, throws them somewhere in the room and made me jump up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, to continue the kiss, he laid us both on the bed.

“You’re the first woman I’ve ever gotten intimate with on this level. Face to face, pure and raw intensity. Just close.” He whispered in my ear hotly, as his fingers dragged along my curves. Making the room seem hotter than it already was.

“So far, you’re doing everything right.” In one hand I held the back of his neck while the other, yanked him by his chain around his neck, back to down to kiss me. His tongue fought for dominance with my own, a shaky moan erupted through my body once again.

The movement of his hips against mine were orgasmic and sensual. His weight on top of me, felt so delicious. I trusted him enough to not use a condom this time versus all the other times. Who knew that kissing could get you off.

“Geneva, do we-”

“No. I trust you. Remember what I told you? I trust you.” Nodding in more confirmation, I brushed my hips another time to get him inside me. I knew for a fact that I was not about to go to work in the morning and I didn’t care.

Smiling up at him, deep into his green-hazel speckled eyes, I saw a man that shown me so much love these past few months. A man who really cares for me deeply; physically, mentally and spiritually.

“Then I guess we can.” He captures my lips with his once again, lacing our fingers together above my head in an exultant feeling all over. My body overheated; I felt him rut against me, as I squeezed his fingers tight.

He broke the kiss to let me know to fully relax. I did so, and felt my velvet walls being stretched deliciously by by his hardened dick. I moaned sharply, arching my back off the black sheets, and dragged my nails up and down his back. We came once again just off of us humping each other.

My legs went back around his hips and constricted him like a python, egging him on even more to go faster. Letting out mini yells of his name along with multiple phrases in Romanian and German. His hands gripped my thighs tight.

“Lil Mama, come here.” He sat back, pulling out of me. I felt an emptiness, craving for him to be back inside me. He pulled me on to his lap, I sunk back down on instinct. I could tell he was chasing his 3 orgasm with me, so this next one was about to be ruthless.

The temperature increased; his hands hot and heavy on my hips, helping me rotate up and down. Forward and back, this time going with the rhythm of the music. I held the back of his head, gripping for dear life, resting my head on his as I went faster.

“Ah ah- fucking shit! Right there. Oh come on daddy.” I whined digging my nails deeper into his shoulder, feeling my 3rd orgasm coming faster. He looked me dead in my eyes and spoke with such dominance.

“Don’t call me daddy unless you trying to make me one.” Once he growled that against my lips, I purred back at him and caught his tongue with my lips, sucking gently. His eyes went big at how frisky the move was. I pushed him on his back, squeezing his dick inside me again and closing my eyes tight at the feeling of him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes tight at the feeling.

I whispered against his lips, “If you play your cards right, maybe we can talk about kids. But I need a ring first.

“Only way I’d see it happening, baby girl.” One final kiss session, feeling the vibes again with one of my songs playing on my phone. Rolling my hips sinfully, leaning my head back and gripping my hair I gasped sharply.

“I’m so close…”

“I am too. Let go with me baby girl.” He leaned up, kissing my chest, sucking one of my nipples in his mouth and then moved his thumb against my clit. My orgasm erupted before his own.

I moved quick and fast to slide off him and take him in my mouth. He had to get off by the end of the night or I wouldn’t feel good about it. Tasting myself on his dick, made me wet all over again.

“Shit baby- goddamn.” He held the back of my head, I relaxed my jaw and used my tongue to my leverage. I had him whimpering like a little kid, and I loved it. Using one of my hands to get the rest of him in my mouth, I kissed his thighs a bit before going back at it.

He smacked my ass one good time, which made me moan around his throbbing dick. He released down my throat, I swallowed every drop and crawled back up his sweaty body. Kissing him gently, rubbing my nose with his.

“You smacked my ass like you own it.”

“I kinda do, draga. I kinda do.” He smirked at my gasp, as I hit him playfully.

Stretching a bit, I sat up and smiled at him.

“I trust you remember that ok?” I reminded him. He nodded sweetly and pulled me back down onto his chest. Which was heaving up and down a bit.

“Shower or sleep? Or both?” I traced shapes on his chest gently, hiking my leg over his.

“Both. I’ll even switch the sheets out. Plus I owe you in the morning.” Picking me up bridal style towards my master bathroom, I let out a sweet giggle.

“Definitely gonna need that cause I’m not into work tomorrow.” Loving the feel of the bow water on my body and my hair, I helped him wash his hair and he did mine.

After what seemed like hours, we were both dressed: the sheets were changed and the room was cooler. Falling asleep to his voice made it easier and the nightmares were gone.

“I could stay like this forever with you.” Is what I could’ve sworn I heard him say, but I was too deep into my sleep to pay attention. I couldn’t see myself with anyone else.

#florian munteanu fanfic #florian munteanu #florian x geneva #genevieve shaw #geneva shaw #floneva #sevyn streeter #work out chapter 5

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years ago

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👑🏰⚔️🐲🐲 DMODT 82 update

Days slipped by before Eren realised, on the rare day he even managed to escape princely duties in their entirety, but for the most part, he was just as married to his paperwork as when it'd all been first delivered. The letters and correspondence from Europe was still frustratingly irregular. He'd given up asking for anything, and now had a plan of his own. He wasn't going to let a stomach bug or people across the world get in his way any longer. Heading up to the sunroom, Levi was on Armin duty. Mikasa's squad was on extended wilderness training with new recruits, leaving the alpha to play bodyguard for the blond beta who'd thought a lack of Mikasa would mean a lack of duties. Levi was almost merciless, threatening to bill Armin for his wasted time. Letting himself into the room, Armin was grumbling as he jotted down something that seemed to be whatever Levi was saying. Creeping across to his mate, Armin ruined the surprise "Eren! Help me, he's making me work harder than Mikasa does" Looking back over his shoulder, Levi's face lit up. Viren on his shoulder, beginning to babble at the sight of him. Swooping in, Eren swept Viren out of Levi's arms, pressing kisses to his son's tiny hand "Hello, my baby. Has daddy been working Uncle Armin hard?" Viren babbled on, squealing as Eren blew a raspberry against his cheek "I have not" "Eren, he was literally boring me to death. I don't know why we have to have a ball. I don't want to have a ball. He keeps telling me about aristocrats. I know them all! And he mentions the same ones..." "I do not" Turning back to Armin, Levi crossed his arms. Eren hadn't mentioned Levi's memory problems to anyone else, and now it seemed like it had struck again "You..." Eren held his finger to his lip, telling Armin to be quite as he tried to express the same thing with his expression. If Levi knew, he'd worry "Never mind. It must be the ball stressing me out. Did you need something, Eren?" "I wanted to borrow Levi for a moment, if that's ok?" "Yes! I mean, yes. Please. No more papers" Correcting his enthusiasm, Armin's eyes shone with relief. Reaching his hand out, Levi turned to take it "Not that isn't a pleasant surprise, but it's too early for lunch" "We're not going to lunch. It won't take very long, then you'll be back to telling him all about that royal protocol of yours" Scrunching his face up, Armin covered his ears "If you two are having a quickie, I don't need to know. Keep him as long as you need" Laughing Armin off, Eren pulled Levi along with him. The alpha happy to follow despite not knowing what was happening. Realising they were near the royal library, Levi pulled him to a stop. The alpha gently pushing him up against the wall. Both hands travelling to Eren's waist as Levi nipped at his neck, carefully minding Viren as he did "If you wanted my help, why didn't you just say so?" "Because maybe I wanted to drag you off and have my way with you?" "Not in front of the baby" Said baby grabbed for his daddy's hair, pulling firmly towards his mouth "That's daddy. You can't eat daddy" Extracting Levi's hair for him, Levi eyed the wet locks with a sigh "He's lucky he's adorable" "He looks just like you" Viren's hair was just as black as Levi's, the green in his green-grey eyes now faded. Not quite Levi's shade, but more Levi's than Eren's. his lips though, they were all Eren's "Poor kid" "Hey, I like the way you look. Anyway, this shouldn't take long" "Then how about that quickie?" "Maybe. It depends how you're feeling" Raising an eyebrow, Eren shook his head "You have to wait and see" Nicollo looked unimpressed. Apparently he and Levi were late, while Moblit was overly enthusiastic as the pair met them just inside the library doors. Passing Viren over to Moblit, Eren squatted down to kiss Luca on the forehead. His son having the most important role in what was coming. Levi was plain confused as to what was going "Eren, care to explain?" "Oh. Yeah, about that. We're getting married right now" "Yeah. Right. What's going on here?" Rolling his eyes, Eren stood, speaking slowly for Levi once he was facing him "We are getting married. Nicollo and Moblit are our witnesses. Europe hasn't signed off by I'm sick to death of waiting on them all the time. I want to marry you, so here we are" Blinking at him, Levi still seemed doubtful "It's true. Eren came and brought us here without an explanation, said we had to wait for you to arrive because he needed witnesses and someone to let the minister in. He couldn't simply ask his friends like a normal person" "We're getting married? Here? Like this?" "Yep. It's fine. The papers are all drawn up" "I thought. What? You wanted a big wedding... what is... what?" Wrapping his arms around Levi, Eren smiled down at his poor confused mate "I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?" "I do. But what about the chapel? And all the people you wanted to invite, and you're not... there's no flowers. You're not even wearing a robe. I'm not dressed..." Eren couldn't stand the castle chapel. That had been a big fat nope when he'd talked to the minister about all of this. It wasn't the same man who'd presided over his wedding to Zeke, but he'd heard the castle rumours of how his wedding night had gone with the man, and was sympathetic over the fact he wasn't actually supposed to marry. Given Eren wasn't making a huge deal over it all, he'd signed off on it. After that, he'd enlisted outside help to have rings made for him and Levi, now tied around Luca's neck by a red ribbon. His son having been forced to listen to his rambling plans to marry, and thankfully Luca could keep a secret "Levi, we can have another wedding at a later time. I want to marry you. I'm sick to death of waiting for permission. We're practically married anyway" "We don't have rings" "We have rings and witnesses. Europe was probably leaving me hanging as a jab after speaking my mind, and I'm sick of them" "So we're getting married. Are you sure?" "I'm completely and totally sure" "You picked a time when Mikasa wasn't here on purpose, didn't you?" "That's just an added bonus" Mikasa would attempt to mother him. She'd want everything perfect and make a fuss out everything. She'd probably turn into some kind of scary monster who'd yell over even the slightest thing going wrong, or tell him that he had his whole life to think of "You won't regret this?" "Levi, I could never love another alpha like I love you. You're my mate. You're the most amazing father to our boys. And you're the one I want to sort all my shit out with. I want my shit to be your shit, and your shit to be mine, and I want to work all this shit out with my husband by my side. Plus, the sex is great" Levi snorted at him, his smile wide as he realised that Eren was completely serious over all of this "The sex is pretty great" "I know right. I want to wake up with you. I want to fight and make up with you. I want to spend every damn day loving you, even if we're fighting and I secretly want to turn you into a frog. I want to lay on the grass and draw stupid flying eyebrows with you. Make you laugh and hold you when you're upset. Build a home and family with you, then grow fat, old, and lazy and know you're legally stuck with me. I want it all" "You're too fucking much. I want it to. I want everything you'll give me. So give me all of you? Let me be your husband, and I promise I'll be there for you. When you cry. When you're driving me insane. When you get so excited that you talk way too fast and I can barely understand you. When you get fat. When we're up all night with the kids. I'll be with you for all of it" "You guys do realised the minister is supposed to lead this ceremony, don't you? Idiots" Laughing at Nicollo's bad mood, Eren nodded at his mate "We have a lot to still sort out, but yes. Yes. I do. I, Eren Yeager, take you to by my lawfully wedded husband. Through whatever happens. Always and forever" "And I, Levi Ackerman, take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Through whatever happens. Always and forever, brat. I do" Leaning up to kiss him, Levi's lips were soft against his. The kiss long and languid, turning Eren weak at the knees. Sharing the kiss for several long moments, the moment was ruined by the minister clearing his throat "He is right. I am supposed to proceed over the ceremony, but I suppose all the important things have been said. I pronounce you "Husband and Husband", you may resume kissing your husband as your witnesses sign the marriage certificate" Nicollo muttered something about "finally", while Luca trilled at him. His son standing up with his feet on Eren's hip in order to headbutt his arm "Fuck. The rings. Thank you, baby boy" Releasing Levi, Eren untied the ribbon around Luca neck. High on happiness, he started giggling as he slipped the two bands into his hand "You're such a good boy. Your mother forgot the most important bit" "The minister forgot them too" Defending himself, the man sounded slightly ruffled "It's not exactly a conventional wedding" "It's fine. Thank you. Levi, stick your hand out for me" "So romantic" "I am" Holding his hand out, Eren slid the golden band onto Levi's ring finger. Both bands were a thin gold dragon in the form of an ouroboros with its tail in its mouth. He'd thought about something more complicated, but given he wanted to live a simple and normal life, he chose something simple and something that the jewellers could pull off in a relatively short time. Taking the second ring, Levi slid it into Eren's ring finger, before taking his hand and raising it to his lips "Always..." Kissing Eren's hand, Eren finished the sentence, his hand husband was taking his breath away all over again with the love radiating across his face "and forever. I love you" "I love you. God. I have no words for how much I love you" "If you two are done, you need to sign this. I refuse to bare witness to the consummation of your marriage" "Thank you, Nicollo" Waving him off, Nicollo strode from the library to leave Moblit standing on his own looking awkward "Don't worry, Moblit. I'll take Viren back once the paper is signed. I'm sure we don't need to have the marriage consummation witnessed" "I... thank god. No offence" Playfully growling, Levi hefted Luca off Eren so he was sitting in front of them "You've already seen him naked. Are you trying to say something is wrong with my omega? That he isn't attractive enough for you?" Poor Moblit turned beet red, stuttering as he waved his free hand "No! No. No. I've seen more than I needed to. I also don't want to die right now" "Levi won't kill you. He's joking. Seriously, thank you for this. I knew I could count on you" A smile tugged on Moblit's lips, snuffed out a moment later when Levi growled again "Who says I won't kill him?" "Me. Who's gonna look after Hanji if Moblit's gone?" "Good point. You've dodged a bullet for now" "Levi, stop picking on him. I'm sorry Moblit. He goes a bit silly when he's happy" Moving towards where the minister was standing with the marriage certificate, Moblit moved with him. He wanted to smile. Eren knew he wanted to smile, but Levi could be scary and alpha's pheromones had taken on an air of warning "R-right" "Who says I go silly?" "I do. Now sign the paper" Having signed the certificate, the minister promised to file it away where it would be "found" in a few months time. Once Eren's 6 months of hell had passed. There were 3 months left. 3 months too many. Taking Viren off his shoulder, Moblit finally relaxed "Congratulations. To both of you. I'm really happy for you" "Thank you. And thanks for everything Moblit. Thank you for being here, and for... just everything. I wouldn't have Viren if you hadn't helped Levi. I wouldn't have survived those bandits if not for you. You're a really good guy. I hope you and Hanji are next to be wed" Flushing red again, Moblit was quick to awkwardly flee the room, the minister following and leaving the four of them alone "So... we're married now" "We are. You have to put up me for life" Slipping his hands around him, Levi ground up against him "You make it sound like a bad thing. I can't believe you hid all of this from me" "I wanted to make sure everything was organised before my heat. I didn't want to get your hopes up, then have to cancel it all" "I think you deserve some kind of punishment for your deception" "Mmm... that sounds amazing, buuuut the kids are watching" Levi was more than in the mood, and all Eren could think of was being bent over and fucked into oblivion by his husband "Think Armin will babysit?" "I think Armin will babysit if it means getting out of paperwork for the spring ball" Luca whined at the pair of them, Eren giggling as he looked down at him "I'm sorry baby. Your father is a romantic idiot and your mother is just as bad. Do you want to come see Uncle Armin? I bet he misses you" Luca seemed to frown at him "You don't want to see Uncle Armin? Then what do you want baby? Do you want to play with your brother? Or do you want something to eat?" Nodding at the last option, Eren supposed he should have figured as much. Luca was basically a bottomless pit "Ok, baby boy. Why don't we have lunch, then we can see Uncle Armin. I bet he'll be up for playing" Nodding again, Luca "lu'd" at Levi "He wants you to cuddle him. You haven't told him he did a good boy" Levi released him, though his fingers lingered for an extra moment before lifting Luca up, cradling their son so he could rest his head on his shoulder "He did so good. I'm so proud to be your father" Nuzzling into Levi's neck, Levi kissed Luca's temple. The dragon was longer than the alpha was tall now, not that that stopped Luca from loving cuddles "We'll see Uncle Armin, then I need to borrow mummy for a bit" "Only a bit?" "You'll be bit" Bumping Levi with his hip, Eren walked off in front of him "I'll believe it when I see it" "We've only been married for minutes and you're already impossible" Giving a non-committal hum. Eren wanted to scream it from the rooftops, instead he'd have to just settle for screaming Levi's name when they finally fell between the sheets. * Having a secret husband was nice. Levi hadn't forgotten the wedding a fortnight ago, so that was nice, and their friends thought they'd simply picked their rings up in Europe. On the other side of things, the happiness of having a secret husband was affected by Viren cutting his first tooth. Feverish and pained, his son was miserable. Eren was miserable from being unable to help him. Cutting a tooth was natural, his magic didn't seem to think it worth healing the space. Or it couldn't heal the space until the tooth was actually through. Holding his boy, Eren hushed him as he cried. The ball was tonight, leaving him looking after the children so Levi was available to help with the final preparations. Isabel and Farlan had already arrived, stopping by to surprise them, then taking Levi, and Luca, off his hands so Eren could focus on Viren. He'd tried herbal relief for his son, but what Viren had thrown it back up it'd turned his own stomach so hard that Eren had thrown up too. Levi ordering him straight to bed where he'd had to wait until Viren was cleaned up again for extra cuddles. Thinking at first his sickness was stress related. Eren realised he was an idiot. Viren was six months and his heat hadn't come. Viren was six months, his heat hadn't come, and he was throwing up over certain things and certain smells. Viren was six months old, his heat hadn't come, but his libido was sky high. Sometimes for no damn reason at all. Oh look, Levi breathed, better pop a boner right there. Between that and not being sick all the time... it was enough for him to be worried when he did the maths. Add an increased libido, small swell, and a two and bit week late heat... he knew. He didn't know how exactly to explain what he felt, but he knew. The heat he'd hadn't thought a heat at the loss or Obsydin had been a real heat. He'd also fashioned himself a pregnancy test in the bathroom, based on the same principles as the compatibility test as he'd figured if he was carrying Levi's pup again than there should be some of their pup's blood in his own. It took a bit of him and a bit of Levi to make a baby after all. After placing the few drops of his blood in the bowl, he'd been too chicken shit to look. He probably could have just gone to the castle healers for confirmation, yet... he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Feeling the slightest of fevers lingering in his pup, Eren glanced at the bathroom door. He was supposed to be shower, but the test was in there... God. He couldn't avoid it. If Levi checked the bathroom when he returned, he'd want to know what was going on. He had to face what was waiting. The results of the test were confusing. A big drop then lines radiating off it. Pouring the mess down the sink, Eren didn't know what to think. He was fairly sure he was... the keyword being fairly, but with the ball preparations taking up everyone else's time, he didn't want to call Levi away to discuss the matter. His mate hadn't even noticed they'd missed his heat, which stung. Sure, they'd been through a whole shit storm and a half, but this was his heat. His "first" heat since giving birth. He'd been nervous as hell over falling pregnant during it, stocking up on his contraceptive herb mix, only for Levi not to notice when it passed by. Not that he wanted Mikasa and Armin keeping track of his heat, but they'd failed to do to the math too, his omega's nose put out of joint that none of them seemed to care Viren was now 6 months. Catching Viren's hand as he grabbed from the taps, Eren pressed a kiss to his soft black hair "That's mummy's mess. You Mister, you're having a shower with mummy before daddy and Luca come back. Heaven only knows what I'm going to tell your father about all of this" Starting to cry again, Eren sighed to himself, kissing Viren's cheek then remembering it was the sore side when his boy let out a wail. The joys of parenthood. Still in the shower when Levi returned, the alpha wandered into the bathroom with a smile on his lips. Not quite what Eren had expected given Levi was busy brushing up on his own days of being a prince with Armin and Mikasa. Leaning back against the bathroom counter, his alpha waved at Viren "Hello, baby. How is my handsome man doing?" Bouncing Viren against him, the boy had his hand in his mouth as he drooled "He's not happy. Mummy was an idiot and kissed his sore cheek" "Aw, my poor man. Herbs still not helping?" "I don't want to risk overdosing him. He likes the shower, so he's quietened down a bit since we got in" Pressing kisses to Viren's hair, Eren didn't want to ever let him go "The ballroom is decorated. We're sitting next to Armin at dinner, the advisors keep insisted you need to be announced as Prince Eren" "They can stick their "insestions" where the sun doesn't shine" "I'm pretty sure that's not a word" "I don't care. I'm not a prince" "And yet, here we are. Do you want me to take him?" "Not really. Mummy is enjoying his cuddles" Levi grabbed a towel off the counter "Mummy needs to finish getting ready, or daddy might have to do something about this" "Ha. Ha. Ha. No. I don't mind holding Viren a little longer" "It's fine. I'll get him ready while you focus on you. Those damn robes have far too many ties" Eren frowned at his mate. His outfit had been sitting over the back of the same dining chair for days now. Not a robe in sight. He was sick of robes. He was wearing pants and Armin could such his dick if he thought otherwise. Well, not really suck his dick. That was Levi's job, and only Levi's job "I'm not wearing my robes" "Armin seemed to think you were" Fucking Armin. If he wants robes, he could wear them him damn self. Reaching out, Levi took Viren from his hold. Bundling the boy up, Levi looked smitten by their drooly son "You really should get dressed soon. You smell good enough to eat" "You've been telling I smell good since we got home" "You do... I haven't been able to keep my hands off you" Months... Well... fuck. Levi's nose had picked the changes in his scent before he did. So much for his dragon senses... "Eren?" "Sorry, thinking about tonight. I'll wash my hair and be right out" "Ok, Sweet Boy. Luca is with Armin, Armin insisted. Though I think that was to distract Mikasa" "And I thought you'd be with Isabel and Farlan..." "They're with Armin too. Armin needs to be measured up for his new fur cloaks" Then Mikasa should have nothing to worry about. Their wilderness training was cut short by Connie rolling his ankle. They'd returned a few days after the wedding with Connie on fashioned crutches, a few of the new recruits suffering blisters and bruising from their armour. Mikasa insisted they didn't need to take a healer... she really should have known better. The female alpha quick to pass the recruits onto someone else, with the word "hopeless" thrown around more than once. Running his hands down his body, they came to rest on his stomach. If he pushed lightly he could feel a small firm mass, hidden visibly by the tiny amount of stomach left from carrying Viren. At first it upset him, but with the way Levi would lavish attention on the spot during sex, he'd gradually come to accept it to, maybe even be a little proud because Levi was right. It was proof of carrying their pup. Their Viren. The precious son he never thought he'd get to birth, and the pup that Luca absolutely adored "Everything alright?" He'd forgotten Levi was there. He definitely hadn't moved to wash his hair like he'd said "Yeah. I was thinking of how much I love Viren, now go get him dressed. It takes effort to look this beautiful all the time" "Liar. Alright, I'll see you in our room" Padding out into their room, Viren was laying on their bed naked, both of them hated having in nappies too long, but he'd thought Levi was going to dress him. Sitting at the dining table, Levi was wiping down his old sword. Having been left alone with his own thoughts for too long, his fears had started to go get to him in the shower. There were going to be far too many people in the ballroom. People watching and whispering... they always did, but with emotions a mess over being pregnant, he wasn't sure he could deal with everyone. What if someone noticed? What if they noticed he wasn't drinking? He couldn't drink as he was breastfeeding anyway... but what if some knew. Levi kept mentioning his scent, and in a room full of all sorts of dynamics, someone could easily pick up the changes in his scent. Or maybe even by making a joke over his heat, Levi might figure it out for himself in front of everyone. Wiping at his eyes, he stumbled over to Levi, his alpha barely pushing his chair back to greet him before Eren was in his lap "L-Levi" Pulling him close, Eren buried his face against Levi's neck, trying to inhale as much of Levi's scent as he could. His alpha worried over whatever this was "Hey, what's wrong?" "I love you... I love you so much" "I love you too. What's with the tears?" "I... think I'm pregnant" Sliding his hands up, Levi took his face in his hands. His thumbs rubbing at Eren's scales as Eren worried his lip and searched Levi's eyes for any kind of answer "You're pregnant? Are you sure? That's... that's... wow" "I think so... I'm sorry" "No! No... no. Wow... another pup" Breaking down to sobs, he sank forward in Levi's hands. Crying hard enough for his body to shake, Eren waited for Levi's words of comfort "Shhhh. You're ok. Whatever it is, you can tell me" Eren let out a miserable sob, verging on a wail. Levi had forgotten. He'd sounded happy... ish? And then he'd forgotten... he needed to remember "I'm pregnant. I think" "Y-you are?" Surging up, Levi sat him on the dining table, tugging the towel around his waist down. Placing both hands on Eren's stomach, the alpha smiled "You're getting fat" Snorting out a less than sexy snot bubbly, Eren pouted "I'm not fat" "No. Not yet. In a year or two we'll have another pup..." Leaning forward Levi kissed his inner thighs "You smell so amazing... sprawled out like this... god" Gone were the hands on his stomach, sliding across to grip his hips. Eren starting to slick under his mate's lusty stare "It's going to be hard not knocking you up, when your heat comes. You're so fucking perfect for me" And there went Eren's heart again. Twice in a row Levi had forgotten. His hands literally on the small swell. Whimpering, he covered his face "What's wrong?" Shaking his head, he wasn't up to repeating the words again. Levi releasing his hips in favour of taking his face again "Are you worried over tonight?" Worried was an understatement. Worried about the pregnancy. Worried about everyone around them. Worried tonight would go horrible wrong like his birthday, but above all, worried Levi forgot such big news twice. He felt like he was going to vomit. Holding his hand over his mouth, he shook his head. Swallowing what he'd thrown up into his mouth tasted revolted, his throat burning, but it all went unnoticed "It'll be ok. Armin had Nicollo make a huge cake to celebrate Luca's birthday, even though it's passed and there's some gifts. It was supposed to be a surprise for us both" Luca's birthday. God. He'd been trying so hard to spend as much time with him as possible, yet it'd never make up for not having a real and proper celebration on the day "Ok... I'm sorry. My nerves... are all over the place" "I can see that. But I'm here, you're not going through all of this alone" He'd forgotten twice in a row Eren had told him he thought he was pregnant, and now Levi was telling him he wasn't going through this alone... it should have been comforting and felt true... now he felt hollow. All he wanted to do was climb into bed with Viren, and cuddle away all his son's pain... but if there was some kind of celebration for Luca, there was no way he was going to miss that. Dressed in a tunic and pants rather than a robe, Eren had Viren on his shoulder and Levi's holding his free hand as they entered the dining room. Announced as Prince Eren of Marley, his royal consort Levi, and their first born Viren, Eren mentally cursed the advisor. Everyone there knew exactly who he was, they didn't need to tear at open wounds. The moment the dining room door opened it was a smack in the face. The scent of the food laid out in as worse than the smell of everyone in the room, Eren nearly throwing up on his feet as he led Levi into the room. When he thought about his symptoms they'd been right in front of his face. Starting with the day he'd thrown up thinking it was from dehydration and stress. He'd thrown up three times during the last week alone, evidently not because his son was suffering. With a smile plastered on his face, Eren played the perfect prince as nodded like he was supposed to during dinner, offering witty comments like the weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders. Seeing Luca the highlight of the night, his son "dressed" in a soft, fur lined vest that Isabel had to be responsible, and on his very best behaviour. With a careful claw he picked neatly at his dinner, then laid his head in Eren's lap while everyone talked. Each time Viren started to grizzle, the dragon would nuzzle into the boy's stomach, ignoring the tiny hand gripping his horn nub. How was he supposed to juggle three children, when Viren still needed him so much? Barely surviving dinner without a breakdown, Levi took Viren into his arms to proudly show their son off. The alpha knew something was wrong, whispering at him to take a break if he felt he needed to. Left without his safety shield, Eren knelt down to gather Luca up, only for Luca to shake his head at him. His son holding himself proudly as he stared up at his mother, loving all the attention he was receiving. Armin was already doing the rounds with Mikasa by his side, stumbling through politely trying to reject the man now shoving his daughter at him. The whole night would pass in such a manner. Rubbing the top of Luca's head he told his son to behave and to be careful, before picking himself back up. Play the prince until they cut Luca's grand looking cake on the far side of the ballroom, then he could retreat to their quarters. And above all, don't throw up and repeat the announcement of his first pregnancy. Casting a gaze across the room, his heart started to beat harder, for a moment his mind muddling the castle with Marley. That night... the awful feeling of not being able to breathe. Zeke sweeping him off his feet to rush him out to a carriage and safety. Not caring about his public image as he and Yelena removed the awful corset and dress enough for him to breathe. He... simply couldn't do this. He needed air. There were too smells. Too many people. Air. As gracefully as he could be under the circumstances, Eren turned to escape, only to crash right into Jean with a plateful of food. The smashing of the plate silenced the room. Squatting down, Eren rushed to try and clean the mess up, tears forming in his eyes as Jean complained about the mess, he too moving to clean. As his hand brushed over Eren's, it was like a jolt of wrongness. Eren jerking his hand back as he met Jean's eyes. It was shameful to show the alpha such a sad expression. Blurting out he was sorry, Eren strode from the room as the party resumed. His skin still felt it was tingling from Jean's touch. Making his way to the first bathroom he found, Eren shut himself in. Running the water a tad too hot, he scrubbed at where Jean had touched him by accident. He'd fucked all of it up. Levi was going to want to know what was wrong, provided he hadn't been arrested for murdering Jean over the accident. Everyone saw was a freak he was. And his nerves... Fuck... Trying to stop himself from vomiting into the shallow sink, he threw up through his nose. Fucking carrot. "Eren? Its Armin, are you in there?" Knocking lightly on the bathroom door, Armin had to know full well he was in there. Having sunk to sit with his back to the door, his scent was more than likely leaking out under the gap "No?" "Open up" "Try again later" "I'll get Levi and Mikasa if you don't open up" The blond wanker would too. Pushing himself up the door, he opened it enough to let Armin in. His friend immediately gathering him into a firm hug "What happened? Did Jean say something?" "No... I panicked. At all the people. I panicked and needed a moment" "You needed more than moment. You're shaking" "It's cold" "Eren, what's going on with you? I know we've both been busy, but we're still best friends aren't we?" "Yeah... Armin, I don't know what to do anymore" Crying on Armin's shoulder hadn't been in his plans, Armin taking the full brunt of his weight as he did "Should I get Levi?" "No... let him enjoy this night" "Alright. Ok. I won't get Levi, but what's going on?" He needed this. Someone he could confine in. His stupid mouth seemed to need the attention even more "Viren's 6 months old..." "You're crying because he's growing up?" "Armin... Viren is 6 months old" "You said that" "He's 6 months old and my heat never came"

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