#I think why he admitted it so freely is answered in his next line which is that he wouldn’t actually do it

[beautifulhigh]

“And that is why Alex says he loves Henry on purpose. Because he is making the active choice to be with Henry, to forge a forever with him…”

All of it is beautifully persuasive and on point. But this section in particular convinced. You reminded me of Alex and Bea’s conversation and it all makes sense now. I should reread the book 😌Thank you for answering my ask so eloquently. Sincere apology to Alex, that sweet, romantic little shithead.

I'm glad my ramblings made sense! But yeah, Alex is actively choosing Henry - especially in that moment - and it's the first time that someone outside of Bea and Pez (and Shaan but the dynamics there are different) is putting him first.

I think it matters that Alex goes to Henry in that moment. Because outing is shitty enough to begin with but it's a whole other storm for Henry. It would have therefore been easy for Henry to have wanted to escape that, to run away to the 'Land of the free' and hole up in the White House as he threatened to do once.

I should have just packed a bag like I said. I could be in your bed, languishing away until I perish, fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth.

Instead he's trapped in Kensington, trapped in the palace and the institution, and Alex doesn't come to save him or rescue him, despite the quip about being "Bit short for a stormtrooper". (hashtag #imtaller)

The moment that stands out for me in that scene is this:

but they meet in the middle of the room

They meet in the middle. Alex has come to Henry, he has stepped beyond the wall that separates them, but here they meet in the middle.

“And I said, ‘That’s great, Mum, but as long as you’re letting Gran keep me trapped, it doesn’t mean a fucking thing,’” Henry says. Alex stares down at him, shocked and a little impressed.

Henry is trapped in his circumstances, the palace, the family he's been born into, but when he's with Alex he's freer than he could ever be. Alex gives him that space, carves it out. (it's like the fireside scene from the movie where Henry has the line about the prince's heart "did beat freely once more" and I cried over that because Alex gives Henry freedom.)

Alex loves Henry, deeply and fiercely and forever, and so the next step is logical to him:

“Can you explain?” he attempts lamely. “What [Henry's grief over Arthur is] like? What I can do?”

He wants to know because he wants to know what he can do. He wants to understand so he can act, even if it means doing nothing. If that's what Henry needs then that is what he will do. I've read some beautiful fics that show Alex actively caring for Henry during a depressive or grief-filled episode, and I've read fics where all Alex does is be there with him. And both of those choices are valid and perfect because Bea tells Alex what he needs to do.

“Do you understand?” she asks him, looking right into his eyes. “You need to understand this to be with Henry. He is the most loving, nurturing, selfless person you could hope to meet, but there is a sadness and a hurt in him that is tremendous, and you may very well never truly understand it, but you need to love it as much as you love the rest of him, because that’s him. That is him, part and parcel. And he is prepared to give it all to you, which is far more than I ever, in a thousand years, thought I would see him do.”

My brother will love you to the ends of the earth but there will be days when he will struggle to love himself. And you need to know that you are getting both Henrys.

There is a reason why "for better or for worse" is a traditional wedding vow. It's because you are promising to be with that person, to love that person, to support them through the shittiest times just as much as you will celebrate the best of times with them.

Sonnet 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

To use the Bard's words, love is not love if it fucks off the second things get too hard. Love is not love if it decides that "nah, I liked the person you were yesterday more, please stop growing and changing even if it is just happening because I understand and know more about you". Every single one of us is altering with every single day. We get a little older, a little wiser. Things happen and we have to change and adapt. We reveal a little bit more about ourselves.

Love is not love if it decides that something is too ugly or depressing.

The more Alex comes to know and understand Henry, the more he loves him. And even when he finds out about Henry's depression he's not noping out of there. He's turning up - literally and metaphorically - and we had the foreshadowing that he would do this long before this awful moment:

Listen: I’ll fly to London right now and pull you out of whatever pointless meeting you’re in and make you admit how much you love it when I call you “baby.” I’ll take you apart with my teeth, sweetheart.

If you want out of the meeting then I will do that. If you want to be taken apart then I will do that. If you want to be held then I will do that. Tell me what to do, let me do the things that I know you love because I know you and I want to show you that I know you.

Henry subjected himself to the mortifying experience of being known and it results in them getting married. Because Alex fell in love and he made the choice to see it through. He could have bailed at any time - hell, Henry himself even gave him an out. And what was Alex's response to that?

He wrote him a list and ended with this:

20. The fact that you loved me all along I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry. Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down.

(Emphasis is mine. Obvs.)

Alex knows that he has been loved since the Olympics, and the way that Henry has loved him has changed (which is different to altering) because to begin with Henry denied himself Alex to protect himself, and then after the DNC he offered to deny himself Alex to protect Alex. To give Alex a shot at his dream and life plans, all the things that Henry didn't think he could be a part of.

That moment, that offer Henry made, is before the storming of Kensington when everything is laid bare for Alex - how Henry thought he could have something, a small piece of Alex until Alex got bored or frustrated and then left him. (The infererence that other people have done that to Henry in the past will never leave me or not break my heart.) But now Henry knows that Alex is all in, will wait for however long it takes for them to work this out, and so that email is Alex's promise and reminder of that. The stream of "I miss you" without pause going straight into "I love you" makes it clear - Alex isn't even pausing for breath to let Henry know this and he will speak to Henry before he reads this but Alex knows him. Knows he likes to "have these things written down".

Here is my promise to you. Here is that reminder. Here is my choice.

So when Bea tells Alex that he needs to love and accept all the parts of Henry because Henry is willing to give Alex all of those pieces of him, Alex's response is instant. He's already made that choice, even if he didn't consciously realise it. So much of his relationship with Henry has been unconscious and he's caught up with his brain weeks, months, years later down the line.

“But I’ve always felt it, in him. There’s this side of him that’s … unknowable.” He takes a breath. “But the thing is, jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing. That’s the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

Alex knows that he will never fully understand what it was like for Henry to lose his father in the way that he did. He can be told the story and he can see the effect of it but he cannot understand it. Not fully. His love-as-a-noun is looking on the tempest of Henry's emotions and he's not moving.

He is choosing to stand on the cliff and he is choosing to jump off it. He loves Henry. He loves the Henry who has depression and grief so visceral it incapacitates him. He loves the Henry who crafts words so carefully to express more than the words themselves ever could. He loves the Henry who is funny and smart and cutting with his wit. He loves the Henry who gives himself up so completely and loves so deeply.

Alex loves Henry all the more because he sees just how strong and brilliant he is behind the polished veneer of the Prince of Wales. (For this I could copy in the entire maps email, or the scene after the LA hotel night when Alex watches Henry transform himself into the Prince.) Alex loves Henry all the more because he is let in on those dark moments, that Henry trusts him and wants him there when he is at his most vulnerable.

Alex loves Henry for who he is, and Henry is who he is because he's been through all the things he's been through. The perfect version of the prince that Alex sneered at at the beginning of the book, the one that he was enamoured with but didn't have the words or the emotional intelligence to understand why, has been altered with each new revelation. Alex has discovered more and more about who Henry is behind that front he puts on to the world and he's still here, standing in Kensington, telling Bea he's not going anywhere. Even if he never fully understands it, even if this part of Henry remains slightly shrouded to him because he can understand the concept but not the reality.

Alex's love did not alter when it alteration found.

[xhatake]

Naruto wants to speak, in fact the words are on the tip of his tongue. He continues to sit with Kakashi, just twiddling him thumbs before the question can't be contained anymore, "Kakashi-Sensei, what was my dad like as your sensei?"

He's not sure why the question strikes him as odd. Of course, Naruto would want to know about his father, now that he knew who he was. Still, it was rare that was he asked about his connection to Minato. His memory was shrouded in legend, everyone already thought they knew who he was. Plus, they knew better than to ask Kakashi to look to his past as he would usually shoot them down. This was different.

" Minato-Sensei was a much better teacher than me. " Kakashi admits this freely. In hindsight, Kakashi had not been good to his team at the beginning of their story. Sentimentality may blur some lines, but he knows it's true. He was unkind & often cold, unwilling to understand his students' needs. Minato was largely the opposite. Minato was never a perfect man by any means, he often peered over the edge of optimism into the eyes of foolishness. But he was kind. He protected his students to the best of his ability, despite the call of war at their heel. Losing him had seemed impossible until he was gone. Kakashi sighs, thoughtfully.

" He was kind, strong, compassionate. " As he looks at Naruto, he sees much of Minato in him. He always had. It makes him think briefly about when he was a child, when Minato pulled him aside so carefully. Kakashi had tried to bind his chest on a mission; Minato took great care in explaining how dangerous that was. How if he wanted to succeed, he had to be able to breathe. It had been shocking to Kakashi; very rarely did anyone question his expression of self, but even rarer was it that someone took the time to educate him. Minato was good about that sort of thing; paying attention to the details. He continues, indulging in his own sense of nostalgia. " He treated us like his children... He always knew exactly what we needed."

" When I was at my lowest, he kept me busy. " He pauses, choosing his next words very carefully. Kakashi had spent much of his life swimming in his grief, trying to answer a thousand ' what if's. Minato was at the forefront of many of those internal questions, theoretical futures. Though he was long gone, Kakashi still had love for his sensei with nowhere to go. It felt natural to pour it into Naruto. Minato had been so thrilled to welcome Naruto into this world. It was that optimism, that hope for the future that made the dark seem a little less scary, " He had me protecting you before you were even born. Minato was so excited to be a father. "

There were only a handful of times he had acknowledged knowing about Naruto's parental roots. He had never intended to be the one to tell him, never known how he would be able to get the words out. Naruto had found out n his own terms, which was relieving but... Kakashi often felt he failed Naruto. If he had stepped up, took the boy under his wing, he may have been spared much pain. But in the same stride, it was just as likely he would have experienced so much more. Kakashi dealt heavily in bloodshed after Minato's death, he inflicted many evils onto the world. Though Minato had a gentle, bleeding heart... The idea had never been something Kakashi could surrender to.

He lets another deep breath pass through his lungs. It was much easier to talk about Minato than it used to be, but there was still a hole in Kakashi's chest that he had once inhabited. It still hurt to think about him, to think about his horribly needless death. But Kakashi was sure he would do it a thousand more times for his village, his students, his son. Minato wasn't the type to just lay down & let his loved ones die so long as he could help it. It was a sentiment Kakashi carried into the future now, the best he could.

"Well. He just cared. A lot. More than I ever could. " Despite his words, Kakashi could care a lot. A mournful smile pulls at his features beneath his mask as he dips into thoughts of his past, " He was a good man with a good heart. I couldn't have asked for a better sensei. "

@ournindos || unprompted!

[little-cereal-draws]

So I haven’t seen anyone talk abt this yet but Steven has thought abt killing Donna multiple times before (He says this to Harrow in episode two)

I’m not saying this is a bad thing, I mean who wouldn’t if she was ur boss, but it’s just very different than the rest of his character. He’s the one who tries to call a time out in the middle of a fight to talk and 100% thinks he’s going to jail for vandalizing the toilets and never wants Marc to kill anyone again and stops him from doing so several times. But he openly admits wo any hint of remorse that he’s thought of multiple ways to kill his boss.

I want to know the different ways he came up w, how he sees it going down. Is it genuinely an accident that he just doesn’t feel bad abt? Is it on purpose but staged as an accident? Is it violent and bloody and obviously a murder? Does he feel bad? Does he get caught? Does he keep working at the museum and finally achieve his tour guide dreams? Or does he switch jobs bc it’s too risky? Does he get donnas job so he gets to boss ppl around for a change? So many questions lol

[jjkafterhours]

spending your life with toji fushiguro and the 5 love languages

word count: 0.8k words tags: fluff, domestic!toji, just you and toji being happy

Layout

Physical touch.

Toji wakes up in the morning to find you snuggled up next to him. He is still drowsy, his expression open as his hands reach across the sheets searching for your warmth. You meet him halfway, and pull yourself closer to him. His gaze is unfocused, confused as he still is not used to the affection you give him so freely.

Waking up next to you everyday is a gift, he thinks, as he rests his head at the crook of your neck, flushing with pleasure as you pepper him with kisses.

Quality time.

"Do you have to go?" he asks, a scowl on his face. You lace your fingers across his and it softens. Toji Fushiguro is a clingy man, although he would never admit it. He did not need to, to you he was an open book, his actions and words straightforward. He was not used to your affections, towards receiving affection without the expectations of anything in return. However, what he had even a bigger aversion to was coming back home and seeing an empty apartment instead of you.

Home.

Yes, that is where he is.

"I'll be back by the weekend." It's only three days, he tells himself.

Three days is a lifetime without you.

Acts of service.

"No." He says stubbornly.

"Toji." "No."

You purse your lips.

"I've been having broth for days." He insists. "You still have a bit of a fever." You almost laugh as you see his sulky expression as brush back his hair and replace the wet cloth on his forehead. He complains about it every once in a while, but appears to be content with holding your hand.

"If you finish it, I'll give you a kiss." "You always say that." "And it seems to work every time." You reply, smiling.

Receiving gifts.

Toji remembers the first time he got something for you. His lips stretched out in a thin line, his fingers unconsciously scratching where his scar was, something he did when he was nervous. The saleslady had spotted him the moment he had walked into the store, making her way towards him like a moth to a flame. He grunted as she made suggestions, giving curt, one-word answers, wishing she would be off. It was not exactly her presence which bothered him, but rather the fact that he wanted to choose what he wanted to get for you, even though he had no idea.

Finally after some time he resigned to the fact that he knew little about the concept of clothes and just listened to her droning as he began to sift through the rack of clothes, trying to remember what you liked.

Eventually he settles on a pale silk scarf. It seemed ridiculous, his tall frame awkwardly moving forward to the counter (others anxiously made way for him) and placing it in front of the cashier, who was both impressed and intimidated by his stature. As soon as the transaction is complete he quickly makes towards his way home, remembering to pick up your favorite snacks on the way home from the convenience store.

You are still working on your laptop when he returns, and you look up and offer a smile. He has a strange expression on his face. You frown. Was he feeling under the weather?

"I brought you something." He says, his gaze flickering back and forth between you and the bag he was holding. He sits on the bed, hesitating before handing the bag over to you. That explained why he was standing so stiffly.

"That's so sweet of you, Toji." "You're just being nice. You haven't even looked yet." He mumbles. The scarf spills out of the bag and you immediately catch it. It's soft. Your fingers brush over the fabric and you wrap it around your neck. Toji waits a beat, before, slowly making his way towards you.

"You look nice." He murmurs, placing a kiss on your head.

Words of affirmation.

The nightmares keep him up. Every time he swears that he was moved on, separated the present from the past memories of the Zenin clan, he finds tears in his eyes as he jolts up in bed. Toji rarely spoke about them; you remember when you had first met him he had never offered a last name.

"Toji." "Toji...?" "Yeah. Just Toji."

He doesn't talk about the past; but you were going to wait for him until he could. But now was not the time to ask. His ragged breathing slows down as you softly kiss his hair, whispering words of comfort in the darkness. His arms automatically wrap around your waist as he buries his face in your chest. You sense a faint wetness dripping over your shirt. You continue to stroke his hair, talking about the memories you and him had shared. You knew your voice calmed him down, ripped him away from reliving the past.

[blzzrdstryr]

Midnight chatter

Yandere Diluc x gn!knight!reader

Wordcount: 2385

CW: Yandere, drugging, kidnapping

This was a third week after his return and fifth day of the tireless fight with winery work, when Diluc received an unexpected guest. During his travels across the world, the winery business fell into disrepair and almost collapsed, so once he learnt the state of the wine industry he decided to settle in his office and try to battle the endless reports about necessary expenses and small profits all on his own.

He started to work with the first rays of sunlight well into the night, squeezing every bit of energy his body had, not only because financial issues could affect him personally, but also because of the night vigilante of Mondstadt title he took upon himself.Due to the increased workload he couldn’t find time to patrol the dark streets and alleys of the city, while experience and conscience didn’t allow him to thrust the safety of ordinary citizens into the hands of bumbling, cowardly and lazy knights.

The day soon turned into the late evening, and dawn winery workers started to go home, when someone knocked on his door. It was Adelinde.

Her steps were faster than usual, her stoic face shadowed by the note of concern. Diluc wanted to say that no, he won’t go and have a rest, but she spoke first.

“Master Diluc”, she stopped before his desk: “we have a guest, a knight”.

He lifted his head shifting the eyes from the report to the head maid and pondered - despite his long absence, a lot of people in the city had a general idea how much he dislikes the Favonius Order and so a rare knight would actually dare to bother him, unless… Unless, they were acting out an order from someone high-ranking, like Jean or Varka for example.

Apprehension that his former colleague somehow learned of his nightly escapades sent an unexpected wave of shivers and vague feeling of unease, but he didn’t let it get to him.

“Ask why this knight is here and if it’s something unofficial tell them to leave”, he ordered, at which Adelinde blinked, slowly and tiredly, as if she was looking for the strength to tell something incredibly upsetting or scary.

“The thing is, master Diluc, that I already let them in”.

“Without my permission?”, his eyes widened at that, and the heart started to pick up the pace. What if this knight was really sent here by Varka or Jean? If it was true, Adelinde, unknowingly set him up to fail.

She was looking after him from his earliest childhood, so she was allowed to do and say more than any other of his staff, yet this perceived audacity was unheard of before.

“They were badly injured and said that they needed to stop for the night and once it’s over they will travel to the city with the first sun rays. We helped them to patch up their injuries and offered a room for guests, yet they declined and remained to sit on sofa”, the maid explained absolutely unfazed, after noticing Diluc’s dissatisfaction and then added : “If you are that displeased, master Diluc, I can tell this tired and battered knight to get out from here into the dark night”.

Her voice remained even and emotionless as usual, but even like that young Ragnvindr could hear a light mocking in her words. And to think about it - he got so freaked out over some silly coincidence - the knight stopped here because of the injuries, not some insidious scheme.

“Alright”, Diluc admitted defeat: “they can stay… and offer them some food and tea”, he added just as Adelinde’s hand touched the doorknob.

“Will be done”, she replied before exiting the office. The corners of her mouth slightly moved and crept upwards.

***

Despite his earlier goal of finishing as much work as he can, Diluc couldn’t do anything. Small digits and letters started to float and dance before his eyes while the long lines fused together, when he tried to analyze the state of wine business in naught. But the worst thing was the fact that his thoughts strayed to the topic of mystery knight again and again and Diluc lost count how many times he caught himself thinking who this person is.

He sat like that for a while, until the cinnabar of dying sky got replaced by the darkness and pleasant chill of the night.

Diluc scolded himself for his uncharacteristic indecisiveness, standing up from the desk and locking the office, when this thought, loud and persisting, knocked into his head again. Wouldn’t it be nice, he wondered, to learn who this night is, and finally decided. After all the thoughts about them pestered him for a long time.

Quietly and carefully walking through the unlit corridor of the winery, he confirmed that all servants and workers had already left for sleep, some into the rooms of the main building designated for them, some into the cabins around it. All in all, he was confident that there’s no one except him, the knight, Adelinde and a couple of other maids.

His steps were quiet and slow and not even a single board in the wooden floor creaked under his weight as he knew the winery like the back of his hand. With a bated breath he made his way downstairs, making out vague shapes of the familiar objects. Moonlight pouring out through the windows illuminated only the silhouettes, but even with that he quickly noticed the unknown frame.

The person was half-sitting half-lying on the sofa, and their sword and armor were placed nearby the furniture, reflecting the pale light of the moon. They weren’t moving, seemingly asleep. Diluc couldn’t make out their face even after making a coming closer, so he decided to take the risk and summoned a small wisp of flame.

The dancing light illuminated everything in a small radius and what he saw made him jolt and take a step back. You were the mystery knight.

Why are you still a knight? Where were you? Who injured you?

Still shocked by the previous revelation, Diluc accidentally knocked over the breastplate with his foot and it fell on it’s side with a loud thump.

You woke up.

“What… Who?”, you stirred and half sat on the elbow: “Ah, it’s you” and saw him :”What are you doing here?”.

Caught red handed, Diluc didn’t find any words - it was so sudden and unusual to be caught unaware, and because of that doubly unpleasant.

“This is my winery and I am free to do whatever I want”, he decided to hide the awkwardness behind the faux annoyance.

“Easy, easy” you half smiled, half yawned: “I just managed to fall asleep”. You yawned again and blinked at him with sleepy tired eyes.

“I have sleep medicine if you want some”

You got surprised and touched by his sudden responsiveness: “Thank you, but I think painkillers would be better. My body is aching and that’s the main problem”.

Maybe because of the trembling, dancing light or maybe because of the recent sleep you imagined worry and pity twisting his facial features.

“I have it too. Wait here”, he quickly replied and vanished into the dim darkness of the winery, not giving you any time to answer, as you were left to sit and wait for him. Diluc, to your own surprise, happened to be extremely stealthy, able to move without producing a single sound.

“Here”, you first heard and then saw him,as Diluc used pyro vision to light the nearby candlestick and then opened the medicine vial he brought and handed it to you: “Drink it all”.

“Thank you”, you whispered to him, taking the painkiller before making a big gulp. The taste was horrible, so horrible in fact that you almost immediately started to violently cough. Well, if it’s as effective as foul, then I will be good as new in no time, you thought to yourself, suppressing the urge to throw up.

Diluc stood nearby and observed your reaction, his hand extended on his own when the coughing started as he awkwardly tried to pat your back in the gesture of comfort. “I will be here with you until you fall asleep”, he stated once the fit stopped and then, seeing your highly raised brows explained further: “Painkiller takes time to work. Tell me if you won’t feel better”.

You nodded in response, and closed eyes, listening to the sensations of your body. Your injuries still burned and screamed and throbbed, yet a strange numb sensation started to slowly surround you. Just like Diluc said, medicine would need time to fully settle in.

“If you're here can you talk with me?”, you decided to shorten the time in conversation: “Ijust wanted to talk with you. For a really long time”.

“About what?”, he allowed himself a shadow of the smile, Diluc that you used to know peeking through the gloomy facade, like a long awaited sun or it’s reflection on the tranquil mirror of the water surface. Next words stuck in your throat, bitter and acidic and totally unfit, and you had to force them out through your own hesitance to destroy this calm.

“What happened that day? The day before you left. I asked Jean and Kaeya and other knights who were present with you, yet no one said anything”, the water surface bubbled and the visage of that old, sunny Ragnvindr shattered into thousand pieces. The person before you adopted the same cold facade of annoyance and indifference.

“Why do you need to know it?”, he answered the question with another question and you sensed barely buried hurt and grief.

“You leaving hurt. A lot”

“That’s why you are still a knight?”, you quickly nodded at that.

A minute passed by and he still stood, without saying a single word, thinking what to do. On one hand, he didn;t want to open up, the story of his eighteenth birthday was incredibly painful and personal experience to be shared so freely, on the other hand he yearned for your understanding.

"Alright", he broke the silence:"Let's make a deal, you answer my questions and I'll tell you the whole story after. Deal?"

"Deal".

Diluc looked at you again, looked at the bruises and cuts, still peeking through the bandages and for a second his mind lit up with one thought alone: what disgusting bastard did that to you. He suppressed the rapidly rising rage, deciding to start from the most important.

"Is my leave the only reason why you decided to stay?" his heart picks up the pace again, he needs to know the answer.

"Basically yes, you knownI didn’t do it for my parents… I just.. That tragedy, I know it's not my place, but… I always wanted what happened to you. I asked this question to myself everyday and night, and I missed you terribly".

His breath hitched and he lowered his gaze. For some reason you always managed to fluster him with the words alone, even if it wasn't your intention.

"Your parents must be happy", h e changed the topic, stifling the heat in his heart.

"Yeah, they're ecstatic that I stopped being difficult and made their aspirations real. Hm, do you have any other questions?"

"What happened to you? ",he pointed at the bandages covering most of your body.

"Ah, catching treasure hoarders does that to you, usual stuff", you dismissed his concerns and Diluc started seeing red from the way your voice remained so calm and unbothered. Usual stuff? Usual stuff?!

"Grandmaster could send anyone else", he snapped:"Favonius Order has more than plenty of vision holders, they should've sent one, instead of you! You could die!".

Diluc’s sudden explosion left you speechless, but soon your own weaved words of irritation:"Ordo Favonius doesn't consist of Jean and Kaeya only. We can't let them handle all the hard and dangerous business all the time. Ordinary people like me can still help, even if the gods didn’t favour us. Don't think of me as some helpless idiot just because I have no shiny vision to show off"

Your heated response seemed to work and Diluc turned red from embarrassment, realizing how annoyed you got, despite the worry for your health and still present anger at the other knights for letting you get hurt. He also didn’t like how you looked at him, reprimanding and disappointed.

"Alright, sorry", he cleared his throat:"where were you before? I haven't seen you anywhere"

"City gates aren't the only thing that needs guarding. I was sent to the Liyue border, to make sure that no treasure gang crosses it. I think I will get sent there again, once I fully recover".

Diluc got angry at that too, yet this time he suppressed unpleasant feelings, already knowing how you will rebuke and reprimand him again. There's no convincing to be done, as you won't change your opinion. You left him no choice for what he was going to do.

"Alright, you answered all my questions", he said before changing topic again:"Did painkillers start working? I have another".

Being so engrossed in the conversation you forgot about the ache, yet once he mentioned it your body started to hurt with a renewed strength.

"Yes, I would like one", you decided and Diluc vanished in the unlit hall yet again.

"Here", he handed the small bottle to you already opened. The new substance was different, sweet and viscous. You managed to take two sips before your eyelids started to feel up with lead, and soon even lifting a hand seemed like a highly arduous task. Whatever the thing that Diluc gave you wasn't a painkiller.

"What…", you uttered, before your body relaxed and you fell asleep once again. Diluc bent over, looming over your unconscious form, as his hands carefully took the bottle away. He didn’t want it to somehow fall and injure you

This is a necessary measure, Diluc assured himself, before making a plan of actions. He would need to fake your disappearance and forge enough leads to direct investigation into the completely opposite direction, but now he needed to wake Adelinde up and ask her to prepare the room in the basement. He didn't want you to be uncomfortable in your new home.

[alreadyblondenow]

Hold it all together

“Hey uhm what do you think about me being your sister’s boyfriend?”

Pairing: Johnny x female!reader, childhood best friends to lovers

Genre: SMUT, FLUFF

WC: 1,970k

Warnings: mentions of exchanging nudes, a lot kissing, unorotected sex, mentions of condoms, its just soft sex guys hahha mentiins of dreamies being the reader’s brothers.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD. I’ll fix it once I have time. To the

Happy, excited, and sleepless. Today is the first day of Johnny’s spring break and he has been waiting for this day, the moment freshman year started... because this is the only time he can go home and finally see you again.

Johnny has been your childhood best friend and you two are basically inseparable. Well, except when he needed to leave for college. Of course you’re devastated the whole summer just before Johnny leaves. And it was that season, you both admitted your feelings for each other. Feelings that has been bottled up for too long finally and suddenly bursted out during a friendly kiss that turned into a passionate one which led to a slow and intimate sex the night before he left.

It has been almost half a year when that fateful night happened, but everything feels so fresh for him still. After what happened between you and Johnny, your relationship with each other did not progressed to something even more serious. Although you exchange nudes from time to time, FaceTime until the morning and say ‘i miss you’ to each other together with other sweet words.

And that is why Johnny is driving his way home to you with a bouquet of flowers on the front seat of his car, fighting through his sleepiness and keeping himself awake until he reaches your house to surprise you.

When he finally arrived first thing in the morning, he met your mom first and told you that he’s here to surprise you. “She’s still sleeping, but you can wake her up if you want to. She misses you so bad,” your mom said to Johnny. He then made this way to your room with the flowers in his hand and entered quietly, careful not to disturb your sleep. He placed the flowers on your bedside table near a photo he took for you and smiled in awe because you always cherish everything he gave you.

Feeling so sleepy and tired from the long drive, he removed his shoes and joined you under the covers. Slinging his arm around your waist and finally waking you up with soft kiss on your cheek. “I’m home,” he whispered softly. You rolled to face him, surprised but you’re both so sleepy to show it so you returned his hug and hugged him tightly. The moment you laid eyes on him, his eyes were already closed, comfortable and more than happy that he can feel your presence.

And as you both sleep together in your small bed, well, small because Johnny is a big person, you bask in his warmth and meet him in your dreams. Not wasting any second without each other.

“You must be really tired” you said when he finally woke up, raking his soft hair away from his face.

He nodded and smiled at you. Finally. He thought. “What time is it?”

“Almost afternoon. But no one cares,” you said and came closer to him, finally kissing those lips you missed so much. He rolled on top of you, putting his whole weight on you while kissing you breathlessly on the lips, neck and chest. His hands were perfectly placed on your waist, his thumb is drawing small circles on your skin and as if he’s asking permission to lift your shirt and see you without your clothes on.

He pulled away to remove his thick hoodie and plain white shirt, leaving him only with his denim pants. You noticed his body changed a lot, sure the nude photos he sends were great and it makes you miss him more, but seeing Johnny again in between your legs without a shirt on and looking hot as fuck just makes you crave for him. “This is so much better than the photos you send me,”

He let out a satisfied smile and started to unbutton his denim pants and remove it in front of you. You on the other hand, removed your pajama and welcomed him in your arms again. Kissing him deeper than ever and making him touch your boobs and squeeze them, which makes you automatically part your lips and want for more.

“Have you been fucking different girls from different sororities?” You joked in between kissing him and palming his clothed cock.

“Wouldn’t even dare. How can I even think of fucking other girls, knowing that this pussy is waiting for me?” he knew you were only joking and put his thumb on your clothed pussy. Teasing you with the right amount of pressure, careful not to make you cum so early.

“How about you? Have you been seeing other guys?” you smiled and removed your shirt, throwing it somewhere and finally exposing yourself to him. He then kissed every inch of you, hands freely roam around your body, and even tickling you from time to time.

“How can I even try seeing other guys, when I already have who I want?”

You didn’t see but Johnny smiled because of your answer while he’s placing butterfly kisses all the way down your body. Kissing you lovingly and showing you how much he misses you.

After the innocent kisses, you feel him reach for your panties and hook his fingers on the garter, slowly pulling it down while he kisses your inner thighs. Preparing you to what comes next and spreading your legs a little too harsh than expected that you yelped and your body was dragged on the mattress.

“Oops. Sorry, got carried away,” he sweetly apologized to you, kissing you on the cheek before he proceeds again.

That sudden harsh movement was the real Johnny in bed. You’ve only had sex with him once, now is only the second time. But word is, Johnny fucks hard in bed. Everyone knows that because he slept with a handful of girls during high school and you’re just this supportive friend that listens to him talk about a great night or a great fuck the other night.

“Hey,” Johnny snapped his fingers and went on top of you again, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles before he makes you embrace him. “What’s the matter?”

“N-nothing. I’m just swimming in my thoughts. Uhm, what did you said again?”

“I asked if you want to use a condom”

“Uh. I don’t have one... do you-“

“Nope,” he said with a smirk. You suddenly remember that he loves fucking raw but what you don’t know is, you’re the first person he ever fucked raw. “Just tell me if it hurts. Again. Okay?”

He said, and you nod. Lining his cock on your entrance while he kisses your neck and kissing your boobs as he pushes in slowly. Tighter and tighter, your grip on his shoulders becomes. The familiar stretch of Johnny’s cock just makes your eyes shut and take him whole. Savouring every thrust he gives you, feeling every inch of cock inside you. It’s so big, you tell to yourself.

“Sorry, it’s bigger now because I’m so horny and I haven’t had sex since our last” he explained with ragged breaths near your ear.

“It’s okay,” is all you can manage to say.

He fucked you slow and deep or fast and sloppy. Either way it felt good and it surprised you how long you lasted this time.

Then suddenly he pulled away, spreading your legs wider as he changes his position. Having a better view of your bouncing boobs and fucked expression that never fails to turn him on. “Fuck Y/n,” he whined and reached for your boobs as he moves slower. Matching your moans and groans because he’s so close too. He then closes the space between you two and kissed you on the lips again like you’re about to disappear any second. Holding on to your body so tight that you’re sure it’s going to leave marks. Then suddenly your eyes rolled back and you’re breathing heavily and moaning a little too loud but no one will hear. Your orgasm completely washed you away and its all thanks to Johnny.

You smiled at him and reached for kisses to calm both of you down. “Was it a good one?” He was talking about the orgasm.

“The. Best.” You said in between kissing. “Did you come inside me?” He shook his head no. “Good. I’m not on the pill,”

“Kind of made a mess tho,” he looked to the direction of where he shoot his cum and it was on your lower abdomen and bed sheets. It was thick. His cum was so thick and many, that he was already embarrassed.

“Is it obvious that i missed you?” He asked. Kissing you on your forehead sincerely before he proceeds to clean his mess up.

“I think I need to shower,” you said.

“Okay, I’ll cover for you,”

While you were busy cleaning yourself, Johnny made himself decent again and decided to go downstairs to greet Mark and Jeno, your brothers. And eventually have breakfast with them.

“Hey uhm what do you think about me being your sister’s boyfriend?” He casually asked them and stuffed sausage in his mouth.

“Heck yeah that’s what I’m talking about man! Yo, just dont hurt her” Mark exclaimed in excitement thens suddenly turned serious.

“I won’t,” Johnny answered.

“And don’t make her miss you too much because you know we cant trust long distance relationship these days,” Jeno added.

Johnny agrees and said, “I will visit her every month”

“Don’t get her pregnant. I mean yet- get her pregnant when it’s the righ time- you get what i mean” Mark awkwardly added.

“O...kay. I’ll use condoms from now on. Anything else?”

“Dude just make her happy like you always do,”

“I will” Johnny said with a proud smile.

“Aren’t you boys should be cleaning the pool?” And the two boys immediately scrammed and quickly did their chores. Leaving you and Johnny in the kitchen with the food. Pinching Johnny’s cheek because now that you can see him clearly, you see a lot of changes.

“Only you can do that to me” he said then caught your hand and intertwined it with yours, he has become bold you notice. He pulled you closer to him while he finishes his juice, but the atmosphere is hetting a little stuffy and awkward so you tried having a conversation.

“Do you want to shower? I still have some of your clothes” you offered.

“Mhmm. Keep those, I have stuff in my car”

You nod and suddenly it was silent.

“Hey y/n, I was thinking of making it official between us. I mean if you want to. I just think that we’ve been flirting with each other for some time now and wed make a pretty good team,”

“ I thought you’d never ask. Took you longer than expected tho,” you put another sausage in his mouth ”The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to love, and be loved in return.”

“Im just scared to fuck it up,” he sighed in relief “thank you for loving me back. I promise to take care of you 5000 more times than before”

“I’ll do the same... and wow you just asked me to be your girlfriend in the middle of our kitchen. How romantic.” He smiled handsomely then suddenly remembered one last thing.

“Oh by the way we uhm we need to start using condoms. I promised mark,”

“What-“

“I know right. Fucking you raw is good but your brother said to not get you pregnant”

“Ugh mark...” you moved your chair and hugged him tightly feeling him kiss the top of your head and cheek nonstop while you continue to eat.

The day may have started filthily, but it ended with a decently soft kiss on your temple from your best friend now boyfriend.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 10

Summary: Haunted by her own mind, Y/N isn’t sure what to do with the information she uncovered. On the other hand, the Darkling felt a growing distance between them, allowing himself to admit something he never thought he’d say.

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, sexual innuendos 

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine   

=================================

A long time ago lived a young boy with the power of saints. He held the darkness at the tip of his fingers, capable of forcing the day into an eternal night. Back then, he made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. To protect the ones he loves, he allowed the shadows to consume him. Cursed with immortality, he walked the earth ever since. Forever alone, hurt and betrayed, the Darkling's heart no longer beat as it turned to stone. No longer did he suffer, no longer did he feel pain or anything at all.

Until now.

There was no escape from emotions when he looked at her. Even in the darkness, she had the ability to set his world on fire.

A single badly made decision in a moment where everything feels more important than love can make your entire life feel like a failure. He would never make the same mistake again. 

This lifetime he gives to her – wholeheartedly.

When they stopped for the night, he had felt uneasy as Y/N conversed freely with everyone but him. It seemed like she’s on edge and not knowing why gnawed at him. Once night came and they settled in their tent, the Darkling couldn’t contain himself.

"I sense some...hostility."

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, how observant of you."

"What happened?” He asked, “Did someone at the Palace do something to you? Was it Genya?"

"And what if she did?” Tilting her head ever so slightly, she neared him. “What would you do?"

Without thinking, he answered, "I'd protect you."

Inhaling sharply, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if it was you?"

Pausing, his eyebrows furrowed as he unclenched his jaw. "Is it me?"

"If it was you who upset me, would that bother you?" Y/N pushed further, genuinely wondering if he cares for her as much as she thinks. After all, who’d believe the Darkling has a heart? She was still trying to convince herself it’s real when he kisses her temple when he thinks she’s fast asleep.

"Immensely."

With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how would you protect me from yourself?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Aleksander ran his hand through his hair. "I'd let you decide."

Closing her eyes in frustration, her lower lip curled inwards as her front teeth sunk into the flesh. A part of her wanted to ask him about being the creator of the fold, but it was an advantage that would be unwise to let go of. 

"Why are you being so agreeable? Is it because I spread my legs for you now?"

"I've never known you to be so crude." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he squints at her and it’s taking everything in her not to smile because she absolutely loved when he’d look at her like that. It felt more natural than the soft, wistful looks he’d send her way.

"And I never realized you could be so easily tamed”, she remarks, her voice louder than before.

Chuckling in disbelief, the Darkling shrugs off his kefta without breaking eye contact. "You believe that you've tamed me?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shut her eyes. Her face is flushed, her head spinning and she has nothing concrete to tell him. She can’t make sense of anything anymore, the image of him in her head changing with every passing minute.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

In two strides, Aleksander found himself before her. Cupping her cheeks, he tilts her head up to face him and when she opens her eyes, she’s lost in the universe that’s captured in his eyes. She loved the night sky littered with stars, but she never truly knew what it means to stargaze until she met him.

“I’ve discovered I love you.”

Raising her eyebrows, her jaw slacked. “When have you discovered that?” Her voice is high, tone defensive, but his smile grows because it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t fight him even when he’s trying to admit to something he long forgot exists.

“When all my decisions started to revolve around keeping you safe.”

Shaking, her eyes widened. “That’s impossible! You hate me!”

Placing a hand over her mouth, he used his other to press his index finger to his lips. “Shh”, he chuckles, “You’ll wake the others.”

Rolling her eyes, she licked his hand.

“Really? I’ve touched you in a way that made you scream long into the night”, he deadpans, “Your tongue can’t possibly disgust me.” Smirking, he leans in, “On the contrary.”

Slapping his hand away, she turned away from him. Grabbing her head, she sat down with her thoughts running so fast, too fast for her to pick one out to decide what she thinks, feels, wants.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest. “I know you hate me now, but I’m a patient man. I won’t give up on you.”

He held her for a while, too long for either of them to realize the night had slowly trickled away from them and given way to dawn. Their journey wasn’t quite as long anymore. Soon enough, they’ll be at the fold and Y/N didn’t know what to do.

Should she tell him? Ask him for an explanation?

Would he kill her even if he said he loves her?

She still felt his kisses as he laid her down beside him. For the first time since they made love, they didn’t initiate any physical intimacy. Instead, they simply stared at one another.

She’s not for feeble minded people, there’s no doubt about it in his mind and if anything, Aleksander was more determined to love her because of it. She tested him in every way possible and while she was incredibly frustrating to argue with, Aleksander refused to give up on her. She’s difficult to understand to ordinary minds, but he isn’t ordinary.

His love will conquer in the end, he truly believed that. He could have continued on like nothing changed between them, but he could not be silent any longer. After all the time he’s spent in vein, all the years he wasted and lives he’s lived, Aleksander never found someone who gave him a reason to believe. Not until he met Y/N.

While she remained silent, stunned by his admission, he spoke of the day he first met Ivan and Fedyor. He spoke of their adventures, of their silly mistakes and she found herself smiling at first. Soon, she was laughing with him, and though she had no courage to admit it yet, she fell asleep thinking about him. Their knees were touching and her heart was racing, but the world never felt so right as it did when she was next to him.

Once on the road, she took the reins once again.

Kirigan ignored the whispers about her riding his horse, choosing to glare them into silence. No one dared to speak of it after.

Stopping a few miles short of their destination, Y/N drew a shuddered breath. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, a nightmare come alive. Swallowing thickly, a faint line formed between her eyebrows as they furrowed.

How could Aleksander be the Black Heretic? How is it possible for him to live so long?

“I’m here”, he whispers in her ear.

Goosebumps rise across the back of her neck as his warm breath dances across her skin. And there he is again, with her when she’s looking for solitude, offering his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on even when she least expects it. The worst thing is that she’s actually becoming dependent on his help and that scares her most of all, because what is she supposed to do when he decides he never did love her and all of it was simply an obsession fueled by her rejection. 

She’s still a novelty to him, that will wear off eventually.

“I’m not afraid”, she remarks, “I’m-“, she pauses in an attempt to find a better word, “Admiring it.”

“Admiring”, he repeats in surprise. “Most people find it absolutely terrifying.” 

She wondered if it frightened him. What would happen if he went in?

Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of his parted lips. She felt ashamed how it caused her heartbeat to quicken, how it ached for a taste.

“I’m not most people”, she reminded him. And he knew that well. The Darkling would never fall for an ordinary woman.

“What I want to know is what went through his mind”, she grips the reigns tighter.

“Of the black heretic?”

Feeling his hands tighten around her waist, she nods. “I wish I knew what led to the creation of the fold. Why did he do it?”

“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself”, Aleksander’s voice is strained, “Maybe he’s just pure evil.”

Leaning the back of her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. She longed for him, for an earnest conversation with their souls laid bare, but would she live long if she unveiled what her mind’s been tormented by?

“I don’t believe that”, she says softly.

Their eyes meet in an instant, the closeness forcing them both to hold their breath and look at each other silently. Looking at her, he touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.

“Why give him the benefit of doubt?”

Aleksander’s free hand gently moves along her arm, finding its rightful place at the side of her neck, touching her skin so tenderly she felt blissful and it reminded her of that night where he unraveled her, made her scream in pleasure she never found before.

There was no denying it, Y/N had a weakness for his hand on her neck and his words in her heart, neither of which she had any willpower to refuse, especially not when she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her with such longing, shameful lust and indisputable passion and understanding.

It took everything in her to find the strength to speak again without her voice cracking under the pressure of her own emotions. 

“Because darkness doesn’t equate evil, just as light doesn’t equate good.”

Without a warning, he kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her raw. She didn’t move away, she didn’t make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover’s touch for when his lips claimed hers, nothing mattered anymore.  

When he broke away, she was breathless and undeniably his.

“What was that for?” She raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile forming on her bruised lips.

She shuddered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ruthlessly as Aleksander’s breath caressed her skin. It felt so right, too right to resist his advances. She lived for those long nights in their bed, those thick with lust and romance and naked kisses.

Aleksander shrugs, “I wanted to.”

Lips parted, she didn’t know what to do with that. He told her he loves her, that he’d wait for her to love him back and most women would fall at his feet. Something inside her refused to do so. To admit her feelings out loud would be the end of her. 

If she allows herself to love him fully, how could she possibly be the cause of his downfall? 

What would be left of her if she took his love and used it against him in the most cruel way possible?

She’s losing who she is around him, but it hurt so much more to reject his love. Hating him, pretending her heart isn’t a feeble muscle where he resides is exhausting.

Truth is, he doesn't make her feel safe or comfortable as she once believed a man should. He makes her feel like she's teetering at the edge of a cliff and she's getting addicted to that feeling. She’s getting addicted to him – his scent, his touch, his handsome smile and devilish smirk and most of all to the way his darkness drives away her demons.

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wreaks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss - abyss he created. 

She used to fear the dark, but now she found herself running into it.

In that moment, she smiled. 

Perhaps the darkness is not so bad if he’ll be there, holding her hand.

=============================

A/N - So, I literally wrote this in about two hours and I’m about to pass out. I wanna thank you for Eid Mubarak responses and especially for the feedback, I was just reading through them and they made my day so much better. I’m seeing some interesting theories too, some paragraphs you loved or just thoughts about the characters and IT GIVES ME LIFE. I’m so, so grateful for it all.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren  @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl​ 

PART 11

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Winning the Championship Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 夺冠之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ Released on 28 September 2021 ]

The vibrations of my phone rouse me from the tediously long document. After looking at the caller, I answer it hurriedly.

MC: Gavin? Has your mission ended?

Gavin (on the phone): Soon. I’ll be back before the weekend. I should be able to make it in time for that café event you mentioned.

I suddenly recall how I had mentioned this event to Gavin before he left for the mission last month, but...

MC: Sob sob. I can’t go this weekend. I’m producing a new show, so I’ve been busier lately.

Gavin (on the phone): Is it a difficult show?

MC: A little bit... Come to think of it, Gavin, what type of sports shows appeal to you?

Gavin (on the phone): ...appeal to me? Competitive sports with commentators.

Just as I’m hesitating on whether to tell him about the problems I’m facing, someone on the other end of the line seems to be calling for him.

MC: Go and do your thing. I’m not facing any issues.

Gavin (on the phone): Okay. Contact me anytime if needed.

Right after hanging up, Minor knocks on the door and comes in.

Minor: Boss, I’ve made the arrangements for the collaborative filming of “Life’s Limits” with the City Sports and Culture Bureau. As per your request, I’ve selected a group of amateur racing hobbyists. The name list and materials have been sent to your e-mail.

MC: You’ve worked hard.

Minor: Boss, why don’t you take a break? Your dark circles have appeared.

MC: The company competing with us for this project is Light Media, and it’s much more experienced in producing sports shows as compared to us. We can’t let our guard down.

After more than half a month of research, I locked in my decision regarding the filming site - Hurricane Club.

This club is very well-known amongst motorcycle enthusiasts, and often organises competitions for amateurs.

This weekend, the club will be conducting a three-day training, and participants will be guided by professional coaches. There will even be a friendly race at the end.

The competition has a very novel format - it’s a three-person relay.

I intend to search for three photogenic motorists to form a small team. By following their daily experiences throughout the entire process, including their training sessions and the race, I’d produce a story about the team.

Minor: Boss, according to your request, isn’t the best choice Bro Gavin?

MC: That’s true...

During the initial planning stage, the first person I thought of was actually Gavin.

However, he doesn’t like appearing on shows, and was only willing to appear in previous shows because of me.

Moreover, he’s been away for a mission which lasted close to a month, and should get a proper rest over the weekend.

MC: In short, he... doesn’t quite fit the standard. You can leave work for now.

After sending Minor away, I re-focus on the thick stack of materials in front of me.

-

Before the peak hour on Friday, I head towards Hurricane Club in a rental car. While doing pre-filming checks, I answer the phone.

Minor: Boss, the three people we agreed on have set out. I’ve also found a suitable substitute. After careful selection, he’s definitely a top quality choice. I can guarantee that nothing will go wrong! You’ll get to see him once you reach the club! Boss, thanks for your hard work!

Before I have a chance to probe further, the dial tone sounds in the next second.

MC: This fellow is once again acting first before reporting afterwards... there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Upon reaching the club, I meet up with the three team members we had contacted earlier.

Based on background research conducted by the company, they are generally outstanding, and are very enthusiastic when it comes to racing.

One of them is a young participant called Kelly, who obtained an amateur championship title in the past.

I quickly introduce the details of the shoot to them.

MC: Bro Liu, Xiao Yu, Kelly, thank you all for participating in this shoot. Afterwards, the club will be allocating you to your coaches for guidance. Even though this team was put together at short notice, I hope everyone can have faith in each other, and motivate each other. We also prepared a substitute team member...

??: Sorry I’m late.

A familiar voice drifts from behind me, and I immediately turn around.

Sunlight falls on every step Gavin takes towards me. The pair of eyes looking at me are bright and clear.

Gavin: I’m the substitute team member, Gavin. I’ve kept you waiting, Producer.

-

After the club assigns the coaches and enters the test run phase, I finally digest the “unexpected surprise” of Gavin’s sudden appearance.

I initially think of finding a chance to talk to him privately, but the coaches who arrive one after another leave me with no choice but to retract the gaze which keeps straying towards that figure.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on my current task. By the time all the filming angles are checked, most of the morning has already gone by.

Scanning my surroundings, I don’t see Gavin anywhere.

MC: ...where is he?

-

Walking along the racetrack and towards the vending machine, I decide to get a bottle of coffee to fill myself up before looking for Gavin.

Perhaps because I didn’t have breakfast, I suddenly feel dizzy after taking a few sips.

By the time I regain my senses, I’m carried over to a long bench by a familiar force. Meeting Gavin’s evidently frantic gaze, I quickly tug the corners of my lips upwards into a smile.

MC: Gavin, I was just about to look for you. Turns out you were here.

He doesn’t speak. Lifting his hand, he wipes away the thin sheen of sweat on my forehead lightly. Then, a breeze envelops me gently, warm and comforting.

He takes the coffee in my hand smoothly, then retrieves soya milk and a sandwich from the bag in his hand.

Gavin: Eat your breakfast.

MC: ...okay, I’ll listen to Sir Gavin.

I munch on the sandwich obediently, occasionally blinking at Gavin to convey a message which says, “I feel much better, so there’s no need to worry”.

Gavin’s slightly furrowed brows finally arch subconsciously.

Gavin: I heard from Minor that you’ve been working overnight to prepare for this show.

MC: Haha, don’t listen to his nonsense. It isn’t that exaggerated...

Gavin: I also heard that I didn’t fit the standard. What standard did you set?

MC: ...

I clench my fists in secret, condemning Minor from the bottom of my heart for his “heinous act” of betraying me.

MC: I can explain! You don’t like appearing on camera, and your identity in STF is a pretty sensitive topic...

Gavin: Mm, you’re right.

Gavin deliberately elongates his words, as though he doesn’t plan to let the matter go just like this.

Gavin: So what’s your standard?

MC: ...we hope for the motorists to have a certain level of professional competence, to be sufficiently photogenic, and most importantly, to have an enthusiastic heart. But I really didn’t mean to say that you didn’t fit this standard!

Gavin is finally unable to suppress the upward turn of his lips.

Gavin: Once you’re done today, sleep early tonight.

-

The training proceeds methodically, and filming goes very smoothly.

The roar of motors drift from the club’s racetrack, and motorcycles of every hue speed freely along the racetrack.

In the camera lens, two blue and white motorcycles seem to be speeding at the same pace, as though they’d break through the finish line at the same time.

Kelly: Have you ever participated in professional racing?

Gavin: Nope.

Kelly: The way you cornered the motorcycle a few times - you can’t do that with ease without a few years of experience. How did you do it?

Gavin: I just drive often.

Kelly: Let’s find a chance to ride together some time.

Kelly pats him on the shoulder before continuing the training. Gavin walks over to me, twisting open a bottle of water before taking a sip.

Gavin: Is filming going well?

MC: There’s too much footage from the training sessions. I might consider adding a special segment for interviews.

While speaking, I’m struck with an idea.

MC: Mr Gavin, why don’t you have a pre-interview with me to test out the effects?

I lift a bottle of water towards Gavin. 

MC: What made you like motorcycles?

Gavin: I don’t have a precise answer. By the time I realised it, I already liked them.

MC: In that case, are there any motorcycle-related experiences which left a deep impression on you?

Gavin is silent for a moment. He seems to think of something, then chuckles softly.

Gavin: The time it overturned.

MC: Overturned? When did that happen? You can tell me in secret - this will definitely not be disclosed to the public.

Gavin looks at me, and he speaks in a volume only the both of us can hear -

Gavin: [whispers] The time when I rode on a snowmobile with the girl I like.

The snow field in my memories is cold, but the breath at my ear causes the temperature of my ear to rise.

[Note] This is a reference to Snow Mountain Date

MC: [blushing] Cough, that was...

All of a sudden, a clamour from the racetrack interrupts my words. The both of us stand up, only to discover that a motorcycle has overturned on the track.

Many people are standing at the side, and some call out for the medical staff.

Gavin: That seems to be Old Liu. Let’s go over to have a look.

-

Doctor: There are soft tissue injuries to your wrist and leg. Recuperate properly over this duration, and don’t engage in any intense activities.

Bro Liu: What about the competition tomorrow...

MC: Bro Liu, just recuperate. The doctor said that once your injuries are healed, you can still ride motorcycles in the future.

Bro Liu glances at Gavin.

Bro Liu: I guess I must admit that I’m getting old. It’s time to hand the baton to the young.

After contacting Minor and telling him about what happened, Gavin and I leave the hospital.

MC: Bro Liu worked so hard over the past two days. He must have really wanted to participate in tomorrow’s competition...

Gavin: In that case, we’ll work hard together with his effort. This is when the substitute steps in.

-

It’s the night before the competition, and I’m looking through the contents of the edited shoot over the past two days in my room.

After cutting the cornering training, I modify it into a slow-motion feature, then insert a few casual interactions between the team members as embellishments.

But no matter how I edit it, the clip is unable to convey the feelings I hoped it would.

I grab my hair in frustration, unwilling to accept my defeat. I locate the original video, watching it from the start.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts my slightly muddy train of thoughts. Opening the door, I see Gavin standing outside.

Gavin: I saw that the lights were still on in your room, so I came over to take a look. Why aren’t you sleeping?

MC: Gavin...

Hearing the gloominess in my tone, he takes my hand and pulls me over to sit down on the sofa.

Gavin: Filming didn’t go well?

Placing the notebook laptop between us, I play the recording.

MC: For this shoot, I wanted to edit it into a small unscripted story to showcase the competitiveness and fun of being a racer. As of now, the story aspect is going smoothly, and the interactions between people are interesting too. But I think it’s missing something which can grab one’s attention immediately...

Gavin looks at the screen and ponders for a moment. Then, he suddenly asks me a question.

Gavin: Want to go for a stroll? It’s too stuffy in the room. Getting some fresh air might give you new inspiration.

-

Likely to conserve energy for the competition tomorrow, everyone has returned to rest very early, and the racetrack is completely empty.

Gavin leaps onto the bleachers, then reaches out to me.

Gavin: Let’s go for a spin.

He takes my hand, guiding me onto the vehicle. Then, he puts on a helmet for me, teaching me how to grab the throttle and brakes.

MC: Gavin, are you sure this is okay?

Gavin: You can’t go onto the road, but we’re still within the venue. After filming for days, don’t you want to experience it yourself?

MC: I want to!

Gavin sits behind me, two arms securing me steadily in his arms.

Along with the familiar sound of the engine, the motorcycle moves. The speed is incredibly steady, and is just right for enjoying the pleasant evening breeze.

MC: Gavin, can we go a little faster?

Gavin: We can. Sit tight.

A loud roar drifts to my ears, and the motorcycle flies forward like an arrow leaving a bow.

Very soon, the most difficult part of the racetrack appears, comprising of consecutive bends. During the training sessions, many motorists faced many trials at this area.

Gavin grips my hand, loosening the throttle, causing the the motorcycle to slow down.

MC: There’s no need to step on the brakes?

Gavin: No need. Engine braking is enough to reduce the speed.

While speaking, the motorcycle tilts at an unbelievable angle at a turn. Gavin controls the direction with composure, air currents at the side keeping the motorcycle steady.

The motorcycle dangerously yet steadily completes the curved track, returning onto a straight track and picking up speed once again.

Gavin: MC, can you see where the cameras are? That’s the goal. On the racetrack, that’s the only thing in a racer’s eyes.

The sound of wind at my ears seems to quieten down. The moment we charge past the finishing line, I suddenly have a feeling that a full stop has been drawn on the racetrack.

Even after the motorcycle makes its gradual halt, I’m unable to return to my senses.

Seeming to understand my silence, Gavin doesn’t speak. He simply pushes the motorcycle that I'm on patiently, walking slowly.

MC: Gavin, I know what this story is missing. Stirring the emotions of viewers requires the most important thing which can make them seethe with excitement -

Gavin: Winning the championship.

MC: That’s right. All the effort from before is meant for the final sprint towards the goal. Winning the championship is the core of a competitive spirit, and is also what the show’s theme of “limit” is seeking after. But... Gavin, do you think we have a chance at winning the championship tomorrow?

Gavin: Yes. But while we’re improving, others are improving as well. Everyone on the racetrack will be aiming towards victory. The people you selected are very outstanding. Believe in them, and believe in yourself.

MC: Mm, everyone has already worked very hard. When it comes to winning, it’s good enough if they try their best.

Gavin parks the motorcycle properly, then carries me down from it.

Gavin: Go back and have a good sleep. You don’t have to worry too much about the competition tomorrow.

-

It’s finally time for the competition. Seeing the filled audience seats, I feel incredibly nervous.

Kelly: I didn't expect to see so many people.

MC: It’s a Sunday, and the club decided to open the venue to the public as publicity.

I take a deep breath to calm my emotions.

MC: Let’s enjoy the fun of racing to our heart’s content! Shall we do a pre-competition ceremony?

While speaking, I stretch out my hand. Gavin cooperates, placing his palm over the back of my hand. He gives it a gentle pinch, and it feels as though an endless stream of strength is being transmitted.

It’s a sense of security belonging only to Gavin.

MC: Safety first, the competition second. Everyone, all the best!

All the motorists have taken their places at the starting line. Based on prior suggestions by the club, I’ve arranged Kelly to take on the first battle, and Gavin will be the finale.

With the green light signalling the start of the competition, twenty motorcycles which have been waiting for action seem to sprint forward at the same time.

The sound of motor engines causes everyone’s adrenaline to spike, and the crowd becomes immersed in the competition.

I’m positioned closest to the audience seats. This is the first time I’m viewing a competition from such a close distance. Even though it’s an amateur competition, it’s sufficiently astounding.

Xiao Yu makes a few minor mistakes at the bends, causing the team to lag behind temporarily.

Carefully observing the changes on the racetrack, I don’t feel overly anxious.

Because it’d be Gavin’s turn next. With him around, I always feel exceptionally at ease.

I look at Gavin as he waits at the handover area with a helmet over his head. He seems to sense my gaze, and turns around to see my thumbs up.

In the next second, his motorcycle charges into the racetrack.

The blue and white motorcycle courses past the bends nimbly in almost “L” shape movements.

As compared to my experience last night, I can see Gavin’s cornering techniques even more clearly from the audience seats.

Although the camera is unable to capture his expression, it isn’t difficult to imagine his focused and bright eyes from underneath the helmet.

When the competition enters its final round, Gavin has already reached the second place, and there’s hardly any difference between him and the first competitor.

The audience’s emotions are stirred by this intense competition, and the sound of cheers surge forward like a tide.

I find myself being influenced as well, staring fixedly at that sprinting figure.

After the upcoming bend, the goal will not be far.

Unexpectedly, a motorcycle behind suddenly accelerates towards the bend, using its full strength to make a last effort.

However, the motorcycle tilts too much. It’s clear that the centre of gravity was not controlled properly, sending the motorist collapsing onto the track.

At this point, Gavin’s motorcycle is already over half of the bend. He controls the dip of the motorcycle, barely avoiding the fallen vehicle.

Because of this incident, some distance is pulled between himself and the motorist in first place.

On the straight road, Gavin’s motorcycle suddenly accelerates, keeping pace with the motorist in front.

In this moment, time seems to slow down. I hold my breath, feeling as though my spirit has become one with that sprinting figure.

The rustling of leaves, the flapping wings of birds, the yelling of the audience, the checkered flag waving mid-air... all of them gather into one voice-

Announcer: The first place goes to No. 07!

On the big screen, Gavin’s name is listed impressively at the top.

At the final moment, he attained first place with a 0.06 second difference, winning the championship.

Gavin did it!

The motorcycle comes to a gradual halt. Gavin removes his helmet, droplets of sweat reflecting bright rays of light beneath the sunlight.

The smile on his face is sparkling and dazzling, bringing with it the confidence belonging to a victor.

Such a result is both unexpected yet within my expectations.

Gavin turns around, looking squarely in my direction.

He shakes his head casually, which has gotten messy from his helmet, and says two words.

Gavin: We won.

-

The employees push the motorcycles back to the venue. Gavin heads over to the referee’s seat, lowers his head and says a few things before walking to me.

The gold medal in his hand dangles slightly, reflecting a dazzling light.

Cheers from the surroundings grow brighter as he draws closer. Separated by the bleachers, he stretches out his hand towards me -

He leans over the bleachers slightly. As he draws closer, I can detect the scent belonging only to Gavin.

Gavin hangs the medal around my neck, announcing our victory.

Gavin: The champion title - we’ve got it.

My mouth opens, but I have no idea what to say. My body reacts faster than my brain. I stretch out both arms, hugging him with all the strength in my body.

Scorching warmth and the dampness of sweat from the competition linger on him.

Gavin returns the embrace. It’s as though this hug is enough for us to understand each other’s sentiments.

Gavin: I think I heard you cheering me on.

MC: I did it so softly, but you could hear it?

Gavin: Mm, the wind told me. Everything you say - I can hear them.

MC: There’s still one thing the wind hasn’t had the time to tell you. I’ll say it myself right now.

Turning my face to the side, I bring it close to his ear.

MC: Gavin, you’ll always be the only champion in my heart.

🏍 Call and Moments: here

🏍 Art based on this date: here

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[beann-e]

Mha Characters reacting to being hugged randomly by their s/o

Shinso

-shinso would welcome you & your hug & words & then fight you to see who’s better with their words

-i take from his character that he loves winning — no matter if it’s something small or not he’ll act like he doesn’t care for it but won’t stop until he wins

It’s been a hard day he’ll admit.

Today was his first day being around class 1-A — and he could honestly say

they were just as annoying as he thought

Everyone was too quick to welcome him and surround him which just pissed him off

well, apart from the asshole with the red eyes who he refused to keep eye contact with

just bakugous mere presence or even his mouth opening pissed him off

Knowing deku and going off of how they first met when he shoved him out of the arena

showing him yet again that the hero course was not to be messed with

he thought he was prepared to meet the same person only for him to be wrong and walk in to see hero deku and class deku were two different people he was not yet ready to meet

To him hero deku was hardcore and fight fight fight

class deku was a loser

a loser who got bullied , fell on the stairs flat on his face, and got embarrassed by aizawa when he for the 4th time yet again in one class started staring at shinso with wide eyes like a tiny pervert and writing like a stalker his notebook

He took a deep breath before he grabbed the handle to your door just knowing that being by your side he may feel a little better

he silently prayed that today you weren’t doing something weird in your room like he often’d find you.

Thanking god when he saw you at your desk a small wave coming from you at his entrance

“ drawing — give me a sec “

he grunted as he sat on your bed hands holding him up while he flicked through his phones many apps — well not many seeing as though he rarely had time to get on his phone

Which is why he was confused when he found himself actually going through it pausing when he noticed he’d ended up on google trying to figure out different dog barks and their meanings hoping he could find a way to talk to bakugou and tell him to shut the hell up

“ you uh — “ he threw his phone behind him on your bed propping himself up to lay back “ you still drawing “

“ mmhm “ you said softly as you traced on the paper in front of you attention focused on your new hero design

“ oh “ his voice was soft you knew something was wrong he wasn’t a man of many words but he would always try to string a sentence along for you

“ hey shin you good “ you put the pencil in your mouth as you erased a line you’d messed up on

“ yeah “ he moved to stand up “ yeah “ he let out while looking around your room “ just tired baby “

your eyes creased as you ran the words through your mind until you both sat in silence the room growing cold

‘ somethings off ‘

“ well my uh — my girlfriends too bus— “

his mouth fell open in a wide o as he looked down to see your face pressed into his chest hands tied around his back your feet planted right in between his as you two stood in the middle of the room

His heart beating out of his chest when he noticed what you were drawing

“ y/— “

“ shh “

you pushed yourself further in his chest “ hug me back please babe “

he jumped forgetting that sometimes he had to return your affection and couldn’t just accept it.

That was hard for him to let himself do the things you do so freely.

His arms hung loosely around your back making you smile “ your getting there “ your voice came out muffled “ I’m so proud of you pretty boy “

he shook at your praise “ p-pretty boy “

“ yeah — your fucking hot babe “ he felt himself sinking into you

“ h-how — how am I hot ? “ the word fell foreign on his lips

“ your quirks so amazing — you look so good when your trying your best it makes me feel warm inside — and I especially like when you use your voice mask “

he found himself smiling

“ don’t get me started on your looks who can pull off purple hair like you shin “

“ you — you could “

“ oh god see and your an amazing liar — your all around awesome shin “

“ t-thank you but I don’t des—“

“ you deserve it “

you two fell quiet as he gripped you harder finally giving in to your affection

‘ he’s ok now ‘

“ how did you know something was “ he sighed out as he pressed his head in your hair “ off “

“ your always tired shin — always — you’ve never actually voiced it though so I was — I felt off myself when you said it —it felt weird “

“ you knew off of one phrase “

“ one phrase “

he smiled into your hair pulling your face back to plant a kiss to your forehead

“ see so fucking beautiful baby “

your thumb traced his face making sure to run under his eyes feeling just how tired he actually was when you felt his eye bags

“ no after school rant today “ he laughed mocking you in your own voice

“ get to sleep baby you have class tomorrow— shin if I see any new eyebags i’m kicking your ass — bab— “

you pushed him away as he fell back on your bed

“ what ? what I was just saying — i mean am i wrong you do say all of those things “

“ get out “ you protested sitting back in your chair continuing your drawing “ come look at this “

he sat confused as he blinked “ I uh “

“ choose the latter “

he smiled as he walked over to your chair draping himself over your shoulder “ your so talented “

“ no I just — i draw “ you said softly

“ oh she just draws “ he copied “ the beautiful lady just draws as she proceeds to draw a portrait of my new hero costume “

he pouted “ you couldn’t have possibly done this all right now how long did this take you “

you looked away

“ I told you I knew you were sad “ sighing as you looked up at him neck bent backwards

“ so I started drawing it when I walked past you in the hallway like I said your always tired but today you were wiping at your eyes constantly — yawning and just then you confirmed it saying you were tired so I “

you looked away “ I drew what you’d been trying to “

he moved to place his lips on yours not letting up until the both of you had to tap out at the lack of oxygen “ your so fucking beau— “

“ Beautiful “ you cut him off words syncing with his up as you two continued the rest of the night with you yelling at him about how he had to open up to his classmates and accept their flaws first before he came to talk badly about them to you

except for bakugou he could talk badly about him

“ thank you for the hug “

“thank you for the acceptance on my drawing “

“ thank you for the praise “

“ thank you for being with me“

he scoffed as his face grew hard before relaxing into a smirk “ thank you for loving me “

“ y-you win “

he laughed as he met your face with one more kiss smiling down on you “ I win “

Bakugou

-you only know because he doesn’t get upset at your actions and your in total surprise

You moved your hand to poke at your boyfriend for the 7th time in a row

your body ducking under his bed in fear of his screams everytime you poked

you frowned when he didn’t acknowledge you

you were only doing it because you wanted to hear some kind of response from him most times when you annoyed him like this he would pick you up and plop you on his bed and tickle the life out of you until you both fell asleep

For some reason he was barely even moving from the spot he came in and laid himself down in

After class the both of you walked to his dorm and he unlocked it holding it open for you and walking in after throwing his backpack to the corner as he ripped off his uniform blazer hand outstretched for yours as he laid them over the back of the desk chair

squatting down to help you take off your shoes and then grabbing them to place at the door his own falling right off his feet with a loud thump.

Him moving to his bed grabbing you and sitting you down on the floor in front of him your legs crossed in front of you as he laid on the bed looking at your sitting figure on the floor

His eyes never leaving yours the whole time until he finally shook his head and turned away from you causing your body to fall

thus leading to your endless pokes

‘ wait now that I think about it ‘

“ babe— have you talked at all today “

you looked to the floor “ I— I don’t think you’ve talked all day “ holding out your hand counting off your fingers

“ at lunch you didn’t even ask me what I wanted you just “

your hands moved up with your shoulders in a shrug “ got it “

you played with the hem on your pants

“ at practice you didn’t partner with kiri you just stayed near me and when we got in your room you“

you looked to your feet voice soft trying to sort through your mind

“ you took my shoes off for me “

you sat for a moment moving to poke him again his body never moving no answer being given to you

“ I know your not sleeping kats —you breathe heavy as shit when you are so “

he didn’t laugh or even grunt nothing falling from his lips as your eyebrows quirked into a knowing furrow

Hands and body leaving the floor as you climbed on his bed to lay on top of his body

your chest draped over his right side

legs straddling his own and your mouth pressed right into his ear

“ I swear i’m not going anywhere baby “

you watched as his eyes moved from the wall across from you two to the pillow right next to him

in hopes of conserving his feelings

“ your doing great — your the coolest and strongest guy I know “

you kissed the outer shell of his ear

“ your so respectful and understanding of my needs“

you placed a kiss to his jaw “ your cuddles are amazing and you make me feel loved when you finally give in and let me win our fights — snuggling up to me on the couch “

you moved to kiss the end of his eyebrow

“ your so hot when you talk to me —that’s when I find you the hottest “

your eyes fell to his lips as you stared down on him

“ when you answer me — and acknowledge me “

he grunted a little in response

his eyes closing when your mouth found his neck kissing softly as you smiled

“ there you go pretty boy“

he groaned as you hugged him arms wrapping around whatever part of his body you could find

“ your kissing everywhere but where I want you to “

“ and where’s that “

“ you know babe “

his face flashed a look you weren’t fast enough to catch as you laughed at him

“ fine fine “

you let your lips hover over his as he turned his body so you were now laying directly on top of him

his hands coming to rest on your lower back

“ before I give you this kiss “

“ fuck—seriously y/n — you can’t just talk after—you worked me up expecting a kiss “

he shook his head in annoyance “ fucking tease — I knew I should’ve kept my mood “

“ but why “ your face dropped as you looked around his “ why did you have a mood katsuki “

he grunted “ because I “

he sighed as he looked directly into your eyes “ sometimes I feel like i’m not doing enough like I could do more for you and sometimes I feel like I treat you like an asshole and what — what girl wants to date an asshole “

he shook his head “ I don’t know if I tell you I love you enough or if I— if I show you that I can protect you if I wanted to or even that I can supply all your needs “

he mumbled under his breath “ I don’t even know if i talk to you enough “

you smiled as you ran your hand through the top of his hair “ you do — you do it all “

you laughed “ and your just fine “

he looked away as you pulled his face back

“ no kats look at me “ his eyes darted away hating how he just opened up to you and now you were begging for eye contact he felt stupid and way too open

“ kats look “ he slowly found his eyes moving to yours at your tone

he knew not to mess around when your praising him it pisses you off and one thing he knows he doesn’t feel like dealing with is a pissed off girlfriend

especially after he just cleaned up his room from your last outburst of firing off his gauntlet at his negligence to answer you

luckily he fell submissive right after mind racing at your attempt to kill him over a small eyeroll and scoff at your praise

Only sucking up his attitude so he didn’t have to run into another problem like that where aizawa flat out kicked his ass for the hole you created in the wall that he somehow took the blame for when he felt your stone cold stare on his back in the office

he was not about to risk his good moment with you right now

“ your amazing , Beautiful , smart and talented “ he shook at the praise body growing hot

“ your doing so good for me and I couldn’t ask for anymore “ you smiled slightly “ keep doing what your doing “

his heart thumped hoping you couldn’t hear it

“ and also i’m not complaining —if you y’know ever wanted to take off my shoes for me again “

he scoffed as he looked away from you and back “ how’d you know “

“ you always tickle me when I poke and annoy you “

you pouted as he spoke “ huh always ? “

“ always “

“ you know my routine that much “ you shook your head in a yes

“ so now that I know why your always pissing me off and what you want I doubt I feel like giving it to you anymore “

you moved to get off of him “ ok well i’m sure it’s a bit more fun with kirish—“

your loud laugh ripped through the room as you fell to his floor with a loud boom

his mouth curling up into a smile as he dragged you back on the bed your protest falling on deaf ears as he continued until he finally stopped speaking into your ear softly

“ I lov—“ he shook his head burying himself into your chest “ fuck you shitty woman “

you smiled at his words hand raking up the back of his neck and into his hair “ I love you katsuki “

kiri

-the only way I can see you understanding somethings off with kirishima is if he just hasn’t been smiling or making comments all day

-then your like :0 uh woah dude my boyfriend hasn’t smiled all day

“ how about ice cream and a movie ? “ you turned to the red head sitting on the couch beside you then shaking you head at your question “ nah sounds lame right “

you laughed “ I knew you would say that “

you pouted when your thoughts finally connected “ oh — nevermind babe i’m sorry I forgot I didn’t do my homework it’s the one midnight gave us I should probably get started—“

Your mouth moving so fast you missed the way the speed in his leg increased in its shakes , the puff of air he let out at your continued talking when he just wanted silence.

Sometimes he enjoyed being around bakugou because at least he had silence for a moment just a moment until he would scream his head off only to return back to the quiet environment he’d created before

“ so yeah it’s a lot and if I don’t get it turned in today I may just fail her clas -“

“ then get it done “ his voice was low and quick to snap at you which had your mind stalling

you laughed uncomfortable with the way he spoke to you “ aw uh where’s my happy guy “

he scoffed as he shifted on the couch his leg speeding up its pace “ where’s my annoying girlfriend “

he snapped his fingers pointing it to you “ oh I spy with my little eye “

his voice was dead as he spoke

“ she’s right next to me “

your eyebrows furrowed as you jumped back a bit

you couldn’t even make out words after his comments

you knew for your few months of dating kirishima that it couldn’t be possible for him to be happy and care about people’s feelings all the time

he had to open up and let you see him pissed off at least once to seal the deal on your relationship

this was it

this was the seal but for some reason you didn’t know if you could close it —much less address it and find the problem

“ kirishima what’s wrong with you “

“ you’ve just been talking all day baby i’m a bit tired of just— “

he felt his body growing a bit hotter than normal , you feeling the heat from his words make their way over to you everytime he spit them out

“just hearing you — I know I can go on and on for hours but if I can go hours you can go days and I just never noticed until now “

“ oh “

“ yeah I need some silence right now babe and your—your not helping” his voice was low even upset he was still trying to save your feelings not that it worked

“ no ones helping “

you looked from your boyfriend to everyone around the room

their voices echoing with laughter everyone spread out around the room as they spoke about what they all did today.

The kitchen full of people

bakugous yelling moving its way down the dorm halls

your face dropping as you stood and grabbed his hand that he snatched back quickly

“ I don’t want to leave “

you pouted settling yourself back on the couch you didn’t know how to deal with him like this and his best friend wasn’t here and almost everyone else he said was adding to his anger would just make him angrier right ? if you called them over

so who could you get to help ?

“ I may be pissed off by them but I — I still want to be around people I don’t want to be upset and alon— “

Time slowed as he felt his body weigh down almost as if he felt the weight of himself when he used his quirk.

Eyes widened before they closed basking in the heat your body supplied as you crawled in his lap wrapping your arms around his neck legs around his own in a straddle

his body just relaxing into your hold not making any movements the occasional jump to follow you whenever you would move

“ come on tell me what’s wrong baby “

your voice was soft in his ear not wanting to draw attention over seeing as though he wasn’t in the best of moods “ who do you want me to fight “

you looked closely at his face as he was just quiet hands finally moving to push both your legs up so that he could get you as close as possible his mouth moving to kiss yours

happiness of the moment overflowing within you as you let him guide you in the kiss surrendering all control to him and letting him lead

“ just feeling a little background today ? “ you said smiling hands cupping his face

“ I understand it gets to someone after a whil— “

“and everyone acts totally brand new when they see i’m not happy for one day —baby one literal day —why am i just expected to be happy all the time “

he dropped his head to your chest “ i’m not no one is”

“ so then tell me what’s wrong why aren’t you happy today “

“ nothings wrong y/n “

his voice boomed loud through your chest

“ nothing is wrong I just feel like having quiet today but because of that —here everyone is —in my face asking me what’s wrong telling me i’m not myself “

he tried to bury his head further in your chest

“ when I want quiet everyones loud and I —I never noticed how loud i am —how loud everything is until I stopped talking and I hate it —I hate how loud everything is “

you sighed as his fingers ran along your thigh “ I thought if I followed you out here to watch a movie I would be comfortable “

his voice was sad “ I just wanted to come out here and watch a movie with my girlfriend but “

your hand running over his shoulders and back up finding a hold in his hair

“ I just got more pissed off when you actually started talking I just expected —if no one else could be quiet then you would “

“ well i’m sorry I wasn’t quiet “

“ you shouldn’t have to be not cause I want you to be“

“ that’s right “

“ I know “ he took a deep breath looking up at

“ I know you think i’m an asshole now because you’ve seen this side of me—the angry one but “

“ I don’t think your an asshole or you’d be sitting in bakugous room right now crying that there’s lemon juice in your eyes “

his mouth shut instantly as he stared at you in fear your thumb running circles over his cheek

“ h-how can say something like that and “ he shook his head “ that’s so manly god I love you so much “

“ I love you too but —you have to tell me things kiri I can’t just “

you flicked his forehead as he crinkled his nose in pain “ I can’t just read your big brain”

“ but you did it just now “

“ huh “

“ all I wanted was for you to hug me and like shower me in kisses to calm me down and you “

he kissed your forehead “ you did it —which kinda had me confused on how you knew me so well “

you laughed “ you looked sad —upset and I wanted to remind you that I was still here regardless of how you feel —you cat push me away that easily “

he smiled widely as you two felt heat radiate through your bodies

“ I really do love you baby months or years or days I love how well you know me”

your mouth opening to laugh as you cuddled into his neck

“ guys kirishimas fine “ denkis voice made the both of you shake

“ I told you he just wanted some attention from y/n —guys he just has a small case of simptitis “

your head turned quickly as you seen the shaking boy beneath you “ uh your room “

“ my room “

[honestgrins]

if you're doing prompts... Mates Trope?! something during s1-2 of TO where part of the reason the wolves (or maybe just the elders who are very righteous about tradition) don't trust klaus is because he wanders around with everyone but his mate (which for this purpose i guess they can sense when a wolf is mated)

Oh || Klaroline

Elijah frowned deeply. “I’m not sure which scenario would be less tolerable to the pack, you being disrespectful to the mate bond or being mated to a vampire.”

Cradling the noticeable swell of her baby bump, Hayley snorted. “I might very well be carrying the next alpha with his disrespectful ass, so they’ll get over it eventually,” she pointed out. “But the vampire thing is always going to be a problem.”

“Not if Miss Forbes stays away from New Orleans.”

That was the crux of it, truly. Whether or not he had a mate, there was precious little Klaus could do about it in the eyes of the pack while she gave his city a wide berth. Honestly, her absence would likely make it all easier for them to swallow - perhaps to forget entirely with a few generations of distance. The thought left a hollow feeling in his chest, one far more noticeable since learning of his…predicament.

Learning he was to be a father after a millennium of running from the only one he’d ever known had been difficult enough. He’d ingratiated himself into the fabric of New Orleans in order to situate it to his needs, even softening the wolf pack to the idea of his leadership outside of the traditional hierarchy - at least, until he returned from Mystic Falls with a freshly established mate bond he apparently left behind.

A mate bond he could only imagine began with a defiant kiss and a slow-rising smile as bright as a sunlit afternoon.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know a thing about it until Hayley broke the news as to why the pack had turned against him. It was small comfort to know her use as a direct line in the camp, but he needed more. He knew so little about life as a wolf, that having been denied him for so long. “How can they know that I’ve found my mate?” Suspicion was a long-earned habit, and nothing was adding up. “How can they sense it here when I had no idea with her right in my arms?”

With a delicate cough, Elijah leaned forward to take some of his focus off Hayley. “I understand this is a difficult revelation, and there’s much to be learned about the mate phenomenon. However, I feel there’s a decided advantage in ensuring Miss Forbes is a non-factor in the politics of the city.”

His hand was around his brother’s throat before he could consciously think to do it, his hybrid strength more than enough to pin Elijah to the wall. “Stop. Talking.”

“Klaus.” Hayley’s voice was shaking, and her hands now covered her belly in a protective gesture. “You feel it now, don’t you? The need to protect her above all else?” She stood slowly, careful not to spook him further. “Even over your own brother?”

With excruciating control, he loosened his grip, finger by finger. “Alright,” he breathed once he could manage it past the sudden onslaught of rage. “I’m listening.”

.

“Caroline, you’re up!”

For at least the third time that afternoon, Caroline reminded herself there were too many witnesses at the Fall Festival to eat her sorority sisters. "I'm all for scamming money out of sleaze bags in the name of philanthropy, but I still think there are better ways to go about it than a kissing booth."

Amber just scoffed. "Suck it up, pledge, we all had to pay our dues," she said, divesting herself of the Gamma blue sash that said Kiss me! and handing it to Caroline. "If it helps, there's a total hottie in line. I almost extended my shift to get a chance at him."

Rolling her eyes, she forced a pageant smile as she slipped the sash over her head. "Thanks for your sacrifice."

"Funny," a familiar voice noted behind her. "You never thanked me for any of the sacrifices I made."

With a deep breath, she tried to make herself count to ten before turning. Call it personal growth that she made it to six when her glare fell on Klaus waiting at the booth. "I'm sorry, are we including the time you literally tried to sacrifice me? Because I'm so not in the mood to deal with you today, in case you can't tell."

"Oh my god, Caroline!" Amber looked mildly scared, but she took a step in front of her anyway, a stance she recognized from other sisters at any number of frat parties when a creep made himself known. "Who is this guy? Do I need to call security?"

She glanced back to Klaus, who remained uncharacteristically quiet as she decided what to do. Reluctantly, she met Amber's eyes with widened pupils. "Everything is fine, but someone needs to cover my shift. You never saw him, and I went home sick." When Amber obediently repeated her words, she also returned the sash. "Thanks!" she called out, quick as she was to flash away from the crowd, knowing he would follow.

Her dorm wasn't exactly a safe bet, given Elena and Damon's constant sexiling, and she didn't want to risk Bonnie catching them on campus. The only place she could think of was the wooded trail behind the chemistry building, where she found a quiet bench for them to sit. Well, for him to sit and for her to pace in front of. "We had a deal, Klaus. You weren't supposed to come back."

"To Mystic Falls," he clarified, his hands pressed together between his knees. At her decided frown, he allowed himself a sigh of discomfort. "Unfortunately, I have good reason to violate the spirit of our agreement."

She crossed her arms and waited.

He sighed again. "Sweetheart-"

"Just rip the band-aid off, Klaus!"

"I need you to accompany me back to New Orleans, and I need you to trust me enough to keep you safe," he said. With eyes intent on hers, his energy seemed barely contained, like he wanted nothing more than to grab her and go. "I would like you to do so freely. And quickly."

Her arms tightened, and she sank onto her jutted hip as she took in his plaintive request. "Points for being polite, I guess, but I doubt you would be if I were in any real danger. What I don't know is if this is you being overly cautious or just being a dick."

Rubbing two fingers at his temple, there was an ancient exhaustion in his face. "Neither of us can truly know what this is," he muttered to himself more than anything. He spoke up with more resolve. "Elijah wanted to hide you away in one of our many properties throughout the world, and Rebekah suggested a less involved plan that offered you an anonymous scholarship across the country - anything to keep you far away from me."

"Why are your siblings trying to get rid of me?" she demanded. "I didn't even do anything."

He shifted on his feet, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes. If he weren't Klaus Mikaelson, she might think he were embarrassed. "Your absence in New Orleans has been noted."

Confused, she pressed her hands to her face. "I seriously doubt that, since I've never been there. The only people I know in New Orleans is your family, and you've already established they don't want me there."

His ears flushed red, and then she knew he was embarrassed. "Hayley has found a home with nearby pack," he explained with a wince, "a pack that could prove necessary to the balance of the city. However, they are disinclined to negotiate with me at the moment."

"Gee, I wonder why. How many of them have you killed so far?"

Klaus gave a ferocious glare. "None, actually. But perhaps you missed the fact that a wolf with a known grudge against you is well placed to inform any number of enemies of your name and location."

The scoff burst out of her without permission, an absolute confidence emboldening her. "Like you'd let that happen."

Then he took a step closer, and that confidence withered into a new understanding - one that scared her. His voice lowered, soft in its menace. "Why do you think I'm here, Caroline?"

She swallowed, the tension unbearably thick between them. "I'm no one," she said, her voice shaky as she fought for the calm she felt only moments before. "Even if they could use me against you-"

"They can," he answered, deadly serious. "And they will. Maybe not now, but someday." He watched her closely; for what, she didn't know. His whole face softened whenever he found whatever he was looking for. "I'm only just beginning to understand myself," he admitted. "But you're far from no one, and I need to establish that you're firmly under my protection."

"Why?" He never really answered her questions, Caroline realized. This one, though... This, she needed to know. "Why me?"

His eyes seemed to burn with gold, and she held her breath as he stared. "Wolves know when another has found their mate, and this pack has judged my character unfit for abandoning mine."

If she weren't a vampire, she would swear her legs might collapse beneath her. As it was, her head felt suddenly light. Her mouth fell open, and she finally remembered to breathe. When she exhaled, it escaped as a sigh. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

[starlightrows]

2 — The Bounty Hunter

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

← Previous - Next →

Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Brief description of injury

Summary: A change in the weather brings back a familiar face

Warm summer nights fade into crisp autumn days. You spend your days tending the garden behind your inn, working to make sure you have enough dried and canned goods for the coming winter, providing room and board for whoever happens to pass through and can pay for it, the shadow cat that likes to hang around your property has a litter of kittens. And you continue to think about Boba Fett, the supposedly fearsome bounty hunter with a kind smile.

You often find yourself wondering if he will come back. Perhaps he would come in later in the season, when the snows have fallen and clung to the trees, when a good fire in the hearth and a bowl of hot stew is all a person craves in the world. You could provide those things. You would be happy with those eyes again, glinting in the fire light while he speaks of far off places and grand adventures.

You have to snap yourself out of these thoughts, focusing your attention back on wet stone sharpening your kitchen knives. Most who pass through your door do not return. Either bounties who are caught are brought to their justice or travelers choose not to venture out so far again. Occasionally you get bounty hunters who return to catch new bounties trying to disappear into the mountains or large game hunters returning each autumn- just passing through on their way further up into the mountains where the herds of black ram and lone bears roam freely.

You do not actually expect to see Boba Fett again, and when you do it is nothing like you’d imagined in your head. A storm is brewing, not yet cold enough to bring snow, but rain, freezing rain that will flood the streets and drown out your remaining autumn plants before the first frost comes. That’s when there is a pounding on the front door in the middle of the night. No one is staying at the inn tonight… perhaps a traveler has gotten in much later than they intended… you get up and throw on a house coat… making sure to have your old hunting blaster in hand, just in case.

When you unbolt the door the howling winds try to slam it back shut, a dark figure slumps against the frame. Not a comforting sight.

“Who are you? What do you want?” you call out to the figure, trying with all your might to keep the door from whipping open all the way. The figure does not answer or perhaps they can’t hear you against the wind whistling through the trees.

Whoever they are, they’re taking too long and you’re freezing. With one hand you reach out and tug on their cloak, dragging them inside and slamming the door shut behind them. They slump back against the door, and you can hear their ragged breathing.

“There aren’t many I turn away from my inn, even when there isn’t a storm raging” I say “But if you intend to stay you’ll need to remove your hood and show some credits”

“I have credits on my ship” comes the deep rolling voice… you know that voice. Without thinking you reach out and pull back their hood. Revealing the same hard lines in his face, and those kind dark eyes. Boba Fett.

“It’s you!” You gasp “You came back”

“Wanted to see you again… and… I need your help” he grits out, wincing in pain.

“What happened?” You guide him by the arm to sit at one of the dining room tables

“Blaster bolt to the side” he groans “It’s mostly fine, just need somewhere safe to lay low for a day or two”

“Will they be coming after you?” You ask bringing him a pitcher of water

“Can’t, they’re dead” he answers, accepting the water and gulping it down thirstily. Well at least you won’t have to worry about others trying to break down the door coming after him.

“Let me take a look at that” you say indicating his wound

“Suppose someone needs to” he grunts getting up from the table. He winces when he steps, and you fall in to catch him before he lists over to the side.

“Come on, there aren’t too many stairs” you manage to get out, as you help him towards the old wooden staircase.

It’s a struggle to get him up the stairs and into the first guest room. He’s a lot weaker than he’s letting on, a good chance he’s more injured as well. You get him to lay back on the bed, and he groans.

You sit beside him and reach for the hem of his tunic and give it a gentle pull “May I?” He nods. Removing the tunic is less difficult than you imagined it would be, it’s shredded from the blaster bolt.

The wound is ugly… and you shudder just looking at it. But it’s not as bad as you were afraid it might be.

“I’m going to wash it out and wrap it with a bacta salve. A few days rest and a hot meal and you’ll be alright” You go to get up and start getting the items you’ll need together to clear out the wound, but before you can turn away he catches your wrist in a gentle hold

“Thank you” he says softly. You smile, and gently pull away.

It takes some time to actually clean out the wound, it’s painful for him and he strains to not howl with the wind as you work to clean it out. Finally you get him bandaged up, and wipe your hands on a dry cloth.

“That should do it” you say wiping your brow with the back of your hand “Please rest, and call out if you need anything”

In the morning you bring up a tray laden with tea, toast, and warm oatmeal with dried fruit and honey. To your surprise he’s up and out of bed, looking at his injury in the small mirror on the wall.

“Good morning” you say, setting the tray down on the bed… which you’re even more surprised to see is fully made. “I don’t normally do room service, but for the injured I make an exception… though you could fool me right now”

He turns to look at you “Wouldn’t even consider myself injured anymore” he says, showing you the scar left by the blaster bolt. He sits on the bed and invites you to join him. You hesitate for a moment… there’s a lot you need to get done today, and you don’t make a habit of spending time alone with your patrons. But he’s been kind thus far, and to be honest you could use the company. So you sit next to him and pour him a cup of tea.

“So tell me, what happened that you landed up on my doorstep last night?”

“I’ve been tracking down something that once belonged to me. Something that is very dear to me” he explains

“Am I allowed to ask what it is?” You smile accepting the second cup of tea he’s poured you.

“My armor” he states

“Your armor?” You’re a bit confused “How did you lose it?”

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” He sets down his cup. You shake your head.

“No offense… but you’re just another bounty hunter to pass through my door” you admit “Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re the only bounty hunter I’ve ever undressed and stitched up”

He studies your face, and sees that you are genuine… you’re confident and self assured but there is an innocence about you. He can’t help feeling drawn to you.

“About 5 years ago, I was thrown into a sarlacc pit on Tatooine and left to die” he explains carefully “I can’t explain why I am alive today. Fate let me live. But I lost my armor, and my former position”

You nod, and listen carefully… Sarlacc’s are native to Tatooine. His… position… “You worked for the Hutt’s” you say

His heart drops, he’s disappointed you. But he won’t lie. He nods “Does that scare you?”

“That depends” you say scooting back from him. Not to get away but so you can square your shoulders and look him in the eye “Do you still condone the use of slaves?”

“No” he says quickly “I never did. It was always my intention to get close to Jabba and his most trusted advisors and usurp him. End the use of slaves. Clean up his drug trafficking. And rule over the great dune sea”

He takes your hand and squeezes it. “That is still my intention” he says “but I need my armor to do it”

“I hear Bib Fortuna rules the great dune sea now” you say “a weakling and a coward… I have no doubt you will make a better leader”

“I’ll miss your little corner of the galaxy” he says “if I asked you to visit, would you consider it?”

“Maybe. I don’t own a ship. Don’t even have a speeder. Might take me a long time to get the credits to make the trip all the way out to Tatooine” you say “but then again, if you are king of Tatooine, I can hardly refuse an invitation”

He smirks at that, “I will come back for you, Princess. I want you to visit me on Tatooine”

You shake your head, if he does successfully overthrow Fortuna, he will have his hands full ruling and dismantling the institutions he already described. He will likely forget about you, and your inn at the edge of the galaxy.

“Find your armor Boba Fett, and claim your empire” you smile “Then com me someday so I can proudly say I served tea for Boba Fett before he was king”

“You have my word Princess” he chuckles

He leaves that afternoon, with a bag you prepared for him containing home baked bread and cured meat. He promises you again that he will come back for you, and while you appreciate the thought, you won’t hold it against him if you never see him again.

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey

[justjuiceyboy]

bruised

in which Juice’s best friend goes to him for help after an abusive relationship

word count: 1,397

warnings: blood, swearing, abuse, toxic relationship

——————————— 

Wincing, you grazed two fingers along your forehead, each collecting some blood that had stained the side of your face. You huffed, knowing what was about to go down as soon as your best friend saw this. Juice was always getting himself into trouble and almost bleeding out like the mad man he is but as soon as anything happens to you - its the end of the world as we all know it.

You and Juice had been best friends for as long as you can remember. When your parents passed, he was there for you and became your rock. You had upped and left Queens with him, which was a good decision, but on your first day here you had met someone. That someone turned out to be Matthew, your future boyfriend. He was lovely in the beginning, everything anyone could want: sweet, funny, helpful. But now, three years later he was mean-spirited, angry and explosive. Anything that you did incorrectly in his eyes was seen as an issue. An issue that violence was the answer to. You hadn’t told Juice about it and made up stories, “Oh I tripped and took a tumble on the stairs” you laughed, or, “I was trying to put a book back on the shelf but instead it came back down and hit me in the eye!” Juice never really bought the excuses.

But now you had nowhere else to go so you found yourself speed walking towards the clubhouse. Matthew had made it awfully clear that he didn’t want you in the house and the open wounds on your face could back up that statement. You didn’t want to leave him, when he had good days he was great, often bringing home flowers with some sort of cheesy note attached. However you knew in your heart that the bad days were now outnumbering the good and no matter how clean the house was, how much laundry you did or how little noise you made, it was never enough. You were always afraid of what Juice would do if he found out. You knew he would be hurt by you lying to him swell as what you were lying about.

The cold air hit your flushed skin, which provided a sense of relief on one hand but pain on the other as blood was still oozing from the cut above your eyebrow. The walk was short and you were glad that you didn’t run into anyone on the way, not feeling the urge to discuss your war wounds with anyone other than your best friend, and even then discuss was a loose term. You just wanted somewhere to stay that you wouldn’t be thrown out of the bed and be in fear of a man towering over your frame.

It looked worse than it felt. You had one gash above your eyebrow that no matter how much pressure you applied, wouldn’t stop bleeding. Your eye socket was in immense pain, definitely going to bruise up in a nice purple colour tomorrow. Your other cheek was bright red, probably having the imprint of a man’s hand on it, except you really didn’t have time to check in the mirror before you left your own home. The dried blood made it look like you were in some sort of street fight, which probably would’ve been a nicer explanation than the one you’d have to give now.

The gate was open, not many bikes parked outside the clubhouse. You recognised Juice’s, along with Jax and Chibs. You pushed on the door and were met with a warm gust of inviting air. You shuffled into the room, keeping your eyes at a low level. You barely had a chance to even look around the room until Juice spoke first, “what the fuck?” He got up quickly, coming over to you and placing his hands on either side of your face, “who did this to you?” Suddenly your eyes filled with tears as he examined your bloody form. The other two boys rose from their seats with concern, fearing this was some sort of club retaliation.

“It doesn’t matter. Can y’fix me up?” You hiccuped as you talked, now the tears freely flowing down your face, expecting him to lose the plot and start going mental. But he didn’t. He looked into your eyes, his soft brown eyes making you melt and cry harder as you could see that he was hurt. He led you over to a bar stool and sat you up on it to examine you further.

He reached around and rustled under the bar, pulling out a mini first aid kit. He kneeled down in front of you, grabbed an antiseptic wipe and warning you, “will sting a little”, he held it onto your gash, finally stopping the blood but still making you jump slightly. He wiped all the dried blood off your face and he applied a white plaster to the area. You all let silence fill the air, him wanting answers but you not being willing to give them to him. 

He finally spoke, “was it him?” The last word was almost spat with venom. The two boys in your life had no problem with each other in person, but Matthew often taunted you about Juice, saying he was “good for nothing, will never amount to anything”. What you didn’t know is that behind closed doors, Juice wasn’t overly fond of Matthew either, hating that he got the chance with you when it should be him. But he could admit it before now, being too afraid of both rejection from you but also due to his line of work, being close to someone never really worked out well. It still didn't stop him from loving you.

You nodded, not being able to keep up with the lie anymore. Your tears were still falling down your face. He put his arms around you without saying anything and leaned your head into his shoulder. You choked out an “I’m sorry” to which he shushed you. He picked you up and brought you back to his dorm, careful not to bump into anything or make your injuries worse. Once he lay you on the bed, he took off your boots and helped you change into a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt, discarding yours that were stained. 

He lay down next to you, slowly reaching for your hand to hold it with his own. “You can’t go back, not after this” he stated, as more of a fact rather than a suggestion. You knew he was right so you gave his hand a squeeze. He let out a sigh before posing the question, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“He told me no one would ever want me, that I was lucky to have him” you breathed softly, letting out a quiet yawn along with a few more tears. Juice was furious with rage but wasn’t about to take it out on you. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, making sure not to go near any hurt areas. “Get some sleep” he advised, but he could tell you had already drifted off, tired from the events of the day, “I’ll be back soon.”

Juice left the room, now in the presence of the two boys once again. “What d’ye want t’do about this Juicey?” Chibs asked, trying to figure out what the plan of action was without putting any ideas in his head. But he already knew what Juice was thinking purely by the look on his face.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him” Juice seethed, “scumbag”.

The three boys grabbed their kuttes and made their way out of the clubhouse, locking the door so you’d be safe when they were gone.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Jax smiled slightly as he threw his leg over his Harley.

Juice looked at him confused, not knowing what his question meant. 

“She’s the girl you’re in love with. It’s so fucking obvious Jesus Christ, how did we not realise that!“

Juice paused, finally ready to let go of the secret he held tightly for so many years, but he wanted the first person he told it to to be you so he simply stated “Nobody hurts my girl” as he kicked started his bike, ready to serve justice.

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Seven)

Chapter Seven: Sweet Fulfilment

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The silence that fell upon them in Rossi’s backyard was so heavy, no one dared to break it. Derek was brave enough to stand and follow Y/N into the house, most likely to drive her home. The rest received the message and began to dwindle away, until only Ashley and Spencer were left.

Spencer absentmindedly fiddled with the top of his cane, still stunned into silence from Y/N’s heavy confession. He could feel Ashley’s eyes on him, but didn’t bother looking at her. His mind was racing ten times faster than it ever had before.

Ashley breathed out a sigh and kept it simple and straightforward, “Do you love her?” She asked softly. 

He wished to hear some malice in her tone, thinking it might make him feel something other than shock, but all he heard was curiosity. He didn’t even have to think to find the answer, but which answer was he willing to give?

“Yes.” He said, not even having the audacity to see the reaction it brought upon her eyes. 

He should have felt horrible for hurting Ashley, but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to feel anything but relief as he replayed Y/N’s words in his head. He heard her move to stand up and remained motionless as she left him on the couch. She went inside and Spencer deduced that she’d probably already taken her car and returned home. He’d have to find a different ride home but that was the least of his problems right now.

No one knew what to tell him as he passed them in the spacious living room a half hour later. No one knew where to start with him, but their unrelated hushed conversations continued on. Y/N had stupefied them all, but him especially. His heart should have been soaring because of her confession, but he knew he’d have to give Ashley a proper goodbye. She deserved one, even though he had quite literally used her in the most ungentlemanly of ways. He hadn’t let themselves get too invested in the relationship, though. He’d always kept her at arm’s length for fear of getting too attached. 

The next day, he’d promptly gone to her apartment and given a heartfelt apology. She’d let him know how hurt she was and that she was not going to be returning to the BAU. He still felt bad, but once again, he felt like he could breathe. Like the air knew its way back to his lungs. 

The weekend came and went, silence on both ends. Both lovers just stewing in their own pots. Both pots teeming with unadulterated, unconditional love and affection for one another. It could barely be contained at this point. Time seemed to float by and before they knew it they were back in the office. A new month had just begun. She felt new, she felt like she’d peeled off a layer of her skin, one that had been holding her back, trapping her within the confines of herself.

With the new month, she was called in early to have the routine monthly meeting with Hotch where they went over the itinerary of the next month. They liked to plan whatever they could given that half of the BAU’s job was unpredictable.

“So, I have here the form that Strauss asked for. Also, the 6th floor’s printer is a literal piece of junk and I’ve typed up a formal proposal so that maybe we could get a new one? I coordinated with Penelope about the funds and she says there are sufficient funds for a new printer.” Y/N said, handing Hotch a typed document. 

Even after all these years, her dedication to this job continues to blow him away. He’d come to see her as a work-daughter. He has taught her so much over the past few years and he’ll always have a special place in her heart. He nodded, glancing over the document.

“Great, I trust you and Penelope will pick an adequate printer.” He paused, sending her a smile. He noticed the slight glimmer in her eye, “I know you’ve been having a rough few months, Y/N, and it’s not technically my place to get involved in your personal life, as your boss, but as your friend, I hope you know that I am available to help you in any way I possibly can.”

Her whole face formed into a fond smile, “Thanks, Hotch and yes, I know.” She chuckled slightly.

“You are a dedicated employee and a wonderful person. If you ask me--” He was interrupted by his office door slamming open, showcasing an absolutely beaming Dr. Spencer Reid in the doorway.

“Hotch, I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Spencer’s eyes flew from Hotch to Y/N, his attention now zeroed in on her. He leaned into the office, not fully entering, “are you free for dinner tonight?” he asked in a rushed manner, as if not getting a fast answer would somehow make him lose all the confidence he’d mustered up.

“M-me? Yes! I mean, yes, I’m free tonight.” Y/N answered, flustered at the interruption as well as the question. Spencer’s face split into a grin and he tapped the doorframe once awkwardly.

“Great, then...it’s a date.” He raised his brows and tried to lessen his grin as he snuck a glance at Hotch before gracelessly forming his lips into a line and scurrying out of the small office.

Y/N turned back to Hotch quickly with eyes widened with disbelief and a face totally failing to contain the utter joy she felt, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Hotch only responded with a knowing smile at the precious interaction he’d just witnessed firsthand.

First dates were supposed to be awkward, however, their first date was anything but. Spencer had showed up with a fresh haircut, his shoulder length hair cut into a dreamy, swoopy style that sat along his forehead comfortably. It was so much more attractive than Y/N could outwardly-or inwardly- admit. His knee was now fully healed and no longer needed his cane which allowed them to walk around the city freely.

They’d both realized how stupid and blind they’ve been over the years. Y/N confessed to feeling especially stupid for staying with Anderson for so long, even when she had realized her true feelings for Spencer. Time had passed them by like it was nothing. 

Spencer, like the true gentleman he is, insisted he’d walk her home. He’d feel more comfortable knowing she was safe, not to mention that he was extremely curious about her new apartment. He hadn’t expected Y/N to invite him in, but of course she did, because that was who she was. She was warm and inviting, and if she was being honest, she didn’t want the night to end yet.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I haven’t really been in the right headspace these past few weeks.” She said, walking him inside. He took a look around and noticed a few unpacked boxes out of place but he definitely wouldn’t characterize it as messy. 

He chuckled softly and shrugged, “Trust me, it’s fine.” Her shoulders dropped with relief slightly and she returned his lightheartedness by smiling and flopping onto the couch.

“It’s been so long since I’ve lived on my own. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the silence.” Y/N said, but only realized how sad it must have sounded after she said it. Spencer took a seat next to her on her small, but comfortable couch.

“I feel quite the opposite, I think I’ve been living on my own for--for a long time.” He said, thinking back to his days but pushing away the especially dark parts. 

She dared to glance at him, seeing him in her space was so...different. So refreshing. It’s like this apartment needed Spencer in it for it to feel complete. Or maybe that was her heart speaking. Maybe both the apartment and her heart needed Spencer to feel whole. Her glance had long been forgotten and had turned into a longing gaze instead.

“Spencer, I-” She gazed at him, feeling the words get caught up in her throat before she could have had the chance to voice them. Besides, what words would ever be able to convey the way she felt towards him? 

Words escaped her when he looked at her like that--all soft eyes and a fond, lopsided smile, despite his curiosity at her interrupted sentence. She made the mistake of glancing at his lips, the lips that were so appealing, practically calling her name. The ones she’d caught herself daydreaming about for years and years on end. His proximity was intoxicating and before she could doubt herself, she closed the gap between them, her hands attaching themselves to the lapels of his blazer to pull him ever so slightly closer.

His lips were just as warm and inviting as she’d remembered them, but this time the kiss tasted sweeter, it was no longer tainted with suppressed guilt and confusion. His lips tasted like certainty. It was clear that she’d finally found what she’d been missing all these years. The gentle push and pull of the kiss was invigorating to them both. His slightly calloused hands found her flushed cheeks, each thumb delicately caressing the delicate skin beneath the pads of his fingers. They’d savored the kiss so much that when they pulled away, two, three, four tender, short kisses followed the initial one.

Almost as if they’d never get enough of each other. Like if the world was ending, it wouldn’t matter, they’d go peacefully, knowing that this is what it was like. That this is what quenched thirst felt like.

“I love you.” She murmured against his lips, breath uneven. She’d known it for as long as she could remember and he’d known it too, but she was past the point of timidness to admit it now. There’s no use in prolonging it, not when she was this certain. 

The pad of his thumb traced a line across her jaw slowly as he heard the words. His face couldn’t contain his smile, teeth almost clashing into each other from their closeness. His warm, amber eyes flitted to hers, visible comfort and reassurance filling his irises. He was transported back to Rossi’s garden when he’d first told her he loved her. She knew, she knew he loved her too, which is why it was so easy.

“I love you, too.” He murmured back, pressing another passionate kiss to her lips, as a quiet admission of love. She could feel the tears gather underneath her closed lids almost as quickly as relief flooded her chest.

They’d decided to keep things under the radar for a while, neither of them too eager to showcase their relationship to the world just yet, excluding Hotch of course. They did their best anyway--or at least they thought they did. Their recent smiley faces and cheery attitudes were not invisible to America’s top profilers and well, Penelope, who was perhaps the sharpest of them all, despite not being trained to analyze behavior like the others.

Exactly two weeks after their first date, Penelope cornered Y/N at her desk around lunchtime, right before the two lovebirds took their daily lunch walk. 

“Spill.” Penelope demanded, her colorful teapot earrings swayed, contradicting the sternness in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N gazed up at her with genuine confusion.

“Uh-uh, don’t give me that. I know something fishy is going on. I can smell it.” Penelope leaned in closer and began pointing fingers. Y/N barked a laugh.

“Garcia, nothing is going on. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” She laughed, amused at the sight of her friend being so outwardly nosey.

“You think I haven’t noticed you and Boy Wonder--” She was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat noise from Spencer to announce his presence.

“Garcia, Derek said something about making hot chocolate in the kitchenette and you know how he dips the sugar spoon back into the chocolate mix? Yeah, you should probably--” Spencer lied through his teeth but Penelope wasted no time in rushing off to the kitchenette, groaning about how she hated finding extra sugar in the chocolate.

Spencer caught Y/N’s eye and they both burst out laughing. They quickly made their exit, whispering about how close of a call it was with Garcia. Little did they know, Rossi had caught every little bit of the very tender, intimate kiss they shared before the doors of the empty elevator had closed, leaving him shaking his head at the obliviousness of the two. 

The team decided to make a game out of it very quickly when they all realized. They wanted to see which of them could expose the couple the quickest.

 JJ found extreme joy in trying to set Y/N up with one of Will’s friends right in front of Spencer.

“Come on! This guy’s totally your type, Y/N.” JJ pushed, showing her a picture of a man on her phone, leaning towards her over the top of her desk. Y/N laughed uncomfortably and glanced with panic at Spencer who was watching curiously.

“I don’t know, I d-don’t think I have a type, JJ.” She tried to brush her off, continuing to laugh in discomfort. Emily and Derek almost split their lips as they bit them to try and keep from laughing. They watched Spencer shift nervously in his seat.

“I’m just not interested.” Y/N said, “Thanks, though.” JJ finally gave in and accepted that she’d lost the bet.

Emily tried her hand at “girl-talk”, hoping that maybe Y/N would slip up and tell her about Spencer, but to no avail. That woman’s lips were sealed shut.

Derek and Penelope both tried to follow them around but Spencer and Y/N were far too cautious at work now. Derek actually had to convince Penelope to take the moral high road and refrain from tracking their devices or hacking into their messages.

After trying and failing for so long, the team finally gave up on trying to rat them out and instead decided to respectfully wait for their announcement. 

Y/N realized that she hadn’t technically invited anyone over to her new apartment and decided to throw a somewhat delayed “welcoming party” for herself. She’d cooked dinner, which Spencer did his best to contribute to, decorated the place nicely, and invited the whole team over.

“Thank you all so much for being here. I know this has been a long time coming. I’ve missed our little get-togethers and thought it’d be fitting if I finally host one, given that I now have my own apartment.” Y/N spoke from her place at the head of the dinner table which had barely ever been used before this night. It was a tight squeeze, but her heart soared as she saw the faces of her caring coworkers and friends staring up at her. They all lifted their glasses and gave her a silent toast of appreciation.

Spencer stood from his seat that was to the right of Y/N’s and cleared his throat, “Also, we have an announcement to make.” He timidly began, catching the eager smiles. “Y/N and I are, finally, together.” He waited for the cheers of excitement but nothing but an eerie knowing silence befell the dinner table.

Something clicked in Y/N’s brain as she spotted Rossi handing Hotch something under the table not-so-discreetly, “You all knew?!” She gasped in disbelief. The team broke out into fits of laughter.

“The whole time!” Garcia guffawed. Spencer and Y/N shared a look of incredulity before breaking into laughter themselves. Y/N shyly hid her face in Spencer’s shoulder as he wrapped an affectionate arm around her back.

“You guys thought you were so sneaky.” Derek threw his head back, laughing.

“Wait, so what was all that about?” Y/N asked, referring to Rossi handing Hotch something, “You guys had a bet going?”

“Technically there were two bets going. Everyone else was determined to expose you, which they all failed at, thankfully, while Rossi and I had a separate bet. I said that you’d announce it first and Rossi apparently had more faith in the team.” Hotch explained, smirking triumphantly at Rossi, who appeared delighted despite having lost the bet.

“Bet or not, you two deserve each other. I’m glad you two are happy together. To the lovely couple.” Rossi raised his glass and everyone followed in pursuit.

Spencer turned to Y/N to place a sweet but chaste kiss on her lips, leading everyone to cheer in response.

There was little he could compare to the feeling he had then, but if he had to, he’d compare it to being whole.

previous chapter/epilogue

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[troubatrain]

the times when things got hard...

two blurbs following want you to want me

read the rest here!

Matthew was having a hard time.

Everything was just bad. Changes were coming in Calgary and Matthew was falling behind for the first time in his life. He was down to the third line, he couldn’t score a goal to save his life, and while he was falling apart - he was enviously watching you succeed. Matthew had maybe three more weeks until you’d be at his doorstep from a training camp you had to attend. He was being patient, trying desperately not to call and make you feel upset for not being there when he was having a rough time. He’d been on his own for long enough, Matthew knew how to handle it, but everything was different now.

You were the first person Matthew talked to in the morning and the last one he talked to before bed. Your apartments in your cities had both of your names on the leases. Every piece of the homes were littered with relics of both of your accomplishments. Those things were important to your relationship, but the only thing Matthew had yet to do was lean on you for emotional support when he really needed it. Chantal once told you it might never happen, years of watching his father come home with nothing short of a smile on his face and advice to his kids to just leave it on the ice.

And you were fine with that.

Well, you were trying to be fine with it. You knew Matthew was having trouble, cringing when you saw him snap a stick in half in the penalty box the night before. He had bags under his eyes, exhaustion clear in his voice over Facetime right after. Those things were obvious, but when you were bed alone and Matthew didn’t ask you once for phone sex, you knew he was down bad. So you snuck a flight to Canada, keeping your secret to yourself until you unlocked the door to your shared apartment.

You put your things away quietly, throwing on a pair of Matthew’s sweats you were secretly missing because all of the ones you’d stolen just didn’t smell like him anymore. You missed him more than you realized, down the way he always made your coffee in the morning, and even though it wasn’t the way you usually drank it - you took it with a smile.

Then you heard a door slam, causing you to jump. You’d caught the last bit of the game in the car, listening to the radio with your cab driver who had nothing kind to say about the current state of the city’s hockey team. It wasn’t pretty, a ten minute major throwing Matthew out of the game and just as you suspected, he was pissed.

“Babe?” You call out, stepping out the bedroom and taking Matthew in. Fresh black eye, cut above his brow making it clear that even if he’d won that fight it wasn’t pretty. His tie was long gone, loose around his neck with a few buttons undone. He looked sad, a deep sigh leaving his body when he finally saw you.

Matthew didn’t say a word, emotionally overwhelmed to the point where he was speechless. You were standing right in front of him, like he desperately needed you to be. He didn’t have to ask, beg for you to be there for him, and something about that was so important to Matthew he didn’t have a word to describe it.

“I’m awful,” Matthew mumbled, pressing his head into your neck. You could feel the tears freely flowing from his eyes. Your heart was breaking, a guilt washing over you that maybe you could have been there sooner.

“Matty, you’re having a tough time right now but that doesn’t mean shit and you know that,” You try to reason with him, running your fingers through his overgrown curls. He shook his head no, his fingers digging into your hips, “Babe look at me.”

“No,” Matthew shook his head again, and you just took a deep breath, “Everyone wants me out of here, you’ll probably be next.”

You grab his hand, holding it out for that same silly handshake Matthew made up when you started dating. His lips twitched, forming a smirk while he slapped his hand against yours. Left, right, and a sweet kiss to your lips just like he always did, “I’m not going anywhere… except for back to camp.”

“You’re allowed to be here right?” Matthew questions, voice raspy and his lips ghosting over yours. It was a weird guilt he felt, like you’d left before you were supposed to for him and that if you were in some shit it would be his fault. He never wanted to be the reason you felt held back, a constant battle with his own selfish need to want you around but his unselfish want to see you flourish.

“You needed me and I’m here,” You whisper, leaving out the part where you really shouldn’t have left but if you were back by Monday nobody would know you were ever gone. You grab his cheeks, gently wiping away a few stray tears that had fallen from his eyes, “Please don’t ever think you’re a burden for talking to me about the hard times. I’m here for the good and the bad, the way you’re playing isn’t

going to change that.”

“I love you,” Matthew mumbles, pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips to your forehead, “And I missed you so much-”

“I did too, we have some time to make up for, I think,” You look up at Matthew, who had a smug smile and his brows raised at you. His hand landed on your ass, a chuckle following.

“I think my dick missed you the most.”

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

****

She’s barely even with him.

It was one comment on your instagram photo, some stranger deciding they knew more about your relationship with Matthew than you did. A series of comments followed, all because Matthew insisted on using that stupid rocket emoji on your picture, all of them the same.

I heard it’s all for PR so he doesn’t look like a bad guy.

He’s definitely cheating on her.

It wasn’t just that, things had been hard on you lately. You hadn’t scored in weeks, your loss column just getting higher while wins seemed to slip out from under you. Every part of your body was sore, that terrible habit you had of pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion was hard to break. It was even harder when Matthew was all the way in Canada and he couldn’t be there. You didn’t want to complain about it, there were plenty of times you weren’t there for him and whining wasn’t helping either of you, but you needed to see him.

You deleted the text on your phone a thousand times, a please come see me cry for help that Matthew couldn’t answer. He was on a road trip in New York, and there wasn’t anyway possible he could leave. Besides, it would’ve been unfair to put him in that kind of position.

Except Matthew knew you were struggling, keeping tabs on you while he was away because that was part of being a good boyfriend. Every loss your team took was breaking his heart, and you were way too stubborn to admit when you were upset. Which is why he started with a simple text.

Hey, I love you, and I’m proud of you.

No answer.

Matthew furrowed his brows, laying back on his hotel room bed and wondering if you were mad at him. Did he miss something? There was no way, a promise Matthew made to himself that he wasn’t going to fuck this up for himself by forgetting something as simple as an anniversary. He settled on Facetiming you, and when the phone only rang once before you ended it, he knew you ignored him. He called, two rings before you finally picked up, sniffling into the phone.

“I’m still enough right?” You whisper, your position much like his all the way in New York. You were laying in your bed, the one you’d shared with your boyfriend dozens of times, trying to fight off your own personal demons.

“You’re everything to me, you know that,” Matthew rushed out, his eyes widening at your words, “Babe-”

“You wouldn’t cheat on me?” You ask, Matthew mentally trying to figure out if he could swing a quick trip to Chicago and be back to play the Rangers by seven the next night.

“Never in my fucking life,” Matthew promises, shocked that you’d even think that. You were different, and he didn’t play games when it came to your relationship, “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“It was just some comments on my Instagram picture about how we’re barely together, and, fuck, Matty they’re right,” You cry, Matthew was silent on the otherside of the phone, “I miss you and I can’t see you and I knew this would happen-”

“They’re not right,” Matthew growls, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, I love you more than anything else in this world and if you asked me to hang it up tomorrow I would. Except you wouldn’t, because this is special, and fuck what other people have to say about it.”

“Promise?” You whisper, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath, inhaling whatever scent was left of Matthew’s on his hoodie you were wearing.

“Yeah you’re stuck with me babe,” Matthew hums, smiling when he finally heard you let out a laugh on the other side of the phone, “I’m ordering you dinner, and go relax because you have a game tomorrow.”

“You have one too you know,” You muse, feeling lighter than you did when he called.

“First one to score wins?”

“Oh you’re on!”

“That’s my girl.”

[amesstm]

A Bit of Water

Word Count: 1554

Character: Jean Kirstein

Content: low key sad, head trauma (no mentions of how it happened), amnesia, bit of fluff

“Do you really think Armin’s right about the sea existing?” You asked, sitting down next to Jean. It was a long day of military movement and you were both finally able to relax alongside a lake. Contrary to being with the group of friends you shared, he sat alone.

Your friend looked at you and shrugged, “We’ll know once we see it.”

“I wonder if the water would taste good,” you pondered aloud, suddenly looking at the lake with curiosity. Then you murmured, “Maybe it tastes better than well-water.”

Disgusted laughter erupted from Jean and through laughs he choked out, “Why would you drink sea water?”

Now it was your time to shrug, but with a sheepish chuckle. Yep, your crush probably thought you were weird. “You never know! Maybe it doesn’t taste too bad.”

Jean snickered, “You’re really something, Y/N.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you flushed.

A comfortable silence fell on you two as you both watched the currents of the lake. Everyone behind them were chatting up a storm, but here you two were. Silent except for the sounds of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. The moon cascaded on the lake with white brush strokes to provide a beautiful scene. It was one etched into your mind forever.

You smiled with a sigh, “I’m sure Marco would’ve loved to see it.”

Jean drew a sad expression until he exhaled and smiled, too. “You’re right. He would. But we’ll see it together, okay?”

~

Unfortunately, you never got to visit the sea. In fact, you didn’t know why you were here in the hospital at all. Apparently, you suffered a head injury that made you lose all of your memories. You knew your name, your family, and some of the names of people from your past. The nurse, Mrs. Rei, would tell you of a visitor who only came in the night. She said the visitor didn’t want you to know who they were.

“Did he come again, Mrs. Rei?” There was a loneliness in your voice that the older lady caught onto.

Her mouth dropped into an apologetic line, “Yes, I’m sorry. He’s just not ready yet.”

After a soft sigh, you nodded. It had been a month or two since you were admitted into the hospital from a brain injury. The only people who came were your family on occasion. Otherwise, it was just you, Mrs. Rei, the glass of water on the night stand, and a Wings of Freedom emblem in the drawer.

If what you knew was true, you were a member of the Survey Corps. From where you were now, you couldn’t imagine the courage you must’ve had to want to journey outside the walls. You peered out the window, which was the only escape from this room that you had. Small birds here and there fluttered freely, without a care in the world. Trees swayed with the seasons and life around you carried on. Yet you were stuck here.

Perhaps your comrades were out there right now, searching for answers and fighting off Titans. Perhaps they were all dead and no one wanted to break the truth to you, for fear of further mental regression. Either way, the only thing you did know was that you knew nothing of your unit.

~

It had been a few months since Jean saw you. The last time, you were asleep, as usual. If you were awake, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. How could he tell you that he was the reason you had to be hospitalized with no memory to speak of? How could he tell you everything that your friends went through? How could he explain to you how beautiful the ocean was, but when he saw it, he couldn’t even think about anything else but you?

How could he control himself if you were awake, not even remembering him at all? How would he handle knowing that any feelings you two might’ve shared are no longer reciprocated? Yet he bit his lip and walked into the hospital.

For the first time, he would be seeing you in broad daylight. Albeit in a hospital, it was still better than nothing. The smell of cleanliness hit him first, sterilized as much as possible to reduce infections. Captain Levi would love it here. But this wasn’t a place for happiness.

The nurse, Mrs. Rei, recognized him immediately and knew why he was here; but she still managed to widen her eyes slightly in surprise. “You’ll be seeing her this afternoon, sir?”

He gave a sure nod to stabilize himself. “I think I’m ready.”

She smiled, “Follow me. She’s awake, drawing something right now.”

Jean followed obediently, thinking about what he’d say to you. First, he’d apologize for not visiting in person and then for your accident. Then, he’ll hopefully be able to catch you up on everything. Finally, he’ll give you a present.

“Mr. Kirstein, are you ready?” Mrs. Rei looked at him worriedly. After all, he’s tried to do this before but backed away before he could even open the door.

He exhaled and nodded, “I won’t hesitate this time.”

She smiled, “Good.”

Then, the door was opened. There you were laying on the bed with a sketch pad on your lap. You looked up from your drawing, surprised at having a visitor. He wasn’t anything like your family, who visited in civilian clothing. He was wearing his military uniform, with a clear Wings of Freedom emblem on his chest. You must’ve known him.

Jean stepped into the room, with Mrs. Rei leaving them for privacy. He stood awkwardly before the door, all the conversations he played in his head suddenly vanished. Your curious eyes looked at him from under your eyelashes. In fact, you spoke first, “Hi, did I know you?”

You asked such an innocent, rational question but it still shot through Jean’s chest. The guilt and sadness nibbled at his heart, threatening to swallow it whole. “I- you do. I’m Jean Kirstein. We were in the military together.”

Immediately you sat up straighter, like an invisible string pulling on your head. “So, we did know each other... Are you by chance the one who visits me in the night?”

An embarrassed blush rose to Jean’s cheeks, “You’re right, I am. I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to approach you.”

Despite all his stammering and embarrassment, you smiled kindly at him. “It’s fine. I don’t think I would know how to approach someone who lost their memories either.”

You stared at him, into his very soul. He wasn’t able to look at your face, but chose to look at anything but you. His eyes glanced from the window to the water glass on your nightstand. Then, they landed on your sketch pad. “I was drawing something; would you like to have a closer look at it?”

He slowly stepped towards you, taking a seat as you stretched your arm out so he could see it. As he looked at the drawing, you were able to smell him. His woody scent was so familiar and calming that it put you at ease. In fact, being near him made you so much more comfortable after only having hospital staff as company for so long. You eased and leaned towards him, resisting the urge to put your hand through a complete stranger’s hair.

Jean’s eyes sparkled; it was the same lake you two sat at before everything fell apart. Taking in the drawing, he was forcibly thrusted back into that time. When it all seemed so much simpler and you remembered everything about everything.

“It’s beautiful,” was all Jean could muster.

You chuckled, “Thank you. It’s one of my favorite scenes to draw.”

“Do you remember anything about it?”

“I remember how it made me feel. Safe, warm, happy.” Your voice drifted off, “But I don’t know why.”

Jean’s eyes drooped slightly and a frown pulled at his mouth. Out of habit, he covered his ears. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault you don’t have any memory.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Jean. Whatever you did, I’m sure it was the only way. I may not remember much of anything, but I’m still able to make new memories.”

“R-right,” he stuttered. “That reminds me, I have something for you.”

He reached into his pocket and procured a small bottle of water. At the bottom was a collection of some sand with a tiny, red shell on top. His warm hands handed it to you, “You always wanted to see the ocean.”

You gaped and whispered, “It’s real?”

Jean chuckled with small tears forming in his eyes, “Yeah. Just – don't taste it though, it’s really salty.”

He was so serious with that flat line on his face that you laughed aloud, “Why would you drink sea water?”

“You never know! Maybe it doesn’t taste too bad,” he defended himself and crossed his arms. His mouth pouted in such a way that you felt this strange need to kiss him so he felt better.

Although he was peeved at being teased again by the girl he liked, seeing you smile sent butterflies to his stomach. Another blush rose to his face against his will. Your sweet voice spoke again, “Thank you, Jean. You’re really something.”

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

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