#Oh and a few years ago I delegated the task of coming out to my family to my mother who told my other aunt and uncle that I'm queer

[aveline-shepard]

ALSO I need you all to know that my aunt heard me affectionately talking about someone and later when my cousin drove her home, was like "I didn't know she was gay!" And, like, kudos to my aunt who was 100% cool with that (though surprised) and did not make a big deal about it in the moment, but I later had to inform her that my bestie and I are unfortunately not a couple because she is tragically heterosexual. I mean, with that said though, she is right and I AM gay.

[daycourtofficial]

I’m Still Bejeweled

Summary: based on this ask - Azriel’s been busy lately with his work, unable to delegate. You’ve had enough and decide to try to get his attention by going out to Rita’s with Mor and Nesta.

You knew what you signed up for when you started seeing Azriel. You knew at times it would be difficult due to his trauma and his job - which is why it surprised you easy it is to love him.

The past few weeks he has been flooded with work. Azriel is very good at his job, but his biggest flaw is his inability to delegate. You know most of his work right now could easily be delegated to the spies he trains himself, however that doesn’t make it easier for him to actually pass the task off to someone else.

You’re tired of asking him to take a day off, to see him more than at night when he comes to bed. You want to spend time with him outside of your bed, so you and Nesta decided to do something about it.

You were getting dressed, Azriel’s attention never straying from the papers at his desk as you do so. You contemplate the merits of this plan as you put your hair up to show off your neck and shoulders.

You’re wearing a dress Azriel bought you with the intention of taking it off of you. Pitch black, thin straps holding it up on your shoulders, a hemline that barely covers your behind, a triangular cutout across the top to peak at your breasts.

It was a dress that drove him wild - and he wouldn’t even look at you. Putting on your earrings and necklace, you take one final look and head out. Azriel’s attention be damned - you looked hot and you were going to have fun with Nesta and Mor no matter what.

Azriel didn’t look up until you had walked out the door of your room, his shadows urging him to look the whole time you were in the room.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Their whispers resounded in his ears, practically begging him to look up. He had gotten used to it over the years he had known you - his shadows thought you were the prettiest thing in the world, constantly annoyed when they couldn’t just look at you all day.

He glanced up in time to see your backside walking out and the realization of what dress you were wearing made him stand up, causing his knees to hit the desk.

He slides out from under the desk, abandoning his report in search of you. He remembered you saying something about Mor - dinner? Dancing?

He can’t recall, but he’s only ever seen you wear that dress to Rita’s, using it to keep him by your side all night. “You’ll have to spend the whole night by my side keeping others males away from me,” you had told him once.

He bats the memory away as he follows your scent through the house, attempting to intercept you before you left. Surely you weren’t leaving dressed like that without him.

Unfortunately Cassian decided to turn the corner at the exact moment Azriel was, causing the two to collide.

“Whoa where’s the fire?” Cassian asks, mocking his brother’s hurried steps. Cassian peers behind himself, at where you had just passed him a moment ago, and chuckles. Azriels growls in response, his instincts dialing up the further away from him you get. Cassian shakes his head and laughs at his brother, thumping his hands on his shoulders as he moves to pass him. “Ah, women. Wonderful creatures.”

Cassian walks away as Azriel continues following your scent. He knows you’re playing some kind of game, teasing him like a cat with a mouse, he just can’t figure out what the game is. He thinks back to your most recent discussions, only to come up a bit blank. His feet move down the steps of the house depositing him to the streets of Velaris, where your scent has mixed with Mor and Nesta’s. He keeps following you, thinking about your last conversation. You had asked him to take the day off, he had declined, keeping focus on the task he was doing.

He stops dead in his tracks, a pedestrian running into him at the abruptness of his stop. Oh Gods, he thinks, I didn’t even look at her. That conversation was days ago, surely he’s spoken to you since? Showed you love and affection?

His mind comes up empty, the days passing by him in a blur of papers and strategizing. When was the last time he kissed you? Held you? Talked to you?

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the Sidra as he picks up his pace again. Azriel has figured out what game you’re playing - you want him to grovel.

For you? Anything. He’d crawl to you if it’s what it took.

The sounds of Rita’s flood your senses as you dance with Mor and Nesta. You know Azriel isn’t purposely ignoring you, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. You decide to let go, enjoy the night, the music, the dancing.

The three of you take the dance floor, getting lost in the sounds, letting go of the stress the week brought. You don’t really even register the male dancing with you until you open your eyes and meet a green gaze.

He smiles at you, reaching out to put his hands on your waist when a larger make intercepts you, pushing the offering male out of the way.

“I believe I have first dance with the lady,” he says to you. The other male throws his hands up in shock, but quickly leaves at seeing the face of the male who took you.

“What’s a beautiful creature like you doing here?”

You turn to look at him, his hungry gaze taking in every inch of your dress. You smirk, staring into the hazel eyes you adore. Azriel has relaxed a bit now that you’re in his arms, a place where he doesn’t have to worry about fighting off other males.

“I was hoping I’d find a male who wants to actually spend time with me. My boyfriend won’t stop working and hardly makes time for me these days.”

You pout a little at him as he comes closer, swaying with the music a little. “He sounds like a fool, letting you come here alone, not paying you any heed.”

You take a sip of your drink, the alcohol warming your stomach as it went down. “He certainly is a fool. I’m much more interesting than silly reports he has to write.”

He smiles as he looks to the floor. “Can I dance with you?”

You tip your glass up to your mouth, finishing off your drink. “After you buy me another drink.”

He leads you to the bar, ordering what you had just finished off. The bartender hands it to you, and you ask him, “what brings you here?”

He smiles down at you, his hand going around your waist, “I had a feeling I’d find my future wife here tonight.”

You look around the bar, pointing over to the corner where Nesta stands. “Is that her? She looks delightful.”

Azriel follows your finger as Nesta gives him a scowl for 1) his earlier treatment of you and 2) for interrupting girl’s night. He laughs, offering her a two finger salute. She offers one finger in response.

“I am not a strong enough male for her.”

“I don’t think such a male exists.”

You face each other, leaning against the bar.

“What does she think of your inattentive boyfriend?”

You peak over at Nesta, who has moved back to dancing on the floor with Mor. “she thinks he’s usually better than this.”

“Oh?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“She likes him a lot, just thinks his priorities weren’t in the right place for the past few weeks.”

He smiles, a hand caressing your waist. “So she likes the two of you together?”

You look into his face, meeting his gaze again. “Oh yeah. Just the other night she got drunk and went on and on to me about how much she liked us.”

His thumb starts grazing across your hip.

“She told me how she loves the way he looks at me.”

“And how does he look at you?”

You smile up at him, “supposedly like I’m the sun and the stars, like the lone light out on the open ocean.”

He smirks, “quite impressive to have him ensnared to you like that.”

Your eyes dance with the light of Rita’s, “I’m a great lay.”

He throws his head back and laughs, squeezing your hips. “Is that it? You seem like much more than that.”

Your hands connect with his hips, “and what do I seem like?”

His eyes have that look that only happens when he’s looking at you, the first of his undivided attention in so long causing you to buzz more than the alcohol could.

“Like what’s the point in doing things if you aren’t there? Like maybe life could be so much more than I ever imagined because of you. Like burdens aren’t so heavy if you’re holding my hand. Like I’ve never really taken a full breath before. You feel like a warm hearth and I’ve spent my entire life afraid of fire, but you taught me it can do more than burn.”

He reaches a hand out, moving a piece of your hair out of your face.

“At least, that’s what you seem like.”

Tears line your eyes at his words. The two of you have been together for years at this point, so his devotion is no secret. He was a man of few words, but he opened up to you more and more as time goes on. He whispers sweet words to you all the time, but never in such a public place.

He holds your face in his hands, so softly, as if he could shatter you.

“I would crawl home to you.”

You can’t take it anymore - this game, Rita’s, the hands on your hips. You surge forward, pulling his hips to you and your lips meet his. You pour everything into the kiss, pour everything into him. The neglect you’ve felt, the love you feel for him, how badly you want things to be okay.

The kiss starts off slow and hungry, his lips soft against your own. As it continues, it becomes more ravenous and harsh, and by the time you come up for air he’s winnowed the two of you home.

Your shared bedroom is dark and cold, but your body heat quickly warms the room. Azriel puts a hand on your jaw as he kisses down your neck, soft, delicate kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a kiss between each word. “I neglected you.”

He pulls his head up to look at you. “Sometimes I’m still that little boy, unable to use his hands, feeling I need to prove myself to have a spot somewhere.”

He sighs, his grip tightening on you to remind himself that you’re here.

“Sometimes I just… feel like I have to keep proving myself to my family and that’s why I overwork myself.”

You touch his jaw, a movement he leans into. “You never have to prove yourself to me. And I promise - no one will find you unworthy if you delegate and take days off.”

He smiles into your hand. “And if they do - they’ll have to deal with me.”

He laughs fondly, “my attack dog girlfriend.”

You balk at his clear teasing. “I’ll have you know I’m quite scary and strong. In your absence these weeks I’ve been training with Cassian.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “and have you beaten Cassian in a fight?”

“No,” you sigh, “but once I was able to pants him, pushed him over and ran away.”

He throws his head back laughing, “well let’s hope any naysayers will be wearing pants for this altercation.”

You capture his laugh in a kiss, knowing that you’ve made progress with him. It will take time for him to learn how to delegate, but you feel confident he’ll get there.

[bellaxgiornata]

All the Good That's Left |1: Been Here Before|

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.9k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; ex's to lovers , fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, sexual tension, smut, an Alaskan road trip on Jax's bike (more tags to possibly come)

Summary: After the past year of helping your childhood best friend with planning her wedding, that feeling of having lost yourself since leaving Charming had only grown. Eight years later, her wedding finally pulls you back to the small town for a single weekend, but in the hopes of clearing your head, you plan to disappear on a solo road trip to Alaska the day after. Though when you unexpectedly run into your ex, old emotions rise straight to the surface, and when Jax refuses to let you disappear again, he invites himself on your weeks-long trip–but is there anything left to salvage between you both after all this time?

a/n: Planning this to be a miniseries, but I love Alaska and I couldn't resist the idea of riding around on the back of Jax's bike for a road trip while also dealing with the forced proximity between two ex's (and repeated one bed trope??). As usual, my Readers lack a name and physical description, but they are portrayed as a character for the sake of telling a story. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @mariamadison6-blog @kmc1989 @inlovewithcharliehunnam

It still felt surreal to be back in your hometown. Everything looked almost exactly the same as it had since the last time you’d walked through downtown Charming, even if there were a few new businesses. Granted, a handful of them appeared as if they'd gone under and were sitting vacant as you scanned the shops along the street.

The summer sun overhead warmed you to an almost unbearable degree this afternoon, the heat only adding to your current exhaustion. You’d had an early flight in this morning and would have preferred a nap at your hotel instead of running an errand for your best friend, but you couldn’t deny a stressed out bride the day before her wedding. Especially considering you were the maid of honor. Admittedly, you’d been hoping to stay on the outskirts of Charming for the entirety of this weekend, hoping not to step foot into the actual town. Because being in Charming increased your risk of a run-in you weren’t quite certain you would ever be prepared for.

Keeping your attention fixed near the end of the street as you walked, you spotted Sweet Tooth Bakery exactly where you remembered it. The bakery had been in Charming ever since you were a kid, and it was somewhere you’d frequented often over the years when you’d lived here. Besides appearing more worn and rundown, the dated little shop looked just as it had in your memories from all of the times you’d visited in the past. Especially all of those times you had come here with Jax after–

No. You had promised yourself that you’d keep your thoughts off of him for the duration of this weekend. You didn’t need to go reminiscing about things from eight years ago, dredging up old memories you’d spent a long time trying to shove far from your mind.

Pushing open the door of the bakery, the bell above it chimed lightly. The elderly Mrs. Walker glanced up from her place behind the register as you stepped inside, a polite and friendly smile on her face.

“Hey, Mrs. Walker, I’m just here to drop off the final deposit for Allison Nelson’s wedding cake,” you explained, holding up the check in your hand. “Bride was a bit busy today so she delegated the task to me.”

There was a brief moment as you made your way over to the counter where Mrs. Walker’s brows drew together, a contemplative expression crossing her face as she examined you closely. And then, almost as if it had just dawned on her, she exclaimed your name loudly through the empty shop.

“Yes,” you said with a smile, sliding the check towards her along the counter, “it's me.”

“Oh, dear, I haven’t seen you in here in such a long time. You know, I remember when you and Allison used to come in here every Sunday morning after your sleepovers,” Mrs. Walker gushed, pointing a fond finger at you. “I remember you girls would still be in your pajamas looking like you hadn’t slept a wink, always picking out cupcakes for breakfast.” Her smile faltered a little as she added on, “Granted, that was back before you used to come in here with that unruly young man who is still quite the–”

“You know, I actually have to get back to the hotel soon,” you cut her off quickly, not wanting to delve into a conversation about your ex. “Rehearsal dinner is in a few hours and I’m obviously not going dressed like this.”

With a tight smile on your face, you gestured to the casual attire you currently were wearing. Mrs. Walker gave you a once over before she nodded in understanding, the smile returning to her face. She grabbed the check you’d set on the countertop before turning, speaking over her shoulder as she headed towards the backroom.

“I’ll be right back with a receipt for Allison, you just wait here,” she said.

With a sharp exhale, you crossed your arms over your chest and glanced down at the display case before you. There was an array of baked goods inside that also looked just as you remembered–everything from cupcakes to cookies to brownies. A small smile tugged at your lips when you spotted the lemon crinkle cookies. Mrs. Walker only ever made them during the warmer months and they had always been Jax’s favorite. Back in high school when you were a senior and Jax was a recently patched Son who’d long since dropped out of school, he’d often convinced you to cut class and disappear with him on his bike for a little adventure. Afterwards, the pair of you always ended up here for something sweet to end your little outing, and every time Jax picked out those cookies. He’d always end up with a bit of powdered sugar on his mouth and in his scruff that you would always have to clean off of him, running your fingers through the blonde hairs around his lips and–

“Here you are, dear.”

The sound of Mrs. Walker’s voice broke straight through your thoughts, your head darting up as the smile vanished from your face. Reaching across the counter, you grabbed the receipt for Allison from her hand and shoved the thoughts of Jax right out of your head. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I’ll make sure I get this to the bride.”

Turning around, you’d gone to exit the shop, but Mrs. Walker called your name again. The sound of it caused you to pause just in front of the door. Glancing back behind you, you saw her smiling again at you.

“Come back in again sometime, dear,” she told you. “It’s been too long.”

A small, sheepish smile broke out across your face. “Oh, well, I’m actually only here for Allison’s wedding this weekend,” you explained to her. “I’m not back in Charming. I leave in a couple of days.”

Mrs. Walker’s smile faltered before she nodded. “Shame,” she replied softly.

With a final smile at her, you slipped your phone out of your pocket as you pushed the bakery door open and stepped back out into the uncomfortable heat of the day. As you scrolled for Allison’s number in your recent contacts, the loud and familiar rumble of motorcycles in the distance caught your attention. Heart hammering in your chest at that particular sound, you tried your hardest not to let it affect you as you pushed the call button to dial Allison. Holding the phone up to your ear, you felt a nervous twist of your stomach at the thundering noise of bikes growing louder as they drew closer.

“Please, please tell me you took care of the check,” Allison’s voice answered after one ring.

“Wow, hello to you too, future Mrs. Blake,” you teased. 

Allison huffed over the line at your tone, clearly unamused with your sass today. Though you supposed you couldn’t blame her considering how stressed she was about her wedding tomorrow. Just as you were about to respond to her question, a handful of bikes went speeding their way through the downtown street beside you. Almost instinctively you glanced over your shoulder at the noise, already aware of who you’d find–the Sons. With how they’d all been riding past so quickly with their helmets, sunglasses, and kuttes on, you weren’t exactly certain who’d been amongst the group. Not that you were looking for anyone in particular, of course.

Quickly diverting your gaze away from the back of the herd of bikers, you focused your attention on your phone call and reminded yourself that it didn’t matter anyway if you did happen to see him. You were only here for a weekend for your best friend’s wedding, and then you’d be disappearing for a few weeks to Alaska before heading back to your life in Michigan. It wasn’t like you could reconnect with him this weekend. Besides, considering the lifestyle he led with the club, you were certain Jax had long since forgotten about you. It wasn’t like there wouldn’t have been plenty of other women for him to move on from you with.

“Yeah, I just dropped the check off with Mrs. Walker,” you assured her as you continued down the sidewalk and away from the bakery. “She gave me some sort of receipt that I’m sure your anal ass wants for your records or whatever. I’ll drive your car back up to the hotel and drop it off before I get ready for the rehearsal.”

“Good, because I need you ready by four,” she told you. “Which is in a couple of hours. So you’ve got no time to waste.”

“Which means unfortunately no nap for me, so I hope you don't expect me to be the best conversationalist this evening,” you joked back. 

Turning, you stepped off of the sidewalk and through an empty parking spot as you held the phone to your ear, continuing to listen to Allison rattle off more information about the rehearsal and the dinner tonight. But just as you’d stopped to check for traffic before crossing the street, you stopped dead in your tracks. Because parked just a space away from where you stood was a man sitting and idling on a motorcycle just staring at you. And judging by the leather kutte and the blonde hair peaking out beneath his helmet, you had a feeling you knew exactly who it was.

Allison's voice in your ear faded away in that moment, your phone call completely forgotten as you stood there feeling like all the air in your lungs had been knocked straight out of you. It had been eight long years since you'd last stepped foot into Charming. Eight years since you'd last seen or spoken to Jax. Now there he was sitting on his bike just staring right at you.

“Al, I'll call you back,” you muttered quickly into the phone.

“It's him, isn't it?” Allison asked, her tone shifting at the change in yours. “I thought I heard bikes in the background. You know, I had a feeling–”

“I’ll talk to you later,” you replied more firmly. 

Lowering the phone from your ear, your gaze remained fixed on Jax sitting on his motorcycle about ten feet away as you ended the call. It felt like all you could do was stand there and stare back at him, not entirely sure you were actually seeing what you were seeing, as if he was some sort of figment of your imagination that your brain had conjured up just because of where you found yourself after all this time. But the sound of his idling bike seemed quite real.

How had he recognized you so easily when he’d ridden by so fast? Why had he even stopped? Didn’t he have better things he needed to be doing with the club right now? Hadn’t he forgotten all about you since you left all those years ago, just like you’d always told yourself? A myriad of questions were racing rapidly through your mind, but all you could do was stand there speechless with your stomach knotting inside of you and your heart thrumming in your throat.

A moment later, he cut the engine of his bike and a tense silence fell around the both of you. Nervously your tongue darted out, wetting your lips as you gripped your phone in your hand. You wondered how this encounter was about to play out. Despite the fact that the breakup between you both years ago had been mutual, it had still been plenty painful on both sides. And the years’ long silence that followed had certainly left you feeling hollow.

Knowing you couldn't just walk off and head back to the hotel without saying something to him, you hesitantly took one careful step towards him, but then you stopped. His expression was impossible to read with the sunglasses on, and that was only growing the sense of dread in the pit of your stomach.

“Jax?” you cautiously called over.

There was a brief moment after you said his name where he tensed on the bike before his hands came up, undoing the buckle on his helmet before he finally rose from the seat. Mouth going completely dry, you watched as he dismounted his bike and hung the helmet over his handlebars. Afterwards, he slowly sauntered his way over towards you while remaining silent. You noticed he still walked with that same swagger in his gait that you’d always remembered. Standing there nearly holding your breath in anticipation, you weren't sure whether you were about to be met with anger, indifference, or something else entirely from him. 

Jax came to a halt just a few feet away from you, staring at where you'd still remained standing in the empty parking space on the street. One of his hands reached up, pulling the sunglasses from off of his face and no longer obstructing his blue eyes from your view. 

In that moment, all you could do was take in the sight of him. He’d clearly grown up over the years, that much was obvious. His facial hair had grown in thicker, his hair now slicked back instead of hanging shaggy and loose around his face like you remembered. He looked more hardened than the young Jax you'd known, but if you looked closely enough, you swore you could still see the traces of the eighteen year old you’d once loved still there, especially in those eyes of his.

Eyes which were currently surveying you just as closely as you’d been taking stock of him. You felt your face heat just a bit under the weight of his roaming gaze. He wasn’t being remotely subtle about the way his eyes were running over you, and even after all of this time, you hated to admit that he still had an effect on you.

Eventually, his eyes made their way back up your body until they once more met yours. And then his lips pulled upwards into a small smile tinged with a trace of melancholy.

“It's been a long time, darlin’,” he greeted you, his familiar voice a soft, smooth rumble.

And just like that, everything felt like it was rushing back to you. All the times you’d cut class and disappeared from Charming clinging to him on the back of his bike, finding quiet trails outside of town and spending hours alone together. The times you’d spent forcing Jax to study for his GED after he’d dropped out of high school, even bribing him with some sexual incentives if he focused and studied. The times he’d sneak over to your house in the middle of the night, slipping through your bedroom window so no one would know that he’d spent the whole night curled up against you asleep in your bed. All the parties at the clubhouse Jax had brought you to, the guys never giving a shit that you were still only seventeen and drinking their beer. The whispered words, the lingering looks, the charming smiles flashed back at you as he drove his bike.

Everything. All of it hit you all at once.

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly. “A really long time.”

Another heavy silence hung in the air between you both, the weight of so much unspoken impossible to ignore. You didn't even know where to begin, or if you even should.

Jax jutted his chin at you, the first to break the palpable tension. “What’re you doing back here?”

Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore all of the memories still trying to rise to the surface. It was like the sight of him had opened a floodgate and now you were drowning in all of them.

“I’m here for a wedding,” you answered. “Allison Nelson's. You remember her?”

Jax’s eyes narrowed in contemplation, his gaze dropping down towards your hand still clutching your phone. After a brief pause, he finally nodded as something like recognition crossed his features. 

“Right, yeah,” he replied, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I remember. You two were always together. She’s getting married?” 

“Tomorrow, yeah,” you answered. “I uh, I'm her maid of honor. Obviously.”

Jax bit his lip, fighting back a grin as he nodded his head again. “Obviously,” he repeated lightly.

Your grip tightened on your phone, wringing it nervously in your hands. What were you supposed to say in this situation? Especially considering you needed to get back to the hotel soon and get ready for the rehearsal and the dinner. There was far too much history to cram into a brief, few minute run-in.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Jax admitted, breaking through your thoughts. “Been so long, I figured nothing would ever bring you back.”

Glancing down at the pavement, you couldn’t ignore the way his words sounded. As if, somehow, he’d never completely just forgotten you like you had always assumed. That maybe he'd been hoping you'd come back. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

“And I’m…guessing you’re just back for that wedding?” he continued hesitantly.

Throat tightening, you tried to swallow down the emotions welling up within you. You nodded as you looked back up at him. He still looked so goddamn good even after all of this time. It was unfair, really.

“Yeah,” you answered softly. “I leave Sunday morning. So I’m…really just here for a couple of days.”

There was a flicker of something that passed behind his blue eyes at your response. You weren’t entirely certain of what it was, though. But you didn't have long to think about it before Jax was speaking again.

“If the wedding is Saturday, does that mean you’re busy tonight?” he asked. “Do you just have plans for tomorrow?”

His question caught you off guard. Was he going to ask you to spend time with him? And had that actually sounded like hope in his voice, or were you just imagining that?

“Well, I have the wedding rehearsal before the rehearsal dinner tonight,” you answered slowly. Chewing your lip, you looked down at the phone in your hand, checking the time on the screen. Your heart sank to your stomach before you met his gaze again. “Which I actually need to get back to the hotel and get ready for soon.”

A muscle feathered in his cheek at your reply, his jaw tensing as he stood there watching you. Shifting on your feet in front of him, you weren’t sure if he was about to say something more or just tell you goodbye, but when you’d opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off before you could get a word out.

“When’s it all done tonight?” he asked. “All the rehearsal bullshit?”

You paused, eyeing him curiously at the question. “Probably around eight or so. Why?”

“Got nothin’ else you need to do after?” he asked instead of answering you.

Brows furrowing together, you shook your head slowly. “No, not for today.”

He fell silent again, his eyes once more flickering over you standing before him. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you after all that time.

“Would you say no to catching up?” he questioned after a pause, his eyes landing back on yours. “Maybe over drinks at an actual bar since we’re not eighteen year old little shits stealing booze from the clubhouse?”

His lips pulled up into a sly little smirk and you couldn’t stop the amused huff of air that passed between your lips before your teeth clamped down on the bottom one. You hesitated, considering the implication of meeting him for drinks.

You had promised yourself long ago when Allison had asked you to be the maid of honor at her wedding that you would not dwell on Jax during all of the planning. That you wouldn’t seek him out when the wedding weekend finally came and you were finally back in the area. That you wouldn’t let yourself think about him at all because he was your past and that was where he was supposed to stay. But the truth of it was, you’d promised yourself all of those things because you knew the moment you saw Jax that every old wound you’d hastily tried to heal and stitch together over the past eight years would be torn wide open.

And that’s exactly what was going to happen if you met him for drinks. But yet, that wasn’t going to change the answer you gave him.

“I suppose we could catch up,” you told him.

“Guessin’ you probably don’t have a car while you’re here?” he asked next, a blonde brow raising up onto his forehead. “You gonna need a ride?”

That was a loaded question. Because accepting a ride from Jax clearly meant riding on the back of his bike–and that had always felt like a form of intimacy in itself. At least, for you it had. Yet another thing to tear your heart in half.

“Yeah, I might,” you answered him. “Currently I’m borrowing Al’s car because I’m out here running her errand, but I don’t have a rental.”

Even though you planned to get one Sunday morning for your drive up to Seattle before getting onto that ferry, but he didn’t need to know that. No one actually knew about your plans for after the wedding.

Jax shook his head, clearly looking unbothered by the fact that you didn’t have a car. “Not a problem, darlin’,” he told you. “Where you want me to pick you up at tonight?”

“I’m staying at that Hilton about fifteen minutes away,” you replied. “You know the one off of Washington?”

A chuckle fell out of him as he nodded at you. “Yeah, I know where it’s at, baby,” he said with a grin. “Still only one goddamned Hilton around here.”

The slight slip up of ‘baby’ from his lips had you biting your tongue. You weren’t sure if he’d even noticed he’d just done it, but dammit, it had always done things to you when he’d called you that in the past. Something about that particular little name for you always got your heart racing for one reason or another.

“So I’ll meet you there out front at eight?” Jax asked, breaking through your thoughts. “That work?”

“Yeah,” you replied, ignoring the pounding of your heart. “Yeah, I’ll…see you later then.”

Jax nodded, his eyes lingering on you as if he wasn't quite ready to leave yet. But eventually he slipped his sunglasses back onto his face before he turned and strode over to his bike. Swinging a leg over it and settling onto the seat, Jax started the motorcycle, the engine rumbling to life. You realized you’d been standing there staring at him once he’d secured his helmet and shifted his focus back onto you. Knowing you needed to leave too, you gave him a small wave which he acknowledged with a final nod. Then he was pulling out of the parking spot and making his way out of Charming’s downtown. You stared at the reaper on the back of his kutte as he went, watching him ride down the street and away from you–the exact sight that had haunted you for years. 

So much for not thinking about Jax this weekend.

[little-peril-stories]

Ok, I haven’t really been around since like October🙈🙈🙈 and when I saw just now that you are going to publish „The prince of Thieves"…ahhh I was so excited you won’t believe it😊😊😊 and when I then saw that you are going to rewrite it and it will be a complete new story my first thought was ‚why it’s perfect the way it is'😊😉 but then I read about your plans for the big main character aka Jamie change and…got even more excited😆😆😆

Because ahhh, I loved Jamie so much in TPOT which is why I always hoped we get to see more of him or even him acting like the actual gang leader he is!!! I mean delegating tasks is all well and good but at some points it felt like Collette was the actual gang leader and he was just the stand in for the public…sorry Jamie🤷🏻‍♀️

And when he once thought I believe it was during the Hatchett interrogation ‚he tried to channel his gang leader qualities‘ or something like that I was like ‚please do so I would love to see you acting as the gang leader you are and show those qualities you sure have'😊

I'm so looking forward to this new version of Jamie and the whole new story of course!!!! I'm going to be the first one to buy it once you get it published😍😍😍

Ok, just needed this to be said😊 and thought new year would be a good time for that😉 On that account…happy new year!!! I'm going to try to catch up on TQOL in the new year because I really missed Bree and Will😍😍😍

Ahh, hi! It's good to see you! 🥰 And, of course, Happy New Year! I hope 2025 brings some amazing things for you!

Thank you so much for the kind words, encouragement, and validation! I had originally planned for the TPOT book to come out in 2024, but as you can clearly see, that's not what happened. 2025 is a go, though, and this time I ain't lyin'. 😁 I'm genuinely so excited to get it out there, and while I also lovelovelove the online version of TPOT we're all familiar with, I do think the new version will be a) better and b) more *cough* marketable. Bonus: fewer plot holes. 😅

You might be excited to hear that it actually is the same story, with Will and Bree as the main characters still, but there's simply a lot that's changing or went out the window entirely. I guess I better make a few confessions now, haha.

Big Changes (You'll Probably Notice Right Away)

✨ The story follows the same general plot, but the mechanisms and/or details are often different. It's also two books now:

-> The Mark of Thieves, which goes from the beginning of TPOT to a particularly traumatizing pivotal moment.

-> The Patron Saint of Scoundrels, which picks up immediately from that moment and takes us to the end.

✨ Jamie is an almost entirely new character now. For anyone else who's curious, I wrote a blog post about how I'm making him more deserving of the "IA leader" title over here.

(Fun fact that doesn't matter until TPSOS: our buddy Dr. Allan Armstrong Dale also gets a slight level up in badassery, but not to the same degree as Jamie.)

✨ The IA sigil is a different picture now. (This is one I'm still sad about 😭, but I know it ultimately works better and makes more sene.)

✨ Not everyone has a tattoo anymore.

Okay, there are other things that are different but I think those are the ones that might be most jarring to Tumblr/ao3 readers. The rest I'm gonna keep for a surprise.

As for the "whole new story" element . . . Well, I can't say it's entirely new, but I CAN say that a lot is different, so if you do read the published version, you will be getting a fresh version and not just the same thing over again but in book form. 💕

Thank you again, a million times over, for the love and support. It's difficult to describe just how much it means to me. 🥰💕

Oh! Before I go! In that blog post about Jamie, I mused about putting some bruises on his knuckles. I did it!

(Please excuse any typos or weird wording, I literally typed this up, like, two days ago and it hasn't been thoroughly edited.)

I squint, still peeking around the corner, at what Spider is doing in the narrow laneway between buildings, dressed prettily in a modest but fancy black frock that is puzzlingly incongruent to her surroundings. The activity in which she’s engaged is even more puzzling: She’s not just talking to the man. She’s daubing a white cloth against his knuckles—which are bleeding. Profusely.

“Alpha,” Spider says sternly, “why didn’t you just get yourself gone? You heard what he said yesterday. Cops are everywhere these days.” With a huff, she tugs a strip of cotton bandage from her apron and begins to wind it around his swollen hand.

Okay, I think I have rambled enough and taken quite enough of your time. Thanks again. Much love. 💕

[purplesurveys]

1966

Have you had more hot or cold drinks today? Cold. I hate hot drinks, they're suuuper uncomfortable to me – then again, it's likely because I live in a tropical/very warm climate. I spend more time waiting for a hot drink to cool than I do actually drinking it, if ever I am served something piping hot.

What’s a name you like that’s similar to yours? I like the name Rowan, for a girl.

Where did you get the last plate/bowl you ate with from? Idk, it's been part of the house ever since we moved in 17 years ago.

How’s your mental health today? I feel like it's generally been a lot healthier and more stable since I started to consciously set boundaries (work-wise, of course; y'all are not new here hahah) for 2025.

I delegate tasks if my load feels full, I speak up if I don't agree with something/someone, I don't pressure myself to laugh with everyone anymore, I don't reply when I've made it clear that I'm away... I know they're probably not happy about me stepping a bit back, but as long as my mental health no longer feels like it's being pounded on by a sledgehammer, I don't intend on bringing things back the way they used to be where I ended up suffering all year long.

What bands and artists did you listen to when you were a teenager? I was heavily into punk rock coming from CM Punk's influence – so apart from my own favorites which included Paramore, All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, and P!ATD, I also discovered H2O, The Bouncing Souls, Rancid, The Misfits, Cro-Mags, Minor Threat, and Against Me!

Oh I also liked One Direction LOL

Do your feelings get hurt easily? They do. I'm admittedly sensitive. Maybe it comes from the years of my mom hurling insults at me? Haha but instead of it jading me, I've just been more easily hurt.

What sort of restaurant did you last eat at? My best friends and I had dinner at Salta, this quaint little Italian place somewhere in the city. It's been getting a healthy level of virality recently, but it was a relief to find out that they can walk the talk because holy tasty Batman everything was excellent.

Do you have a friend who’s always sending you TikTok videos? Do you actually watch them? Angela's ALWAYS sending me videos in our TikTok PMs, but it's since turned into an inside joke of sorts because it's ME who never opens the app – so all her video shares just get clogged up in our thread. lol she's since learned to send me videos through Messenger instead (I'm on there much more often) but every once in a while she'll still send me videos through TikTok.

Have you ever seen a cougar in the wild? No...and I don't think we have them here, either.

Will you attend a wedding in the next 3 months? Nothing in 3 months! The only one I have scheduled is 13 months away.

Are you good at following instructions? Terrible, especially if it's just recited to me. I'm not too good with following drawn/illustrated instructions, either. I need them to be written out.

What’s your backyard or outdoor area like? It's minimalist, but we also like it that way. It has pebble paving(?), and has enough space to fit our basketball net and for my dad to run and dribble around whenever he does his daily drills/exercise. We don't need anything too large as we prefer using the rooftop anyway if we're looking for time outdoors.

Do you like your boss? (or your last boss if you don’t currently have one)? He actually just got hired a week ago after more than a year of the position being stupid vacant, so for now I'm just letting myself feel the absolute RELIEF of finally having a superior / mentor figure. He's still getting himself settled so there's not much room for feedback just yet from me. We'll see what the next few months give us.

When was the last time you took a selfie? Last Sunday, with Cooper.

What did you have for breakfast yesterday? A cup of coffee, as always.

What do you do to entertain yourself on a long flight or journey? If it's a flight, I make sure to download a loooooot of options for offline videos (for me, either BTS videos or Friends episodes) since there's never any wi-fi on planes, and I don't like falling asleep during flights, either.

If it's just a road trip, I'm usually fine with an alternate routine of listening to music, scrolling through Reddit/social media, looking out the window, and talking to whoever the driver is so they feel accompanied during the long ride.

Where are you right now? I'm staying at a coffee shop while Agi's getting his fur trimmed at the pet salon next door.

Have you ever done a hearing test? I don't think so! I've done countless vision tests, though.

Do you hate small talk? I hate small talk if it's related to work (like if I need to entertain attendees during an event), but I'm good at it. It's just something I need to do and get through, because such is life.

Otherwise, if it's with family, mutual friends etc... I actually prefer small talk! I like making people feel listened to/included, and at the same time it lets me learn more about them, too. I have no problem backing out if a person prefers to be quiet.

What’s the hottest temperature your current town/city has ever had? Somewhere in the 40Cs, which is usually the case from April-June.

How many steps per day do you do, generally? Less than 1k. I work from home and also don't like walking in the village all that much, lol. Whenever I have work days, though, I do walk A LOT so my endurance is pretty good regardless. In Japan alone I had nearly 20,000 steps for 3 days straight and could keep going if only it wasn't so crowded in some areas.

Have you had any snacks today? None yet but when I get back home, I'll probably look for something to eat. Fortunately we've got quite a lot of snacks left over from the holidays, haha.

What’s the next thing you’ll tick off your to-do list? I need to pick up batteries tomorrow for my Carat Bong.

Have you ever had a chia pet? No.

What’s your favourite sandwich filling? Fried chicken. The big, crispy kind; not the thin, cheaper variant.

Do you have any nieces or nephews? Nope.

What was the last reason you saw a doctor? Besides my dentist, I had to see one for my annual physical exam.

Do you use light mode or dark mode on your phone? Dark for most apps. On Reddit though I like the light mode better.

[formenis]

Lines

Anon asked “Can you do one shot were before the Kira case L and reader were trying for a baby but after he takes the Kira case they agree to stop and after L meets Light reader finds out she is pregnant. L tries to send her away but she refuses and they end up fighting in front if the Task Force and that's how they find out L and reader are married and that she is pregnant “

pairing: L x fem!reader

warning: mention of food play

requested: yes

A/N: I apologise for the mistakes you will find in my stories but English is not my first language. Sorry ^^”

Y/A = your alias

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

Y/N sighed placing the pregnancy test on the sink. It was the second one that week with that same result…Y/N started to believe either she or L were able to have a child.

After a little time off, she washed her face, now her S/C skin was flawless and smooth, and then the teeth. She brushed her H/C hair and took a moment to observe her own reflection: the exhaustion in her E/C eyes was clear (and her job wasn’t helping her) and even her skin lost a bit of colour. In moments like those Y/N wondered what someone as the greatest detective in the world found attractive in her.

Her negative thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

«Miss Y/N? It's Watari, I brought you breakfast» the kind voice of L's right-hand man showed a hint of concern and this made Y/N smile. Watari was always by her side, God blessed him.

«Thank you Watari» before leaving the bathroom she threw the pregnancy test in the bin and adjusted the PJs. Once outside the bathroom she saw Watari serving the breakfast in the cart: fried eggs, sausages, back bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread and a slice of white pudding; it was accompanied by tea and hot, buttered toast. To sum up: a typical British breakfast.

«Watari, you don’t have to spoil me like that…» Y/N told him already drooling.

«Miss Y/N, I believe you need some fresh air and relax. Please, enjoy me this afternoon at the shopping centre, I will need your precious advices» and then the old man placed a hot cup of tea on the cart with the rest of the breakfast.

It was not the first time Watari would make such an offer, he knew very well that being L's wife could be stressful. Yes, you heard right: Y/N L/N was L's wife. Despite the young age, both of them got married few years ago and they couldn’t be happier. Well, actually there was something that would make them happier: a child. Both L and Y/N wanted their own child despite the Wammy's House had many orphans.

«They're not orphans, Y/N. They are all adopted by me» L said few months after the marriage when the topic popped out in a conversation. He considered those children as his own, he loved being surrounded by their presence. Maybe because L was a bit childish himself.

However, despite their strong desire to have a kid on their own, it seemed nature didn’t agree with them.

But back to the present. Y/N was thinking about Watari's offer. If people considered L's life as secretive, his wife's one was twice as secretive but Y/N accepted it when she married him: she knew the risks and the conditions of being the greatest detective in the world's partner. So when Watari asked her to go with him at the shopping centre she seized the opportunity and said yes.

.

.

.

Disguise check. Sunglasses and hat? Check. F/C wig? Check. Y/N was ready to leave L's secret base with Watari.

«Are you ready Miss Y/N?»

«Of course, Watari. Let's go!~»

Unaware of Miss Y/N, Watari hadn’t to buy anything at the shopping centre. It was an excuse to let Y/N leave the base, a chance to get some fresh air. He pretended to buy some stuff for him: a new fedora and raincoat to be precise. He would need them for the new case L was going to take.

«Are you feeling better, Miss Y/A?»  

«Yeah! Thank you Watari! I really needed to leave that place» Y/N was smiling again, her skin had a more healthily colour and all the tiredness in her eyes was gone. Watari smiled too. «However…»

«What is it, Miss?»

«Today's test was negative again and…» Y/N sighed and checked the time on her phone.

«If I could dare an advice, Miss, things will come when you stop looking for them. So don't be sad, it only means it's not the right time…»

Y/N looked at him and smiled. «You're right, Watari»

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

December 2003. L was going to take part at one of those boring ICPO meeting. An emergency Interpol meeting, with delegates from all around the world, held in order to discuss a rather strange situation that was occurring in Japan. They are convinced that something was happening but cannot be sure what it is.

L was going to take the floor but before that he called Y/N.

«Did you call me?» Y/N entered the private and empty room that was L's personal "office": a desk, a fancy armchair and many many computer screens at their highest brightness level.

«Yes. Please, come closer» L replied. When he was with her, his usual monotone voice would become warmer and gentler, something reserved to his wife only.

Y/N walked towards him, next to his armchair waiting for an explanation. «Y/N, this case seems quite interesting. I think sooner or later we have to move»

«We?» she was surprised. Was she really going to go with him? It would be the first time.

«Indeed. If you agree, obviously»

«Of course I agree. I'll help you as always, L»

He smiled and took her hand, kissing tenderly the knuckle. «So would you agree with me if I say that it's better stop trying to have a baby, my dear?»  

Y/N thought for a while, calculating every scenario. «Yes, you're right»

L smiled again, this time wider. «Thank you, my love»

Y/N smiled as well and L returned to his bright screens. Then she noticed his personal stash of sweets beside him and took the opportunity to steal a Bon Bon Cherry (A/N: they are shortbread cookies wrapped around a cherry and topped with cherry frosting).

«Y/N, those are mine»

She snorted but ate the sweet regardless of L's warning.

♰ LATER THAT NIGHT ♰

«Are you coming to bed, L?»

«Not now, Y/N»

She walked closer to him and hugged the detective from behind. «But I prepared some creme pat~»

At those words L froze. Those words meant one thing: food play. And L couldn’t renounce to food play. «How much?»

«Two bowls…one has chocolate too~» she whispered alluring to his ear. In one swift movement, L was already up with Y/N in his arms –bridal style- leading towards the bedroom.

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

Japan was so full of life, wherever you turned you would be surrounded by different cultures. And the people was so kind and polite, they had a very high respect of other costumes and traditions. Y/N loved everything about Japan, she wanted to visit each district of Tokyo: from Akihabara (Tokyo's Anime & Gadget Town), to Shinjuku (Culture Clash) and to Kichijoji (a glimpse of Japan’s rural life within the city). She even prepared a tour on foot for each of them.

But at this point a question could arise: what was Y/N's job? Everyone who had the opportunity to work with L knew that each of his "co-worker" had a specific task to fulfil. So what was Y/N's real task? To be L's shadowy wife? Oh no, nothing like that.

Her role was very important in the couple: she "filtered" the information from Watari to L, she represented L in many circumstances and helped him in solving cases. In other words, Y/N was a sort of "Watari 2.0".

Once the couple moved to Japan, they booked a room at the "Imperial Hotel", one of the fanciest hotel at Tokyo. Until the construction of the new Japanese HQ wouldn’t be complete, L and Y/N had to change often hotel for safety reasons. But Y/N didn’t mind, for her it was the chance to visit the city.

"Kira…eliminating those FBI agents has got to have put you on the defensive. What are thinking right now?" L thought while looking outside the window, in front of him a breathtaking view of Tokyo at night but he wasn’t focused on it.

«Ryuzaki, are you still awake?» Y/N entered the room, she was already wearing her F/C PJs.

He nodded and watched her walking closer through the reflection of the window. She hugged him from behind and observed the scenario outside the window.

«Tomorrow you'll meet your task-force, you have to sleep»  

«Maybe later, Y/A»

They stood there, their bodies were hugged together but their minds had different thoughts. Between them, a pleasant silence filled the air, the couple was enjoying each other presence.

However, Y/N had to break said silence. «Maybe I'm intolerant to soy sauce»  

«To soy sauce?» L asked concerned.

«Yes…today I ate the famous Kobe meat but not much after that I threw up»

L stood in silence, deep in thought for a while. In those minutes he was analysing the current situation: what if Kira found out Y/N's true identity? Would he use her to blackmail L? He was so focused on those things that he almost didn’t notice Y/N was leaving.

«I'm going to bed, dear» Y/N kissed his cheek on tiptoes. «Please, rest for a bit alright?»

L smiled at her taking her hands in his. «Good night, my love» and then he kissed first the knuckles and after her lips. From this point of view L was really romantic despite his external cold behaviour.

Y/N smiled at him and left the room, now L was alone again with a new thought in his mind: «Since when Y/N is intolerant to soy sauce?»

.

.

.

January 2004 could be sum up with three major events: Raye Penber and Naomi Misora's deaths and the surveillance at Yagami and Kitamura's households. In particular, L's suspects moved to the son of Soichiro Yagami, Light. Technically he had access to the police's private dossiers and database since his father was the Chief and most importantly…he was too perfect according to L.

«Y/A, I don’t want you to meet Light-kun»

«Do you really think he is Kira?»

«It's not an assumption but a matter-of-fact. Of course he is»

However, it was inevitable. Light noticed Y/N's presence at the hotel and he wanted to meet her. He had to. So he "pretended" to be lost and asked Y/N for directions.

«Excuse me, Miss. I think I'm lost, do you know where room 684 is?»

Y/N, with one of her disguise on, turned towards the teenager: in front of her a young man, standing at above average height with light-brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a school uniform with a bright red tie.

«Uhm no sorry…but if you follow the numeration on the doors it must be easier for you» and with that Y/N left an astonished yet angry Light Yagami in the middle of the hallway.

She hadn’t the time to think about him, she had a more important thing to do. Since December, she missed her period twice: at first she thought it was because of the sudden trip to Japan but it was already the second time it happened. Could it be…?

«Such a bad timing…» she said out loud once in her room. However, she couldn’t hide the nervousness: she agreed with L to stop trying to have a baby before the Kira case and if the test she bought was positive…what would be L's reaction?

«"Get rid of the cause and you get rid of the problem" they say…let's do this then»

.

.

.

The task-force was working quietly in L's room, sharing information and dossiers. However, that atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by someone that thrusted open the door.

«Ryuzaki! Ryuzaki! I have something important to tell you!» Y/N appeared in the room, tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her face.

The entire task-force looked at her in awe and confusion. Who was that woman?

L turned towards her as well. Of course when she barged into the room he was shocked not only because of that sudden appearance but because now the task-force knew about her. There must be a really good reason for that.

He stood up and walked towards her. «Please Y/A, not now. You'll tell me later»

«No Ryuzaki, you need to hear this now!» she was so excited that she couldn’t be still.

«Y/A, it's not the right moment. You have to leave, please» L insisted trying to guide her towards the door.

«Ryuzaki stop! I'm your wife and you need to listen this!»

The task-force behind them stared in shock (and Aizawa almost spilled all his coffee). Did they hear right? Wife? What? Someone like L…married?!

«No Y/A, you have to stop. Your behaviour is highly unprofessional. Moreover, you don’t have the permission to stay here so please leave» L was becoming more and more bothered and it was clear by the tone of his voice, deep and fierce at the same time.

«Ryuzaki, I'm pregnant!»

 .

Silence.

 .

It was so loud that you could hear a pin falling down.

 .

Heavy and tense air was breathable, even the task-force noticed it. Y/N was there, with her heart in her throat, waiting for a reaction or a word from L. Fear was soon replaced by terror because L wasn’t saying anything.

«Are you…?»

Deducing what he was going to ask, Y/N showed him the test: two blue lines. At that sight L hugged her tightly, starting spinning together. Y/N burst in a resounding laugh, all fears and nervousness were gone.

«Oh my, Y/A. Finally! I knew it was not intolerance at soy sauce» he placed the forehead against her own and smiled widely.

They stood hugged together for a while and in the meantime the entire task-force was complimenting them about that news (especially Soichiro).

«We have to tell Watari too» L added shortly after the hug.

«Yes, he is going to become a grandpa after all»

[winterscaptain]

arrangements.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i LOVED writing this one, and i’ll have you know that the kitchen scene was taken directly from my life - when my yiayia passed, my theo came to stay with us and did the exact same routine my yiayia and i used to do in the morning so my mom could sleep in. when my mom woke up in a panic, she heard us in the kitchen and knew she could go back to sleep :’)

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! (the pieces stand alright on their own as well, for the most part!) one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 1.8k warnings: food mention

summary: “so long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others, i would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.” ― robert louis stevenson, lay morals

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You pad down the hallway, fingertips gently pushing the cracked door to what was formerly Jack and Haley’s room when they lived with Jess. Now, Aaron and Jack take the room while you take the couch. 

Nobody wants to be alone.

Jack’s awake, his eyes tracing the patterns in the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. 

When he sees you, he smiles and opens his mouth. You press a finger to your lips before pointing at Aaron, still sleeping. Be quiet, baby. 

You step further into the room, leaving the door open, and gingerly pull the covers away from Jack so you can pick him up. He immediately latches onto you and you straighten, leaving the door cracked as you leave the hallway.

When you’re down the hall and past the arch of the kitchen, you can finally talk. “Alright, Jack. What do you want for breakfast?” You set him on the counter in Jess’s kitchen, ruffling his hair. 

You’re exhausted, having barely slept last night, but Jess and Aaron have a whole day of planning and funeral arrangements ahead of them. Jack’s breakfast and morning routines are the last things they need to worry about. 

He thinks for a minute. “Cereal.” 

“Alright, bud.” You open the cabinet, displaying the options. “Do we want Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, or Kix? I think your dad has Chex in here, but -“

You make matching yuck faces. 

“Yeah, I thought so. So what’ll it be?”

“Cheerios.” 

+++

Down the hall, Aaron wakes in the guest room with a start, finding Jack’s side of the bed empty. He throws himself out of bed and only stops when he hears your voices in the kitchen. 

“...Cheerios it is, then. Do you want to use your monkey bowl, or do you want to use a big bowl and we can share?”

He heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Big bowl.” 

You laugh a little, and it almost brings a smile to his face. “You sure? That’s pretty ambitious.” Nevertheless, he hears a light clink of ceramic as you pull one of the deep bowls from the cabinet by the sink. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

He sounds exceedingly confident for someone who eats like a bird. 

“Alright. Breakfast will be a team effort, then.” 

Aaron creeps forward, surprisingly light on his feet, knowing there’s a place in the hall where he can see into the kitchen without getting caught. 

You’re still in your pajamas and so is Jack. The boy watches as you pour a decently-sized bowl of cereal - just about enough for a four-year-old and a late twenty-something to share. Aaron’s eyes follow the casual touches you bestow as you set up, pressing your palms to the sides of his face and kissing the top of his head, running your hand over his shoulders as you pass him for a pair of spoons, helping him settle on your hip with one arm while you grab the cereal with your other hand. 

They’re alright. 

Without thinking too much more about it, he turns around and goes back to bed, flopping down like a bag of rocks and falling right back to sleep on top of the covers. 

He’s too tired to do much else. 

+++

You’re with Jack most of the morning, and you’re almost surprised Aaron hasn’t already been running around in a panic to find him. 

After breakfast, it’s cartoons and then reading. He helps you fold the blankets from your makeshift bed on the couch - you make a game out of it before you settle down. 

Aaron rises again to hear you reading The Giving Tree, and he does his best to swallow his tears. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember what that book sounds like in Haley’s voice. 

It’s already harder than it should be. More than half his life knowing her, and he’s terrified of forgetting what her voice sounds like, what her laugh feels like in his arms, the exact color of her eyes. 

“‘Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, ‘Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.’ 

“‘I am too big to climb and play,’ said the boy…”

Aaron sits in the hallway, against the wall and out of your sight, and closes his eyes, listening to you read. 

He took a shaky breath as you reached the end of the story. There were tears pressing in at your voice, but you did an excellent job of remaining steady as you continued to read. 

“...’I don’t need very much now,’ said the boy. ‘Just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.’

“‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, ‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ 

“And the boy did.” You pause, turning the final page. “And the tree was happy.” 

There’s quiet for a moment. 

“Why are you sad?” Jack asks. 

“That story always makes me feel so much that sometimes the feelings come out of my eyes, but I’m not sad, bud. I’m alright.” 

“Oh. Does that happen?”

You hum. “Does what happen?”

Aaron can almost see the thoughts working across Jack’s face. “Do sometimes you not know what you’re feeling when you’re crying?”

“Yeah, that happens, sometimes.” There’s a shift, and Aaron’s fairly sure you set the book down and brought him further into your arms. “The more words you know, though, the easier it is to figure out what you’re feeling.”

“How many words do you know?”

You huff a laugh. It almost makes Aaron smile. “I know a lot of words. Between me, your dad, and Uncle Spencer, we probably know all the words.” 

Then, Jack screeches a laugh and Aaron knows you’re tickling him within an inch of his life. 

That’s a good enough excuse as any to ‘wake up,’ I suppose. 

He rises and wipes his tears away, mindful of his double black eyes and the cut across his nose. He probably looks a fright, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

You look up as he rounds the corner and you offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

You push Jack off your lap and he easily scrambles toward Aaron, who picks him up with only the smallest twinge of protest. 

“Oh, be careful with Dad, honey.” You remind him, leaning over the couch.

Aaron kisses Jack’s temple. “You’re alright, bud. Just no jumping on me for a couple of days, okay?” 

Jack nods, tucking under his chin. “We had breakfast.”

“Did you?” He asks, looking at you like he doesn’t know. 

You nod. “I can put something together for you, if you’d like.” 

“We’ve got to get going. We’ve got -” He stops for a second. “We’ve got things to take care of today, so we need to get Jack ready to go.” 

Standing, you stretch and level him with an unamused look. “Nope. Not having that. I’m making you and Jess breakfast and taking Jack for the day so you can do what you need to do without worrying about anything. Just let me know when you’re done so I can have what I assume will be dinner ready when you get back.” 

He raises an eyebrow, but it’s not as animated as his dubious looks have been in the past. Is it worth arguing with you?

You mirror his look. Is it ever? 

He sighs and looks at Jack again, telling him that he’ll stay here with you while, “Aunt Jess and I run some errands. Does that sound okay?”

Jack looks over at you and you nod encouragingly. 

“That sounds okay.” 

His parroting draws the smallest smiles from Aaron, who kisses Jack’s temple again, breathing him in. You can’t even imagine what’s going through Aaron’s head right now. If it were you, you’d never want to let him out of your sight ever again. 

When he sets Jack back on his feet, Aaron turns back, headed for the hall bathroom. You get Jack settled with the second round of cartoons for the morning, and make your way down the hallway. 

Aaron’s leaning with his hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring straight down. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You stay put in the doorway, giving him some space. 

He takes a shaky breath and lets it out heavily through his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It would be absolutely batshit if you did, Aaron. You’re supposed to feel that way.”

He’s quiet, still. 

“But you’re not alone. I’m here as long as you want, Aaron. I’m not going anywhere.” You step forward, slowly and deliberately so he knows you’re coming. 

He loves you so much. Even though Jack’s in the other room, you’re the only one keeping his feet on the floor. He’d have let himself waste away without you here. 

Jess does her best, but she’s trying to bury her sister. That, of course, comes with its own nightmarish baggage. 

You wait for him, standing at his side until he can finally straighten up and open his eyes. They’re so tired. You wonder if the sleep he’s had has been any sort of useful. 

He opens one of his arms, and you wrap yourself around him, your hands flat against his abdomen. 

“I wish I could do more for you. For Jack.”

You can feel him shake his head. “You have no idea what it means to us to have you here.”

“I miss her.”

He heaves a sigh, and you’re glad to hear it’s deeper than a few days ago. He is, after all, still healing. “Me too.”

“Take your time today. I can always delegate tasks if you run out of energy and need to call it.” You stare at a random spot on the wall as you talk, your cheek pressed against him. 

“What would I do without you?”

You shake your head. “I dunno. You’d probably spend less of your time annoyed at work, but the rest of it would be pretty boring.” You pause. “Your TMJ would probably be a lot worse, too.”

There’s no laugh, but you think maybe he thought about it. After a moment, “Thank you.”

I love you. 

“Anytime.”

I love you. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @ambicaos @softbibxtch

[teacup-set]

Giants

Summary: 'Thank you for the recipe', her note says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does. [SSS family]

Read on: AO3, FFN

x

The sun is low on the horizon and the sky looks like it's on fire. The contrast of the world has shifted, and the aged rust-orange of the hokage tower looks burning red like its early days. The villagers often joke that the sun burns brighter these days because there is a flame-fanning uchiwa in the hokage office, that the will-of-fire that was once a flickering flame is now a ferocious katon. 

In her office chamber, Sarada feels much more muted, heaving under the weight of the faith people put in her. This had always been her dream and she harbored no disillusion about how difficult it is to be hokage. And yet, she is crumbling. The kage summit that she is organizing looms on the horizon, and every half hour there seems to be a new logistical difficulty without fail. Just the administrative nightmare that is hosting the world's most powerful dignitaries in an event that is without a doubt a beacon for those with ill-intent has eaten up all her time. She hasn't even gotten to thinking about the delicate issues and negotiations she has to raise at the summit. She is overwhelmed, but people depend on her so she can't let it show. Part of her wants to run to her parents home, because there she is still a child, free from the weight of the world on her shoulders. There is no time for that though. Her parents, along with the Uzumakis, moved out from Konoha some years ago, choosing to spend their retirement away from the shinobi world in a rural part of Fire country. It would take too long to make the trip, and there is still much to do for the summit. 

Sarada eyes the phone on her desk. 'I could call, I suppose.'

Without thinking about it too much, she dials the number. By the second ring, she remembers to cough and clear her throat lest her voice gives away her frustration. By the fourth, her mother picks up. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, mama!" says Sarada, forcing cheer into her voice. 

"Sarada! How are you sweetie?" Sakura chimes. Already, Sarada feels lighter. 

"I am good, mama. How are you and papa?" asks Sarada, resting her chin on her palm. 

"We are both well sweetheart, though you and the others should drop by once in a while," her mother's voice becomes fainter as she speaks, like she is turning away from the mouthpiece, "Otherwise your father and uncle Naruto will keep trying to fill the void by acting like children themselves." and Sarada imagines her mother is eyeing some mess they have made in the background. She laughs. 

"Okay, okay, I will try to make a trip soon." she concedes. The line is silent for a second. 

"Sarada, is everything okay?" Sakura asks, and immediately Sarada wants to kick herself for thinking she could ever fool her mother. Both her and her papa agree, they could give the whole world the slip, but mama knows them by heart. 

"Yeah, of course." Sarada attempts, and from the silence from the other end she knows she has failed. "It's nothing, mama. Just stressed. The hokage summit is next week and Konoha is hosting." she admits in defeat. 

"Oh darling, that's a lot of work. Are you holding up okay?" 

Sarada wants to refrain from worrying her mother, but it is a chance to finally vent out all that she has been holding in and she is verging on desperate so she bites. 

"I...don't know mama. There is a lot to do." she starts, "I am still trying to take care of all the security measures. There is tension between Kumo and Hoshi, and they will not allow the Raikage delegation to cross into the land of fire." 

"Iwa and Oto have also been bickering. I really hope they will behave at the summit, otherwise I don't know how I'll handle them." she sighs and continues as Sakura patiently listens, "Even beyond the kage summit there is more to do. There have been a few bad harvests near the south east border, and sending provisions from the center's stock takes too long. Most of it rots by the time it gets there. The Fire Daimyo asked the Daimyo of Tea country to help since they are closer, but they refuse. Apparently we have 'a history of not interfering in each other's affairs' and that's how they want to keep it. Can you believe that?" she huffs angrily. 

"Sarada, is this line secure?" Sakura asks, her voice level. 

"Uh, yeah. I am calling from my office." Sarada replies, taken aback by her mother's sudden question. 

"Okay." Sakura begins, "The daimyo is wrong. Fire country and Tea country don't interact because of Tea country's reluctance to interact with nations that have shinobi villages. But during the time Lord Second was Hokage, Tea was experiencing tensions with Sea Country. Something to do with ships from Sea Country intercepting the cargo from Tea, I think? Anyway, they had requested help from Fire country then." 

Sarada sits up straighter, listening attentively. 

"They requested the Leaf to assassinate one of the people involved. They happened to be a higher-up in Sea country's government, and if the responsible party was discovered it would have caused a scandal." Sakura explained, "An ANBU unit was dispatched to take care of it, without any official mission report or paper transaction to make sure it would not be traced. But just in case they were discovered, to ensure that the Leaf would not be held responsible as the perpetrator, the Second kept a signed declaration from the Tea Daimyo sealed away. You should be able to find it in Lord Second's section of the records room. Not only is it proof that Fire and Tea have been involved in each other's affairs, this is information that Tea would very much like to avoid from entering the public domain. It might help you make your case, though I can't imagine how wicked someone would have to be to refuse to feed the hungry." Sakura finishes, sounding angered. 

Sarada is stunned. After quickly jotting down a note to check the records room, she pauses. Then slowly realization dawns. To her, mama is mama. Mama who braids her hair, always overcooks the fish, and doesn't believe in separating laundry by colours. But mama is also Uchiha Sakura. She was trained by two hokage, and was also on the same team as one (-and a half). For the longest time, she was also the director of the hospital and one of Konoha's most prestigious diplomats. There is perhaps no one in the village who has been in and out of the hokage building more than mama has. Of course she would know. Mama always has the answers, after all. 

"I...thank you, mama." Sarada stumbles, still basking in the awe of her belated realization. 

"Shh, sweetheart, don't thank me." from behind her, Sarada hears movement in the background, and then her papa's voice- 

"Who is it?" Sasuke inquires, asking Sakura. 

"It's Sarada, my love." Sarada blushes slightly, still embarrassed by her parents' affections towards each other, as she listens to her mother catch her father up on their conversation. In the next instant, her papa is on the phone. 

"Sarada. There is an alternate route from Kumo to Konoha through a set of islands near Whirlpool. I am sending you a map, await my hawk." her father's steady, reassuring voice carries through the phone. 

Once again, Sarada has to reckon with who her parents really are. Her memories of her father revolve around eating breakfast in the early mornings, packing lunches for mama, and throwing Kunai in the afternoons. But her father has traveled the whole world, and not just this one. He has inherited knowledge from the founder of the shinobi world itself. There is so much in this world that only he knows. 

"I will, papa, thank you." Sarada says, in a daze. 

"Hn." her father replies, satisfied, and then her parents have swapped the phone again. 

"Sweetie, is there anything else we can do?" worry rings in her mother's voice. 

The laundry list of tasks she has to complete is still infinite, but suddenly Sarada's heart is inflated again. She is ready. 

"No, mama, I can handle the rest." she says with confidence. 

She hears the smile in her mama's voice. "Of course you can, love." 

"You're doing a much better job than the idiot." Her father mutters in the background. 

Sarada gazes at her reflection in the window of her office. Staring back at her are her father's eyes, and the purple diamond on her forehead passed down from her mother. Her eyes trail to the hokage regalia hanging next to the door, but instead of feeling daunted, she is reminded of her earliest memory of them. The same cloak and hat, hanging on the back of a dining chair in her childhood home, first when Lord Sixth would come over for dinner, and then Lord Seventh. The same cloak that would hang between her father's dark one and her mother's lab coat, the same place it still belongs. It dawns on her simply. She was born to giants. She was raised by giants. And she is a giant too. 

Her reverie is broken by her mother's voice carrying through the phone. 

"Sarada, have you eaten dinner?" 

Suddenly Sarada wants to burst out laughing. Only her mother could go from delicate, high-risk politics to dinner without a pause. 

"No mama, not yet." she answers, smiling. 

"Sarada!" her mother exclaims, and her father clucks his tongue in disapproval. 

"You must eat, Sarada." her father's stern voice reminds her, and Sarada feels her heart soar. Some things are still simple, and for that she is grateful. 

"Oh, Sarada! Your father and I tried a new silken tofu recipe! You will like it, I am sure. I will send it with your father's hawk!" her mother gushes, then turns to her father, "Darling, do you think we could send some of the cucumbers we harvested, too? They will pair well." 

Her father grunts in approval and already Sarada can hear him walking away, no doubt to ready his bird. 

"We won't keep you anymore sweetie, you have work to do. Just make sure you eat!" her mother chides. 

Sarada wants to tell her, 'You aren't keeping me from anything. I will make time for you always. I love you with all my heart.' Instead she says- 

"Okay, mama. I will see you both soon." because she will, and then she will tell them. 

"Alright then. Bye sweetheart." Sarada savors the cadence of her mother's voice and then the phone disconnects, leaving her in the silence of her office. 

Outside the sun has set, but Sarada's heart is ablaze anew.

x

The hokage summit is completed, treaties are negotiated, the famine is tackled, and just as it always has been, new problems swiftly replace the old ones. Sarada is unflinching, she knows she will solve them, just as she always has. 

She finishes tying an envelope to the messenger hawk she is sending her parents’ way. Inside is a photograph of the silken tofu she made, and a note. 

'Thank you for the recipe', it says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does.

Fin.

AN: Inspired by the poem “My mother texts me instructions to cook silken tofu” by Sue Zhao, and my general dislike of being grown up. 

[fatefulfaerie]

Mind Control

Febuwhump prompt #1/28

Franchise: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker

Word Count: 1,210

Link told many tall tales that Tetra did not believe.

And yet it was a habit that was most like the sailor of the seas he had become, exaggerating what he had been through, the sizes of the squids he killed, the numbers involved in the odds against him, how narrowly he escaped with his life, things that made him seem more heroic. Whether or not he was actually telling the truth, or if he had been stretching the truth so long he no longer remembered what was true, it was mostly to impress Tetra, or the other crew-mates.

There was one tale in particular that Tetra had come to tolerate, Link talking about cooperating with the sages Medli and Mako five years ago. Link often said he had “controlled” them, which Tetra interpreted as a mere leadership thing, that he delegated tasks to the Rito and the Korok. It was why she tolerated the tale, because it was so normal and believable in comparison to the others.

But during a crew supper, the subject of paranormal occurrences came up. This crew in particular had their fair share by now, but when mind control came up, every single one of them insisted the feat was impossible except for Link.

“What do you mean ‘no’,” Link said to Tetra, who was sitting next to him. “I talk about it all the time.”

“That’s what you meant by control?!”

“What did you think I meant?”

Link was smiling, that annoyingly charming smile that made his blue eyes gleam. She searched for the fact that his chuckle meant that he perhaps was joking, but it seems that his smile meant he was laughing at her.

“Oh goddesses my boyfriend really is crazy,” she said under her breath, straight-faced.

“I’m not crazy,” Link said as he stood up, taking out his sparkling silver baton given to him by the King of Red Lions. 

Yet as soon as he did, the rest of the crew started to clear out almost immediately, shoveling the rest of their meals into their mouths as they rushed out to their suddenly important duties. Link lowered his arms with disappointment, sporting a frown.

Tetra was still sitting down, but she was facing away from the table, leaning on it with bent elbows, lounging back as she watched her subordinates leave. 

She was laughing to herself until she turned her head back to Link, who was unamused. Her smile faded.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said with shakes of her head. “I’m laughing at those cowards. They say they don’t believe in mind control and then as soon as you threaten them with it, the duties they were complaining about above deck are suddenly not so tiring. Really I should be thanking you.”

“You’re welcome,” Link said in reply. “But do you really not believe me?”

Tetra shrugged.

“It could be true,” she said. “I mean we’ve seen a lot of crazy things.” She stood up, facing Link and crossing her arms. “But I’m going to need some proof.”

“You want me to control you?”

Tetra held up her arms in surrender.

“Do your worst,” Tetra said. “Unless of course you can’t manage it.”

Link was hesitant as he lifted his hands, the baton in his left hand leaving a trail of glimmering sparkles as he did. His eyes swam in trepidation of controlling his girlfriend of all people before his eyelids shut. He took a deep breath in and out to focus himself, to concentrate on the song necessary to prove he was telling the truth. The Command Melody and how to conduct the lingering winds to submit to his will seemed to flow like another muscle to Link. 

Right

Center

Left

Center

Pretty soon it was as if he had stepped outside himself, Link seeing himself with closed eyes and hands moving as if he were pushing away an invisible mist.

“How is that supposed to do anything?” He heard Tetra say, although it came from the throat of the body he was in.

In control of Tetra’s body, Link started to dance around.

“Wait? What’s happening? Link! Stop what you are doing this instant!”

Link stopped making Tetra dance, and she sighed.

“Thank you, now-whoa!”

He had made her start to walk toward the ladder, Tetra climbing it and heading towards the deck of the ship.

“Link!” She exclaimed. “Where are you taking me?!”

She could already see the stairs that led to her cabin.

“Link, no stop,” she pleaded. “I get it, I believe you.” But she kept walking, soon facing Nudge, who guarded Tetra’s cabin. Her lips parted.

“Miss Tetra?” Nudge asked. “Would you like to enter your cabin?”

“Y-yes,” Tetra said, assuming that since she had stopped, Link was taking her here. For what purpose, she had no idea. Link had been in her cabin tons of times before today.

Nudge stepped aside, but instead of making her enter, Tetra found herself walking back down the stairs.

“O-on second thought I think I’ll go back down,” she said covering up for the fact that she was in absolutely no control over her actions.

Pretty soon she was facing Link again and silently thought of ways to get back at him for his malfeasance before she thought of the perfect one.

As soon as Link relinquished control over Tetra, the pirate captain collapsed to floor.

Link’s eyes widened immediately and he rushed to her side, sitting on his heels.

“Tetra!” He said completely panicked as he brought her drooping body into his arms. “Tetra, wake up!” He shouted. “Oh goddesses what have I done? Tetra!”

Link’s forehead sank down to meet hers.

“Please,” he said, starting to sob. His shoulders heaved and his breath hiccuped “Please wake up, I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you would…”

His broke voice as he cried, not seeing Tetra’s smirk. It was scary how good she was at playing dead.

“I accept your apology,” she said, which terrified Link at how sudden it was. He half-screamed as he leaned away, sitting up.

Tetra opened her eyes laughing and Link tipped his head shaking it as he figured it out.

“You jerk!” He said, playfully shoving her and starting to laugh as well. “I was so worried!”

“Good,” she said.

She tackled him the floor so that she was on top and pretty soon they were rolling around on the wooden planks, each getting the upper hand and then switching, all the while laughing all the way. It was a playful wrestling match for at least a few minutes until in a single millisecond Link stopped completely. 

Tetra was on top of him but he made no effort to change it. Tetra voiced no opposition, simply staring down at him and panting, her mussed and tangled hair spilling down onto him.

She placed her weight on her elbows as she melted her lips into his, their breaths becoming one as Link entangled his fingers into her blonde hair.

The two stayed like that until the ship was rocked by a rather strong wave, tipping the ship and making them fall out of their romantic embrace, their locked lips.

Their blushed cheeks, however, would stand to last the rest of the night.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Commander Wolffe x Reader: Sometimes, Good Soldiers Don’t Follow Orders

[Author’s Note: 

*slaps roof of fanfiction* This bad boy can fit so much feelz in it!

For real though, I’m not used to writing angsty stuff.   We ALL know that Order 66 didn’t REALLY happen...this is just an AU where it does happen, HA) Do not worry, this DOES have a good ending, but wow.  Hope you enjoy!] 

  Fear.

  You had been trained for years to overcome it.  That tight feeling in your chest was your enemy, among other forbidden things.  You faced countless battle droids over the course of the war.  You fought many battles and dueled against some of the most dangerous baddies in the galaxy.

  None of that could have prepared you for this moment.

  You gazed into his eyes, and for the first time the fear hit you.  His cybernetic eye looked just the same, but when your gaze focused on his golden brown eye: its usual passion and familiarity was replaced with an empty stare that made your blood run cold.

  “Wolffe,” you spoke up, eyes flickering to the blaster in his hand that was slowly being aimed at you.  He had returned from a victorious battle alone, and he was acting strange. Hands that once held you reached for the blaster in its holster.  “Commander Wolffe,” you tried again.  

  You knew there would be no reaching him- not after the transmission you received from former padawan Ahsoka Tano.  She had an experience with her good friend, Captain Rex, and she had contacted you as soon as she could to warn you.  It did not take much convincing on her part... You had shared Plo Koon’s suspicions for some time, especially after hearing rumors floating around.

  Still, a part of you could not believe that Wolffe would really turn on you, inhibitor chip or not.  That was until he arrived back at base and pointed a blaster at you without a word.  He hesitated, though, and you wondered if the real Wolffe was in there fighting this.

  “Ah, ________,” Plo Koon, your old friend and previous mentor, greeted.  “It has been too long since our last meeting.”

  Since the beginning of the war, you had graduated to become a full jedi and spent some time traveling and dealing with the enemy around the galaxy.  Sometimes this meant assisting jedi generals in battle and plots to take down separatist forces, while other times it meant lone missions.  It wasn’t until recently that you received orders to join your old mentor on the front lines.

  “Plo Koon, it is an honor to fight by your side again,” you said with a respectful nod.

  “As it is for me,” he replied.  Then, you broke out in a smile, quickly approaching and giving him a hug.  It wasn’t exactly the most jedi-thing to do, but all those missions alone made you realize how much you missed your mentor.  He had been more than a mentor to you, a sort of uncle.  You were glad to be reassigned.

  Plo didn’t protest or scold you.  He simply returned the hug, and you enjoyed the warmth in his mind and heart.  “I missed you too, young one.” 

  You pulled away and ran a hand over your eyes to rid them of the tears that threatened to fall.  Even though Plo was more relaxed about attachments than most jedi, there was no need to push the boundaries of the rule too much.  There was a certain professionality you needed to show, at least to some degree.

   “How’s the Wolfpack?” you asked, changing the subject.  It had been a long time since you had served with them.  “I noticed they changed their armor color to gray.”

  Plo lowered his head sadly.  “Yes, that is to honor our fallen troops.  We lost many at the hands of the Separatists during our conflict with the Malevolence.” 

  “I heard,” you said.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

  “It is alright,” he reassured you.  “Your duty brought you elsewhere.  You may remember a few troopers, but we have many fresh faces with us now.  Come, meet the men.”  You followed him outside the tent and into camp.  Just as it had been when you entered the premises, troopers moved around completing tasks.  Some were carrying equipment while others took inventory of supplies.  Plo introduced you to a small group that were chatting in a circle, and they saluted you respectfully.  

  “Gentlemen,” you said, “I look forward to serving alongside such brave soldiers.”

  “My young _______,” Plo Koon spoke up behind you.  “There is someone in particular you should see.”

  Something tugged at you in your feelings.  An odd sensation.  You turned around and came face-to-face with who was probably the toughest-looking trooper in the Republic army.  He stared down at you with one golden eye and one cybernetic, brows furrowed over both of them seriously.  His gruff expression didn’t falter for a second even as you grew flustered at the close proximity.

  “Oh, um, my apologies.”  Your quick step backward put an acceptable distance between the two of you.

  “Commander Wolffe,” he stated flatly. 

  Your eyes widened.  “Commander?  It’s...you?”  You remembered Wolffe from your padawan days.  Back then, he was so fresh-faced and optimistic.  Now… not so much.  He seemed dark and brooding.

  “It has been some time since we last saw each other,” Wolffe said finally.  You composed yourself, recovering from the surprise, and nodded.

  “Yes, it has been some time.  It’s great to see you again.”

  He merely nodded once before looking to Plo Koon.  “Well, Sir, if I may be dismissed, there are preparations to be made.”

  “Indeed, we have quite the mission ahead of us.  Thank you.”

  That reunion felt like a lifetime ago.

  Before Wolffe could make another move, you bolted for the door.  You heard his pounding footsteps behind you.

  “Stop!  By order of Emperor Palpatine.”

  “Emperor Palpatine?” you echoed in disbelief, not pausing for even a moment to process this information.  “I knew something was wrong with that guy...”  You slid around a corner, pushing a stack of crates in your pursuer’s path.  The more he was delayed, the better.  Wolffe glared at you from behind the crates- an expression that took you back…

  “I mean no disrespect, Commander,” you argued.  “But I think we’ll be better off taking another route through the Seppy base.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with this route,” Wolffe growled back.

  Plo Koon watched the exchange in silence, though you could tell he was unhappy that two of his closest comrades were having such a heated disagreement.  Commander Wolffe was used to doing things his way, and all those missions you went on alone as a new knight meant you were used to doing things your way.  It was difficult for the both of you to adjust to your return.

  Even so, you found yourself in a peculiar predicament.  

  Wolffe annoyed you at times with his gruff ways and stubbornness, but as he stood there glaring at you and firing back retorts in front of the rest of the Wolfpack, you felt something that had been growing steadily over time flare up suddenly.  Attraction.  You wondered if he felt it too, noticing how he seemed to puff up his chest and meet your eyes so directly.  You mentally scolded yourself for such wonderings.  It did not matter what he felt, and it didn’t matter what you felt.  It could never be.

  Finally, Plo Koon interjected calmly.  “Perhaps we will revisit the plan after you both have some time to think it over.  Wolfpack, you are dismissed.”

  You and Wolffe sighed as the others left, both guilty for having taken up so much time on the matter, and the fact that Plo Koon was so calm and patient about it made you feel even worse.

  “For now,” Plo continued.  “_________, you and Commander Wolffe are very skilled and intelligent.  Both of you may benefit from some bonding time off the battlefield in order to collaborate on the battlefield.”

  “Bonding time?” Wolffe scoffed, but quieted down when he realized Plo Koon was serious.

  “Yes.”  There was a hint of amusement in Plo’s voice as he added, “and that’s an order.”  With that, he exited the room and left the two of you awkwardly standing there.

  Wolffe glanced at you, giving you the famous eye-roll that secretly made your heart skip a beat.

  You folded your arms, pulse still racing, as you reigned in your feelings. “So, what do you propose we do?  Hit the mess?”

  He grunted, and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was a grunt of agreement or not.  It was only when he started walking in the direction of the mess hall that you understood.  It was a start, at least.

  Even with this blooming attraction, you wondered how you’d ever find a way to bond with the difficult Commander.

  You reached the medbay, relieved that there was still time to make preparations.  Ahsoka’s instructions echoed in your mind over and over as the door slid closed with a hiss and you set to work.  You couldn’t afford to leave even one detail out.

  Not long after, there was a bang at the door followed by a few blaster shots.  Wolffe had most likely reached the door by now and was trying to blast it open from the outside.  You felt your heart quicken as you put the final touches on your plan.  You shut off the lights just in time.

  The door slid open, and light poured in around his silhouette.  You skillfully flipped underneath a medbay table, holding your breath as you waited for him to walk straight into the trap.

  You watched Wolffe as he delegated tasks to his men, his back turned to you.  His voice was deep and gruff, and his shoulders were broad.  You were enjoying this view a little too much.

  You had encountered an issue.  The bonding time Plo had assigned you ended up working too well.  You formed an attachment, a romantic attachment  

  To Wolffe.  To the Commander Wolffe.

  Not to mention your attachment to Plo and the rest of the Wolfpack as a sort of family was borderline forbidden, but that was something you knew Plo Koon experienced as well.  It really was like a family.  As grateful as you were to be a part of this family, you also disliked how the soldiers were not given choices or options on how they wanted to live their lives.  It was something both you and Plo had discussed…

  Your gaze went to the ground as Wolffe’s eyes rested on you.  He must have caught you looking.  Oh great, he was walking over.

  “Looks like we’re all set for the strike,” he said.

  You nodded, meeting his eyes again.  “I’m glad.  The men seem confident.”

  “Oh yeah, I think this plan is a solid one.  We’ll be in and out, and the hostages will be free in no time.”

  “Right.”

  He stared at you, his golden brown eye almost looked like it reflected concern for a moment.

  “Is everything...okay?”  The question came out as if he were speaking a foreign language.  He wasn’t used to inquiring about your personal well-being.  He and Plo Koon had a rather close friendship, but you and him had not reached that point yet.  At least, not until now.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Thank you.”

  He grew quiet for a minute.  “It’ll be a quick battle, really.”

  Was he actually trying to reassure you?  Your nervousness gave way to tenderness as the Commander did something else unexpected- gave you a pat on the shoulder.  The contact was minimal, but made your heart melt.

  “Um, thank you,” you said.

  He nodded stiffly before walking away, leaving you confused as ever.

  . . . .

  “Why would you do that?” he asked, pulling you out of the heat of battle and into a place behind a fallen walker where you would not get hit by crossfire.  “What were you thinking?”

  This was so not the conversation you wanted to have, especially at a time like this.  You deactivated your lightsaber and looked at Wolffe, clutching your wounded arm.  “I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.  Now, can I get back out there?”  You started to crawl out, but he pulled you back in.

  “Not while you’re injured,” he shot back, removing his bucket to speak to you directly.  “You need to get that taken care of before you get hurt even more.”

  “No, I’m not leaving the battle over a scrape!”

  “It’s not a scrape, ________!  You took a blaster shot to the arm when it should’ve hit me.  I’m the one wearing armor, you know!”

  “So what, I’m supposed to just stand and watch you get shot?” You rolled your eyes.  “I don’t understand you.”

  “Understand this,” he growled, cupping your face and leaning in to plant a passionate kiss on your lips.  Despite the situation and your wound, you responded immediately and returned the kiss, feeling the irritation vanish at his touch.

  When he pulled away, you looked at him with wide eyes for a moment.  “As much as I want to do that again, we have a battle to get back to.”

  “Right,” he agreed.  “But you’re seeing a medic as soon as we’re out there.”

  “Alright, a quick patch-up, and then I’m back in the fight,” you conceded.  “You’re lucky you’re a good kisser.”

  You inhaled and exhaled silently, watching as the silhouette grew larger.  Wolffe entered the medbay, his cybernetic eye glowing in the darkness.  You readied yourself, as this was the difficult part…

  As you threw yourself out from your hiding spot in the dark, Wolffe moved to retaliate, but you were too fast.  Before long he was strapped to a gurney as you ordered the med-droid that was standing by to continue with the procedure.

  Wolffe fought and struggled, and you resisted the urge to reach for his hand.  You hated seeing him like this, but soon it would all be better.

  Soon.

  . . . .

  “__________,” he breathed, sitting up and running a hand over his head.  “What just happened?  Did I...did I hurt you?”

  You wrapped your arms around his armored form, burying your face in his neck and relishing the fact that the Wolffe you knew was back.  “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

  “_________,” he returned the embrace, “I almost hurt you.”

  “It wasn’t you.  It was that-that creature, Palpatine.”  You managed a smile.  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “But the Republic…”

  “The Republic is no more, from what I hear.  We need to find any others we can and regroup.”

  Wolffe glanced towards the door, pulling you closer.  “Right now, my mission is to get you off this base undetected.  There are a lot of soldiers out there with orders to take you and any of your allies down.”  He stood up from the stretcher and reclaimed his blaster from the floor.  “I think I have a plan.”

  You chuckled, prompting him to give you a curious look.

  “Remember how we used to say we’d run away from the war together?  And leave all this behind?”  You pulled him in for an emotional kiss.  “It’s not exactly what we imagined, but it looks like we’re getting around to it.”

[avversiera-writes]

hold my hand - tobirama senju/reader

Summary: In which you and Tobirama are attending a social function. 

A/N: just something short and sweet <3 enjoy~ same timeline as you never said goodbye (yes, i am milking this timeline/au as much as possible)

Now available on AO3!

“Tobi, smile,” you tell your husband with your lips barely moving. 

Tobirama stiffens even more, if that is even possible. Almost throughout the duration of this social event hosted by one of the daimyos in the Land of Fire, he has been stoic and very mum to the point that it is starting to ward off other people. The part of the room the two of you are not occupied with the many people that were invited and it seems a tad darker than the other side of the room, where the light seems brighter and the atmosphere more upbeat. 

Though this function is not of the utmost urgency, showing up is a sign of respect to the daimyos that help fund the running of the Hidden Leaf Village, and as the new Hokage of the said village, Tobirama must make his face known and establish that he, too, like his brother Hashirama before he had fell victim to his vices, is a capable elected monarch. 

It is not like Tobirama is new to diplomacy. As the brother of the Shodaime Hokage, he is at the forefront of the negotiations and the boring talks of politics and hours of mind games with other political authorities–since he can never really trust his brother on these things, lest he makes another mistake that is up to par of giving away tailed beasts for free. He is a master delegator, a huge planner and a brilliant tactician, but for the life of him, he never feels up to the task of mingling, as you painstakingly put it. 

You glance at your husband and you try not to giggle at the way he seems to frown even though you know in your bones that he really is not frowning. 

“You are scaring people away,” you murmur. 

A bourgeoisie woman, donned in fine silk and extravagant gold hairpieces, approaches you and Tobirama. 

You smile, and your airy wave becomes more flouncy as she nears. 

The woman snaps her fan open. “Congratulations on your union. I have heard that you and Lord Second had just gotten married a few weeks ago,” she says to the two of you. “I take it that married life has been bliss so far?”

You cannot help but smile even more. “Thank you,” and you mean it. “And yes, it is a bliss to be married to him. Though, I am not sure how long such blissful moments pass before we are at each other’s throats.” 

You and the woman chuckle at that, while Tobirama looks on at you, his expression suddenly unreadable. 

The woman comes to your side, snaps her fan shut and points towards one of the men in the other side of the room. “Take it from me. You will probably just learn to tolerate each other. Do enjoy the earlier years of marriage, dear.” 

With that, the woman saunters away and without glancing at your husband, you feel that Tobirama’s mood is further soured. 

Finally, he breaks his stoic air and just glances at you, clearly displeased. “Did you have fun at my expense?”

You roll your eyes. “Tobirama, please. These are the types of talks you engage in these types of events.” 

“These are rather pointless and surface level talks.”

“Just like your politics,” you retort, and just like that, you see a hint of amusement in Tobirama’s eyes. 

“Very well,” Tobirama gives. A smirk comes up to the corner of his lips. 

The music starts up, and people flock to their partners. 

Tobirama stiffens up again, but he puts his hand on the small of your back gently, and you take that as an encouragement to go to the dance floor. He probably thinks that you will enjoy these types of things. 

“I will be honest, I really do not understand the significance of this social event, but if it makes you happy,” Tobirama murmurs. 

You try to sway him to the beat of the music. Right now, he looks like he is about to teleport out of here. 

“Oh, Tobirama,” you let out a chuckle. “You thoughtful bastard. Maybe I won’t have to worry about the blissful days of marriage passing us by.” 

“Is this another type of talk you speak of?” Confusion clouds his face. 

You lean closer to him, and you put your hands on his arms to coax him out of his shell. “No. I really am at bliss to be married to you.” 

The comment catches Tobirama off guard, and suddenly, he really looks to be ready to teleport. You are afraid to blink lest he disappears on you. 

Though very brilliant, Tobirama seems to be one step off when it comes to social interactions, or that he is too busy reading too much in between the lines. Sometimes, he can’t tell if you are making fun of him or is fed up by him, so you make a point of balancing it between teasing and also meaning the words you say to him. 

However, this part of him is very charming to you. 

“Is that so?” Tobirama questions. 

Your touches had finally coaxed him, and he is now pulling you closer by pressing his hand at the small of your back. Then, he uses his arm to sidle you up against his chest. The background fades away into a comforting lull, there is no one else in this room but you and Tobirama. 

“It is so,” you murmur, your lips barely touching his. 

You two spend a moment of almost kissing each other. You know you’ve got Tobirama focused only on you and this moment because it is rare for him to display affections in public. He won’t even hold your hand in the streets of Konoha. 

“Well?” Tobirama murmurs deeply, and you feel your whole body heat with desire. “I think it’s time we high tail out of here.” 

“This is so unlike you,” you tell him, because you know Tobirama will bear this event until its end. 

You watch his eyes, and they darken blood red with desire. 

“I see,” you simply say. 

In a flurry of rushed breaths and the rustle of clothing and the sudden silence that engulfs you, you feel the world bend in swirls until you find yourself alone with your husband, his body warm and pressed flush against you. 

If there is anything you can attest to against that woman, is that you are certain that marriage with Tobirama will not be dull. 

END. 

[go--ask--alice]

Ephemeris

Four

14 Days.

336 Hours.

20,160 Minutes.

That is how long it's been since I've spoken to my Joker. I don't know what happened.. I still don't know what the fuck is going on. We were suppose to temporarily move into this god forsaken townhouse together yet here I sit alone. It has taken me that long just to gather my thoughts enough to even write them down.

That morning two weeks ago started so normal. I woke up to find myself alone in bed which honestly isn't that abnormal in itself, J sometimes doesn't sleep and gets his best work done in the middle of the night. I did my usual morning routine hoping he would make an appearance as I stood in the shower under the scalding hot water. He loves to surprise me and join in for some early morning shower sex after a long night of insomnia. I had it set in my mind to give him a bit of a show since he hadn't appeared yet. I put on a modest yet cheeky outfit and set off to his office hoping to interrupt a phone call and tease him as he tried not to acknowledge me. It's a game I love to play with him and gets the most amazing reactions from him. But as I reached the wing his office resided in there was nothing. No Frost at the door, no yelling at incompetent goons over the phone, not even the soft sound of classical music that sometimes floats through the halls when he's deep in his plans.

All of a sudden this massive mansion felt empty, I knew in my gut that he wasn't here. There had been a handful of red flags recently that something bad was brewing but honestly I just expected him to ask me to cut him again. It's something we started doing last year to release some of his darker demons and as far as I knew it had been working. I try to let him come to me with the request rather than pushing. His madness is part of what I love about him and such a key ingredient in what makes him The Joker and I never want to change that.

After I took a few moments to collect myself I called J, maybe there was a perfectly normal reason for his absence? Maybe I had forgotten about a meeting and he left without me? We are rarely apart, even for a few hours, but it does happen.

9:32am no answer

9:39am no answer

9:56am no answer, not even voicemail

This wasn't like J. He may be a psychotic crime boss but he is still always available for me. Worse case scenario my missed called are answered by a text from Frost letting me know what's going on and oh boy was he next on my call list!

......Five missed calls later and I still didn't have any answers. I was ready to burn this place to the ground if someone didn't give me some information.

Finally at around 11am I got a text from Frost.

[Ms Alice, please be ready to leave for the townhouse at 2:30 this afternoon. Boss will explain later.]

My blood boiled as I read the text. It was so generic, so cold. I knew he was only following orders but I felt so betrayed by Johnny. He has become my one confidant in this crazy world I now reside in. He is the only other person who knows what it's like to be in the presence of The Joker's madness and not be a target of it.

I had no choice but to follow along and continue with the plan. My bags were already packed and in the trunk of my new and still barely driven Lambo Aventador. Apparently I would be driving myself seeing as both J and Frost were MIA.

I didn't even want to leave at this point. I felt like a child who has lost their parent in the department store. "If I just stay put they'll have to come back and find me right??" I didn't want to leave just incase J showed back up and I could get an explanation straight from him.

I spent the remaining time going over every red flag I've seen since before our wedding, anything to clue me in to what might be going on. It had almost seemed like J was apprehensive to come back from England, we both knew he needed to return and take care of business in Gotham but England had become a kind of safe house where all the everyday problems could be put on hold and his stress levels really did begin to mellow out in the last few weeks of our stay. From the moment we hit the tarmac here at home there was a noticable shift, the tension in his jaw was back and the twitch under his eye reappeared more quickly than I had anticipated.

I have learned that he lives his life as a series of distractions. Some good some bad but all carefully crafted to distract from the demons in his mind. He immediately began planning our wedding, looking into new properties to acquire, and most amusingly he began building and collecting model cars. If I ever need a good laugh I just like to stop and picture Johnny Frost, lethal weapon, standing in line at the hobby store with a basket full of paints and parts to replace the ones J had broken the night before!

I also thought back to his increased drug use. The coke has always been more of a last resort than recreational to help calm him but recently I know he's started using alot more often. It's a big part of the reason he hasn't been sleeping. I honestly attributed his more erratic behavior to the drugs and insomnia but maybe they were just side effects of a bigger problem? No matter what is going on he is always kind and gentle to me, a courtesy he does not extend to any other living soul. I have seen a level of violence I never thought possible in his presence, it's something I have started to become almost jaded by, but I will never doubt the evil that resides inside that beautiful damaged man. He has also recently taken to personally dealing with some of the lower level thugs in his employ, a task that has always been delegated to Frost or one of the other higher ranking bodyguards. I assume mainly so he has a constant supply of fresh meat for his experiments or even just target practice. I tend to not ask a lot of questions when it comes to the more violent aspects of his empire. If he does not explicitly involve me then I simply do not ask questions.

When the time was right I went down to the garage doors, my last bag in hand and expected to see my car in it's customary spot next to the Benz but it wasn't there. At this point I wasn't sure I could take much more of this bullshit and just began to cry. All the worry and frustration from the day just hit me like a ton of bricks and I didn't want to think anymore. I wanted my husband, I wanted to be clued into whatever the fuck was happening, and goddamn it if I had to leave I just wanted to get in my own car and drive away. After a few moments I wiped my eyes and grabbed my things before heading out the side door towards the front of the building. As I turned the corner a laugh bubbled up from me that sounded foreign and cold. There she was, my beautiful Ghost, J had teased me for naming my car but it's something I have done with every other junk car I ever drove so something as exceptional as this car deserved it too! She was running, her engine humming a low purr and the driver side door was open. This was starting to get even stranger.. I felt like I was in a movie and people were watching from behind the camera lens. That's when I spotted the blacked sedan, it's engine was also running and as I approached Ghost they flashed the high beams at me. It didn't feel like a trap or anything nefarious so I climbed in and slammed the door. My frustrating hitting record levels. On the screen the GPS was already programed for the townhouse. Just as I was about to put her into drive a text popped up on my screen, it was Frost.

[At the rear, head to the destination. -F]

My anger bubbled to the surface and in one swift move I rolled the window down and raised my middle finger as I hit the gas. My sharp black nails and wedding rings glittered in the winter sun, my rear wheels kicking up gravel as I pulled out onto the public road, the blacked out car following closely behind. I knew it was Frost behind the wheel but I had a terrible feeling in my stomach that J was in the backseat. Why was he doing this to me? All morning I had been trying to think of what may be wrong with him, now my thoughts turned to myself. Had I done something to cause this? Did I make a mistake or cross some line I wasn't aware of? From the moment we met it seemed I could do no wrong in J's eyes. Had he finally gotten tired of me? Did he think getting married was a mistake? Was this his way of getting rid of me? All these questions continued to race through my head the entire drive.

The townhouse is approximately 30 minutes outside of downtown Gotham, close enough to still feel metropolitan but far enough out to give the illusion of privacy. J had showed me the floor plan weeks ago as we planned for our extended stay. The building is a four story brownstone with an enclosed garden accessible only from our unit's kitchen. There are three other units on the block, all of which are owned by J, most are empty except for the far end that was occupied but I have no idea who actually lives there or if it's just a front for something else.

As I turned onto the block I hesitated, realizing I had no idea where to park. I never planned on driving here alone so the thought never crossed my mind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Frost's black sedan take the corner alittle too fast and barrel past me. The back passenger window was rolled down a few inches just furthering my suspicion that J is in there too. I said fuck it and park right infront of the unit and storm out of the car. I stalked up the brick stairs and planted my heels at the front door. I had no key so someone needed to get out the fucking car and talk to me.

[Stay there, I have the keys. -F]

My phone buzzes with another useless text message. I stifle a sigh of annoyance as I see the door open and a visibly uncomfortable Frost make his way towards me. I've never seen him look so unsure of himself? My nerves flaired up again and he hands me a set of keys and a sealed envelope. My name is written in J's messy script and my heart thunders in my chest. I implored Frost for any information he can give and all I got was a nervous chuckle and a sidewards glance towards his car which was still idling halfway down the block. Before turning away he tapped the envelope clutched in my hands. "This is bullshit Ms Alice. Give it time." I didn't even have a chance to ask before he turned and quickly returned to the car. No use waiting for him to pull away, I unlocked the large wooden door and shuffled inside. As soon and the door clicked shut behind me I sunk to my knees and began to cry. All the tears I'd been saving up since this morning came pouring out, I let my emotions flow for several minutes until I saw J's letter discarded on the floor infront me. I took a moment to trace my name written in my loves scratchy script, almost as bad a doctor's, before tearing it open. Inside I found a short note. It was written in deep purple ink so I know it came from the stationary in his office at home.

"Darling, I need to be away for a while to deal with {multiple words scratched out} some sticky fingers at The Smile and Grin. {scribbles} I gave Frost the week off and now I need to handle some of the staff myself because someone’s dipping into my bourbon stash and I need to figure out who."

The whole thing was sloppy and disjointed, it looked rushed and made literally no sense at all. This was all so ridiculous.. The Joker is not a coward yet he couldn't come to me, his wife, and explain what ever the fuck was going on. I crumpled the letter and threw it across the room.

So here I am. It has been two weeks and still nothing. Thank God we had already hired a small staff for this place or I would be screwed.

This is all fucking worthless. When that clown finally shows his face back up here I'll give him a reason for that goddamn metal grill he's got.

-Alice

[sukiandthemarauders]

FIRELIGHT (Zuko x OC) C1

word count: 2,989

warning: just mature language :)

a/n: This is chapter one of Firelight, excluding the prologue, and it MERELY shows a glimpse of Zuko and Kai’s future relationship :D I’m just going to pretend that I’m not already planning a Sokka fic because I’m just starting this one so... ENJOY!

<- Prologue | Chapter 2 ->

Masterlist

____________

Chapter 1

_________

“So when are the losers going to get here anyways?”

Kailani playfully rolled her eyes at Toph’s comment, knowing fully well that the earthbender missed the rest of their friends as much as she did. And as she stood in the edge of Air Temple Island with Toph, awaiting the arrival of her friends, she could feel the ball of excitement forming in the pit of her stomach at the thought of having a full reunion with her friends once again.

Although there had been plenty of other situations that required the Gaang to team up, everybody seemed to be busy with their own particular occupations. Suki returned to Kyoshi island and had stayed in the Earth Kingdom for the most part to train more warriors, and Katara mostly stayed in the South Pole with her tribe as she taught in a healing school for waterbenders. Sokka and Aang were probably the ones who traveled the most—being involved in the world of politics—but the two boys particularly enjoyed the South Pole, for it was Sokka’s home, and where Aang’s girlfriend mostly stayed. Zuko was the loneliest, all alone in the Fire Nation that he ruled, but he made it clear that he’d never oppose a trip (or what he liked to call an extended detour) with Sokka and Aang, claiming that international affairs would best be taken care of if the Firelord was personally delegating.

Toph had stayed in the Earth Kingdom, too (finding company with Suki), and had her metalbending students to teach. However, the Beifong girl decided that she would oversee the training of the metalbenders in the police force of the rising Republic City, which was why she found herself standing next to the airbender in the capital of the new nation Aang and Zuko were building.

While the rest of the Gaang continuously fought new threats and simultaneously trying to unite the world in a peaceful manner, Kailani had dedicated her efforts to the rebuilding of all four Air Temples. She had led the constructing of the damages, and adjusted all of the Air Acolytes that Aang sent her into their new homes. Along with the Acolytes were the flying bison and the ring-tailed flying lemurs that the Avatar had found, and she tried to make the temples as homely as she could for the native animals.

The goal seemed daunting at first, but Kailani was proud to say that she was successful in her focused task—even though the work kept her away from most of her friends for years. She had encountered Aang, Sokka, and Katara when they had visited her in the Southern Air Temple, and she might have kidnapped Suki and Toph on her way to the Eastern Air Temple for just a few days. But it wasn’t until her work was done at all four Air Temples that Aang had asked her to finish building Air Temple Island in Republic City, so he could visit Katara in the South Pole with Sokka (who had invited Suki along).

And so Kailani stood with Toph at her side, awaiting the arrival of her closest confidantes eagerly, so that she could enjoy and make up for the time that she had lost with them.

“You’re not going to be calling them losers when they get here.” Kailani teased in a sing-song voice, causing Toph to scoff.

“If you think I’m going to get all touchy-feely because we’re seeing our friends again, you thought wrong.” Toph spoke with a shrug. “Sure, I’m happy. But I’m not going to be crying bitch baby tears like you.”

Kailani dramatically gasped, feigning offense. “Watch it or I’m going to have to kick your—.”

Kailani was interrupted, for she found herself catapulted into the air by a stone with the slightest movement of Toph’s foot.

“Your sighted ass could never!” Toph shouted from below causing Kailani to let out a bark of laughter mid-air. As she manipulated the wind to make her fall graceful, the airbender caught sight of a familiar flying bison hovering over a large ship that headed in their direction. Allowing her lips to break out into a wide grin, Kailani grabbed Toph’s wrist, and pulled her to the edge of the shore.

“They’re here!”

Soon enough, the large ship stopped before the two girls, and Appa landed heavily beside it. Kailani didn’t wait a moment more before she jumped on Appa’s forehead, and began to caress his brown arrow.

“Appa!” She squealed excitedly.

“And Katara and Aang.”

Kailani whipped her head around to find the couple jumping off of the flying bison with their fingers interlocked. The girl immediately launched herself at Aang, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and knocking him off balance with the force of her body weight.

“Aang!” Kailani murmured with a grin on her face. Regardless of the fact that he had grown much taller—taller than herself, in fact— she still looked at the Avatar as if he were her little brother, which was why she pulled away from the embrace, and forced his head down so she could rub her knuckles against his bald head. “Noogie!”

“Ow! Stop it Kai, I’m not twelve anymo—“

“You haven’t changed a bit, Kailani.” Katara spoke with a slight chuckle causing Kailani to release her grip on the humiliated Aang, and wrap her arms around the beautiful waterbender.

“Katara, it’s so great to see you!” The grey eyed girl enthused, always having a soft spot for the girl who had grown to be as close as a sister to her since they were younger. Being the only two girls for a while on their adventures allowed them to bond, and Kailani’s first hand witnessing of Katara’s compassion and kindness made her realize that there was no one better to be Aang’s girlfriend.

“I missed you, Kai.” Katara said with her signature motherly smile as she pulled away from the hug. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the Southern Air Temple two years ago.”

Kailani let out a sigh as she thought back to the last couple of years. “I’ve been good, albeit very busy. And it didn’t help that this one—“ she pointed her thumb at Aang. “—dumped the rest of his work on me.”

Aang let out a chuckle before gently resting his arm around Katara’s waist. “Sorry Kai. When Sokka told me he was going to the South Pole with Suki, I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”

“So that’ll be my fault.” Katara finished with a bashful grin, but Kailani only waved it off casually.

“Speaking of Sokka and Suki, where are they?” The airbender girl asked.

“KAILANI!”

As soon as the girl turned around, she was engulfed by a figure significantly taller than her. Her face slammed into his chest, and she groaned at the impact, but couldn’t help smiling at her best friend. He seemed to have come from his greeting with Toph, for the girl was walking their way from the location that Sokka ran from. While Katara and Aang gave a begrudging Toph a welcome hug (before Toph bended rock to come between them), Sokka pulled Kailani to face him at arms length with a wide grin plastered across his face.

“I can’t believe you’re finally with the Gaang again! While we’re fighting crime and saving the world, you always stayed at the Air Temples! But now we can have fun with you—“

“Where’s Suki?” Kailani interrupted causing Sokka’s jaw to drop, and snickers erupting from Toph, Katara, and Aang to sound beside them.

“You’re best friend is here, and the first person you ask for is my girlfriend?” Sokka accused in a characteristically dramatic tone.

Kailani slightly smirked. “Our girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend.” Sokka corrected swiftly while pointing his index finger to his own chest. “And you are a terrible best friend for that.”

Sokka and Kailani had been best friends from the moment he slipped and fell on top of her when he was helping her out of the iceberg. Perhaps it was because Sokka hadn’t been in the presence of someone the same age as him for years, or because they both felt the same responsibility when it came to their younger siblings (even if Kailani and Aang weren’t actually related). Either way they clicked immediately, and maybe even more than they had thought.

The two harbored a secret crush for one another for the first several months of their journey, but they soon realized that they were best as friends, and their ability to maintain their friendship after realizing their feelings only made them closer. Sokka later became involved with Suki (who Kailani cherished), and the airbender had... well, her Air Temple project.

“You’ve been a terrible best friend in many, many occasions, Sokka.” Kailani said with her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed.

“Oh yea?” Sokka challenged. “Name one time.”

“When you got us dragged into the spirit world by Hei Bai, when you forced me to drink that cactus juice, made Hawky poop on my head, not telling me about Yanchen’s festival, the New Ozai Society, or Gilak until after it was over, not visiting me for over a year and—“

“Okay, okay, okay I get it!” Sokka grumbled with a frown. “Suki’s still on the ship talking to Zuko about training his guards chi blocking with the Kyoshi Warriors.”

Kailani allowed her eyebrows to furrow. “Zuko’s here, too?”

“Oh so you care more about Zuko than your best friend—“

“Sokka.” Katara said irritated before facing Kailani once again. “Zuko wanted to visit Republic City in person, seeing as he’s been quite generous with the funds, and is its cofounder.”

“And he didn’t mind a little vacation from his Firelord duties.” Aang finished with a cheeky grin.

“I still can’t believe that guy runs a whole country.” Sokka said while crossing his arms and leaning against Toph.

“I can’t believe that Sparky hasn’t died of boredom with all that paperwork.” Toph responded. “All of that makes me glad I’m blind.”

Kailani let out a weak chuckle. “Was there a reason you guys didn’t tell me?”

Everybody—save for Toph—shared an curious look with each other before Katara spoke. “Is there a reason that he shouldn’t have come?”

“W-Well no, I suppose not—“

“Are those nerves I hear in your voice?” Toph questioned with a sly eyebrow raised.

Aang tilted his head in confusion. “Why would Kailani be nervous that Zuko’s coming?”

Katara wore a slight smirk on her face as she bored her eyes into Kailani’s grey orbs. “Do you like Zuko?”

Kailani, Sokka, and Aang’s eyes all widened, the latter two immediately turning to look at the airbender girl.

“It’s the scar isn’t it? That’s what got to you!” Sokka assumed while Aang seemed to be in a state a confusion.

“How long have you felt this way?” Aang asked.

“Oh I know, it’s because he’s hot!” Sokka turned towards Toph and Katara after he spoke and nudged them with his elbow. “Get it? Because he’s a firebender.”

“No, I don’t like him! How could I? I haven’t seen him in years!” Kailani finally announced, ceasing Sokka and Aang’s remarks, and she wasn’t necessarily lying.

Although Zuko had previously been their enemy, she remembered bonding with him after he joined them against his own father. She was quick to accept him after Toph declared that he was genuine with his offer to teach Aang firebending— which made the Prince grateful to her. But it wasn’t until she saw Zuko jump in the path of Azula’s lightning that was aiming for her that she began to feel something more for the boy.

However, after the war, Kailani was made aware that Zuko had reunited with his ex-girlfriend Mai, and thus she pushed aside any feelings she had for him, glad to at least have him as a friend. But soon after the war, she had begun her task of restoring the Air Temples, leading her to not see the new Firelord for almost six years now, and that was why she was nervous.

“And he’s not hot.” Kailani finished with a roll of her eyes. But as soon as she spoke, her eyes caught on two figures that headed there way from the ship, deep in conversation and unaware of the eyes glued to them.

Suki seemed to switch from Kyoshi Warrior to easygoing friend mode in a split second, for her furrowed eyebrows were quickly replaced with a cheery expression as soon as she spotted Kailani. Next to the Earth Kingdom girl stood Zuko in all his Firelord glory, wearing his nation’s formal attire, and his hair tied half up in a bun.

Kailani could’ve ate her words right there.

“You know, your mouth says something but your eyes say something else.” Katara whispered to the girl while Aang and Sokka walked away from them and towards Zuko.

“And your heartbeat says otherwise, too.” Toph teased. “Since I can’t really see your eyes.”

“Kailani!” Suki exclaimed as she catapulted into the airbender’s arms. Kailani let out a hearty laugh as she embraced the warrior, having found missing her bubbly personality, and her ability to make you feel like you could tell her anything.

“Suki, I missed you!” Kailani gushed with a grin. “I needed someone with the same alcohol tolerance as me! I almost died drinking with Toph.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight!”

“Kailani,” Katara said suddenly before linking her arms with the airbender. “let’s go see Zuko now.”

She knew that if she protested for any reason, her nerves would be confirmed to the two—now three— girls (even if Suki had no clue what was going on), and so she sucked in her words of denial and let Katara drag her towards the Firelord. She looked at Katara to see a cunning glint shining within her blue orbs, and then towards Toph who wore an extremely conspicuous smirk across her lips.

At least Katara was subtle.

“It’s rude to just pull me away from Suki.” Kailani said as she kept her eyes trained on a determined Katara. “We were in the middle of a conversation, you know.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Suki spoke from the other side of Toph causing Kailani to snap her gaze towards to warrior. Why was she going along with it? She didn’t even know of the nerves wracking her whole body! But as soon as the airbender’s grey orbs met Suki’s, the latter girl winked.

Never mind, she definitely knew.

“I-It’s still not well mannered—“

“Kailani?”

Hearing her name come from the mouth of the guy she was so conflicted with seeing startled her, and Katara could feel—from only touching one of her limbs— that Kailani froze. Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of Zuko’s deep dulcet voice that was familiar, but she was unaccustomed to from not hearing it after half a dozen years.

The first thing she could make out was the vibrant amber of his eyes; eyes that were staring right back at her. The right eye was surrounded by his milky pale skin, and his left eye was still slightly smaller and in the center of his dull red scar that had stayed exactly the same from all those years ago. His lips were slightly parted in surprise, but it quickly became a small smile that danced across his face, gracing his features with a look of soft delight instead of his previously confused expression.

Kailani immediately straightened her back, and hastily pulled her arm away from Katara before bringing her fist and flat palm together, and bowing.

“Firelord Zuko.”

Firelord Zuko, really?— she thought— Everyone just called him Zuko, so now I look like an idiot.

Her train of thought was interrupted when Zuko clutched her hands with his own and lifted her from her bow. Her face burned in embarrassment, but Zuko only shook his head with a bemused expression.

“Please Kailani, we fought my sister and almost died together countless of times. It’s just Zuko to you.” He said with a ghost of a smile that seemed minuscule compared to the shit eating grin that appeared on Kailani’s face.

She placed her hands lazily on her hips and lifted her chin up. “You’re right. I’ve saved your ass too many times to count, and I’m a century older than you. I’m the respectable one of us two.”

Zuko’s smile instantaneously dropped. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going to bow to you.”

Kailani’s arms were suddenly thrown around his shoulders as she let out a string of giggles, reminiscing about the playful banter they exchanged when they were teenagers. Zuko’s serious façade melted away into a smile, and he was quick to snake his arms around her waist, missing the comfort that her embrace brought him after being robbed of it for six years.

“Kailani.” Aang spoke, thus, breaking apart the hug that seemed to last long enough for Katara and Suki to smirk, Sokka to raise an eyebrow, and Toph to snort violently. Aang—however wise and old (though not physically)— remained painfully oblivious, for his eyes were looking over and passed Kailani’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

Kailani turned around to trace Aang’s line of vision, only to meet Aang’s eyes once again—except these were made of metal; metal that matched the rest of the statue of Avatar Aang that was constructed by Toph (courtesy of Kailani’s idea) on a lone island of Yue Bay. It was a pale blue green color, and Aang stood with a staff beside his elevated bent knee.

The airbender girl pulled her arm away from Zuko’s warm—and admittedly intoxicating— touch, and leaned her head on Aang’s shoulder as they stood looking at his statue.

“That’s Aang Memorial Island.” Kailani said with soft grin, and laced her fingers through Aang’s. “Happy eighteenth birthday, little brother.”

Chapter 2 ->

[essays-for-breakfast]

Memento

Melizabeth Week Day 3: Precious

As usual during the early evening hours, the Boar Hat was bustling with customers. Meliodas had prepared rounds upon rounds of fine ale from all the outlandish places he had stocked in his wine cellar – out of the absence of a basement located on the third floor –, and none of the packed tables showed signs of slowing down. Most of his clientele belonged to the Holy Knights, easy to identify by the straight way they held themselves even while drinking and the occasional pieces of armor catching the light.

Meliodas rolled his eyes and polished the mug in his hands with more vehemence. His experience had taught him that there were only two types of customers every tavern owner wanted to fill his house with: people with money and people with unhappy marriages.

And if the pathetic salary paired with the grueling workhours Meliodas had endured when he had been a Holy Knight of Liones were any indicator, his current set of customers fit into neither category.

At least the atmosphere was cheerful enough to motivate multiple rounds of booze, which Meliodas gladly filled into another set of mugs placed on the wooden tray Diane was all too eager to shove in his face.

“Another round coming right up,” she yelled, earning herself cheers from the table in the far-off corner, before she disappeared within the crowd on light feet.

Meliodas was lucky to have her today; his assistance waiter only showed up to work on rare occasions these days. No wonder with all these political troubles on her mind about clan fusions, border regulations, and peace treaties. He could call himself lucky to have avoided that particular set of hassles. Life as a tavern-owner sure had its downsides – customers with a drinking habit, or as Meliodas liked to call it ‘drowning habit’, similar to Ban’s loved to grind his nerves –, but at least he had no expectations to trouble himself with.

Well, apart from the expectations of hungry customers of course.

“Hey, where’s my meat-pie special?” one of the loudmouths from the front table asked while shaking his mug with enough élan to spill half its content on the table. Shame about the liquor; the burgundy drink looked suspiciously similar to one of Meliodas’ most expensive offers on the menu. But if that compelled him to order a second serving faster, Meliodas would be the last one to complain.

“I’ll check in with the cook,” Meliodas said to appease the troublemaker. If Ban was slacking in his agency as prized top chef again, he would give him hell on earth. Or he could demand the keys to his booze storage room back – that should do the trick too.

But before Meliodas had a chance to knock down the kitchen door with a commanding stare and the words ‘Captain’s orders’ on his lips, that same door swung open as Meliodas’ favorite person in the world emerged from the kitchen.

“No need, good sir, I have your order right here,” Elizabeth said.

Not even the dim light of the Boar Hat’s oil lamps screwed to the ceiling could take away from her beauty as she slipped into the tavern room, a plate stacked with meat-pie balancing in her hands. Her long silver hair flowed behind her, charmed by the new waiter outfit Meliodas had presented her a few days ago with a sly grin. The scandalously short skirt and ribbon-top enhanced her perfect curves, and Meliodas patted himself on the back for coming up with the design. Elizabeth almost floated into the room on her white slippers, and presented a beam to the customers that made Meliodas forget everything at once, including the urge to scold Ban. All he saw was her as she moved with the grace of a Goddess…

… and stumbled over her own feet.

His brain kicked back into action, and in a fit of chivalry Meliodas jumped forward to prevent her fall. He was a man of opportunities, however, and when he caught her, not only did he save Elizabeth from a bruised knee, he was also treated to a first-class look – and more crucial, touch – of her upper body’s unique and soft qualities.

Elizabeth shrieked in a return to old habits, and Meliodas could imagine the priceless redness creeping into her cheeks, but because his face was still tucked into her bust, he missed out on the sight. Not that he would have traded this place for anything in the world.

The rattle of costly china invaded their privacy, and Meliodas steeped back to examine the damage with an unflinching poker face. Elizabeth, still with a blush on her face, stared at him with wide, blue eyes as large as plates. Speaking of plates, Elizabeth’s hands, frozen in the forward motion they had entered when she had lost her balance, were empty; the meat-pie along with its porcelain company had shattered on the floor to cover the stonework with white shards more pricy than Meliodas could afford after a week of double-hours. Out of all the pieces of crockery he owned, it had to be this one.

Elizabeth shocked gaze skipped between Meliodas and the broken plate, the first tears swimming in her eyes.

“Not again!” Ban complained from the kitchen. “I can’t prepare each meal twice just because it keeps raining plates. I want to submit vacation!”

“Shut up, Ban,” King said, followed by a low thud that sounded like Ban’s head had made the acquaintance of the ceramic workbench.

“I’m so sorry, Meliodas,” Elizabeth said teary-eyed. “I know this was your favorite plate. Even after you’ve made me co-owner of the tavern, I’m still no use when it comes to lending you a hand. If there’s a way to make it up to you, I’ll –”

“Sssh, if you keep talking like that, you’ll soon start to believe this nonsense.” Meliodas petted her head, and a glimmer of happiness returned to her eyes. “It took me five years to turn into a somewhat decent tavern owner, and even then, I maybe failed to offer my customers a decent meal once or twice. As I’m sure Hawk will be eager to inform ya. Yo, scraps disposal, there’s work for you.”

The named swine emerged from behind the counter and sniffed at the leftovers on the floor. “Even your best food can’t compare to what Ban cooks on his worst day. The smell alone… and the soft flavors that explode in your mouth with an aftertaste only the gods could have created…”

“Well, help ya’self.”

“Oh, I will,” Hawk said with a cloudy expression; he had already fallen victim to the intoxicating aroma of Ban’s food and used his hooves to shove the remains of the plate aside to dig into the meal that was no doubt too good to be wasted on him.

All these servings of Ban’s cooking had made him choosy, and if Meliodas didn’t threaten him with starvation, he wouldn’t do as much as look at the scraps Meliodas and Elizabeth handed him when Ban was out and busy enjoying his own life. Why did he continue to pay these morons? Well, technically their salary consisted of nothing but a pat on the back, but Ban and the pig enjoyed the luxury of unlimited access to Meliodas’ booze and groceries – and they both knew how to make the most of this privilege.

Elizabeth had dropped to her knees beside Hawk and collected the white shards with her bare hands and more bitterness than Meliodas could bear to see on her face. She treated each piece covered with artistic lines depicting birds and deer and landscapes almost like a lost child.

He bent down next to her and took her hands with soft firmness. “You’ll cut yourself.”

Elizabeth’s hands were shaking when she let go of the shards, but despite the emotional struggle she worked herself through, she had regained enough control to climb to her feet with his assistance. All these curious gazes from the overcrowded tables only added to her unease, and the meat-pie guy made a particularly sour face as he watched his order disappear into the greedy maw of the pig. Elizabeth needed a bit of air to calm herself, and Meliodas would be happy to escape the noise, so why not delegate some tasks to his underlings?

“Yo, Gowther, take over the counter for a bit, wont’cha?” Meliodas said and scooped Elizabeth with the same ease he would have a baby bird.

Gowther left the corner he had occupied with the stiffness that befell him whenever a captivating book found its way into his hands and saluted. “Roger, Captain!” He picked the mug Meliodas had polished to perfection, and rubbed the dirty cloth from the counter over its surface in an attempt to copy Meliodas. Maybe he hadn’t been the best fit for the job, but Meliodas had other things on his mind besides Gowther’s inability to look like a bar tender with any sort of competence.

With Elizabeth in his arms, Meliodas rushed out of the door and trod over dry patches of grass until the sounds of conversation and laughter from inside the Boar Hat had faded to background stereo. Sometime after he had ordered Diane to lighten the oil lamps in the tavern room, the sun must have disappeared; apart from the stars and the beams of orange seeping through the Boar Hat’s lattice window, the landscape was covered in shadows.

Meliodas placed Elizabeth on her feet and reached out to cup her face. “Feeling better?” Her small but honest nod encouraged him to continue. “You shouldn’t get so worked up about this tavern business, we set this up because we both enjoyed the idea, remember? And who cares if that chattering knight in training doesn’t get his meat-pie? I’ll be the last one to complain.”

“Sometimes I feel so useless next to you,” Elizabeth admitted quietly. “In other lives I was a warrior or a knight or a sailor. But the longest time in this life, I’ve spent as nothing but a spoiled princess. Even running a tavern with you is more than I can manage.”

Meliodas studied her with a knot in his throat he couldn’t swallow. “Elizabeth…”

“But,” she interrupted, “no matter how often I fall and how often I let you down, I won’t give up. That’s what you did for me. I want to at least repay you a little, and with more practice, I will do better, I promise.”

“There’s nothing you’d have to repay me for,” Meliodas said with a smile that turned wicked when an idea crossed his mind. “Of course, if you’d ask your crazy wealthy relatives to fund our business every once in a while, I won’t decline.”

Elizabeth laughed that adorable laugh he was so addicted to before her gaze was caught by Liones’ capital glistering in the distance with tiny lights from a thousand windows. The palaces’ outline, a bulk of stone towering above the city, stood out against the hill ranges in the distance. For a moment, the reflections of her old home shone in her eyes, and Meliodas soaked in this beautiful expression like a man dying of thirst.

She surprised him with the question she asked next. “What about the plate was so dear to you?”

“You’re still thinking about that stupid piece of china?”

“No… I mean, of course I am still sorry for breaking it, and if I knew how to mend it, I would in a heartbeat, but what I want to understand is what the plate matters to you. I would like to be able to see the value in those objects that surround you the same way as you do.”

After three thousand years, she still surprised him with how much she cared about the little, unimportant details others would fail to even notice.

Meliodas crossed his arms behind his head and let his eyes trail over the landscape without seeing any of its shapes. “I got this plate from an old woman in Byron, a few years after I opened the first version of the Boar Hat together with a Hawk. There were all these people on the street, trading their tableware, laughing, and shoving around in these idiotic traditional dances. I stopped by the town by pure chance on that day, but Hawk forced me to spent all my hard-earned savings on new plates, so I went to the stall of this woman with the intention to get this trip over with as fast as I could. But even for someone who doesn’t care one bit about how the dishes under the food look, the craft she had put into these things was a sight for sore eyes. And while I was studying this one plate, she told me that she’d give me that one for free. She wouldn’t accept a single coin. I asked her why she would do that for a stranger, and you know what she said?

“She said it was the birthday of the third princess of Liones, a day to celebrate and show kindness to those who aren’t offered sympathy on other days. That one was the only plate I brought with me that day. Hawk was furious, of course. But that plate and the gesture behind it always reminded me of you, Elizabeth, and of your kindness. That’s why it was my favorite.”

When he craned his neck to peek at Elizabeth, Meliodas was met with a warmth that could melt glaciers and a sorrow that could bring tears to the eyes of stone-cold warriors. “Now I regret that I broke that plate even more. It sounds like it was a very precious piece of remembrance to you.”

“Forget that plate,” Meliodas said and stepped closed to take her hand. “What’s precious to me are all these little moments with you – especially when you stumble over your own feet and I’m there to catch you.”

They leaned closer until they lost themselves in the touch of the other. And if Meliodas had been given the choice by some higher entity, he would have traded that plate – that had by miracle survived all the times his tavern had been shredded by accursed strokes of fate to remind him of the kindness he had been granted – for this moment every single time.

[nicole-lynne]

I’ve Been Looking for Trouble

Hello all! This is my entry for @dreamwritesimagines writer’s block writing challenge. I hope you all like it. Please like, comment, reblog, and follow to your hearts content! 

Pairing: 1940s Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “You know I’m trouble, right?”

You stared up at the ceiling as the morning light filtered through your curtains, the sounds of your mother and sister, Nadine, moving around the kitchen were being drowned out by the comforting noises of Brooklyn. 

You knew it would be polite for you to go out and help them but your soft blankets and pillow seemed like the better option. With the knowledge that your mother would be knocking on your door soon, you snuggled deeper into your quilt and tried to cling onto the dream you’d been having about an overseas adventure. 

In the dream, you had been traveling all over the world as a totally different person. It was a dream that reflected everything you wanted your real life to be but everything it wasn’t. Instead, your family wanted you to live like a perfect little girl who never made a sound or any trouble. To be exactly like your faultless sister. It just was never something you were very good at.  

There was a delicate knock on the door and your sister’s head popped in the door. Of course, her hair was already pinned up with no strand out of place and her makeup was flawless. 

“It’s time to get up, Kitty.” 

You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly before throwing the quilt over your face. You hated when she called you that. It had originally started as ‘kiddie’ when you were little because you were her kid sister and it had slowly morphed into kitty over the years. 

“Don’t be a brat, I’m not gonna wait around for you all morning. I have errands I need to run and mom said you need to go with me.” Nadine scowled at the lump you had formed. “And please, for heaven’s sake, make yourself presentable today. I couldn’t bear it if I saw someone I knew and you embarrassed me.” 

“I’m getting up, jeez.” You kicked the covers off you. “You’re such a snob, Na. No one cares what I look like when I’m standing next to you.” 

“Everyone cares about what you look like. I’m tired of having to treat you like a child.”

“Well why don’t you stop then? I’m twenty years old and I don’t need a little priss like you bossing me around.” 

Nadine stomped across the floor to your wardrobe and flung the door open. “Maybe you should start thanking me for helping you live up to your full potential. For trying to keep you from causing trouble like certain other girls.” 

You huffed out in annoyance and stared down at your feet. You knew she was talking about your friend Maria. Maria was constantly going out with guys, smoking cigarettes, and had skipped more school than you could even begin to count over the years. Your family hated that you were friends and Nadine was always quick to speak down to her. 

Nadine hurled a red floral dress at your head and started to leave. “Wear the nude heels. I’m leaving in thirty minutes, so you better be ready.” She said tersely and slammed the bedroom door. 

You clenched your fists with defeat, the dress wrinkling in your hands. You looked down at the wrinkles smuggly. At least something was on your side. 

~~~

Two hours later you were trailing behind Nadine like a sad puppy through the market, and somehow you had been delegated the task to hold all the bags. 

“Nadine, are we almost done?” You gripped. 

“No, now hush. I still want to stroll through Batterman and I don’t want to hear any complaining. It’s unbecoming of a woman your age.” 

You grumbled quietly behind the mound of packages but followed her anyways to the department store. You could hear kids playing baseball around the corner and you were itching to go join in, but you knew Nadine would simply scoff at the idea. 

You watched your sister head toward the doors and you hesitated. Nadine glimpsed back at you and faltered when she saw you weren’t following. 

“Kitty, what are you doing? Let’s get a move on.” She snapped her fingers at her side. 

“Nads, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’m going to stay out here and get some fresh air.” You squished your face trying to look queasy. 

Nadine looked at you reluctantly, “are you sure? You didn’t seem to feel bad a minute ago.” 

“It just hit me. I think I was just in that tiny market for too long.” 

“Well... Do you want me to wait with you?” Nadine face showed more annoyance than concern. 

“No, no, no, I’ll be fine by myself. You just go in and I’ll be right here waiting for you.” You faked a pathetic smile and waved her on. 

The moment the door closed, you dropped the bags onto the ground and shook out your arms trying to gain some feeling back. You slumped against the side of the building, appreciating the moment you got to people watch. 

The sun was high in the sky and kissing your skin like it was greeting you. There were women hanging out the windows doing laundry and men puttering around their trucks while children were running up and down the streets. The scent of bread was wafting out from the bakery and your mouth watered with desire. 

A giant crash broke your train of thought and you whipped around in the direction it came from. Guys were yelling and there were a few more crashes before you heard footsteps coming straight for you.

You took a step back just as a guy flew around the corner. You gasped, startled, as he slammed his back against the wall and tried to catch his breath. You could help but note how handsome he looked in a form-fitting uniform. He still hadn’t noticed you but you were looking at him with amusement. 

Finally he turned and his eyes landed on you and you quivered slightly at the sight of the most clear blue eyes you’d ever seen. He licked his bottom lip and started to smirk at you when the sound of more footsteps interrupted his thoughts and your gaze flickered to the corner of the building.

In one stride, the man was in front of you and you squeaked in surprise.

“Kiss me.” He said with a sense of urgency.

“Wh-what?” You stammered like a ninny. 

“I said kiss me. Quick.” 

You didn’t let yourself hesitate before nodding in response. The man wrapped his arms around your waist and tipped you backwards in one swift motion. You squealed as you gripped his biceps tight, praying that he wouldn’t drop you. 

Instantly, his lips pressed against yours and your breath hitched at the goosebumps raising along your skin. He tasted of peppermint and it rested on your lips deliciously. You let your eyes drop as his arms tightened around you to hold you closer, completely ignoring the footsteps that were getting closer and then fading into the distance. 

Before you could truly fall deeper into the kiss, it was over and he was setting you back upright. Shaking your head, you had to force yourself not to pout. 

“Wow... that was...wow.” he breathed out, the smell of peppermint filling your nose again. 

“Yeah it was pretty wow...” You bit your bottom lip bashfully.

His pupils dilated at the sight of you biting your lip and heat washed over your body. You were praying to every god in the world that Nadine did not walk out and see this. You wanted to keep this moment to yourself. This moment of being pressed against a handsome man in a soldier’s uniform after a perfect kiss.  

Sooner than you would like, he had dropped his hands off you to give you a little space. 

“Where are my manners, I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.” His eyes were sparkling as he watched you. 

“Bucky...” You let the name sit on your tongue, loving the way it felt. His heart sped up at the thought of his name coming off your lips again. “My name is Y/N.” 

You smiled up at him delighted, “so are you gonna tell me what that was all about, Bucky?” 

His jaw gaped open like he suddenly remembered the commotion that had caused this all in the first place, “oh right, well my friend Steve had a little run in with a couple a’ meatballs and I had to show em what’s what. But they felt the need to return the favor...and now here we are. I’m sure lucky that a beautiful bird like yourself was here to help me out.” 

“That’s awfully brave of you to stick up for your friend.” You batted your eyelashes softly, “and you’re very kind for the sweet words.” 

“What can I say, ma’am, it’s all in the name of duty.” He teased back with a flirty smirk. 

“Well where are you headed to now?” 

“I probably ought to try and find Steve. He booked it in another direction and I better make sure he isn’t getting thrown in the trash or something.” He laughed at the thought and you automatically smiled. That was a laugh you wanted to hear again and again. 

You shifted your weight back and forth trying to decide if you should ask what you wanted or be the good little girl that Nadine was expecting you to be. But the thought made you shudder and you thought, ‘screw it’. 

“Can I come with you?” Bucky’s eyebrow shot into the air and he looked at you impressed. 

“You do know I’m trouble, right?” He asked cheekily. 

You opened your mouth to respond when a group of guys down the street started yelling at you two. They were big and all wore furious expressions on their face. Beside you, Bucky gulped loudly. 

Deciding not to let the moment pass you by, you slipped your hand in his and started dragging him down the street, leaving your bags abandoned. 

“Bucky, I think you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for!” You squealed excitedly and he squeezed your hand sweetly. You couldn’t help but start laughing as you both raced down the street hand-in-hand, hopefully toward your next adventure.

[spicedrobot]

Mizu Shōbai

Fandom: Ovewatch Pairing: Zenyatta/Genji (Reverse AU) Warnings: costume play, spanking, dirty talk, light angst Notes: I’ve been sitting on this for almost a year, and I’m not sure if there’s anyone who’s still into the Reverse AU, but finally here’s my contribution. 

-

Genji hasn’t felt like this in years. 

He works late to stave it off, schedules more meetings, performs tasks he could easily delegate, anything to keep his mind racing. A decade ago, it was to stop the twitch, the chill of a dead man’s eyes on his nape. (Genji still has the ribbon, carefully folded in his nightstand, immaculate if not for the flecks of crimson. He doesn’t know if the blood is his or Hanzo’s.)

But the situation is better than it was then. The dead man isn’t so dead (even if he is confined to a shell of carbon fiber), and Genji has outlets. Ryū ichimonji bright with enemy blood. Warm, smooth hands bruising each hip, claws raising angry lines along his skin. A soft, demanding voice reducing him to a mindless, swearing mess. Genji scales his balcony at night, sometimes greeted by dark windows and a locked door, other times by an angry, loathsome omnic that would rather use him than kiss him, and hell, if that wasn’t what Genji wanted more often than not.

But Zenyatta can’t be his biggest distraction. He’s not always there: meetings, press conferences, deals on the other side of the globe. Family too, perhaps. His brother. Zenyatta talks of him little, but each mention reverberates like a bell.

Mondatta. The omnics. Zenyatta’s ambitions, threats, promises.

A worried sort of uneasiness settles as the days pass, leaving Genji sleepless. Strange habits rear their heads. Ones he never meant to outgrow, but just hadn’t needed anymore.

Pastimes that keep calls to a certain omnic from going to voicemail more than once. 

Zenyatta wouldn't be gone forever. Genji tries not to count the hours.

-

The club is Shimada-owned. Tasteful, compared to the establishments Genji used to frequent as a younger man. The hosts are...flamboyantly dressed, but not all. He chooses an old favorite: Fumi-chan, with long, dark curls and darker eyes. That'd always been his favorite feature of hers; a sharp gaze that said you couldn't hide anything. Not from her. The years had done little to wear out that spark.

"I hope they've given you a raise, Fumi-chan. You're too good for this place."

"This is an establishment you own, isn't it, Genji-san?" She gently intones as they enter the VIP section, quiet and intimately lit. He feels a twinge of nostalgia despite himself. He is not one to dwell on the past. "Don’t worry. I make more than I know what to do with."

"I sincerely doubt that. I remember your tastes."

She smiles then, one part demure and three parts wicked.

"Your patronage is very much appreciated."

Fumi-chan leads him into a room, spacious and secluded and just for them. He had loved this, once upon a time. It had been hard to trust anyone, even the ones he paid, but Fumi-chan's loyalty had never wavered. She lets her hands slip from his, gently urging him onto one of the leather couches at the room’s center. The soft, fuschia lights overlay everything, another plane of existence. A pretty, neon spectacle. He turns his eyes back to her.

"Would you care for a drink?" she asks.

"Please."

-

Fumi-chan’s eyes, long-lashed and devious, narrow as she asks him. They’d already polished off a bottle of gold label shochu, the smooth sweetness lingering on his tongue, soothing the bounce in his leg and the tapping of his fingers against the table.

They spend another half a bottle wiggling him into their largest uniform, still too small, though it does grant the illusion of a nice rack. It's mimicry of Fumi-chan’s outfit: bunny ears with one drooping, a black bodice with a sweetheart neckline, fabric cut high where hips meet stomach. The stockings itch, but Genji doesn’t want to half-ass it once he’s wearing the rest of the uniform. It’s fun in the way that alcohol can make most things, and Fumi-chan has a knack for conversation that requires little participation. 

Nothing like drinking with a beautiful girl that pours heavy and speaks pleasant ambience.

“So this is what an oyabun does in his spare time.” 

A startlingly familiar voice rings over the quiet rumble of distant, rhythmic bass.

Genji fights the urge to lick his lips; it would be a shame to smear the pink gloss that Fumi-chan had so meticulously applied. He leans a bit too heavily into the plush sofa as Fumi-chan, nestled at his side, stares at the intruder with pursed lips. 

“Zenyatta,” Genji says, grinning, a traitorous blush creeping along the bridge of his nose. “So you are following me.”  

Genji doesn’t spare a thought to how the omnic got past security detail. (Golden tongue or golden claws.) Instead, he takes him in like a painting.

Zenyatta cleans up well. Not that he ever looked anything less than perfect, not unless it’s well into the night, robes askew and chassis steaming as he puts Genji in his place. His suit is sharp, jet black, with a thin, gold tie that matches his chrome.

“You missed our meeting,” Zenyatta replies, array carefully posed on Genji’s face. “Perhaps you were too preoccupied to notice.”

The omnic’s stiller than usual, and Genji sits up a little straighter, freezing when his array tilts towards Fumi-chan.

“Miss,” Zenyatta’s voice is even and soft. Genji shivers. “Would you please excuse us?”

Genji knows better than to argue. Fumi-chan leaves with a single glance over her shoulder. Way too clever, that one.

The door closes without a sound.

“A meeting, huh?” Genji murmurs, plucking the half-drunk sake bottle from the table in front of him, taking a quick sip. “I don’t remember—”

Zenyatta’s array flickers, a timeless instant that turns Genji’s nervousness into a smug twist of his lips. 

“Oh, Zen.” His grin widens. “Jealousy does not become you.”

“Jealousy?” Zenyatta says the word like a novelty. “What would become of my reputation if I could not keep my sparrow caged?” The omnic tilts his head, array flaring. “You would do well to mind your tongue.”

The ice of Zenyatta’s retort tears into his body with unexpected bite. How many times had that same tone dropped Genji to his knees? They stare at each other, one unreadable, or so he thinks, and one open like a book, a secret lingering between its pages. 

Then, Zenyatta sinks onto the couch opposite him in a single, fluid motion.

“If you wished to play hostess, you need only ask, Genji-chan.”

Jarring, as if the room suddenly tilted a few degrees, Genji’s heartbeat picks up, the grin loose and stupid on his face.

“Heh. Sure.” 

He smooths his hair into place, brushed silken by Fumi-chan an hour earlier. Barefoot (there hadn’t been shoes that would fit) he kneels to survey the low shelf of alcohol beneath the table.

“So, Tekhartha-sama.” The honorific rolls easily off his tongue. They had played like this before, and the memory heats Genji deliciously. “Would you care for a drink?”

“The Junmai Daiginjo.” 

“Excellent choice.” He withdraws a navy bottle with a gold neck and a delicate mizuhiki knot. 

Zenyatta leans his faceplate into his palm as Genji pours, his array bright teal in the blacks and purples of the room. Genji feels each pinpoint on his body as he sets a glass in front of Zenyatta and takes his place next to him. Rather than comforting coolness, the space between radiates like stoked coals. 

“Describe its taste.”

Genji huffs, leaning to retrieve the glass, his uniform taut and clinging. He makes a show of it, and why not? Zenyatta’s buttons are difficult to press, but Genji knows the sequence. Rather than demurely slip, he tips his head back, neck long and exposed, bisected by a lace black choker that bobs as he swallows.

“Sweet, faintly rich. A wave of sakura on the wind. Honied like melted sugar.” Genji feels the ghosts of Zenyatta’s hands on his body, bruising, possessive fingers.

Zenyatta tsks. “I have no taste for sweetness.”

The way Zenyatta says it thrills him.

“Liar,” Genji singsongs, finishing off the eight thousand yen glass in a single go. 

It’s the drink; it’s Zenyatta hot against his side. 

He moves with the ease of honed reflexes, but Zenyatta does not startle, does not move an inch. His metal is warm, the hidden slit of his mouth widening ever so slightly at the press of glossed lips.

“Well?” Genji whispers against his chrome.

“All I detect is that cheap wax on your lips.” The words rumble from Zenyatta’s synth. 

Genji smiles, leans back just enough to see the pink shine smeared over the omnic’s mouth.

“At least tell me I’m pretty.” 

Genji drapes his arms around Zenyatta’s shoulders, slipping into his lap like he belonged there. Hostesses didn’t do this. They didn’t kiss their customers or want them so badly they could hardly keep still.

Oh. The thought slams through Genji’s mind, debilitating, dizzying. I have it bad.

“You are beautiful.” 

A hand settles low on Genji’s back, warm enough to startle. Then it slides up his spine, sinks into his hair, tugging just enough to set Genji’s teeth on edge, a groan shaken from his chest.

“Especially in your suffering.” He pulls harder, until Genji’s back is a bow arched at his mercy. “How soon you forget your place. Infuriating, how much you enjoy being put back in it.” 

“Y-you love it,” Genji wheezes, chest heaving, cock desperately trying to tent the impossibly tight fabric clinging to it.

Zenyatta doesn’t say a word, but the gentle hiss of steam kisses Genji’s throat, his skin shivering into gooseflesh. 

“What did you expect, coming here? Did you think I would be balls deep in pussy?” 

The omnic tightens his grip, yanks his hair, throws him to the floor. Ice and charm demanding penance, his life balanced beneath the slender curve of Zenyatta’s sole. 

At least, that’s what Genji expected. 

Zenyatta stills, lifeless as a mannequin. As if he had powered down without warning. Only his array burns and his systems thrum, companions to Genji’s confusion. In every past conversation, flirtatious and cruel, locked against one another, standing adjacent at a cocktail party, bathed in pre-dawn glow, as fragile as the single star in the light polluted sky, this is where Genji had misstepped, in this strange, offhand joke. Seconds from stumbling through an apology, a swear flies from Genji’s lips instead.

Thin arms twist around his back, tug him against the hot metal of Zenyatta’s chest, cheek pressed into the pistons at his throat. He doesn’t breathe. The omnic doesn’t move. 

But he doesn’t let go.

Slowly, he weaves his arms behind Zenyatta, settling his hands as gently as a question along the plates of his shoulders, intricate, familiar. How many times had Genji grasped them, held on like he would be lost? He relaxes into the embrace, seconds spinning into minutes. Maybe longer. (Who could say?)

“Zen.” The warmth of his words fogs the metal of Zenyatta’s pistons. “Don’t worry.” He grins. “Your pussy’s the best.”

The room shifts, pain blossoming, properly this time, along his scalp. 

“I think,” the crisp snap of a frozen branch rendered perfectly in synth. “That is quite enough of that.”

A claw scrapes beneath his choker and yanks, toppling Genji over his lap, a scramble until Zenyatta has him just where he wants him, Genji’s face smashed into the cushions and his hips squarely over metal thighs.

“Okyaku-sama, not here. Mama-san will be angry with me,” Genji wheezes in a half-baked falsetto. 

The first swing forces an embarrassing squeak from his lungs, his cock throbbing, dampening his uniform. The thin fabric does not protect him from the singing metal of Zenyatta’s hand; half his ass hangs out of the damned outfit anyway.

Zenyatta always leaves such pretty marks, each a sense memory burned into his flesh, like a tattoo, like scars, dangerously earned, a trophy for just the two of them. If only he could mark Zenyatta in the same way, scratch his chassis, dent that elegant face for his next televised speech—

The flurry of blows steals his breath, his thoughts a chaotic blur beneath Zenyatta’s hand. He writhes, the friction burning and stinging, but he needs it, some release, to be freed, to fall beneath the unwavering glare of an omnic array. His array.

“You are cruel,” Zenyatta bites.

Genji laughs, breathless and wild, before a deluge of whimpers and swears and painful, moaned pleas replaces it. His hands fist uselessly in the cushions next to to his face, itching to tug his arms behind his back, hold position like Zenyatta had commanded time and time before.

Cruel? Genji supposes he is, even when he’s the one helpless, trying to rub one off against segmented thighs as he’s spanked raw and stupid.

The pain abates, the slaps ceasing for a harried shifting. He feels Zenyatta unbutton his pants, shove his hand down, withdraw. The omnic tugs Genji’s uniform aside, the bunched fabric squeezing tender, inflamed flesh. His vision blurs, pain and pleasure popping and bursting, overshadowing and fading into each other. A frictionless slide, Zenyatta’s fingers, coated with his own blood-warm slick, smear between his Genji’s cheeks. The omnic spends no time teasing, a mean finger tracing around Genji’s opening once before pressing deep to the second knuckle.

“Please, more—”

“Don’t. Speak,” Zenyatta hisses. 

Genji buries his face into the cushions, angling his hips up, back, begging for the brutal touch, and a second finger presses inside much too soon, painful.

“Please, need it. Need you, Zen—”

The fingers curl, slowly, barely catching against that addicting spot that weakens his vision. Genji’s worst distraction, the touch, and the man touching him, laid bare, the only one who knows—

“You listen when it pleases you and disobey at whim. Perhaps I need to adjust your punishments.”

Genji scrambles when Zenyatta withdraws his fingers, does everything in his power to follow the motions of his hands. He reaches for Zenyatta’s cock, delighting in the harsh jut of it through his slacks.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” Zenyatta orders, and Genji complies. 

So close, Zenyatta’s array momentarily blinds him as he plants his knees and arches, pressing them chest to chest. His cock throbs, nipples tight and sensitive against the stiff bodice, wanting more than anything to rub against Zenyatta, find his pleasure while his array burns a permanent afterimage in his mind. Seeing each of his imperfections, the secret knicks next to his lip and along the secret port just above, every time he closes his eyes—

Zenyatta cups his ass, spreading him open, and Genji groans, the smarting marks flattened and bright hot in his grip. The blunt press of cock brushes where Genji’s worked open and aching, and he tries to bare down, but Zenyatta holds him steady.

“You want me to fuck you hard. Hurt you?” He tilts his array. “I will not.”

There isn’t time for confusion as Zenyatta lowers Genji onto his cock. He bites his lips, spreads his thighs, waiting for the breath-stealing thrust that never comes. Instead, he sinks like quicksand, inch by inch, slow, way too slow, slower than Zenyatta’s ever taken him. Even when he edged Genji to tears, there was always a cruel speed to it, no nonsense like a one-two punch that kept him unbalanced and helpless, willing to give Zenyatta everything.

Zenyatta’s cock doesn’t feel like a human’s. The shape is right, but it has a strange give, the pre teal and copious, slicking up his insides. Even with what little preprepation Zenyatta granted, the first press turns liquid smooth in moments, a soothing, agonizing salve. Genji wants to feel it for days, even when Zenyatta isn’t there, to remember it when he sits, when he’s schmoozing elites, the omnic’s claim aching inside his body. He twists and strains, swearing under his breath.

“Zen, c’mon—fuck me, please.” The words are shameless, his balls drawn tight against his body.

Zenyatta tips his chin up a degree or two, never looking away from Genji’s face, his hands vice-like and unforgiving as they lower him. Another moment of agony and the backs of his thighs meet Zenyatta’s. A rumbling groan, eyelashes fluttering, head tossed back.

“That’s it, yeah…” Genji pants, licking his lips, clenching around Zenyatta, falling forward to bite along his pistons, drag his tongue over the soft black column of his throat.

Zenyatta laughs, two gentle huffs. Then he lifts Genji as slowly as he lowered him, precise, calculated motions. It’s not nearly enough, like they’re young lovers, though they never had such a gentle beginning. Men like them never did.

No dirty words. No orders. Zenyatta breathes and steams, groaning quietly every time he fills him completely.

Genji’s heart hammers in his throat. He keeps his face tucked where Zenyatta cannot see, painfully aware of each slow, even thrust, the sound of Zenyatta’s body, the waxing pain leaving only this soft, swelling pleasure. Genji’s leaking inside the uniform, afraid to even look at how badly he’s ruined it. Zenyatta starts to roll his hips, fluid pumps that meet Genji’s descent, harsh gasping replacing any silly, teasing jabs Genji can’t even formulate. Zenyatta, delicate-looking and light, easily overpowers him, had on so many occasions, but in his arms now, holding him upright, rocking Genji onto his cock with perfectly timed thrusts, Genji trembles. Trembles in the wake of each quiet, wet smack only for the cycle to repeat, waves reverberating, hypnotic. Flushed as if his whole body had been lashed, sweat beading, gleaming along scars and skin.

“Zen—”

He bites Zenyatta’ pistons, whines into the damp, shining metal, lower body liquid and bright hot. His gasps are quiet, hesitant things, weak but unstoppable. 

“Are you close?” The words are strangely devoid of normal sharpness, shockingly breathless. 

“Y-yeah. I…” Genji stumbles. His fingers shake as they come to rest on Zenyatta’s back.

There’s a tremble in Zenyatta’s frame, small at first, barely noticeable, lost as Genji is on the teetering, dangerous point of pleasure, motions singing in his blood but not enough to push him over. A single hand on his cock, a snap of Zenyatta’s hips. Something...anything...

“Please,” he whispers into the side of Zenyatta’s jaw.

A hitch. A quiet, synthetic gasp. He hikes Genji’s hips higher, takes all his weight, pumps into him with just a little force. Genji swears, deep and low; he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that it quickens Zenyatta moreso, a searing brightness ricocheting through his body, whiting out his vision. Endless, he writhes under its thrall. 

Softness at his back. Wet, sticky warmth at his front. His mind cobbling together the pieces. The teal of an array, lights flickering, closing the distance. He kisses Zenyatta, tasting pink, waxy gloss, warmed by the metal.

Another broken gasp, Zenyatta moving, still buried between his thighs.

“The costume really does it for you, huh.” 

After a moment, they both laugh, Zenyatta resting his array to Genji’s sweaty forehead.

“I will not be done until I steal that wit from you.”

“Better get to it, then,” Genji murmurs, wrapping his calves around Zenyatta’s lower back, urging him forward, deeper.

More, more. 

More.

-

Genji’s naked by the time they are finished, marked, aching and exhausted, splayed shamelessly on the ruined couch.

Zenyatta, only slightly less worse for wear, sits on the floor in front of him, the back of his head resting on the cushions.

Sated, it's easier to ignore the being that occupies most of his waking thoughts.

"Hey, Zenyatta."

The omnic rolls his shoulders incrementally, his array glowing and softening to an unheard melody.

“Take me with you, next time you leave.” Genji stares at the ceiling. "I think I need a vacation."

The omnic's quiet for a moment. Genji hangs onto every second.

"I believe you are correct." Zenyatta tilts his head enough to see Genji's face. "Where should we go?"

"Numbani. Rialto. Anywhere."

"A tempting thought. I have wanted to show you off. However," he hums. "You have business here."

“I can just leave Hanzo in charge while I'm gone." Genji’s voice is light, teasing.

“Maybe you should.”

Genji sits up, wincing from settling aches and pains. He wouldn't mind a smoke. Maybe he could steal one off McCree when that idiot isn't looking.

“And why would I do that?”

“He is loyal, keen on not bringing shame upon the family a second time." Zenyatta turns fully towards him. "I could have you at my beck and call always. My human pet.” He smiles without a face to show for it. "Give it some thought. I would certainly make it your while."

An answer to his restlessness, packaged with a bow. Genji remembers Hanzo's stilted words, modulated from his respirator, tight and formal and annoying as he'd ever been. Pathetic. Genuine.

"You'd say anything to keep me under your heel," he scoffs finally, more seriously than he means.

"You are blind not to take the olive branch he offers."

Genji works his jaw in the lingering silence. He watches Zenyatta in the gloom, suit mussed, array dim, and sighs. 

“Take me home?”

-

He dozes on the way back, tucked into Zenyatta’s side, lulled by the omnic’s promise.

Zenyatta standing along a sandy shore, backlit by the setting sun. Zenyatta sitting across from him at a private, three-star restaurant, describing each bite of food. Scaling a mountain to see endless3.

022 snowy peaks that remind Zenyatta of home. They could rent an entire hotel, watch five hundred movies, drink all the booze and ruin every bed.

Genji buries his cheek into his warm, firm shoulder, listening to the hum of Zenyatta’s body. 

It’s the most rested he’s felt in weeks.