#SUDDENLY i have OPENING SHIFTS when i have only ever opened ONCE & have been regularly closing since LAST OCTOBER.

[two-bats]

confronting my manager & making a union call tomorrow, hope I don't get fired 👍

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 13

Control

TW: Miscarriage and infertility is further discussed A/N: Here's The Prayer that is sung later

Matthew hadn’t realised how comfortable he had got with the hospital routine until Ethan announced his vitals were stable and he was officially being discharged to rest at home. Matthew was looking forward to his own bed and having a cuddle with Spooky, but with Rafael still in hospital and his friends still at work, the empty hours were suddenly very unappealing. It wouldn’t be the same without people checking in regularly, and without Rafael a few doors away.

He did his best, looking for distractions in the form of TV, books, art, and video games. He deep-cleaned the apartment three times in the week, only stopping when the cleaning products started irritating his hands, but the knot in his chest only ever loosened when his friends came home.

No matter what he did, nothing could stop the nightmares. Gigantic hazmat suits bearing down on him, but he couldn’t see the faces of the people inside them. An endless ocean of plastic smothered him, and Rafael’s lifeless body was always just out of reach. More than once, Sienna had overheard him thrashing around and had woken him up. She would keep him company for the night, but he would be too afraid to go back to sleep.

A memorial was to be held for Danny and Bobby on the 25th November. The families had held a private service each, but agreed to a joint memorial for the hospital staff who wanted to pay their respects. As someone who had been there at the time of death, Matthew had been asked to say a few words. He wasn’t sure why that made him qualified to speak; it had been made to sound like he had kept vigil by their bedside as they had peacefully slipped away. On the other hand, how could he say no?

A bright spot was when Rafael was fully discharged a few days before the memorial. He was indeed going to stay with his grandma first; his parents still worked full-time and he would need extra support whilst he was still weak.

The night before the memorial, Matthew was sat on the sofa sipping warm milk. Jackie was keeping him company.

“You’re going to see Raf tomorrow morning, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

Jackie took a sip from her mug and looked at him thoughtfully.

“Are you two back together or anything?”

“I…no.”

“But you want to be.”

“Well…yes. But…it’s hardly the right time to talk about it.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“But…his health…!”

“I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.” Jackie sighed and shifted in her spot on the couch. “But when exactly is the right time? You’ve both been discharged now, and if you keep pushing it back, you’re at risk of losing him again.”

Matthew gulped, gripping the handle of his mug.

“Would you judge me?” he asked. “If we did get back together?”

“No.” Jackie’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. “Not if he makes you happy.”

Jackie gave Matthew her car keys the next morning – she had bought a cheap old banger after Landry moved out last year – and he drove over to Raf’s neighbourhood. It was a quiet part of the city, with more green space. Apartment buildings gave way to small houses, and traffic thinned out.

He pulled up outside a small brick house with a shaded porch and a neat front yard. The familiar old-fashioned street lamps brought a small smile out of him as he climbed out of the car and started up the path, but he was barely halfway there before the door opened to reveal Juliana Aveiro.

“Matthew!”

She shot towards him like a dart, hitting him with a force that made him step back, as she wrapped him into a hug so enormous he wouldn’t have believed it came from such a small woman.

“Careful there, you’ll break me,” he chuckled, hugging her back. He’d only met her once, but she greeted him like her long-lost friend. It was very touching.

“Oh, you can take it!” Juliana beamed. She pulled his face down to kiss him on both cheeks and grabbed his hand to shepherd him into the house.

The smell hit him instantly: a decadent blend of chocolate, cinnamon, hazelnut, and something fruity. Juliana’s kitchen table was littered with brightly coloured candies and cakes that she had clearly put her heart and soul into making.

“I have food! I have drinks! I have everything you need! My home is yours!”

“Please, this is far too much—”

“Nonsense.” Juliana held his hand tightly in both of hers. “You saved my beautiful boy! Nothing is too much for you.”

“He saved me too, you know. We saved each other.”

Juliana was not deterred. “Then when he visits you, let your grandmother dote on him!”

Matthew chuckled – not wanting to tell her his grandparents had passed away years ago – when the door creaked open and they both looked over to see Rafael standing there. He leaned heavily on the door frame and the weight loss was still extremely noticeable around his face and baggy clothes, but he smiled brightly at the two of them.

“Vovó, please! You’re embarrassing me!”

“And what could you have to be embarrassed about?” Juliana laughed, calling his bluff. “A grandmother who loves you and knows how to treat her guests? Now please, eat!”

Matthew’s appetite still wasn’t quite back to normal, but he could hardly turn down Juliana, so he tried a cajuzinho. It was sweet, with a sublime peanut flavour, and melted in his mouth and he couldn’t resist a second one. Juliana smiled in satisfaction and said she would pack him a tin. As she busied herself, Matthew took the opportunity to speak to Rafael.

“How are you doing?” he asked, as they shared a quick hug.

“Well, it’s easier to walk every day and I can get up the stairs to my bedroom without wheezing so that’s something.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“And…things between you and Sora…?”

“Definitively over,” Rafael sighed. “But I think that’s for the best. My heart wasn’t in it the way it should have been. Maybe, in time, we can be friends again.”

“Makes sense,” Matthew nodded, trying not to let too much relief show on his face. “Are you coming to the memorial for Danny and Bobby this afternoon?”

“I can’t,” Rafael said, his face falling. “My doctors are still really concerned about my immune system and they want me to steer clear of large crowds.” He shook his head, real pain in his eyes. “Pathetic, isn’t it? I can’t even go to the memorial of the men I failed to save.”

“Stop it,” Matthew said, fiercely, putting his hands on Rafael’s shoulders. “They wouldn’t see it that way and you know it. You did everything you could. The only person to blame for this is Travis, and he’s dead.”

Rafael looked surprised at Matthew’s sudden speech, then his face softened.

“What would I do without you in my life, Matthew?”

“The same stuff, probably. But you wouldn’t have anyone to sass you about it.”

Raf smiled, and seemed to relax a little.

“So, listen…I know you have to get ready for the memorial but…if you have some time, I’d love some company on my walk.” He scratched the back of his neck again. “I’m attempting a whole block today…big stuff.”

He looked like he still had a few things on his mind, and Matthew suspected he didn’t want his grandma to hear a lot of it. Raf looked relieved when he said he would walk with him.

“Vovó! Matthew and I are going for a quick walk around the block.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Juliana asked, her eyes anxious behind her glasses. “Dr Mirani said you needed rest…”

“He also said I needed to build my strength up,” Rafael chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Besides, Matthew’s a doctor too, remember? He says it’s OK.”

Juliana glanced at Matthew, and nodded.

“OK, if Matthew says so. Just be safe!”

“It’s a promise.”

“Don’t worry, Juliana, I’ll make sure he gets home safely,” Matthew interjected, teasing Raf just a little.

“I know you will, darling.”

Juliana handed him a tin stuffed to bursting with sweets before kissing them both goodbye.

“She’s just put your life in my hands, hasn’t she?” Matthew smirked as they closed the front door and he put the tin of sweets in Jackie’s car.

“Wouldn’t trust it with anyone else.”

They began walking slowly down the street.

“So, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. Great, even!”

“That’s what you told me in front of your adorably worried grandma. I’m asking for real, just between you and me.”

“I…” Raf faltered and his face fell. “I don’t know. The truth is, I’m all over the place. Some moments I feel grateful but other times all I can think about is Danny and Bobby and how I couldn’t save them. I keep replaying it in my head. If I’d moved quicker, or seen the signs sooner…if I’d thought faster to throw myself on that goddamn cannister…”

“But then you’d be dead.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. No buts. Please, Raf, not on this.” It still scared Matthew to hear Rafael talking about his death. “You’re alive, and that’s important to me. It’s important to everyone.”

Raf was quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before he turned to Matthew.

“I had an appointment with a therapist the day before I was discharged. Um…my mom told you a bit about why I’m an only child?”

“She just said a big family wasn’t meant to be.”

“She had three miscarriages before me. I remember being about five or six and having to move in with my grandparents. I ended up living with them for quite a few months, and just visiting my parents every so often. When I was older they told me it was because they had tried again, but remained unsuccessful. It damaged her mental health and she needed professional support, but at the time they just told me she was really sick. I remember picking up on the fact they were sad and I wanted to them to be happy again, and I wanted to help them as much as I could back then. My therapist thinks I never really let go of that mindset. I was trying to be a good kid, then I grew up and continued wanting to help people, and then it just snowballed, you know? I was the guy who helped and saved everyone, I think it became…not a goal, but a measure of my value if that makes sense?”

“You mean if you weren’t taking crazy risks, you weren’t trying hard enough?”

“God, it sounds ridiculous but…yeah. If I was prepared to risk my life for a stranger, then I was where I was meant to be. But when I talked about it in therapy, I started thinking that Mom and Dad would have been appalled to hear that was my way of thinking. They never would have wanted me to feel like I had to sacrifice myself to ‘earn’ my place.”

“You’re not wrong,” Matthew said gently as they turned a corner. “Was there anything else that made you question your mindset?”

“…The look on my vovó’s face when I came home,” Raf said, quietly. “Her desperation and her fear…and the way she hugged me and just sobbed and sobbed.”

He quickly wiped his eye. Matthew reached out and squeezed his shoulder in quiet comfort as Raf took a minute to pull himself together.

“It got me thinking,” Rafael continued. “What if I really had died? How could I do that to her? To you? To Mom and Dad, after they struggled so much to have a child?”

“You did amazing things as a paramedic,” Matthew said, giving him one more squeeze before he let go. “But there’s so much more to you than taking big risks. You’re you. And you matter.”

The corner of Raf’s mouth tipped upward as they crossed the street. A pair of old men were sat on a nearby porch playing chess, and they called out ‘hello’ as Raf walked past.

“Raf?”

They turned to see Raf’s friend, Lucas, jogging over to them. Matthew had briefly met Lucas last year. He and Raf volunteered at the civic centre on a regular basis.

“Hi Lucas.”

“Good to see you, man. Back from the dead and better than ever!”

Matthew winced as Lucas hugged Raf tightly.

“I know you’ve got a long recovery, but come visit the civic centre when you’re ready? The old ladies are very worried about you.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to teach samba alone!”

“C’mon, you know what they’re like when the music heats up!” Lucas laughed, as he turned to Matthew. “How about you, Matthew? You doing OK?”

“Yeah, not bad,” Matthew smiled, pleasantly surprised that Lucas remembered his name.

They chatted with Lucas for a minute longer before moving on, with Lucas promising Rafael he’d take him out for a drink when he was up for it. Matthew didn’t miss the way people continued to smile and greet them when they saw Rafael.

“God, they really love you here, don’t they?”

“It’s a warm neighbourhood. We love each other.”

“You know what I mean. Look at how they look at you.”

It was heart-warming but Rafael seemed distracted.

“It can be a lot of pressure, actually.”

Matthew thought of how unsettled Raf had been since the summer, and how moving to Brazil was supposed to be a fresh start. He wondered if some of the uncertainness was still there, if Raf was still considering a move when the time was right. At the time, Matthew had swallowed his pain to support Raf but – selfishly – he didn’t want to do that anymore.

“I’m happy you’re staying,” he said, quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Matthew glanced at him, and then away. “I know I distanced myself when we broke up…but it didn’t change the fact I was really going to miss you. Boston wasn’t going to be the same without you around.”

As he said it, he wondered if it was too much, but Rafael smiled with a softness that reminded Matthew of how it had been before Sora had come into the picture.

“I was going to miss you too,” Raf said. “But the funny thing is, since moving in with Vovó, I’ve been increasingly glad that I didn’t move to Brazil. I’m sure I’ll go back to visit but I’d have missed my home too much.”

Matthew laughed and wrapped an arm around Raf’s shoulders. Raf squeezed him back in return as they walked into a small, empty park.

“It’s nice here,” Matthew noted, looking around. The path was lined with rows of coloured pansies and led to a small fountain. The trees were mostly bare, but orange leaves flooded the surrounding grass. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, sometimes, when I need to clear my head.” Rafael suddenly stopped and turned to Matthew. Desperation was written all over his face. “Matthew, what the hell do I do now? I think I know what I don’t want but without that…who am I?”

“Just take it one day at a time, Raf,” Matthew said, taking his hands. “You’ll figure it out when you’re meant to.”

Matthew wasn’t sure what made him do it. If you’d asked him, he would have said it was still too early. But Rafael looked so scared and all Matthew could think about was calming him down. He leaned forward and very gently pressed his lips against Rafael’s for a brief moment.

Rafael froze at his touch, staring at Matthew wide-eyed. But then, his eyes hardened, he pulled Matthew close to him and kissed him back, with a long, deep kiss that was as tender as it was desperate. Matthew melted into his touch, enveloped by his warmth, as his hand traced up Raf’s arm and he tangled his fingers in Raf’s thick hair. He kept his hand there until the kiss ended and Raf rested his forehead against Matthew’s. They were both breathing hard.

“Matthew…”

“Ssh…”

Matthew kissed him again, pouring out months of yearning and pining. Raf returned it eagerly as his hands ran up Matthew’s back and sides. Matthew sighed longingly as Raf’s arms came to rest around his waist.

“Matthew, listen…” Raf gasped, pulling away again. “I’m sorry for the way things went down. With Sora, with us…”

Matthew suddenly didn’t want to hear it. He had been dreading this day, but now the best thing in the world was happening to him, and he couldn’t ruin it with anything else. He gave Raf another quick kiss.

“We’ll talk about it later. I promise you, we’ll talk about it properly later. Right now…this is all I want.”

Raf cupped Matthew’s cheek in his hand, stroking his pale skin with his thumb.

“God, you’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Matthew’s cheeks warmed under Rafael’s palm, and then they were kissing again. They slowed down now, desperation giving way to softness as they both realised the moment wasn’t going to disappear. Matthew was good at focusing on work instead of personal problems, but now everything about him was focused on Rafael and nothing else. He wouldn’t have noticed if they had grown wings, lifted off the ground and ascended to the heavens.

And then his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket.

“Crap,” he muttered, digging it out and switching off the alarm.

“The memorial?” Rafael brushed his lips against Matthew’s forehead as he spoke, which made him shiver.

“Yeah. I have to get ready.” Matthew reluctantly stepped out of Rafael’s embrace. “C’mon, I can at least walk you back.”

It was a shorter route, completing the circuit back to Juliana’s house. They didn’t say much – just their hands brushing together as they walked – until they were stood at the edge of the front garden.

“I’d offer to invite you in,” Raf said. “But Vovó might not let you leave.”

Matthew didn’t say anything as he looked over at the house. He was suddenly very tempted to run inside and hide in Rafael’s arms all afternoon.

Perhaps Raf could tell what he was thinking. He pulled Matthew into a fierce hug.

“I’m here for you, I promise,” he said. “If you need to talk after the memorial…you can call me, whenever you need.”

“Thanks,” Matthew murmured, cherishing his touch and breathing in his scent. Then he gave him one more gentle kiss.

“Can we do this again soon?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely.”

Matthew climbed into the car and watched as Rafael made his way up the path and into the house. He had a small smile on his face as he started the engine, which made him jump as it roared to life. It seemed too loud, as if his ears had been blocked, muffling sound for months, and had now just cleared.

His smile didn’t last as he drove back towards the city. Skyscrapers loomed and the overhead clouds thickened and darkened, and he could no longer ignore what he was about to face.

He was surprised to find a small bouquet of flowers sat on the kitchen counter when he got home, with a card that read ‘Sorry for everything you went through – Best wishes, Farley’.

“Hi.” Jackie had just come out of her room. She wore a smart black dress and was clipping her hair back. “How’s Raf?”

“He’s OK…well, about as OK as he can be for now.”

Jackie looked him up and down, but said nothing else about it.

“The others decided to head out early, but we’re not running late yet. Do you want me to put the flowers in some water?”

“Yes please. Did he deliver those personally, or…?”

“Elijah found them at the door and brought them in. I never had Farley as a flowers person, to be honest.”

“Me neither.”

Matthew handed Jackie back her car keys and put his box of sweets in the fridge before going into his room – which was the tidiest it had ever been thanks to his obsessive cleaning. He had gone out with Bryce after he was discharged to buy a suit. He had found a black three-piece suit and, as he was trying it on, had spotted a black dress coat. The ensemble was perfect. As he looked in the mirror, he saw the respect that Danny and Bobby deserved for losing their lives in his place.

He and Jackie didn’t speak as they drove through town to the cemetery. Matthew distracted himself by fiddling with the radio. Jackie didn’t tell him off for it, which was a little unnerving.

“Holy crap,” she muttered, suddenly. The small car park was full. Cars lined the street. People were walking into the cemetery in droves. Matthew recognised a lot of hospital staff, but there were so many patients among them, and more family and friends than he’d thought possible. He bit his lip and squeezed Jackie’s shoulder.

Chairs had been assembled – not enough – in front of a podium, and a table that overflowed with flowers and held framed photos of Danny and Bobby. Bryce and Elijah were looking at it as Bryce talked about an event that happened earlier that year. A particularly paranoid patient had gone into a panic right before going into surgery and had refused any help or even anaesthesia. Eventually, Danny had gotten desperate.

“…So he grabbed the emergency paddles and just said ‘I don’t have a taser but these will do the job pretty well’. The patient finally let us operate after that,” Bryce chuckled. “Not the toughest emergency surgery I’ve ever done, but certainly the most eventful.”

“There are senior doctors here, Bryce. Maybe you shouldn’t be talking so loud…”

“They won’t be able to do anything. Danny felt he had to report it to Naveen afterwards. Naveen found it hilarious, and I think he bought Danny a drink that night.” There was a twinkle in Bryce’s eye but it faded as his face fell. “God, I can’t believe that was only a few months ago.”

“Me neither,” Matthew murmured. He looked over at Elijah to find him staring passively at the framed photos.

“Elijah? You OK?”

“Yeah.” Elijah blinked out of his absent-mindedness. “Just…been to too many of these.”

Matthew was about to ask what he meant when he felt a gentle touch at his wrist and glanced down to see Aurora, dressed in a black shirt and trousers. Her eyes were a little bloodshot and Matthew squeezed her.

“Thanks for saving my life,” he said gently, which always managed to draw a small smile out of her. “How are you doing?”

Aurora stopped smiling. “Not great. I just spent half an hour talking to friends and families of the men I couldn’t save.”

“Don’t say that,” Matthew said. “You did everything you could.”

“If I’d just thought to bring Tobias in earlier…”

“What-ifs will drive you crazy, Aurora. Trust me, I know.”

Aurora wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.

“So, listen, I’m trying to put together a pitch for merging our two hospitals and I was hoping you could help me with it? I could use back up when appealing to Tobias and Ethan.”

“Of course I’ll help. Maybe one night this week we can—”

But then the priest had taken his place at the podium and was calling for the crowd to take their seats. Elijah rolled himself up to the end of the second row, Matthew sat beside him, then Jackie sat beside Matthew. Bryce and Aurora were next to her.

“Thank you all for coming to today’s service to celebrate the lives of Daniel Cardinal and Robert Gunderson,” the priest said. “It warms my heart to see so many of you here. Their loss has devastated all of us. Both men lived their lives in the service of others, up until the end.”

Matthew’s throat tightened when he remembered Bobby walking straight into the patient room without hesitating. Risky situations were the nature of his job, and he did his job well. Danny lost his life just for running a regular health check on a patient. A patient who was only in the hospital because Matthew had coerced him into transferring, in the hope of getting some money. It seemed so trivial now, when all they had was two bodies in the ground. It could have been three, or even four bodies in the ground.

Matthew’s hands started to tremble and his eyes stung. At his side, Jackie was sniffling and tears were rolling down Elijah’s cheeks. Matthew took a deep breath and reached for both of their hands. They held on to him tightly as Elijah rubbed his forearm and Jackie leaned against him.

The priest went on to talk about how Danny was a sweet, caring little boy who had loved to play hospitals. He had been forever asking questions and constantly bandaging stuffed animals; some of the attendees chuckled at this. The dark-haired woman in front of Matthew bowed her head, and a younger woman beside her wrapped her arm around her shoulders. The grey sky above only got darker.

The priest moved on to Bobby, how he had served in the military until his late thirties, when he decided to move back home and focus on his family. Apparently hospital security had offered a good balance between the two. Matthew remembered how Jackie had snuck him into the hospital to visit Rafael last year and had almost bribed Bobby with coffee to let him in. Injustice burned in Matthew’s heart. Bobby was supposed to pass away peacefully of old age, after his children had grown up and children of their own. Matthew clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He saved lives every day at work, except here. And now all he could do was listen to a speech and toss a flower onto a grave.

“Dr Valentine?”

Matthew jumped. The priest was looking at him, along with what felt like everyone else.

“Would you like to say a few words?”

No. That was what Matthew had thought when Danny’s mother asked him if he would be able to speak; he was Danny’s friend and he had been there in his last moments, she had said. It would mean a lot. In the end, he didn’t have the heart to refuse. So he stood up in front of the crowd and prepared to speak about the deaths that might not have happened if it weren’t for him.

He thought of Rafael, safe at home, and how upset he had looked that medical advice prevented him from paying his respects. Matthew squared his shoulders and stood up, doing his best to hide his shaking as he made his way to the podium and took the speech from his pocket. Writing it had been hard…it was a group effort with all his friends. He glanced over at them before he began.

“We’ve heard so much today about the amazing people Danny and Bobby were. For me, and everyone else who worked with them, they made every day brighter. Bobby always had a smile on his face, and he found a nickname for every doctor in the hospital….and you all know it’s a big place.”

The crowd chuckled appreciatively, and Matthew smiled despite himself. Bobby never failed to say hi when he saw Matthew at work, and sometimes it made all the difference. His personal nickname for Matthew had been ‘Dr Lightbulb’ after Matthew had been casually chatting to him and had a sudden brainwave about a case. Too bad he hadn’t had a sooner brainwave about Senator Farrugia…

“Danny wasn’t just one of the best nurses I’ve had the privilege of working with. I counted him as a friend. I was new to Boston when we were all sitting out on Boston Common, sharing picnics and watching movies. He helped this new place, this new city, feel like home.” Danny’s kindness on his first day. After making a fool of himself in front of Dr Ramsey, a group of nurses, and a waiting room full of patients, Danny had shown him the way to the locker room, talking and laughing with him the whole time. Within minutes, Matthew had gone from complete humiliation to light-hearted optimism about working at Edenbrook. He sometimes wondered whether he’d have given up if it weren’t for Danny. He had to fight to keep his voice steady.

“What happened was…a tragedy. Every single day, Danny and Bobby gave back. They helped other people. It’s hard enough to lose them…but knowing that two good men  lost their lives to something as ugly as revenge…it’s just devastating.” He took a minute to pull himself together. Aurora was sobbing, Bryce’s arm was tight around her.

“The world is a darker place without them. I’ll miss their smiles, their jokes…but most of all, I’ll miss them. I’ll miss the people they were. And I want to thank them both…for everything.”

People were crying again at the end of the speech. Matthew stumbled back to his seat, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe properly. Jackie held on to him tightly as his shoulders heaved and he tried to calm down. The priest murmured his thanks.

Matthew wasn’t the only one to speak, and for the next few minutes, various people said their pieces. The head nurse went up and spoke very fondly of Danny. Bobby’s sister read out his favourite poem. And then a man and woman stood up and sang ‘The Prayer’, which was enough to fully reduce Jackie to tears. Finally, the congregation were given a pair of orchids each and directed to each grave to place it by the headstone. Matthew felt he should say something else as he placed the flowers, but words failed him. All he could think was I’m so sorry but even that seemed insignificant against the scope of what had happened.

The memorial moved into a wake, hosted in a nearby hall that Edenbrook’s administration had organised. A long table was set up alongside the bar, offering a selection of food. Tables and chairs were all set up, and the walls were adorned with pictures of his friends. Matthew looked around at Danny’s school pictures and Bobby’s wedding photos, until he saw one from last summer that made him have to turn away: a selfie by Bryce, featuring Matthew, Danny, Sienna and Elijah. That was when they used to meet up to watch movies on the Common. Matthew had been so happy but he hadn’t even realised how much at the time.

He looked around the room and spotted Sienna in her black dress, standing in the corner of the room and looking a bit wrung out and overwhelmed. He quickly made his way over to her.

“Are you OK? I looked for you at the service…”

“I stood at the back with Ethan. There were a lot of old people there, it didn’t feel right to take a seat.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Just so…”

Sienna bit her lip, then screwed up her face and suddenly thumped at her thighs.

“I’m just so freaking mad! That scummy senator…Travis…the whole freaking world!”

Matthew caught hold of Sienna’s fists and gently pulled her away from a nearby group who had looked over at her sudden outburst. Sienna didn’t fight him.

“The world is so scary, Matthew. Why do people have to make it worse by hurting each other?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew murmured. “The world hasn’t made much sense to me for a while.”

“I used to believe if you were good and kind, the world would be good in return…but that’s bullshit, isn’t it?” Sienna scowled as Matthew rubbed her back. “Danny and Bobby got murdered for doing their jobs…and then I had to pretend that the senator was a good guy…and Danny…”

“Sienna…”

“It was working,” she sobbed, tears falling steadily. “I…I thought we finally had it right, I was excited for what was to come…but now…it never will.”

Matthew pulled Sienna into a tight hug and didn’t let go as she sobbed into his coat. He stayed that way, shielding her from any onlookers. It was so unfair. Sienna had done nothing wrong. She didn’t deserve this pain, and she certainly didn’t deserve to suffer in her relationships for the rest of her lives. Yet again, Matthew wished he’d thought to get Danny out of the room.

Sienna calmed down enough to pull away from the hug, though she held on to Matthew’s hand.

“You saw Raf this morning, right?”

“Yes, he was so sad he couldn’t make it today—”

“Did you talk about your relationship? Now that you’re both out of hospital?”

“Sienna, I don’t know if now’s the right time—”

“Then when is the right time?” Sienna groaned. “What if something else happens? Or what if you keep thinking about it and never bring it up and it starts to breed resentment? You got a second chance! Don’t waste it!”

Matthew couldn’t speak, so just nodded dumbly. Sienna wiped her eyes.

“I need to go wash my face. But thanks for being here, Matthew.”

“Any time you need me, I promise.”

“Yeah…I don’t think we ever stop needing each other.”

Sienna made her way to the bathroom and Matthew was alone with his thoughts. Now that Sienna had mentioned it, it was getting harder not to imagine Rafael being included in the memorial: his pictures on the walls, and the size of the congregation being ten times as big to accommodate those who loved him. He looked around, desperate for something to focus on, someone who needed him…and then an idea took hold.

He found Aurora moving through the crowd and rushed to meet her, without pausing to think his idea through.

“We need to talk to Ethan about your plan. Mass Kenmore and Edenbrook need to merge.”

“Wait…now?” Aurora blinked. “We’re at a memorial service, besides I haven’t put a pitch together…”

“It doesn’t matter! Ethan just worked with Tobias to cure the incurable. The longer we wait, the more they start to forget that and move back to their stupid competition.”

He didn’t bother to wait for a response and marched toward Ethan, leaving Aurora no choice but to hurry along behind him. Ethan raised an eyebrow as he approached.

“We have an idea to save the hospital.”

“…Can’t it wait until we’re back at the hospital?”

“No!” Matthew snapped, all of his frustration bubbling over. “For months I’ve been busting my ass finding ways to save the hospital and you’ve blocked me at every turn. How about this time you actually try and meet me halfway?”

Ethan’s eyes widened as Matthew realised he had basically just told his direct supervisor to shut up, but when Aurora tried to apologise for him, Ethan just shook his head. He was giving Matthew a pass, this time.

“Tell me.”

Matthew looked at Aurora, who sighed before launching into a brief explanation of merging the two hospitals and sharing the research grant, splitting resources and minimising redundancies. It promised good press for both hospitals. Ethan stayed quiet, glancing between the two of them with a look that bordered on intensity. It put Matthew on edge.

“Help us pitch it,” Matthew said, after Aurora finished explaining. “We’re nobodies; the board won’t listen to us. But if you and Tobias can work it out…”

He trailed off when he realised Ethan was shaking his head again.

“Matthew, you know that if it worked, it wouldn’t be a cure-all. Minimising redundancy isn’t no redundancy. People will still lose their jobs in this scenario.”

“Then I’ll be the first person to volunteer for the lay-offs. If that’s what it takes to save Edenbrook, so be it.”

“You don’t need to throw yourself on to the fire for this,” Aurora said, shocked.

“I’ll do whatever needs doing,” Matthew said, before turning back to Ethan. “So will you talk to Tobias?”

Ethan spluttered. Matthew growled in frustration.

“Danny and Bobby just died. The least you can do is talk to a man you don’t like.”

Ethan’s face fell.

“I’m not saying no. Just…give me a little more time to look into it, OK?”

“…Fine.”

Knowing he was arguing a lost cause, Matthew stalked away, feeling a lot of eyes on his back. His own eyes were on the floor as his face burned with humiliation. He shouldn’t have lost control at a memorial service, particularly not this one, but he was sick of everything being out of his hands. Especially with Ethan and his damn morals. This was the same Ethan who had broken dozens of hospital rules to secretly treat Naveen last year for god’s sake…

Matthew wanted to leave. Every time he looked at a picture of Danny or Bobby, he saw Rafael in their place, dying for him. He hated every fake smile and gentle conversation he had with someone else who was grieving: they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. The smell of food made him feel sick, but it seemed like every time he had a chance to escape, someone else wanted to chat to him and he couldn’t say no.

At long last, the crowd thinned out and people said their goodbyes. Jackie was at the bar and Matthew wondered how long she had been there for as Bryce wandered over to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry I haven’t been able to see you before now,” Bryce said, opening his arms for a big hug. It helped a little. “Though I thought you’d have gone by now.”

“I want to. Except I really want to see Raf. But Jackie can’t drive herself home.”

They both glanced back to the bar. Bryce nodded.

“Go see Raf. I’ll make sure Jackie gets home.”

“Thanks Bryce.”

Matthew slipped outside and called Raf first, then five minutes later he was running through the rain to the nearest T station. By the time he turned up at the house, thunder was rumbling and he was soaked through, to Juliana’s horror.

“Good god, Matthew, what were you thinking, walking around in the rain?! You must be freezing! Come inside before you get sick!”

She grabbed Matthew’s hand before he could say anything and practically dragged him through the house and up the stairs to the bathroom, calling to Rafael in Portuguese the whole time. Rafael met them on the landing, dressed in a long-sleeved grey t-shirt and red checked pyjama pants, looking mostly surprised at the scene.

Juliana pushed Matthew towards the bathroom, where she got the shower running, as Rafael brought out a spare pair of pyjamas for him, and taking his keys, phone and wallet in return. Juliana squeezed his hand and told him to take his time. They would be waiting in Rafael’s room.

As the water heated up, Matthew glanced around. The bathroom appliances were modern, all sleek chrome, but the wall tiles dated the room: pale yellow with a dainty pattern of purple and blue flowers. Thick, fluffy towels were folded on a wall rack next to the sink. Above the sink was a small shelf of bath lotions: all floral scented. Stepping into the shower, he saw the available shampoo was lavender. According to the label, it was supposed to be calming.

He finished up and dried off with a warm towel, rubbing it over his hair until it stood out in a damp cloud. His funeral clothes were left in the tub: Juliana had told him to leave them there to be washed, ignoring him when he said she didn’t have to. The pyjamas Rafael had left him consisted of blue pants with a star pattern, and Matthew suddenly smiled when he unfolded the t-shirt: Snoopy.

Juliana and Raf were sitting on his bed, talking quietly. They both smiled when he came in.

“Thanks for letting me use the shower.”

“Of course, darling.” Juliana stood up. “Would you two like some hot chocolate?”

They both said yes and she left to make it. Matthew sat on the edge of the bed, glancing shyly at Rafael.

“Were you OK this afternoon?” he asked.

“As well as I could be, I think,” Raf said. “I got upset, I couldn’t help it. But Mom and Dad had come over so we could be together. They went home just before you called. What about you? I’ve been worrying about you.”

“It was…It was really hard,” Matthew said, his throat tight. “My speech went OK, but…having to be there…when…” he swallowed, not looking at Raf, even when Raf moved to cover his hand with his own, and he wanted to say more but Juliana was coming back up the stairs and he couldn’t say it in front of her.

She came in to hand them both a mug of hot chocolate and said she would leave them to talk, before putting her hand on Matthew’s shoulder and telling him he was welcome to stay as long as he liked. Matthew thanked her, deeply relieved. He and Raf were quiet for a few minutes as they drank.

“Matthew…?” Raf said, gently. “What’s on your mind?”

Matthew paused, then placed his mug on the floor beside the bed. Raf did the same and watched as he twisted his hands in his lap. He scooted a little closer.

“It was my fault,” Matthew said suddenly in a rushed whisper. “I snuck into Mass Kenmore and talked the senator into transferring to Edenbrook. I thought it would generate money for the hospital, but two people are dead because I convinced this stupid senator and his crazy aide to come to Edenbrook.” He took a deep breath and carried on. “I hated having to talk about how brilliant and brave they were when I was the reason they’re dead, and everyone thanked me for speaking, I felt like such a fraud. And the whole time during the wake, I kept thinking about how it was very nearly your funeral as well. I don’t think I could have handled that,” he whispered. Tears welled in his eyes when he finally looked at Raf, who was wide-eyed.

“Matthew…”

Matthew looked away again as his hands trembled and his stomach knotted.

“None of this is your fault.”

“But if—”

“If you hadn’t told the Senator to come to Edenbrook, his aide would have attacked him regardless,” Raf said. “We were both there when he said he’d been hoping to get revenge for years. Farrugia has no one to blame but himself.” He took Matthew’s hands in his own. “There was nothing you could have done to stop this. In fact, you did everything you could. You tried to talk him down, but he was too far in his revenge obsession to see reason. Even when we were poisoned, you never stopped caring for everyone, even though you were a patient too. In my opinion you went above and beyond.” He stroked Matthew’s hands. “Don’t forget, I ran into the room when I shouldn’t have been there, and that was my own fault. Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

Matthew’s lip trembled. “I’ve really missed you!” he choked out, and then he was sobbing. Raf let go of his hands to hug him tightly, rubbing his back as Matthew cried everything out.

He clung to Raf as tightly as he could, pressing his cheek into Raf’s shoulder as his tears flowed without stopping. Now that he didn’t have to control his emotions for the sake of other funeral-goers, he couldn’t seem to stop crying. Every time he tried to calm down, he was shaken with another sob, and he was starting to feel light-headed, but then he heard Raf’s deep voice simply telling him to breathe. A simple instruction that never failed. As his sobs slowed down, his shaking subsided and his head finally felt clear again. He sat up slowly, and Raf let go of him but brushed away a tear as he did.

“I’ve missed you too,” Rafael said. “Since the summer I felt like something was missing but I didn’t know how to fill it until you came into my room and took my hand.” He took Matthew’s hand now, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. Matthew didn’t move, even though he wanted to.

“Raf…why did you choose Sora over me?” he asked quietly. “You said you wanted to see how things go with him…but as far as I knew, things were going really well with us and then you just…ended it.” He swallowed, trying not to cry again. “I just wanna know…otherwise it’ll play on my mind.”

Guilt crossed Raf’s face as he turned to face Matthew properly.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “But first, I want you to know that I didn’t cheat on you.”

“I believe you.” And he did. Rafael didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.

Rafael nodded as he sat back against the head board.

“OK. Umm…well, to start with, we agreed to break up because he was moving across the country for college, whereas I was staying in Boston; there was no bad blood, we were just moving in different directions. Then I started studying and got my paramedic license and started working for Edenbrook. By the time I met you, I had actually almost forgotten about him.”

Matthew nodded, taking it in. He wondered where this was going. Rafael scratched the back of his neck as he tried to explain.

“The thing is…Matthew, you’ve achieved so much in a short space of time and I’ve always been, and still am, so proud of you. I’ve always thought you’d have the world at your feet…but I’m not the same. I didn’t think I’d ever leave Boston.”

“Raf…”

“I’d never want to hold you back in your life or career. When Sora came back to town, he just asked if I wanted to catch up, and we did, and we got on really well. It made me think that…maybe I was better suited to someone like Sora. It seemed like fate was trying to tell me stay in my lane. And then after I broke up with you, word got round that Dr Ramsey was going to work in the Amazon for a while, and it just felt like a confirmation that I’d made the right choice…that is to say, the safe choice.”

Matthew looked at Rafael silently as he tried to wrap his head around what he’d just said. He’d never imagined that Raf thinking Matthew was too good for him was the cause. If anything, he’d thought the opposite.

“You thought…you weren’t good enough for me?” he said eventually, and Raf nodded, looking anguished. Matthew shook his head, dumbfounded.

“I…you…Jesus, Raf, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You’re a smart man but that was really idiotic!”

“I know,” Raf said, quickly blinking his own tears away. “I’m so sorry, Matthew. I fucked up.”

Matthew had never heard Raf swear before, and it caught him by surprise.

“I can’t disagree with that,” he said, softening a little. “Because you did. But Raf…I care about you so much. And if anything, I always thought that maybe you were too good for me.”

“What?” Raf blinked. “How could I be?”

“Exactly!”

They looked into each other’s eyes…and then started to laugh. They couldn’t stop for a few minutes. The air was clear and a certain freedom had settled between them.

“I’m really sorry I hurt you, Matthew,” Raf said, gently. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

Matthew shifted closer to Raf, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together.

“Listen. I appreciate and accept your apology, but I don’t need to hear anymore. I’m here because I want to be with you, and I want to give you a second chance. I forgive you. So don’t obsess over apologising, or feeling like you have a debt to settle, I can tell you mean what you say.”

A hardly-daring-to-believe-it smile was crossing Rafael’s face.

“So…you mean…?”

“Raf, I want to be your boyfriend!”

“I wanna be your boyfriend too!”

And then they were laughing again, hugging each other tightly, and everything felt right. Some of Matthew’s hurt finally melted away as Rafael rested his forehead against his and gazed at him tenderly.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and pressed his lips against Matthew’s, soft and slow. His hand traced Matthew’s cheek, as if memorising every detail of his skin. Perhaps he was reminding himself. He had memorised it before, thinking it was something he couldn’t have but would remember it in moments of sentimentality. Matthew kissed Rafael back, leaning into his touch. Rafael could have every inch of him and treasure every detail.

With nothing else they needed to say, they finished up their lukewarm chocolate, still holding hands and stealing glances at each other, smiling when their eyes met. When they were done, Raf placed their mugs on top of the dresser and sat back against the headboard, holding out an arm inviting Matthew to cuddle. He didn’t need telling his twice and instantly curled into in, resting his head on Raf’s shoulder. God, he’d missed him. It was so wonderful to just be able to hold him.

“Is everything else OK?” Raf asked. “You still look very tired.”

“Hmm…”

“Have you been having nightmares too?”

“Every night,” Matthew sighed. “Just…I don’t remember them exactly, but it’s always that I’m on my own and I can’t find you and I know that you’re in trouble but I can’t help.”

“Me too,” Raf admitted. “I remember this overwhelming feeling of helplessness…and that’s not really something I was used to feeling.”

“Do you talk to your grandma about it?”

“Not in depth. She knows I have nightmares but when it’s something she can’t help with…I don’t want her to be worrying about me any more than she already does.”

“I get that. Sienna helps me through it if it gets too much but…”

“She doesn’t fully get it?”

“No. She tries but…there’s something missing.”

He held on to Raf tightly, sharing his warmth, and listening to his strong, beating heart. Back in July he had listened to Rafael’s heartbeat during a dance he wasn’t sure they should share, thinking he could only have that small moment to pretend everything was OK.

“Raf? If the nightmares are too much, you can talk to me. I don’t even mind if you have to wake me up to do it, as long as I can help you.”

“Thank you, and the same goes for you. I’ll be here, whenever you need, I promise.”

Matthew traced his fingers along Raf’s arm.

“Will you cuddle me? It might help.”

Raf gave him that warm smile that he loved so much.

“Of course.”

He pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows a little before they snuggled down together. Juliana’s bed was softer than Matthew’s, with thicker pillows. Matthew practically sunk into them and wrapped his arms around Rafael, squeezing him tightly. He’d wanted to do this ever since Raf had woken up from his coma. Now that they were together, it seemed silly that he’d kept looking for reasons not to. They liked each other, they were together. Nothing else mattered.

Raf nudged Matthew gently.

“Turn on to your other side?”

Matthew did so, smiling when Raf cuddled up behind him, enveloping him in his arms and nuzzling his neck, kissing his cheek. His body felt different, but he didn’t care. The muscle would come back, but Rafael was irreplaceable. Matthew brought Raf’s hand to his lips and let his eyes slowly close. His mind drifted, and for the first time in weeks he slept without dreams.

Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

[helpimhyperfixating]

Merman Jotaro living in Y/N's house. He stays in either the tub or in the backyard pool, or in an inflatable kiddie pool in the living room where's he's mesmerized by the TV

Stay - Mer! Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 3589

Never in a million years did you expect your life to take a turn like this. You met and befriended a Merman a few months ago. He demanded that you return to him regularly - which you did. All in all, it was already crazy to think about. But then fall came and going to the beach was starting to get colder and colder. The merman - Jotaro - he didn’t seem fazed by the chill, you however, didn’t much like the cold water and breeze that accompanied visiting your local sea shark.

So, you explained that it was getting a bit cold for you to come this often and stay so long, saying you would come a little less but when spring and summer came around, you would gladly come every other day maybe even every day again.

Little did you know, a certain merman was not happy with that.

So here you now stood, in your garage, with a fucking massive Mer in the back of your pickup truck.

“Jotaro what the fuck!?” You nearly screamed when you saw him casually sitting in the back.

“Don’t be noisy.” Jotaro snarled back and you slapped his tail that was within your reach.

“I’ll be as noisy as I want! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Good grief, isn’t it obvious?” He questioned and you splayed your arms out in disbelief, clearly stating that- no it wasn’t!

This ticked him off a little cause, were you really that dumb? Could you not see Jotaro had been trying to court you for weeks? And then you had the gal to say you were going to leave him and then get mad when he followed?! The fucking nerve.

When you didn’t get an answer and only had a silent death stare directed at you (as if that was supposed to explain things) you sighed loudly.

“Okay. Guess this is a thing now. You’re looking dry, so we need to get you in some water, come on.” Walking over to the back of your pick up, you unhooked the latches and opened the back, allowing for a flat surface for Jotaro to slip off.

After getting off with a loud smack, Jotaro started tiger crawling into your house. Looking around curiously as to all the new things he was seeing. So this is where you lived whenever you went away from him?

“C’mon keep going, you have to get up the stairs.” You spoke from behind him and he looked back at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Stairs?”

“Yeah. That, right there.” You pointed at the staircase leading to your second floor that sat to the right. “I’ve got to get you into the bath, mister.”

“Bath? You said you had a pool.” Jotaro spoke in confusion but you sighed.

“Did you really figure out that you could- oh my god.” You dragged a hand over your face and muttered to yourself ‘smart fucking fish’ before clearing your throat. “Any other day, yes. Today? No. It’s the last good and sunny day today so people are outside. It’s been forecasted to rain and get colder soon so people are outside en masse to enjoy the last bit of sun and I don’t want them to see you.”

“Of course.” Jotaro grumbled, a faint annoyed growl leaving him as he rested his chin on his arms. He simply sat like that for a few seconds, looking around before he remarked, “Your floor is dirty.”

At that you made an offended noise. “Excuse me, I clean my floors very well, thank you very much. I just didn’t expect a giant fucking merman to act as a duster and health inspection in one today.”

At that he huffed out a chuckle that made you crack a bit as well before you twice lightly slapped his tail, to both get his attention and urge him to go. “You’re really looking dry, let’s get you up those stairs.”

Easier said than done.

Jotaro was about a third of the way up the stairs now, but crawling up when you have a massive and heavy tail behind yourself that you cannot use to help yourself, is quite difficult.

Each move of his arm was met with an annoyed or angry grumble about having to do this. Why couldn’t your neighbours just be indoors then? Why did he have to do all bloody this? (Not once did the thought of going back to the sea cross his mind though.) as he was yet again lifting his arm to place it on the next step higher, his eyes suddenly widened in shock when he felt two hands be put on his tail. With a light pink blush on his face he looked backwards, seeing you with closed eyes and straining to lift his tail to try and help him.

“Jesus, why is this so heavy.” You spoke out through grunts, still barely managing to lift it.

“It’s twice your size, why do you think?” Jotaro answered with his usual gruff tone, but the redness of his cheeks flared out all the way to his ears when you wrapped your arms around it, pressing your chest to the back of it as you tried to lift it once more. “I-I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.” Jotaro cleared his throat before turning his head forward again to get the image of you holding his tail out of his head.

Once he found himself calmed down enough, he continued his slow trek upwards.

- - - -

It took a bit, but Jotaro was in your tub. And by god did he not fit. Even with folding his tail, half of it was still hanging out.

“I- we’ll work on it.” You sighed before leaning over him, turning the knob that regulated heat all the way down to about 18°C to 19°C since you did a quick search as to what the ocean temperature was like during this time of year.

With that set, you turned on the tap. The water splashed onto his tail and Jotaro jolted for a second, curiously looking down at how the water flowed out afterwards.

Going to quickly grab a large measuring cup from the sink in your kitchen downstairs, you returned to your bathroom to sit beside the tub and briefly held it under the running water until it was filled, turning and pouring it further down his tail. A small, barely noticeable sigh of relief left Jotaro when you did that and you smiled a bit to yourself before starting to repeat the motion.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” You spoke between pouring cups, also pouring it over the part of his tail that was hanging out. You had put a towel on the floor by the crack of the door, already accepting that this entire room was gonna be flooded, so you had no qualms with doing it.

“I see it differently.” Was his cryptic response and you deadpanned.

“Of course you do.”

The tub was now filled for two thirds and just to get back at him a little, you filled your cup once more, before abruptly turning and pouring it straight over his head.

Jotaro didn’t flinch but he did turn his eyes to you, sending you a look, to which you giggled. Bringing your arm back under the tap, you filled the measuring bucket again, a sly grin on your face as you moved it back to his face.

Jotaro was faster though, as he grabbed onto your wrist before you could angle it over his head. “Y/N, don’t.” He warned, sending you a stern look. Your surprised ‘o’ face turned into a smirk however, as you simply tilted your wrist forward and splashed the water directly in his face.

An evil giggle left you but it was stifled when Jotaro used his free hand to grab the cup from you and throw it across the room, using his grip on your wrist not a second later to pull you towards himself.

Your balance tipped over the bathtub but you managed to catch yourself with your free hand, slinging your arm around Jotaro’s shoulder to stop yourself while the arm stuck in his grip now touched the tiles of the wall.

He had attempted to pull you into the bathtub but you managed to catch yourself as your upper body now hovered over it.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Jotaro never intended to pull you into the bath. Releasing your wrist, Jotaro instead placed his hand on the side of your neck and jaw, putting his other on your side to pull you closer towards himself and lock you in place. All of this happened in less than a second and a surprised squeak left you.

Jotaro found the sound absolutely adorable and when his teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, you did it again, just much louder this time, making the merman chuckle.

“I warned you.” You heard the smugness in his voice, making you take a shuddering breath.

“O-Okay, I get it. Can you let go now?” You were starting to get very flustered, feeling Jotaro’s breath against your neck as well as an occasional brush of his lips on your skin.

Your question earned you another nip however, this time a little closer to your shoulder, Jotaro having pulled your shirt away a bit to expose it. “Not what I want to hear.”

“You want to hear something?!” You exclaimed, making Jotaro let out a ‘mhm.’ Him shifting his face, almost as if he was looking for another place to playfully bite at you. “I- I-“ You started rambling out things but Jotaro was no longer focused on that.

It was like you put a spell on him. Jotaro had never before felt the urge to court someone before. And then you stepped into his life, being so kind yet always ready with a witty retort whenever he shot you one. And now, he had you so close, almost pressed into his chest, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

Without pause, Jotaro opened his mouth and locked his jaw onto the spot where your neck met your shoulder, a little further down.

Oh how he wanted to claim you. He wouldn’t! But the thought of how he simply had to just clamp down and bite a little harder, marking you as his, was way too tempting to not at least tease. Just get a small taste. The tips of his teeth ever so slightly punctured through your skin and Jotaro closed his eyes in bliss.

All the while, you froze and swallowed, because, that was not just a little nip from his front few teeth, this was a lot of them. A slight pain flared up where he bit and you squeezed his shoulder that you were leaning onto. “Jotaro?” You meekly let out and he then started making a noise that he- was that purring? You didn’t even know he could.

You didn’t dare move nor speak a word, not knowing what was going on and just listening to the calming sound coming from him for the next minute.

Finally Jotaro figured that was enough, lifting his teeth away and silently admiring the very light and small mark he made. It wouldn’t scar or stay, but Jotaro already loved the look of it. He leaned his head down and ran his tongue over it, tasting the faintest bit of your blood as he licked it away, treating your wound with utmost care.

This you allowed, a bit more relaxed by the familiar behaviour, for he had done this as well when you had cut yourself on some broken glass someone had left half buried in the sand.

Finally he let go and you quickly shot up, standing straight as an arrow next to the bathtub.

Jotaro was being forward. He knew that. Maybe even a bit too much so. But he felt he could risk it. Now that he was literally in your house, he didn’t have to worry about his forwardness scaring you away. You literally couldn’t run and avoid him. If you hadn’t picked up on his signs up until now, he had to make them more obvious; marking where the mating mark would come being one of the most obvious things he could think of.

“That’s for not listening to me.” He remarked and you opened and closed your mouth like a guppy, staring wide eyed at your tiled wall before shaking your head and snapping out of your state, slapping your hand onto your shoulder, briefly forgetting he had just licked you there and scrunching up your nose a bit cause- ew.

Lifting your hand back off you wiped it on your pants before walking to the cup Jotaro had thrown on the floor, picking it up and walking back over, nearly slipping as you did. This made Jotaro flinch to try and catch you but you already steadied yourself, meaning all that accomplished was throwing more water on the floor, the reason you nearly slipped.

After returning to his side, you continued trying to completely wet him; neither of you really saying anything, just staying in a comfortable silence.

After another ten minutes however, you figured that was good enough.

“Alright!” Slapping the edge of the tub, you smiled at the Mer. “I think that’s good enough. In about three hours the sun will go down, then we can get you from here to the pool.”

With that you stood up, but before anything else, your wrist was grabbed. “Where are you going?”

“I have to do some things.” You smiled, only for the hand around your wrist to tighten.

Jotaro held a somewhat sad and somewhat angry look on his face as he held on. “Stay?”

“Jotaro, I’ve got to do stuff.” You shook your head but Jotaro didn’t like that.

“Stay.” He growled it this time, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“No, I have to go do things. You stay here fish boy, I’ll come check on you after I’m done.” With that, you went to turn away, trying to pull your wrist from his hold as you moved to take a step.

Yet you yelped loudly as you were suddenly tugged sideways, falling towards your bath before a pair of arms caught you. You were spun around and pulled down, the sensation of cold water flooding over and enveloping your lower half making your breath hitch.

The water sloshed dangerously, threatening to spill over the edge of the tub as Jotaro settled down, tightly holding you against himself and basically on his lap, his arms like chains around your middle and barely even giving you enough room to breathe, definitely not leaving you any room to squirm.

“Stay.” Jotaro’s voice was low, a faint, deep, rumbling growl from the back of his throat accompanying his words as he spoke almost directly into your ear.

Almost immediately you starred, instinctively doing as he said as you sat still, your eyes staring wide in surprise. Your chest was going up and down fast with deep breaths. It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jotaro, he wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that. It was more that it made you realise how large and dangerous Jotaro actually could be if he so chose to be.

Taking in a deep breath to calm down, you tried to ignore the coming stress of not being able to complete that task for work today (it was fine, you could do it tomorrow, right?), as well as trying to not make your teeth clack thanks to sitting in the cold water. Cause while Jotaro was made for it, you definitely weren’t.

Seeing as you weren’t trying to squirm out of his hold, Jotaro happily started purring, his chest pressed directly into your back while he placed his chin on your shoulder. Shifting his tail, he turned the end around until it was splayed out over your lap in front of you, allowing you to play with the fins.

You gently grabbed hold, starting to stroke over them and Jotaro revelled in your soft touch. You guessed this was gonna be your life for the next three hours. Freezing your butt off in water while in the hold of a grumpy Merman who would not let go.

- - - -

“Jotaro, please don’t splash!” You called out from the kitchen.

“I’m not!” Was the response you got, making you look over at your living room. There, past your dining table, in front of the couch, sat the ginormous Mer ...in a kids pool.

You had bought it about two days ago after Jotaro kept complaining that you weren’t coming outside to see him. He loved to ignore the fact that it was bloody cold and raining so hard that you only had to stand outside for a second to be drenched. So, to solve this and not have Jotaro forced to sit in the bathroom on his own, you bought a kiddie pool. One of the bigger ones you could find yet was still able to fit there where your coffee table once stood.

Right now, you were just making something to snack on while Jotaro sat and ‘patiently’ waited for you. He had discovered the television yesterday and was absolutely enamoured. Just now coaxing and urging you to turn it on again. You had agreed and were thus now getting some snacks ready to eat and drink during the marathon.

Marathon of what? No clue.

Walking over to the couch area, you placed the different snacks down on the pushed aside coffee table, walking back to the kitchen to grab the drinks as well before returning.

“Here, drink something first.” You offered the glass in your hand to Jotaro and he scrunched up his nose, as if a kid who has just been asked to take his vitamins. “You haven’t been in the bathtub in a bit and you know chlorine can’t be the best thirst clencher.” You sighed. “So unless you plan to faceplant in the kiddie pool, drink up, Jojo.” You used the nickname he had asked you to call him on purpose, knowing he loved it when you did that.

And it proved true, for he took the tall glass from your hand and threw it back as if it was a shot without any more complaint.

Happy that he did it, you quickly refilled the glass before placing it down on the table by his side, stepping over the furniture with a bit of a wobble (you had to put the table in the walkway or else the pool wouldn’t fit) and walking to the front of your tv.

“So, what do you want to watch?” You asked as you sat crouched down.

A wet hand suddenly got placed on your lower back and right thigh, Jotaro having pulled himself up to you as he was now curiously looking over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jotaro asked, lifting his hand from your thigh as he pointed to a certain dvd case sitting at the bottom of the pile in your hand.

“This? It’s a Barbie film. I have it for when my niece comes over.” You raised a brow and turned your head to look back at Jotaro. His eyes were transfixed on the box and you couldn’t help but silently giggle at his cute look. For him, it was the colours. The vibrant pink and silver sparkles just drew his attention and curiosity, having not a clue about anything else. “You wanna watch it?” You asked but didn’t get a clear answer.

And so, you just decided for the both of you. “Fuck it, let’s watch it.” You chuckled, putting all the other DVD’s away and taking the Barbie disc out of its case and into the player.

Standing up, Jotaro finally took his hand off your lower back - where now sat a wet spot - and slinked back to the other side of the pool, patiently waiting for you and for the movie to start.

Snorting softly, you shook your head as you grabbed the remote and walked around the pool, climbing onto the couch and to the middle of it, taking your fluffy socks off as you sat behind Jotaro in your short summer pyjamas, choosing the language of the Barbie film like they always asked before putting your feet in the pool.

A happy rumble left Jotaro as you did that, your legs running under his arms and at his side, the Mer now grabbing your ankles as he made you lock your legs around his torso, leaning back into the bottom of the couch as if it was a backrest. His elbows pointed down, he held onto your legs around his torso, making you keep them there as he petted and lightly scratched them. A content rumbling sigh leaving him as you pressed play on the movie.

You just looked at the back of his head for a bit, feeling his hands glide over your legs. It was a strange, the direction your life decided to take you on, sure. But you had to admit that you did not mind per se.

Leaning forward, you patted the top of Jotaro’s head twice, making him start a bit and look at you wide eyed while you leaned over and grabbed your bowl of snacks, leaning back into the couch cushions afterwards, ready for the movie.

In the end, Jotaro didn’t like it. Barbie was annoying. But the colours were pretty!

[cherienymphe]

Lies Untold (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, jealous!Sherlock 

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics​ }

summary: Sherlock Holmes is the love of your life, and convinced that you will never get your happily ever after with him, you make a decision that does more harm than good

~

Your morning started like every other. You were briefly woken up by the feel of your husband’s lips on your face, his smooth voice greeting you before moving onto your daughter in her crib. You drifted back to sleep just as he shut the door, making his way downstairs to open up the inn for the day. When you woke up for the final time, it felt like hours later, but in reality, it could have only been minutes.

You breastfed your daughter almost immediately after you woke up, the two of you somehow always waking up together. You went downstairs for breakfast as soon as she was fast asleep again, greeting your husband with a kiss as you met in the kitchen. The day went by slow, the last guest leaving the inn sometime in the early evening. It was late in the night, almost time for you to retire when the bell above the door rang.

A guest had arrived.

Your husband was on the third floor where you all resided, tending to your daughter no doubt while you manned the first floor. You were fooling with something behind the counter, head bent down as their heavy steps reached your ears.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” you told them.

They did not reply, but you knew they heard you. You rose, straightening your dress as you lifted your eyes to greet the only guest for the night. As soon as your eyes met a familiar blue, you froze, feeling as if you had been struck by lightning.

He looked the same as ever. Perhaps even more handsome now, and you cursed yourself for thinking such a thought when your husband was just upstairs. He looked just as stunned to see you, reaching up to adjust his dark suit as he cleared his throat. His hair was a bit longer since the last time you saw him, an errant curl hanging onto his forehead, and you suddenly realized that you had been holding your breath.

“Mr. Holmes,” you breathed, chest burning a bit from the lack of oxygen. “Just you?”

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a scoff, lips quirking upwards.

“Mr. Holmes?”

You swallowed, uncomfortably shifting on your feet. He stepped up to the counter, that teasing smile on his pink lips, one you did not return.

“A little formal for old friends, is it not?”

Your shoulders sagged as you released a small sigh.

“No, you…you are right. It’s just been a while since I’ve last seen you,” you told him. “I was caught off guard.”

It was the truth. Honestly, you had hoped to never see Sherlock again. Not if you could help it.

“So, you run an inn now…”

You briefly glanced at him as you searched for a key, nodding.

“I do.”

“I had not realized. The name…it was unfamiliar to me,” he said.

Your hand tightened around the key, and you avoided his eye, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“It’s my husband’s name,” you murmured.

You swore that you could hear his breath hitch, and it seemed to get unbelievably quiet. Against your better judgement, you looked to him, finding his blue eyes just a tad darker. His face always looked pinched, like he was constantly overthinking, but this was more than that. He looked positively floored. Were you the first person to have thrown the great Sherlock Holmes for a loop? Had circumstances been different, you would have felt proud.

Before either of you could say anything else, your husband’s footsteps on the stairs reached your ears. You turned to him with a strained smile just as he neared, and he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Mr. Holmes,” your husband greeted jovially. “What a pleasure! Will it be just you then?”

“Indeed,” the dark-haired man hummed, and although you were no longer looking at him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“The last guest checked out hours ago, so the whole inn will be nice and quiet for whatever work you need to do. That is, provided our daughter sleeps through the night,” he jested.

Your eyes widened, having had no intentions of mentioning that to your guest…ever. You did not dare look at him and overwhelmed with the emotions that seeing him brought on, you clutched your stomach, feigning sick as you stepped back.

“I’ve grown a bit weary. I think I will call it a night,” you told your husband.

His face twisted with concern, and you felt a tad guilty, but your uneasiness from Sherlock’s hard stare was more pressing. Your husband, the sweetheart that he was, placed a hand on your back as he ushered you towards the stairs.

“Of course, dear. You only had the baby months ago, you should not be up on your feet so much, anyway,” he quietly told you, sending you off with a kiss on the cheek.

You slowly took the stairs, hearing him continue his conversation with the man you had hoped to never see again. Your legs shook with every step, and the more you blinked, the faster the tears collected in your eyes. Despite the fact that your husband had yet to cease his rambling, you could still feel Sherlock’s gaze on your back as hot as it always was. As it always had been.

Relief did not find you even all the way up on the third floor. You pressed your back to the door as soon as you made it to your bedroom, and you swallowed hard, fighting to hold in a scream. You had forced yourself to make peace with the everything, with your own decisions. You never thought that you would be able to, but you did, and right when you seemed to be okay, the man who had caused it all slithered back into your life, his presence mocking you.

A soft gurgle from the crib reached your ears, and you pushed yourself away from the door, reminding yourself that it was not just you anymore. Her face was twisted in discomfort, features only smoothing out when you took her into your arms. The mattress creaked under your weight as you sat down, making yourself comfortable with your back to the headboard. Your knees were bent, your daughter resting against your legs as you both stared at one another. Her tiny hand wrapped around your finger, and your heart clenched as you stared into her eyes, a familiar shade of blue staring back at you.

You avoided leaving your room as much as you could. Your husband was the one who mostly dealt with the inn anyway, but you had enjoyed greeting and interacting with the guests. Until recently. Oddly enough, Sherlock was your only guest for the next two days, and you wondered if you were cursed. There were no other guests to tend to, no other guests to distract you, and you could not feign ill forever. You regularly interacted with the guests, and your husband would start to find your behavior odd.

You had genuinely thought you’d never see the famous detective again. You had fought to marry someone as far away from your hometown as you possibly could, determined to distance yourself as much as you could from the place you had both grown up in. Not only to avoid ever seeing him again, but also because it was far too painful. How funny it was to think that if you had stayed, you probably would have achieved what you set out to do.

It was the third day since he had checked into the inn, and unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning, you opted for getting an early start on breakfast. Your husband and daughter were still fast asleep, and perhaps you could be done before your only guest arose. You had no idea what case he was in town for. You had made it a habit to avoid the papers, and perhaps that was why you had been blindsided by his sudden appearance.

You had only been in the kitchen for a matter of minutes when the subject of your thoughts joined you.

You paused in what you were doing, not expecting him while he, on the other hand, seemed to have been waiting up for you. He was dressed as nicely as always, and that pensive look that he always seemed to sport was replaced by a troubled one. You watched as his hand flexed, and you were reminded how they had felt on you once. Forcing those thoughts from your mind, you gathered yourself.

“Mr. Holmes,” you greeted. “Breakfast will be a while.”

You both knew that he had not come down for food, but you turned away from him anyway to continue your work. It was quiet for a while as he stood there, watching you work. He was making you nervous, like always, and it was only when you realized that you were making no progress did he finally speak.

“You are married now.”

You paused, swallowing with a heavy chest. It was not a question. Not even really a statement, but more like an accusation. With a heavy sigh, you turned your head, barely looking over your shoulder at him as you rested your hands on the table.

“Did you think I was going to wait for you forever?”

You were met with silence, and you shook your head.

“You knew how I felt about you,” you said, kneading the dough. “How I felt since we were mere children. A woman does not have the luxury of keeping her options open. Decisions had to be made.”

You heard him step closer, and you visibly winced, shoulders tensing up.

“Do you love him?”

You frowned, spinning around to face him, chest clenching as your insides twisted.

“What kind of question is that?”

“One you have yet to answer,” he murmured, taking another step towards you.

You scoffed.

“My husband is kind and selfless and he is positively crazy about me. I would be silly not to love him,” you replied.

The blue-eyed man before you threw you a crooked smile, but it lacked humor.

“You still did not answer the question.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked away.

“What does it matter to you?”

“He says the two of you have been married for a year. The last time I saw you was a little over a year ago... How quickly you-.”

“You do not get to do that, Sherlock Holmes,” you snapped, fighting to keep your voice low.

You cursed yourself for the way your voice cracked, and you frantically blinked away tears. You stumbled back when he took another step towards you, bumping into the table in the process.

“I did nothing but wait around for you for years while you ran off solving case after case and made a name for yourself. I never faulted you for that…just myself for being so incredibly stupid…”

Your eyes met his again, surprised to see anger in them because you could not remember a time the man had ever been angry. It was alright with you though. You were angry too.

“I never once hid my feelings for you…and it got to a point where I could no longer wait for you to do something about it. Something legitimate anyway,” you quietly added.

Having grown up with the man, it was hard not to fall for his intellect, his looks. He was always polite to you, and you always looked at him like he hung the moon. You were not the only one though. You knew that you were one of the many. Your feelings for him had never been a secret, and his lack of reciprocity led you to believe that your love for the man would always be unrequited just like all the other girls. Until it wasn’t.

You could never pinpoint when it had happened, but he had kissed you one day, and it seemed that he could never bring himself to stop kissing you. Until of course, he had to leave again, leaving you behind to wait for his return…whenever that would be. For years this spanned. Spending days, weeks at the most, with him, wrapped up in each other both figuratively and literally until his profession pulled him away from you again and again. It broke your heart every time, but you told yourself that it would not be for naught. You told yourself that he just needed time.

You constantly told yourself that until the day you were out of time.

“Does he know?”

Some of the hardness in his eyes had seeped away, giving way to a fire that you knew all too well. With the table at the back of your legs, you realized that you had nowhere to go as he neared you. The man was always so big, and while you had appreciated that once, it only worried you now. He continued when you refused to respond.

“Does he know that you were mine before he even laid eyes on you?”

Your frown deepened, hating the way he talked about you, but you could not deny the way his words spoke to a part of you that you had tried so hard to bury.

“Does he know that you will always bear the mark of my touch? That your body will always remember the first who played it so well?”

“Stop,” you choked out. “You…you cannot do this.”

It was painful to hear him talk about how he had been your first. How you had given yourself to him wholeheartedly, sure that you would never regret it.

“Why not? Why can I not remind you that you are mine? That you will always be mine?”

He sounded pained, a first for him, and you realized that deep down past the possession and anger…Sherlock was hurt. Maybe all he really needed was time, but life had happened, and you had been forced to make decisions that you did not necessarily care for. Straightening yourself, you stared into his eyes, finding the reflection of you in them.

“…because I am not yours. Not anymore.”

You brushed past him before he could respond, determined to wipe your face and gather yourself before your husband woke up.

Another day passed, and then another, and Sherlock was still here. You had a sneaking suspicion that he was hanging around for more than just another case to solve. Your husband, none the wiser, was more than happy to entertain the renowned detective for as long as he needed. You, on the other hand, felt like you had died and gone straight to hell.

Sherlock’s presence brought up memories you would rather forget. His very face forced you to remember the decisions you had made to avoid a life of ruin, forced you to remember the lie you were currently living. You found yourself crying yourself to sleep now as much as you did in the beginning, and for that, you hated him. You just wanted him to leave and pray that you would never see him again.

The universe or God or whatever higher power controlled the puppet strings to your life had other plans.

It was late in the night when your daughter woke up out of her sleep. Your husband groaned next to you, but you whispered to him that you would deal with it. She did not seem to be hungry, so you took to walking throughout the inn to calm her. She liked that. You strolled up and down the stairs, through the entrance hall, the kitchen, any crevice of the building until she fell into a quiet hush, staring up at you as you hummed.

You were in the sitting room, swaying from side to side, hoping to rock her back to sleep. You loved her dearly, more than you loved yourself, but you loved your sleep almost as much. You cracked a small smile, watching as she ran her eyes over you before something behind you caught her attention. You felt him before you heard him, and you spun around to face the last person you wished to see.

His white shirt was rumpled, and you figured that he had inadvertently fallen asleep at some point. Your wide eyes were on him as he stood before you in all of his glory, and you absentmindedly tightened your hold on your daughter. Neither one of you said a word. You had nothing to say, but there did seem to be something weighing on his mind, although for some reason, he would not voice it. You found yourself eyeing the curls of his hair, his fair complexion and handsome bone structure. The top of his shirt was undone, a sliver of skin winking at you, and you sharply inhaled.

You were still very much in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Would you ever truly be free of him?

As your daughter squirmed in your arms, you were reminded that no, you would not. The man could leave tomorrow, and you could truly get your wish of never seeing him again, and you would still never be free. Her movements grabbed his attention, and as his eyes fell to the baby in your arms, you hated the way he looked at her.

As if he was studying her like one of his cases that needed to be solved.

However, with horror, you realized that he was studying her. You tried to shield her, backing away in the process, but he followed you. His dark brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he ran them over your daughter. When you passed through the moonlight, the glow catching her eyes, his face hardened, jaw ticking so violently you worried that he would break a tooth.

His eyes snapped to yours, and you could not even find it in yourself to look away. You were frozen. His lips parted, and you feared what he would say, but the sound of your husband’s steps descending the stairs saved you. In only a moment, Sherlock was on the other side of the room, and your husband was there, apologizing to the man if your daughter woke him up.

“Nonsense. I was already awake,” Sherlock told him, and you had a feeling that it was not a lie.

Still, your husband, the kind man that he was, continued to apologize, and you took the opportunity to escape. You could feel Sherlock’s gaze the entire time, fiery and oppressive, and it should not have come as a shock to wake up to him in your bedroom.

Yet somehow, it was.

You should have known something was off when you woke up feeling more well rested than you had in months. The familiar cry of your daughter, a noise that regularly roused you from sleep, was oddly absent. This was what made you realize why you had slept for so long. Upon realizing this, your body immediately filled with worry, and you sat up like the house was on fire.

However, you were not prepared for the hulking frame that was Sherlock Holmes to greet you. He stood by your daughter’s crib, and your heart dropped to your stomach as you slowly slid to the edge of the bed. You shakily reached for him, his name on your lips, and he turned around. You sharply inhaled at the sight of your daughter in his arms, the small thing looking so much smaller while being held in his bands of muscle.

“Give her to me…please,” you whispered.

You did not know why you wanted him away from her. He knew the truth, and as if reading your thoughts, he said:

“Why? Is it not within my rights to hold her? She is mine…is she not?”

His voice was venomous, eyes icy as he looked to you, and you flinched. You settled back down on the bed, shrinking in on yourself as he glared at you. You did not know what to say. What could you say? In the light of day, it was obvious more than ever who her true father was. Why on earth were you feeling guilty? You had no reason to.

“Does he know?” he suddenly asked you, voice low and softer now.

“Of course not,” you tearfully replied.

You hated lying to your husband, but choices had to be made to protect her, to give her a good life. Sherlock heaved a shaky sigh, and you twisted your hands into your nightdress.

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone to town…said he needed to get some things for the inn,” he answered.

You were somehow simultaneously relieved and terrified.

“Sherlock-.”

“So, this is why you married him,” he bitterly said. “This is why you rushed to take his name and forget me so easily.”

“You have no right,” you sneered, standing and rushing towards him.

He moved back, keeping her away from you, and you were tempted to stomp your foot like a child.

“You kept her from me,” he accused, blue eyes boring into your own, and your skin prickled under his cold stare.

“I would not expect you to understand,” you told him.

His handsome face twisted into something ugly, and he stepped towards you.

“Why did you not tell me?”

You sneered at him.

“When was I supposed to do that? I would see you what…3, maybe 4 times a year if I was lucky?”

“You could have written to me!”

She squirmed in his arms, making a noise of protest, and you reached out, shushing her, but again, he held her out of your reach. You clenched your hands into fists, chest aching as he forced you to talk about what you had done.

“…and how was I to find you? How was I to know you would receive my letter in time? You were gallivanting all over the country, Sherlock. I would have been showing by the time I waited for you to turn up.”

He at least had the decency to look a tad sheepish, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms.

“Of course, you do not get it. You are not a woman. I did not have time or options. Decisions had to be made for both me and my daughter’s sake, and unfortunately, they had to be made without you.”

He did not respond, and you watched the way he looked at her. When you had first found out, this was everything you had wanted. You had dreamed of him looking at her just like that, but then reality had set in and crushed those dreams. Reluctantly, he handed her back to you, and you pressed your lips to her forehead. You felt his large hand on the top of your head, and when you looked up, his eyes were on you.

“Leave with me,” he whispered.

Pain etched across your features, and you shook your head.

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. She is mine, not his, and you love me…not him.”

You did not acknowledge the fact that he saw right through you no matter how much you pretended otherwise. Again, you shook your head and backed away from him.

“I cannot do that to him. He is a good man, and he does not deserve that,” you told him.

Sherlock stepped towards you until his body heat was all you could feel, and you looked down, avoiding his eye.

“So, am I to leave? Never to see you again and just allow him to raise my daughter as his own? Forget about you?”

“Yes.”

You regretted it almost as soon as you said it, but what else could you do? Running away with him was not an option. People would talk. Ruin would follow your name, and anything between you and the man before you would not be legitimate. You had to think of your daughter first. Before he could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, and your wide eyes found his.

You did not say anything, but you silently begged him to do what you wanted. Sherlock looked as if he wanted to do the complete opposite of what you wanted, face troubled and brows furrowed, but eventually, he relented. Reluctantly, he stepped back and exited your room, slipping downstairs and into his own.

Sherlock stayed at your inn for a little over a week, only 2 other guests passing through in that time. When your husband was gone, you allowed him to hold your daughter, and you had no idea how much you would be affected by the sight of the burly man holding the doll sized child in his arms. You knew that it got harder and harder for him to hand her back to you, and you worried what would happen when it came time for him to leave.

She was currently with him now while you cleaned one of the rooms that a guest had stayed in. Your husband had gone to get ingredients for the kitchen, and you were relieved to be alone with your thoughts. Not once had you ever regretted your decisions, but now you were having second thoughts. You would love for your daughter to grow up with her real father in her life, but it just would not be possible. There were so many things that you wanted that were no longer possible. It was bittersweet, sure, but you were glad that Sherlock got to know her for a short time versus having never known her at all.

You had just stripped the bed, turning to get more sheets when you were startled by the man himself in the doorway. You pressed your hand to your chest, fighting to slow your heart as you curiously looked at him. Your brows furrowed as you looked for your daughter.

“She’s asleep,” he said, answering your silent question.

“Oh,” you responded, relieved. “Is something wrong?”

He pursed his lips, stepping into the room, and you blinked at him.

“I cannot do it,” he suddenly said, shaking his head.

Dread settled in your gut, but you pressed him for the answers that you already knew.

“What do you mean…?”

He neared you, and you leaned back a bit at his close proximity.

“You cannot ask this of me-.”

“Sherlock-.”

“I will not do it. I will not just walk away!”

“You have to-!”

“That is my daughter. That is our daughter. You expect me to just go on and pretend that she does not exist?”

You looked away from him, overwhelmed with panic as he wrapped his hands around your arms.

“You both will leave with me,” he whispered. “I will right my wrongs-.”

“I cannot-.”

“I do not care about him. He is nothing to me,” he sneered. “He is the man who has laid claim to something that does not belong to him.”

“I am not yours anymore!”

You both stared each other down, and you frowned when he pushed you back until you felt the wall behind you. His eyes were wild with so many emotions. Anger, pain, desperation, jealousy, and the one that was a constant when he was with you, hunger.

“You will always be mine,” he murmured, leaning in.

You turned your head away, and his lips met your cheek.

“You surrendered your body to me, and it has been mine ever since. I was the first to touch you…and I shall be the last.”

His lips found yours against your will, and with his hands on your arms, you could not push him away. You had forgotten what his lips felt like, what he tasted like, but none of that mattered because you were a married woman now. Sherlock was your past and that was where he needed to remain. You opened your mouth to tell him that, to protest, but he merely took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the taste of your tongue.

He released you only to press his hands onto your hips, and you pushed against his chest. His moan told you that it had no effect, and your panic grew when he stepped back, pulling you with him. His hands were everywhere as you fought against him, and although your mind protested what was happening, your body, having been accustomed to his euphoric touch for so long, melted under the familiar ministrations.

He had you on your back in no time, tearing your dress off of you with ease. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, the man before you equal to that of a man starved, and his eyes and mouth and hands had one goal in mind and that was to get inside of you in any way possible.

“We cannot do this,” you gasped the minute he pulled away, but it was as if he did not hear you. “Sherlock!”

Your efforts to get him off of you only increased when you realized that he was almost as naked as you were. His lips tasted your neck and chest, and you sharply yelped when his teeth nipped at you.

“I have half a mind to mark your skin as you have marked my soul,” he whispered. “…to show that husband of yours what it truly means to claim you.”

You pressed your nails into his chest when he slid inside of you, hips meeting yours in a way that you had not felt for over a year. A satisfied moan left him, and you could not stop the way you clenched around his length, your body missing the feel of him. Still, you pushed against him, shaking your head with tear-filled eyes as he began to move. The next time you opened your mouth to protest, a choked moan came out instead, and you sunk your teeth into your lip.

“Feel the way you cling to me…the way your body loosens up to what it knows so well.”

He was right. He knew how to play your body like an instrument, knowing exactly what to do to make you sing, but that did not make it right. Your hands pushing against his shoulders and chest were of no use, and so you resorted to begging.

“Please…stop,” you pleaded in between breaths, but he merely shook his head.

“No,” he plainly said, hands greedily pressing into some of the baby weight that remained. “I have gone without you for far too long, and that is a mistake I will never make again.”

Your body was on fire from his thrusts, and you were hardly coherent enough o be having this conversation.

“You cannot just…you cannot just steal us away-.”

“I cannot steal what is rightfully mine,” he purred, wrapping his lips around a hardened bud.

Your lashes fluttered, and you dug your nails into his skin, pushing against him, but again, he was immoveable. Your vision was blurry from your tears now, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he completely fell over you, arms pressed into the bed beside your head, caging you in until all you could see and smell was him.

You reminded of your first time. It had been nighttime then, and he had ordered you to relax and take what pleasure he bestowed upon you. He had taken his time to figure out what your body liked and what your body loved, but he had been completely in control. Now seemed no different. Sherlock was once again completely in control of your body, forcing you to accept whatever pleasure he pushed onto you.

Someone could have entered the inn, looking for a place to stay, and you would not have known. Your husband could have long returned, and you would be none the wiser. He kissed you, a gentle action that was a far cry from his powerful thrusts, and you could taste your tears on his lips.

“I would have come running,” he suddenly whispered into your mouth. “The second I found out, I would have come for you.”

His eyes flitted between your terrified ones, and he continued.

“I would have made an honest woman out of you. I would have been by your side every step of the way.”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear what could have been.

“I would have loved to see you round and swollen with my daughter, but this is our second chance.”

You came around him before he soon followed, coating your insides with a groan, lips furiously covering your own. You were so conflicted. Your body felt more satisfied than it had been in a year, heart swelling at the thought of getting the future you really wanted, but you were so angry with him, angry with what he had just done to you.

You hit at him the minute he pulled out of you, sitting up and taking you with him. It was as if your hits did not phase him at all, and he merely shushed you, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into his chest.

“I will do the talking,” he started, pressing his lips into your hair, ignoring the way you cried and shook in his hold. “I will explain to him that I am taking back what is mine, and I will walk out of here with you and our daughter at my side, right where you belong.”

     ~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​ @harryspet​​​ @readermia​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​ @nickyl316h​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​ @villanellevi​​​ @lokislastlove​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​ @hurricanerin​​ @trinittyy​​ @hyoyeoniie​​ @kellyn1604​​ @sherrybaby14​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mandiiblanche​ @gotnofucks​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @doozywoozy​ @sapphirescrolls​ @threeminutesoflife​ @searchforanotherway​

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

[arc852]

An Unlikely Duo Ch. 1

Summary: Tommy is an orphaned borrower forced to move from the house he grew up in.  

 Wilbur is a foster kid inbetween homes. 

 What happens when they meet?

Warnings: Fear and panic

Word Count: 2936

Read on AO3!

***

 Don’t let the human see you, don’t let the human see you.

 Don’t get caught, don’t get caught. 

 Even at eleven years old, Tommy knew the rules well and just how important they were. His parents hadn’t left him with much when they disappeared several months ago, but they had been smart enough to teach him the rules and the very basics of borrowing.

 Tommy thought he was doing pretty well for himself, all things considered.

 He had managed to travel to the next building over from where he had been with his parents. He hadn’t wanted to leave but the humans of the house had recently gotten a cat and Tommy’s head rang with warnings from his parents. Cats and most other animals were dangerous. It was better for Tommy to leave then try and stay. 

 And so he did. Thankfully it hadn’t taken him long, a day at most to get past the yard and into the next lot. This house was bigger than the rest he had seen and he hadn’t understood why until he noticed the tens of kids running around the place.

 Tommy felt a shiver run through his spine when he saw all the humans running about. He definitely couldn’t stay here. Too much of a chance for him to get caught.

 He needed to move again, unfortunately, but he needed to gather more supplies first. So he went through the vent system, peeking into each room and trying to find one that didn’t have any humans in it. Though the task was proving difficult.

 Finally, he stumbled upon a room that had no human in sight. Tommy grinned and maneuvered through the tunnels in the wall to come out underneath the one bed in the room. He gripped his bag tight, looking around the floor. Despite no humans around, his parents always told him to be on high alert, just in case.

 With the coast clear, Tommy emerged from underneath the bed and looked up at the desk that was in the room. He couldn’t see the contents on it from the floor, but he needed a new paperclip for his hook and that was usually the place they were kept, so that was his best bet. He just needed to find a way up there.

 He noticed the sheet of the bed hanging down towards the floor from the bed. He could go up that way and then get onto the nightstand right by the bed. From there, he could go across the windowsill to the desk. Perfect. Tommy started putting his plan to action, tugging on the sheet to make sure it was secure before climbing up and onto the bed.

 Tommy had never been on a human bed before and it took him a moment to gain his footing on the uneven surface but he eventually evened out and made his way to the nightstand. He stepped back and took a running start, landing somewhat gracefully onto the wooden surface. He was about to hoist himself up on the windowsill when the door to the room clicked. Tommy froze, mind going into a panic as he watched as the door opened, revealing a human boy not too much older than Tommy. Tommy glanced around for a second before diving behind the alarm clock, making himself appear smaller than he already was as he curled up behind it.

 Tommy heard the door shut behind the human and then muffled footsteps before the human all but flopped onto the bed right beside his hiding spot. Part of Tommy wanted to take a peek at the human, but the part of his brain that sounded a lot like his parents told him to stay still. He was going to listen to the latter, he really was, but then a series of sounds took place. Tommy couldn’t quite place them but it almost sounded like something was being shifted about and taken out of something.

 And then music started playing.

 Tommy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard much music in his short life. It was dangerous to be loud within the walls of a home and the humans he used to live with weren’t big on playing their music out loud. The only thing he can think of hearing regularly, was the soft voice of his mother singing him to sleep every night.

 This music was different but still nice. There were some parts where it wasn’t so nice but overall, the music was good. Like, actually really good. Tommy wanted to see what was making the music and so, with his curiosity winning out, the borrower peeked out from behind the alarm clock, eyes widening at the...thing the human was holding.

 No, not just holding. Using. The human appeared to be plucking and strumming strings that were attached to the thing. It was strange looking but it made one of the most beautiful sounds Tommy had ever heard.

 Tommy hadn’t even realized he leaned out as far as he had until large brown eyes met his smaller, blue ones.

 The music stopped suddenly and dread started to fill Tommy’s entire being. No, no, no, no. He had broken the one rule his parents had left with him. Don’t let the human see you, don’t get caught. Well, it was a little too late for that now.

 “Whoa…” The quiet exclamation rang loudly in Tommy’s ears and it was just what he needed to snap out of it. He stood and turned to run. Maybe if he could make it to the desk like he had originally planned, there would be some cord or something for him to climb down with.

 Unfortunately for the borrower, he never even made it off the nightstand. 

 “Wait!” The human yelled. The loud noise caused Tommy to falter and he turned his head to look back at the human. A giant hand filled his vision and before Tommy could even react, the hand wrapped around his small frame, stopping him in his tracks and effectively trapping him.

 Tommy gasped at the uncomfortable warmth that surrounded him, at the pressure being applied to his body. It wasn’t enough to hurt but Tommy knew that could change in a second and that thought had his heart pounding.

 Tommy tried struggling within the grip but the fingers didn’t budge, not even to allow his arms free. Instead, he was lifted and brought up to the human’s face. The human’s eyes were full of curiosity and wonder as the two met eyes once more. Tommy couldn’t help but shake at the feeling of being studied. Like he wasn’t a person but simply an interesting trinket the human found.

 “Look at you,” The human spoke, grinning. “You’re so small!” 

 A small whimper escaped Tommy involuntarily and he turned his head away from the giant face. His heart beat so fast that Tommy would be surprised if the human couldn’t feel it. Was this it then? Were all the stories true and this human was going to be the end of him? Tommy could do nothing but wait.

***

 Wilbur’s smile turned to a frown as he noticed the fear overtaking the small being. He hadn’t meant to scare it. Him? Wilbur wasn’t even sure if the being was sapient yet but from the way he was reacting, Wilbur had a pretty good guess.

 “Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” Wilbur said, keeping his voice low and hopefully soothing. He saw the small being glance up at him, still shaking like a leaf and with an added touch of disbelief to his already fearful face. Wilbur studied the tiny creature’s features, realizing just how human the thing looked. “What are you?”

 He didn’t get an answer but he did notice the tiny creature starting to hyperventilate from his panic. Worry entered Wilbur’s mind, he didn’t want the little thing to pass out on him. “Seriously, you’re okay. Here, how about I do this?” Wilbur set the little guy down on the bed, hoping that would calm him down. But as soon as Wilbur took his hands away the little guy started running right for the edge. Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Whoa! Wait!”

 Wilbur reached back out and easily grabbed the tiny creature again. This time, however, he was met with more than just a fearful look.

 “Let me go!” The tiny creature screamed, much louder than you would expect of such a small creature. Wilbur froze, eyebrows raised in surprise that the tiny being could actually speak. Though thinking more on it, it made sense with how human the little guy looked. Wilbur’s shocked expression soon turned into slight annoyance.

 “I just did and you tried to run! I already said I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Wilbur responded. He had repeated himself at least three times now, why couldn’t the little guy understand that?

 “And you expect me to believe that, b****! No! Let me go!” The tiny thing continued to yell and frankly, Wilbur was impressed by the sudden courage the little guy seemed to have gained. For someone terrified of being hurt, he had no trouble calling his supposed captor a b****.

 Wilbur’s frown deepened. He really didn’t want to let the little creature go, especially now that he realized he could speak, but he also felt bad for how much he was scaring the little guy. Despite the yelling, Wilbur could feel the little guy shaking in his hand. His heartbeat faster than it should be.

 Wilbur bit his lip, coming up with a compromise that would at least let Wilbur learn something. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you go if you answer three questions. Deal?”

 The little guy paused, thinking it over. He then glared. “How do I know you’ll actually let me go?”

 That was a fair question, Wilbur supposed. He shrugged. “You don’t but it’s better than nothing, right?” Wilbur felt bad but he also wasn’t lying. He would uphold the deal.

 The shaking turned to smaller but still noticeable trembles as the little guy let out a shaky sigh. “...Fine. But I get to pass on questions I don’t want to answer.”

 Wilbur frowned at that. If he allowed that, he would never get any of his questions answered. “You can pass three times.” Wilbur tried compromising.

 “...Fine.” The little guy agreed and Wilbur smiled.

 “Awesome! Okay, so what are you?” Wilbur jumped in immediately. The tiny creature glared at him.

 “Pass.”

 Wilbur felt the little guy tense up in his hand, as if waiting for him to be angry about passing on a question. Wilbur was annoyed, sure, but a deal was a deal and he had a right to not answer it.

 “Fine. Then how about…” Wilbur thought for a moment. “What were you doing in my room?”

 Silence stretched out between them and for a moment, Wilbur thought the little guy would pass on this question too. But then he hesitantly opened his mouth. “I...I needed a paperclip and figured I might be able to find one in here.”

 A paperclip? Wilbur was careful not to say his question out loud, not wanting to waste his second one. Still though, he had to wonder why the little guy needed a paperclip. He thought about it for a little longer. “Do you...do you take things from people often?”

 He watched as the tiny face flushed a slight red. “Only things humans like you won’t miss! Otherwise...n-nevermind.” The little guy looked down. “Yeah, I suppose.”

 That was interesting. So these little guys were scavengers? He probably took food as well and used things like paper clips to make things for themselves. And he didn’t consider himself human. Interesting.

 Wilbur bit his lip when he realized he only had one question left. The little guy seemed to realize this too as he suddenly became impatient, itching to finally get away. “Well? What’s your last question?”

 Wilbur frowned. “Hold your horses child, I’m thinking.”

 He felt the tiny being tense against his hand again. “Wha-I am not a child!”

 Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “You literally are.”

 He was being glared at now and Wilbur couldn’t help but find the little guy’s anger adorable. “So are you!”

 Wilbur waved him off with his free hand. “Eh, details.” He was, in fact, a child but he had a good feeling he was older than the tiny guy by at least a couple of years. As the tiny guy continued to fume, Wilbur thought about what his last question should be. He had to make it count and something that the little guy would hopefully answer.

 “What’s your name?” Was what Wilbur decided on and the shock on the little guy’s face was almost comical. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that kind of question and now Wilbur felt kind of bad for waiting so long to ask.

 “My name? Really? That’s the final question you’re going with?” The little guy asked and Wilbur hummed, nodding. “Oh. Um...it’s...it’s Tommy.” The little guy, Tommy, spoke his name softly before glaring up at Wilbur. “Now let me go. You asked all your questions.”

 He was still scared that Wilbur wouldn’t let him go, if the slight tremble in his words was anything to go by. Wilbur sighed but set Tommy back down on the nightstand. Tommy actually seemed a bit shocked that he was put down at all. “Alright, a deals a deal.” He motioned with his hand that Tommy could go but as Tommy tried to move, Wilbur suddenly stood up. “Oh wait!” The sudden movement and loud noise made Tommy yelp in fear and cower at the sight. 

 Wilbur winced. “Sorry but hold on!” He walked over to his desk and rummaged through his drawers, making a noise of victory as he found what he was looking for. He turned back towards the nightstand and set down the paperclip near where Tommy was standing. The hand coming as close as it did made Tommy back away but when he noticed what was placed down, his eyes widened.

 “You said you came in the room for a paperclip, so…” Wilbur shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, you can go now. It was nice meeting you.” He paused. “Oh! I’m Wilbur by the way. But yeah, I...I guess I’ll leave now. Give you time to...go wherever.” Wilbur backed up to his door, keeping his eyes on Tommy for as long as he could. He really didn’t want the little guy to leave but he was also a man of his word. Besides, he felt bad for scaring him so much. “Bye.” He said simply before exiting his room, making sure he closed the door behind him.

 Wilbur stood in the hallway for a long moment, thinking about everything that had just happened before finally heading downstairs to get something to eat. Ten minutes should be enough time for Tommy to leave, right?

***

 Tommy was left up on the dresser, the human gone and the paperclip that had gotten him into this mess in the first place sitting only a few inches away from him. The human, Wilbur, he had...he had actually let Tommy go. And not only that but he had given him what he had needed. Hesitantly, Tommy walked over and picked up the paperclip, looking it over.

 ...Tommy had to leave. Now. Before Wilbur changed his mind and came back to capture Tommy again. He shivered at the phantom feeling of fingers wrapped around his body. He had felt so helpless in Wilbur’s grip. His entire life had literally been in Wilbur’s hands and Tommy hated it. 

 Humans had too much power for their own good.

 Tommy did his best to shake off the feeling and shoved the paperclip into his bag. He then quickly took the path he had used to get up on the nightstand in the first place to get back down. Jumping over to the bed and using the overspilling blankets to climb down to the carpet below. He ran underneath the bed and back into the safety of the walls.

 As soon as he was safe, Tommy found himself sliding down against the wall and to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and trying to take deep breaths.

 He had been so utterly terrified. He thought for sure he was a goner as soon as his eyes met the human’s. Thought he was a goner when that giant hand wrapped around Tommy’s body like it was nothing, effectively trapping him with no way out. He never wanted to go through something like that again.

 He had wanted to get a few more supplies from the house but after what just happened, he didn’t want to go out into the open again. Not in this house. He had enough to get to the next house over and then he could borrow some more. He just hoped the next place had less humans in it.

 He’d get some rest and leave first thing in the morning. And he could leave this all behind him, forget it ever happened.

 ...He hoped he didn’t have any nightmares tonight.

 Not feeling up to moving, Tommy decided to stay where he was and pulled out a thin blanket from his bag. He wrapped himself up as best as he could before placing his bag down to use as a pillow. He laid there, trying to ignore the faint sounds of footsteps and voices of beings much bigger than himself.

 Eventually, the noises died down and Tommy finally succumbed to sleep.

[newswcanonprompts]

Anakin is sent to negotiate with Gardulla the Hutt bc of the success of the Jabba mission (no one in the Council knows Gardulla used to own him)

editor’s note: there is actually a fic that came from this, by the lovely @primeemeraldheiress! here is the link

this one is SUPER angsty, sorry in advance, i missed the original conversation about this prompt and when i got back online everyone was yelling about it, when i read what they did i was in *shock*. like ow. anyways have fun

After being so helpful in rescuing Jabba the Hutt's son, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan end up being sent on a mission to help Gardulla the Hutt because Anakin hasn't told anyone about his history with her

Possible reactions from Gardulla:

"Skywalker? I owned a human like that, her brat always caused trouble. Good riddance!"

What if she decides that since he's back in her territory that means he belongs to her again

.....gardulla hears him try to call obi-wan master and tries to buy anakin from him (Gardulla asking if obi-wan is anakin's master and anakin being in such a messed up mental space that he says yes, trusting that Obi-wan won’t let her buy him)

Obi-Wan wondering why Anakin is being so specifically arsey with this Hutt. "Force you're worse with her than you were with Jabba."

"Oh yeah, she bought me and my mother. I think I have a reason to dislike her."

The council meeting afterwards where obi-wan rails on the council...

Obi-Wan suddenly getting a horrible feeling whenever Anakin calls him master because he's known the contexts were different but now it is real and in his face

Like it's a different thing for Obi-Wan to know his padawan used to be a slave compared to looking his padawan's former master in the eye and seeing her current slaves.

Anakin manages to control himself in the throne room but the whole way there and back he can't help worrying that one of the really old lash scars that curls around his shoulder will be noticed, that his identity as a former slave will be exposed

anakin not being able to call obi-wan master on tatooine like. point blank. he starts addressing him as master and just. flinches.

anakin usually wears his heart on his sleeves right?? always shows his emotions, feelings, all that. Well, the closer they get to gardulla's palace the blanker his face gets

Ahsoka calls Anakin master and Anakin just grits out a "Please don't call me that, not here."

Obi-Wan suddenly realising why Anakin comes across as arrogant as times. He's spent his entire life trying to up his value because there's safety in value.

Anakin telling them not to use the name "Skywalker" while they're in the palace

Anakin's accent shifts so entirely to the point where it almost sounds like Obi-Wan's because he's so determined to not slip into old roles

Anakin having to be physically held back from getting into a physical fight. Not even using his lightsaber, he just wants to fight

Or, alternatively, all the fight just going out of Anakin because he knows, here, it'll just make everything worse. So he's almost.... compliant and it freaks everyone out

Ex. from @youngcreativenerdgoddess: Obi-Wan is terrified. His former padawan is the most resigned he’s ever been. He looks so....defeated. A look one would never expect on the vaunted “Hero with no fear”. All the fight was gone from him, and that scared him more than anything else in this force-damned war had.

Obi-Wan actually being the one about to lose his temper and then Anakin just puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him there's no point.

Consider: instead of anakin being angry he was sent on the mission, being resigned because of course he was, he knew Gardulla bes

Anakin comes across as an almost perfect Jedi for once in his life and in the context it is horrifying

Anakin’s report to the council is so matter of fact because he thought they knowingly sent him on the mission because of his past experience with Gardulla

Obi-Wan finds Anakin writing what he thinks is a CV then he sees the numbers next to it and it is his estimated value--"for the gardulla mission, if she finds out who I am she'll try to rebuy me"

After the mission, from @jasontoddiefor: "Failed you, we have," Yoda said, his voice full of grief, and Obi-Wan watched in horror as Anakin only titled his head, for once looking his age and not the years the war has aged him. 

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, not understanding.

Examples of bits and pieces from this prompt:

Ex. from jasontodiefor: Anakin in the corner of her palace having a breakdown because he remembers memories he had thought gone, his mother's shouting and the tearful begging and the pain, pain, pain and he hadn't meant to break the vase, it had been an accident, please stop it hurts, Mom-

jasontodiefor: "A game of chance." 

"What?" 

Anakin doesn't look up from his hands, doesn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes. He hadn't since they'd arrived here. "I'd still be here like them if not for a game of chance. I'd be worth more than just a few credits too. Force-sensitive, young, good with mechanics, pretty-"

Ex. from Ro: Obi-Wan has never seen Anakin this silent before. There were nights before, when they were both younger, Obi-Wan himself still trying to heal from Qui-Gon's death and Anakin trying to get used to the temple. And Anakin would get quiet, but he was never this stone cold silent. Never this blank. He's so emotional, Obi-Wan's former padawan (his child), so open with his heart on his sleeve. There is none of that here, none of that bright boy. Anakin doesn't fight it, and that is the thing that worries Obi-Wan the most, because when Anakin doesn't like something he fights, he lashes out with teeth and sticks his heels in. But in this, he is resigned. (Anakin doesn't let Ashoka off the ship. She fights and argues but Anakin doesn't move, doesn't joke. He stands firm with it and Obi-Wan watches.

"Master, I—" 

Anakin flinches, "You're staying on the ship, Ahsoka, that's final." She huffs and leaves, and the only thing Obi-Wan can see is how relieved Anakin looks. There is something wrong here, but Anakin has never liked talking about Tatooine, and Obi-Wan has never pushed.) Obi-Wan has never hated a mission more.

Another ex from jasontodiefor: "But-" 

"You're young," Anakin interrupts her sharply. Ahsoka hates it when he cuts her off. It doesn't happen too often, mostly on the battlefield when he's barking orders at everyone. If anything, he lets her speak out of tune more often than he should or other Masters would, but right now his voice doesn't leave any room for agreement. "Young, underage actually, and female, that's the first 10K. Extra five if they don't sell you as inexperienced, and only stupid slavers would do that, but as a virgin."

Ahsoka pales. Anakin's voice is harsh, but there is an almost easy flow to his words, as if he had recited them in his head over and over again. "Force sensitive, that's next. Another 8K regularly, but you're a Jedi, so that's 20K. A Padawan, mind you, but you're a known face next to mine and Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan would fetch 40 for his status as a Jedi and councilor alone. And you're a Togruta, you sell better than a human girl. I'd add another 6 for that."

You sell better. Not you would, there's nothing hypothetical about this, Ahsoka realizes. Anakin's narrowing down what would happen to her if somebody just managed to grab her lightsabers, to put a collar around her throat and cut her off from all that she had ever known. "Now, that's just your base value," Anakin continues. "You're also a pretty good mechanic and pilot, though the latter makes your flight risk much higher. Given how dangerous you are, let's say 10K. You're a strong fighter, so you could probably get another 8K in the arena, perhaps a little more depending on what planet you're sold on. Your political value also can't be overlooked. You fight at the front and know much more about the war effort as a whole and that's worth much more, probably another 15." Anakin holds up his fingers like he's counting apples and now how much people would be willing to brand her as theirs. "So we're roughly at 70. That's not bad at all. Not as much as Obi-Wan or I would get, but it's more than enough. You're not coming on this mission. End of discussion."

[qianinterprises]

Bundled Joy {Part One}

Pairing: Kun x Reader

Genre: fluff, crack, minor angst, pregnancy au

Warnings: pregnant reader, yelling, teasing, overprotective Xiaojun, teasing YangYang, slight explicit language

Word Count: 2.9k

Synopsis: You have a secret that somehow, all of the boys discover before you have time to tell the father. Now, you just have to fight them to tell Kun first.

Author's Notes: I started writing this honestly because I was bored and needed something to do. I didn't expect to finish it, much less post it, so it's going to be pretty different from most of the things I have written in the past. With that said, I have also decided to make this a series, but, as this was just meant to be fun, I cannot guarantee that I will update regularly, but I will try. Also note that this is my first ever series so I hope it's ok! Please enjoy!

Part two coming soon

Tagging: @treasuretaeil

Movie night with WayV happened about once a week, usually on the weekends when the boys either had a day off or didn't have to get up so early. Most of the time, you were invited to movie nights because, in Hendery's words, "movie night just isn't complete without mom and dad together!" It, however, had been a while since you had enjoyed movie night with them, having been too busy with work. This weekend, however, you had decided to join them after not so subtle but ridiculously persistent badgering from both your boyfriend and the other members, particularly YangYang.

Kun had texted you earlier in the day and asked if you'd pick up dinner, something you were only slightly surprised at. Typically, Kun cooked and, if you were over, you often cooked together. However, with deadlines and schedules, you weren't surprised that he was a little too tired to cook a huge meal for six bottomless pits. So, after ordering food online and picking it up, you showed up at the door carrying 10 pizza boxes, four two-liter sodas dangling from your arms in plastic bags because you were sure they'd want something besides water.

As you were struggling to ring the doorbell, having no arms left to reach the door knob or fish your keys out of your pocket, the door flew open to reveal a grinning Hendery who looked more interested in the pizza's that your presence.

“Can I-” he didn’t finish his sentence, looking greedily at the boxes.

“Yes,” you said, almost exasperatedly, though you were glad to be free of the burning boxes.

He grinned gleefully and took the boxes from your arms, hurrying into the kitchen where Lucas and YangYang were already waiting, each holding their own plate.

With a small laugh at the antics of the boys you’d come to love, you stepped into the dorm, only to be greeted with arms wrapping around your waist and a small kiss placed upon your lips.

“Hey babe,” Kun said, smiling softly as his eyes washed over your face.

“Do you guys really have to do that in front of us,” Ten whined, making a disgusted face as he grabbed his own plate.

“At least we have the decency to go somewhere else for our extracurricular activities!” Kun retorted.

Ten was notorious for bringing guests back to the dorms and making poor Hendery snuggle with a reluctant Xiaojun in a small bed.

“Not every time,” Sicheng pointed out, his own face morphing into disgust.

You rolled your eyes. One time to Ten’s twenty, that seemed fair.

“It was one time! And we didn’t even do much!” you argued.

“It would have been different if he had been giving you some… special attention! But instead of seeing boobs, we saw the dick we see all the time!” Xiaojun complained.

“Why do you want to see my girlfriend's boobs?!”

“Better question, why is it so normal for them to see your dick?”

“Kun-gi likes to change in front of us!” YangYang yelled, sounding scandalized.

“We all do!”

“Oh my God! Can we just watch the movie and eat?!” Hendery begged.

With that, Kun handed you a plate of food and sat down on the couch, pulling you snuggly into his side as YangYang started the movie.

~

It was late when the movie finished and Kun insisted you stay the night, something you would have denied if you hadn’t been too exhausted to think.

It wasn’t unnatural for you to stay over, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you quite liked sleeping with Kun. He liked to hold you while he slept, which was part of the problem. You knew you’d be needing to untangle yourself from him at some point early in the morning and, if you intended to keep your secret, you’d have to do so without waking him, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. However, you agreed anyway, letting him lead you to the bedroom he shared with Xiaojun and YangYang. He wrapped his arms around you and, just like that, you were both sound asleep.

And there you were at 5am struggling to remove yourself from Kun’s hold without waking him up as your stomach churned and half-digested pizza threatened to crawl up your throat.

After a struggle that took way too long for someone needing to rush to the bathroom, you finally, successfully, pulled yourself from the bed without waking up your boyfriend, however, the early morning struggles didn’t stop there.

Stumbling through the dark, your feel suddenly got tangled up in a pair of stray shoes (most likely YangYang’s) settled precariously on the carpet, causing you to stumble and nearly lose your balance, catching yourself on the bunk bed.

Cursing, you paused your movements to listen for any wakefulness, swallowing thickly to push down the creeping bile as YangYang simply rolled over and resumed his quiet snores. Surging with relief, you quickly, but quietly, rushed from the room, not noticing a sleepy Xiaojun sitting up, watching you disappear into the hallway.

You stumbled blindly down the dark hallway until finally, you reached the bathroom, dropping to your knees immediately and hurling into the toilet, holding your hair back until someone suddenly appeared behind you, taking your hair in their hands, allowing you to clutch the toilet as your body shook with the force of the retches.

You assumed it was Kun until Ten’s voice met your ears as a hand settled on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“Let it all out,” he said softly.

You didn’t have time to question his presence as your body shook through a new wave of nausea. His soothing motions didn’t cease, even though you knew he was probably disgusted.

When you finally finished, you weakly reached up to flush down your sick before turning around. Ten helped you settle against the wall as you struggled to catch your bearings. However, when your eyes floated up from the floor, you were met with a tired, but concerned Ten standing near the sink and a sleepy Xiaojun peering in the doorway.

“What are you guys doing up?” you asked, voice hoarse from exertion.

“I was entertaining a guest when I heard someone barrelling down the hall,” Ten explained, turning his attention to the male sleepily leaning against the door.

“When you hit the bunk bed you woke me up,” he explained through a yawn.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and turned his gaze on you, eyes filled with concern.

“Why didn’t you wake up Kun?” Ten asked.

You sighed. You’d have to come clean now, because if not, they’d badger you until you did and then Kun would find out before you were ready.

“I didn’t want him to know yet.”

“Know what?” Xiaojun asked.

One glance at Ten and you could see the gears turning in his head. You simply let your eyes rest on his face, waiting for the question he was working on generating, steeling yourself when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you pregnant?”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Xiaojun’s face morph, eyes growing as wide as saucers, lips parting into an ‘O’ at the sudden, accurate question.

You simply nodded before speaking.

“But you’d better not tell him if you both value having dick’s!” you warned. “I already have something planned out and you two better not spill the beans before I have a chance to tell him!”

“We won’t! We won’t!” Ten promised, a giant grin spreading across his face.

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Xiaojun piped.

You rolled your eyes and shifted off the wall to get up when Xiaojun suddenly appeared at your side, half picking you up, eliciting a small yelp from your lips.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hissed, voice reaching a volume that would likely, accidentally, wake someone else up.

“You have to be careful now! You can’t hurt the baby!” Xiaojun exclaimed as if it should have been obvious.

With a roll of your eyes, you let him continue, crossing your arms over your chest as Ten cackled.

“Looks like you’re going to be dealing with an overprotective Jun!”

You let out a huff but resigned yourself to the fact that this was probably going to be the new normal, at least until you told Kun.

Xiaojun carried you from the bathroom and placed your feet down on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. He slowly escorted you past YangYang’s shoes to your side of Kun’s bed where he lifted the blankets and tucked you back in. Almost instantaneously, Kun’s arms wrapped around your form, hugging you to his chest.

~

It was the next morning when the amazing scent of breakfast wafted into the room, stirring you from sleep in the best way possible. You rolled over, feeling Kun’s side empty and threw the blankets off your body, the cool morning bringing goosebumps to your skin.

Slowly, you threw your legs off the side of the bed, letting out a yawn as you scanned the bunk beds across from you, finding both beds empty.

As you stood up, your stomach shifted and grumbled, although you weren’t sure if it could handle Kun’s delicious breakfast.

Still, you made your way from the bedroom, meeting a grinning Lucas outside the room. He was standing outside the door, almost as though he was waiting for you to step out. His grin was a little more than slightly creepy and, as soon as he saw you, he began rocking on the balls of his feet like a puppy getting ready to pounce on its owner, something that wasn’t unusual for Lucas to do.

“Lucas?” you asked cautiously, already bracing yourself for the weight of the gentle giant.

“I wanna be the favorite uncle!”

At his words, you let your arms fall by your sides, a groan rising from your throat.

“I’m going to kill them,” you mumbled. “Which one of the boneheads told you?!”

“Your squeal last night woke me up, and then I heard Ten mumbling how amazing it was walking past my room!”

So your screech had woken people up. Great.

“Who else knows?”

With Lucas knowing, it was only a matter of time before the whole world did. If there was one thing Lucas couldn’t do, it was keep a secret.

“Pretty much everyone except Kun. Xiaojun said you threatened our dick’s if anyone told him.... But with as many hints and YangYang keeps dropping, it’s only a matter of time before he figures it out.”

YangYang. You loved the boy. You really did. He was so precious when he was crawling in bed between you and Kun on the nights nightmares woke him up from sleep. Or when he was crying as his legs cramped painfully. The times when he really showed just how young he was.

However, despite your love for the boy you thought of as a little brother, he truly could be a thorn in your side.

You pushed past Lucas and speed-walked into the kitchen where YangYang was, as Lucas promised, dropping hints.

“I want baby carrots and swaddled pigs in blankets for dinner!” He was saying cheekily.

“That’s a lot! Maybe I can help with that!” you said enthusiastically before grabbing the younger's arms and all but yanking him from the room.

“What?” he asked, as if he had done nothing wrong.

“I swear Yang, if you rob me of the joy of telling him, he’s going to be a dad, I will personally remove your gonads with a rusted spoon!” you hissed,

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Good luck finding a rusty spoon without searching Jeno’s bedroom.”

You shoved him lightly, glaring at him as he walked back into the kitchen, you hot on his trail.

“Good morning sleepy-head,” Kun greeted, seemingly noticing you for the first time.

He placed a soft kiss on your lips and wrapped an arm around your waist, a greeting you loved but would never get used to.

“That’s exactly the kind of thing that got you into this situation,” Hendery piped.

Kun turned around, arching an eyebrow at the male as you sent Hendery the harshest glare you could muster. He bit down on his lip, trying, and partially failing to hide a sinister smirk.

You were going to end up killing them all if you didn’t tell Kun soon, but you wanted him to find out your own way, not because six boys couldn’t keep a secret!

“Babe? Do you think we could go out today?” you asked.

“Ooooo!” all six boys cooed, nearly in unison.

“Ok, what’s going on?” Kun asked, placing his hands on his hips.

It killed you how perceptive he could be.

“You’ve all been acting funny all morning!”

His tone was sharp and commanding, the kind of tone that sent trembles down your spin and heat rushing to your core with need.

“Oh! He’s using his dad tone! He must be-”

“Yang! Shut up!” you snapped, voice raising as tears gathered in your eyes.

His eyes widened as a tear slipped past your eye, trailing down your cheek.

“Y/N… I’m sorry!”

“Why can’t you guys just accept that I want to tell him in my own way! Stop messing around before he figures it out! Because if he does, I will never forgive any of you!” your voice shook with emotion as you spoke, hands balled into fists at your sides.

You were expecting a snarky comeback about being a crybaby, but no one said anything for a good few seconds before Kun broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Where did you want to go?” he asked.

“To our special place in the park… for a picnic…”

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your head.

“Let’s go back to your place to prepare then,” he said.

With that, you sent one more look at the boys before following Kun back to his room to adorn yourselves in anything other than pjs.

Part of you was reluctant to tell Kun yet, wanting to wait just a little longer, but with the boys’ inability to keep anything held within the confines of secrecy, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer if you wanted to be the one to tell him.

~

After preparing a nice picnic while Kun was playing with your cat, Kun took your hand and led you to the park where you both had said “I love you” for the first time.

As you reached the grassy area, you separated yourselves from the playground where kids were playing and screaming, finding a nice shady spot near the hiking trail where Kun spread the old purple and brown blanket you’d fished out of your linen closet. You placed the brown wicker basket in the center and sat down on the blanket, pulling your legs in and curling them. Kun sat down beside you, pulling out the plates as you grabbed the plate of premade sandwiches and cucumbers, your heart pounding in your ears.

“So… how do you feel about... sitting on a picnic blanket with… more than just us?”

It was vague, you knew, but you didn’t know how to just come out and tell the truth.

He gave you a puzzled look as he retrieved a sandwich from the plate.

“Like… the boys coming too?” he asked.

Dense. Kun, WayV’s leader. The group's father. So damn dense!

“I mean like… children…?” you mumbled, heart pounding harder.

“I’d love to have children with you one day!”

“What about soon? Like… now?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow and took a bite of his sandwich, swallowing before replying.

“Are you telling me you want to start trying?”

You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that Kun was just too dense to get it without you spelling it out for him.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered finally, the words coming out softly as a weight lifted off your chest.

The truth will set you free.

Kun was silent for a long moment. So long, in fact, that tears of rejection were gathering in your eyes and you prepared yourself for the “it’s not mine” or “I can’t have a baby right now” speech.

However, as you were about to get up and apologize, a huge smile broke out across his face and the next thing you knew, you were being tackled back, back hitting the grass as Kun held himself on top of you, grinning like a madman.

You were too caught up in the moment to care how the moment might have looked to any onlookers. It was none of their business anyway.

“I’m going to be a daddy?” he asked.

Tears of his own were already falling down his cheeks.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your throat choked up from the happiness of his reaction. So instead, you gave a simple nod, your own smile mirroring his.

He rolled over into the grass beside you and pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m going to be a daddy,” he whispered this time, almost as if to assure himself of the fact one more time.

As soon as the words left his lips, your ears were met with a surprisingly on key chorus of “awwww’s,” seeming to come from behind the bushes before a hyperactive Bella was jumping into Kun’s lap, licking his face in delight.

“Wait… why did everyone else find out before me?!”

[hanatiny]

Aim To Please

a/n: I’m aware that certain kinks in this may not sit well with some people, but I have a very specific target audience for this one so :) a/n 2: happy birthday to the stressed mom Seonghwa, hope he eats well and has a good day~ <3

pairing: incubus!Seonghwa x f!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 1866

warnings: consensual somnophilia, unprotected sex, noona kink, pet names, Hwa has a gun kink, he's also a whiny service top, praise kink, marking (both biting and light scratching), brief mention of overstimulation, orgasm control

-----

Seonghwa had been visiting you somewhat regularly for a couple months now. He first came to you in a dream while you were feeling lonely and then another night, when you found yourself unable to sleep, he actually physically materialised in front of you.

Incubi were said to simply come to 'their human' for sex and that was that, they would leave once they got what they wanted.

Seonghwa, however, was a little different. He had a bit of a childlike curiosity to him, ironic as it seemed for an immortal demonic creature, and you adored the way his eyes would light up like shooting stars every time you'd talk to him and tell him about your day or simply recount a memory you happened to be fond of.

You grew attached to each other rather quickly and easily, a strong emotional bond forming between the two of you that one wouldn't necessarily think possible.

And so, when he arrived this particular night, he couldn’t help but pout a little when he found you fast asleep in your bed. Then again he couldn’t really blame you, it was sometime between 2 and 3am after all. In all honestly, he was relieved to see you get some rest, knowing how you struggled at times.

He visited you for a different reason tonight though; it was his creation day - or birthday, a word he learned from you that meant essentially the same thing in human terms, which he used interchangeably.

He wanted to celebrate it with you and to do so, he’d either have to wait until you'd awaken on your own accord, or wake you up himself. He technically wanted to do neither but he was an incubus, so he did the one thing that he knew how to do.

Hesitating for a beat, then, Seonghwa's face blossomed a cherry red when he recalled how you had previously informed in a conversation that he had been given explicit permission to have his way with you whenever he pleased.

Feeling the mattress dip beneath his weight, he carefully maneuvered himself onto the mattress to hover above you. Seonghwa, careful and gentle as ever, balanced himself on one hand while lifting the other to brush a few strands of hair out of your face.

Your expression was peaceful as you slept, head tilted slightly to the side, and he couldn't help but coo softly at the sight while he briefly lost himself in his own thoughts.

How would he ever tell you that he had fallen in love with you, someone belonging in a different world...? He had yet to figure it out.

He shook his emotional dilemma off in favor of trailing his lips down from your jaw over your neck and collarbone with slow, deliberate kisses. You stirred slightly with a soft hum, remaining asleep.

Seonghwa’s soft lips attached themselves to your skin to gently suck a marking near your shoulder. Once satisfied, he pulled back and his hands went to free your sleeping form from the blanket it was covered with.

He froze in his tracks for a brief moment, not having expected you to be dressed exclusively in an oversized t-shirt. He bit his lip and toyed with the hem of the piece of fabric that still covered your body before pushing it up to under your breasts for easier access to where he wanted to be.

His hands established a gentle but firm grip on your thighs and parted them for him while he nipped all over the skin of your stomach, trying to distract himself and not turn bright red once more from the realization of your lack of underwear.

Like the gentle man he was, Seonghwa glided his fingertips over your inner thighs with featherlight touches and if it wasn’t for the airy giggle you let out, having known you were rather ticklish, he would have thought you couldn’t feel him at all.

You leaned into his touch slightly out of instinct when his fingers ghosted over your slit to see if you were wet enough to take him -  he knew it could be painfully if either party isn’t aroused to a more than sufficient level. But, to his relief, you were practically dripping, which led him to believe you may have been having a wet dream. Little did he know, you had been in a limbo between asleep and awake ever since his hands first came into contact with your heated skin.

Seonghwa was way too focused on his task to notice your state of half-consciousness, and he didn’t even connect the dots when you mewled out loud after he had discarded his pants and gradually pushed his length into your entrance.

Once he bottomed out, he whined softly as he began to rock his hips into you and it surprised you time and time how gentle he’d start off with you - as if you were a porcelain doll and he was afraid of breaking you - and that you’d always, without fail, remind him that he didn’t have to be, that you could take it.

There was a tenderness in his actions that you couldn’t quite place. You refused to believe that the root of it was love.

It was when his voice went high-pitched with a shaky “N-noona..~” that your eyes flew open, thankful for his lack of focus on you while he moaned softly, your hand blindly fumbling for something under the pillow next to you.

Your fingers finally took hold of and wrapped around the cold metal item, pulling it out from where you hid it until mere seconds ago, and Seonghwa’s hips stuttered slightly when he heard a familiar soft click, but he only snapped his gaze back forward to look at you wide-eyed as he felt a gun barrel pressed to the side of his head.

“Noona, I-”

“Hush, sugar. You’ll be good and listen to every word I say, yeah~?” You smirked up at him as he nodded and let out a desperate whine of affirmation.

It was a peculiar kink of him to have to want to call you noona, you mused, considering that he was a century old creature and you physically would not be able to top that as a human being. But you figured that it wouldn’t hurt to indulge him, considering that no one in his past seemed to have done so based on his delight when you complied and agreed.

Whimpers from the man above you pulled you back into the present reality as you watched him struggle to keep up a rhythm with the gun pressed to his head. You cooed at how good of a job he was doing regardless, “Such a good boy, fucking noona good just how he knows she likes it...~”

Seonghwa cried out, his face flushed because of how he submissive he acted, contrary to how he usually at least tried to appear to be.

“Mhm, my pretty babyboy figured he could use my body for his own pleasure, similar to how the rest of his kind does hm~? It’s cute, really.” You purred, unable to stop a moan from slipping from your lips while your grip on the loaded gun tightened slighly, although you made sure to keep your fingers away from the trigger just in case.

“You make noona feel so good, sugar, just like you’re meant to...~” You smiled up at Seonghwa with a so obviously deceiving sweetness that made his pouty lips tremble slightly, a few strands of his messy hair sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead.

You knew the telltale signs of when he was about to cum, your first trist with the demon having been what felt like years ago although it only lied back a few months.

“I-I... Noona, ‘m already close...~” He panted softly above you, causing you to coo as he twitched inside of you, a smile tugging at you lips.

“Mhm I can tell, baby~ You can hold it in for a little longer for noona, no?” Your voice carried a lilt as you hummed and it unsettled Seonghwa that he couldn’t quite place it, but he nodded eagerly nonetheless, not willing to even so much as risk disappointing you.

“Y-yeah!” He gasped softly when you suddenly wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper inside of you, your back arching as you did so, “Good boy...~ Oh fuck, right there-”

You hissed lowly under your breath, having unintentionally pushed the tip of your lover’s cock right into the spot that would make you come undone. Seonghwa whined loudly and desperately above you as he continued his almost frenzied thrusts into your heat, his head thrown back and his body on the verge of overstimulation when you found your climax around his length.

It was convenient for him to be so well-endowed, you mused, since he was able to hit the most pleasurable spots deep inside of you with ease.

“P-please noona, I-I can’t-”

“Cum, Seonghwa.”

And just like that, with two simple words, he let go and released himself inside of you, a soft moan drifting from you at the feeling of warmth spreading through your body.

Seonghwa panted softly as he slowly came down from his high, reaching to caress your cheek as if in a trance while you dropped the hand holding the gun onto a pillow next to the two of you before letting go of the item entirely.

Having caught your breath, you nudged him to roll over, which he willingly did after carefully pulling out of you.

You turned to face him, tenderly threading a hand through his hair as he pouted at you.

“Y/n-”

“Shh, I know Hwa. I should get cleaned up... but I’m too tired, so I’ll just shower in the morning.” You smiled reassuringly, to which he relaxed as well and wordlessly wrapped his arm around you to pull you close and cuddle you.

“Happy birthday...~” You murmured before drifting off, leading Seonghwa to coo softly at you in endearment as he held you close to himself protectively.

You were truly the only gift he could ever want and need.

When you woke up the next morning, it was in an entirely different position than the one you fell asleep in. Shifting in your bed, you realized that your supernatural companion had cleaned both himself and you in the night before making sure to dress you appropriately so you wouldn’t be cold.

You found your gun on the nightstand next to you a few moments after, along with a small note Seonghwa must’ve written in a hurry if the handwriting on it was anything to go by.

‘Thought I’d allow myself to clean you up so you could stay under your comfy blankets a little longer. Hope you don’t mind :)’

There were a few hearts scribbled all over the piece of paper, and your head fell back against your pillow with a knowing smile and a happy sigh.

You were glad the incubus seemed to reciprocate your feelings, and you’d be sure to tell him so when he would return.

“I love you too, Hwa.”

----- Taglist:

@cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva  @galaxteez @innosintsan @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @vocalyunho @yunhoes-twancings-nsfw @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet​

[shihalyfie]

Some fun talking about and analyzing the tri. stage play, and its relationship to Kizuna

The tri. stage play (full title: "Super Evolution Stage! Digimon Adventure tri. August 1st Adventure") is honestly quite an unusual entry in this franchise, even within Adventure standards. Nearly everything about its production is unusual -- the entire genre it's in is unexpected, the choice of time period to release something like this is unusual, and moreover, now that Kizuna’s out, a lot of people have noticed a lot of suspiciously similar themes and even language, most notably the key “we’ll always be together” line (phrased even exactly the same way in Japanese). In fact, despite ostensibly being a tri.-branded product, other than a few vague token nods to the anime series in the play itself, said stage play has very little to do with the actual anime sharing its name, so the similarity to Kizuna is even more striking in retrospect.

Perhaps another interesting thing about this play is that it’s a very good example of a standout work in the Adventure universe that didn’t have any original creator involvement (other than some minor tips from Seki). I think there’s often a tendency for people to think that in order for a sequel or spinoff to be true to the original, it has to have some member of original staff on there, especially since the Adventure (and 02) characters tend to be a bit overly complex and it helps to have the reassurance that someone who knows them is behind the wheel -- Kizuna used the presence of Seki and Yamatoya as an outright advertising point -- but this stage play’s director and writer had no experience with the franchise beforehand, not even as a fan, yet still made a very respectful product that has generally been received well by Adventure (and 02) fans and even got the original director’s approval, too. If anything, that makes it all the more impressive!

(Note that the below text spoils the story content of the play, but not Kizuna’s to any substantial degree.)

Some production background

Anime and video game stage tie-ins are fairly common -- much like this one, they tend to have very short runs and are targeted at a limited audience -- but they’re usually stereotyped as being for the otome crowd (i.e. predominantly female otaku audience), so works like this are generally associated with it. As a result, when this play was announced and released between tri. Parts 4 and 5, quite a few people were surprised, because this franchise originally came from products associated with shounen anime. In practice, this was a period where it was becoming increasingly clear that there was, in fact, a huge female audience for Digimon (especially Adventure universe), on top of the fact that (as noted by the performers in the final show) the audience for this show ended up being unusually mixed-gender, because Digimon really is universal -- but it did lead to the announcement of the play being initially received with heavy skepticism, partially because of the usual misogyny (stigma around things associated with female audiences, etc.), and partially because this was during a time where...well, saying that a very huge percentage of the fanbase, especially the Japanese side, was really pissed off at anything tri.-branded at the time is kind of an understatement. Ultimately, the play ended up very well-received with a small but dedicated following, and it’s currently referred to as “dejisute” (short for “Digimon Stage”) in Japanese fan shorthand. Bringing it up generally elicits positive critical feedback, even among those who were initially skeptical.

Some interesting things also surround the circumstances of its production as well. As some might know already, the tri. anime series and Kizuna share only one key member of staff: Kinoshita Yousuke, who was involved in tri. Parts 5 and 6, and eventually went on to become the producer for Kizuna and the upcoming 02-based movie. tri. was a work that (for some reason) had a huge number of producers on it, of which Kinoshita was only one; he seemed to have been replacing Arai Shuuhei, who left the project after Part 4. However, while Arai was formerly one of the most visible of tri.’s producers (he was the only one regularly brought up in interviews), how much degree of influence Kinoshita had with tri. is unknown, other than the fact he had no involvement in its story. Given that the decision to make Kizuna also seemed to have been made around Part 5, it seems that Kinoshita may have been brought on specifically for the purpose of observing and prepping for Kizuna, because his role on tri. seems to have been so minimal that the moment he was put in charge of Kizuna, the production philosophy ended up becoming completely different under his management. (When you think about it, tri. and Kizuna have very little in common, other than the rough premises of involving the older Adventure cast.)

The thing is, though, Part 5 isn’t actually the first tri. work Kinoshita is credited for, but this stage play is -- which is interesting to consider when taking into account the heavy amount of thematic parallels between this and Kizuna three years later, and in general the very unusual creative decision to make a stage play that suddenly popped up at exactly this time, making heavier tributes to Adventure (and even 02) than the actual anime it was branded with. Making things even more interesting was that the stage play’s director and writer, Tani Kenichi, was allegedly recruited by an unnamed producer impressed with his work (by the way, did I mention Kinoshita used to work in live-action before joining Toei?). Given all that, perhaps this stage play coming off unnervingly like a sort of Kizuna prototype isn’t all that surprising...

Unfortunately, right now we’re still kind of in a time period where official will get barraged with violently angry comments for even so much as putting the series on streaming services, so it’ll probably be a few more years (if ever) before official will be willing to be more open about what went on behind tri. production, and it’s probably a bit much to get too speculative about things like this when real people are involved. Nevertheless, one thing is apparent: the director and writer, Tani, was a newcomer to Digimon -- not even someone who’d been a fan beforehand -- but watched all of Adventure and 02 in preparation for it and stated openly that he was very, very emotionally touched by it. The work itself is obviously made with a lot of love and respect for the series, and one really cool thing about it is that you can also tell that it came from the perspective of an adult with no preconceived notions about it, therefore meaning it comes from someone analyzing the series without necessarily caving to fanbase mantras, and making some very cogent observations about the characters. It’s also just a fabulous work production-wise in general -- the puppet work and making the Digimon look convincing on stage is very well-done, especially when you consider that this play had only ten showings -- and you really gotta appreciate the fact that, even before Seki gave him a few pointers, he was so passionate about the importance of Digimon partners that he pushed for all eight to be represented despite the expenses.

Taking a look at the play itself

Despite ostensibly tying into the tri. anime series it's branded with, the play only really seems to loosely refer to some of its key elements as taking place at approximately the same time, such as Koushirou’s server, infected Digimon, setpieces like KNIFE OF DAY, and an eventual “reveal” that this seems to take place ostensibly around the rough time period of tri.’s Part 4. Look closely, however, and you’ll notice that a lot of things in the characterization and plot arena actually don’t track much with tri. at all -- for instance, in a very non-comprehensive list of things:

It’s implied that Yamato himself is embarrassed about the KNIFE OF DAY band name and is desperately trying to get through it with passion, which doesn’t quite line up with his attitude about it in the anime.

The timeline just really doesn’t line up; Mochizuki Meiko, Meicoomon, and the infections obviously exist, but you can’t have a time period in Part 4 where the kids recognize Meicoomon as being related to the distortions or infections while also being separated from Meiko. Moreover, the “reboot” just doesn’t seem to have happened at all (and to be fair, if you’re planning on making a two-hour tribute to Adventure, not having the Digimon with memories of said adventure would seriously limit the scope of your plot, so this kind of “leeway” was probably downright necessary).

The tri. anime series portrayed Takeru as having a very sharp shift in language, presumably under the implication he’s putting up a front as a flirtatious, aggressive playboy, and so his first-person pronoun was turned into the aggressive ore and his way of referring to Yamato aniki. In Adventure and 02, Takeru had used the polite boku and childish/cutesy onii-chan, and the boku was prominently used as a plot point to hint at Takeru’s identity as the series narrator. (Yes, these kinds of things are actually kind of a big deal in fiction.) Since even longtime fans generally agree that at some point Takeru would be likely to stop using onii-chan once he became old enough, the stage play likewise also prefers aniki over onii-chan, but, notably, it doesn’t even bother with ore in the slightest nor any of the implications that surround it, and Takeru comfortably uses boku for the entirety of the play. Considering that the use of aniki is still a bit unusual (both Diablomon Strikes Back and Kizuna prominently favor the slightly more polite nii-san instead), it seems that the play was made with an awareness that both aspects of Takeru’s language had changed, but a conscious decision to hold over only one from the anime.

And so on and so forth.

In general, the way you could describe this play’s handling of Adventure universe lore and characterization elements is that it’s a bit selective about which tri.-related elements it makes use of, particularly in regards to ones that might be too difficult to reconcile with the original Adventure (and 02). (This is basically the same attitude Kizuna roughly takes in regards to handling of tri. elements, although it’s less noticeable there partially because of the five-year gap between tri. and Kizuna.) Obviously, being completely incongruous with the tri. anime would be a pretty crude thing to do for a play that’s actually branded with it (and especially when said anime was still ongoing at the time, regardless of public opinion), but, regardless, the end result is that its actual relationship with the tri. anime’s version of canon is a bit tenuous.

The main reason for this is probably that, on the flip side, the stage play's references to Adventure -- as in, the specific series that aired in 1999-2000 and took place in the in-universe August 1 and 3, 1999 -- are incredibly aggressive. In fact, it’s actually far more aggressive in this respect than Kizuna is. For all Kizuna is branded as an Adventure movie and puts the original Adventure cast first and foremost in all of the advertising, if you watch the actual movie, in practice, it’s more of something that lies in the gap between Adventure and 02 and the two series together as a whole. Adventure was a series that practically revolved around a "trapped in another world" story and the specific impact its events had on the kids involved, but Kizuna focuses more on the “larger world”, including real world society (very much 02 things), with a lot of themes with suspicious pertinence to 02 and references to its epilogue looming over the plot; the specific Adventure references and even the Digital World don’t come into play until the climax. (And that’s before we get into the fact that the 02 quartet gets more screentime than a good chunk of their seniors.) Really, you can see it just by the fact that a majority of the primary key visuals line the 02 quartet up with everyone else; it’s a movie about both, not just Adventure.

So in other words, Kizuna is really about mixing Adventure and 02 elements, serving as a sort of stopgap work, and recasting the Adventure group in a lot of 02′s context. (And that’s by no means a bad thing; since Adventure wasn’t about that, the differing juxtaposition is a fresh perspective in its own way.) But in terms of revisiting what the actual series called Digimon Adventure was and how those events might have an influence on its relevant cast years later, this play (which actually has longer runtime than Kizuna, being around two hours) is a good place to go to if that’s what you’re looking for. The entire premise of the play revolves around copiously referencing that specific adventure back in 1999, and, more importantly, what impact it’s still continuing to have in this particular group’s memories, to the point where they’re starting to romanticize it and wish they could return to it forever...

Ah, right, that’s what this play has in common with Kizuna: the overall theme of unhealthy fixation on rose-colored nostalgia, and the need to move forward from it. (And, driving it home, “unhealthy fixation on the events of Adventure” as a symbol of that rose-colored nostalgia, to boot.)

The premise of the play itself is that the kids decide to hold a camping trip as tribute to the adventure in 1999, as part of a desire to "go back to those times" (and, as is eventually revealed, it’s actually part of a pocket universe their subconscious wishes had dreamed up as a desire to recreate the past, thanks to the power of the Digital World). So all of the references to Adventure are concrete and fleshed out in specific detail, ranging from everyone referencing specific events and how they impacted them (Jou very explicitly refers to his experiences in Adventure episodes 46-47 in terms of why it fuels his current desire to become a doctor) to even the most minor of references (direct reference to bananas on File Island, from Adventure episode 3).

As a brief aside, a positive side effect of centering the plot on this specific adventure is that it justifies the reason for why these eight are working together (at least prior to the endgame reveal that they’re still involved in tri.’s events); the eight of them weren’t portrayed as liable to do so without good reason, and while certain aspects and events from 02 are alluded to when they’re relevant, the absence of the actual quartet passing without note is completely justifiable because they simply were not on that adventure anyway. (They weren’t initially planned to be at the event in 02 episode 17, and knowing them, it’s likely they wouldn’t want to be at this kind of outright commemorative camping event, because they’d feel like they’d be intrusive in something they had nothing to do with.) So within the scope of the play in two hours, the narrative can be very neatly condensed to be mostly about Adventure itself.

Although this play and Kizuna both share the common theme of the existential crisis that comes with getting older and the tendency to romanticize one’s childhood, the underlying reasons are a bit different; Kizuna’s is very close to 02 in that it’s largely to do with societal pressures and expectations, especially since the question of "what you want to do with your career" is a driving motivation in it. In other words, the existential crisis comes from living up to other people’s expectations, or trying to fit into an arbitrary societal mold of an “adult” without necessarily knowing if that’s what you really want. In the case of this stage play, being set in everyone’s high school years where everyone’s relationship to “the world at large” is a bit more tenuous, the reason for the existential crisis is somewhat closer to Adventure’s: everyone’s started to think they might have been better people back then. More confident, less hesitant, more honest with their feelings. Adventure was a series about self-improvement and one’s relationship with oneself, so it’s understandable that a work meant to look back on that specific adventure will ask the question “well, did they become better people after all?” as a result.

But there’s two problems with this line of thinking: one, this is a very rose-colored evaluation of their former selves, because just because they might have been “more confident” back then doesn’t mean they didn’t have other problems going on (Hikari calls her past self out for being arguably “more honest”, but also somewhat of a dependent child), and two, being more hesitant doesn’t make one a weaker person, just one who’s dealing with a lot more problems and awareness and things to worry about because of how much the scope of their lives has increased. As Agumon says at the end, the old Taichi and the current Taichi are still the same person; it’s just that he’s dealing with more, so he’ll naturally worry about more, and taking on those extra burdens is actually his own way of “evolving”.

Particularly interesting is the position of Jou, the not-so-unsung hero of this story, who is explicitly identified as the person most clearly aware of his future dreams and proceeding without hesitation towards them, to the point of being somewhat immune to the effects of the dream world. (Somewhat, mainly because the ending establishes that he wasn’t entirely.) It's consistent in line with the fact that we actually saw, directly, the train of thought that led to his decision to become a doctor back in Adventure, and he even states it directly in this play himself: he doesn’t consider himself someone who wants to solve things through fighting, but rather someone who can prevent casualties and heal the injured if he pursues this line of study, and thus is determined to make it happen. Even from the very early points of the play, there are several hints at him being able to see a metaphorical “future” that the others cannot, and while he remains unfailingly loyal to his friends (there’s a long sequence of him constantly claiming he’ll leave them as per Koushirou’s request but constantly coming back because he just can’t bring himself to abandon them), he also is the first one to depart the camping trip to attend to a test -- that is to say, he treasures his past, but he has a strong enough dream for his future that he’s willing to move on better than the others can.

Jou’s also the one to personally advise Yamato about the difference in nuance between doing things because you feel you must, versus doing it because you yourself truly want to, a difference in nuance that also becomes very pertinent in Kizuna. Also pertinent to both works in common is the discussion of nuances between “staying trapped in one’s memories” and “violently cutting them all away” (the consequences of the latter being more extensively discussed in Kizuna), versus the ideal situation of reflecting on those memories and experiences from the past in order to productively move forward.

And in the end, rose-colored nostalgia is, indeed, rose-colored nostalgia. Because, sure, that adventure back in the day was great, and they grew a lot, but they also grew a lot because they were overcoming some very harsh, difficult troubles; omitting those parts is losing the substance. The re-invocation of the fun “camping trip” also means re-invoking all of the other things that came along with it, including all of the dangerous threats they’d faced back then. It’s a package deal, and you can’t just filter those out, because it misses the point of what you gained out of it in the first place.

In general, the character writing for this play is also very good; there are some differences between the characters here and them back in 02, but they’re all within the believable scope of positive progression within three years and general adherence to core tenets of their character (Koushirou is certainly more assertive, but emphasis continues to be placed on his deference to others, penchant for spotting details, and capability for being an organizational leader in his own sense). Also notably, this play manages to verbalize a lot of the subtleties in Adventure and 02 that the mainstream tends to gloss over (and don’t tend to get put in official profiles) but are well-known to those deeply familiar with the series. This is the kind of attention to detail usually associated with those who have been studying the series for years, so it’s refreshing to see these come out in words -- for instance, Koushirou stating outright that he was one of the closest people to Taichi for a long time (very true!), Hikari and Takeru actually commenting on each other from back in Adventure (something we never really got in 02, despite “them having known each other for a while” being part of their character arcs), and Sora explicitly admitting that she goes out of her way for others because it’s easier to work for others than it is to even think about herself.

Actually, the attention to detail in general is fantastic; other than a minor slip-up (Sora refers to having met Koushirou during the summer camp at the beginning of the play when she’d actually known him prior from the soccer club, a detail that’s very easy to miss because it’s only mentioned once in Adventure episode 16 and clarified further in the novels), a lot of things from Adventure and 02 are made use of and framed in very clever context; the choice of Etemon as the enemy for this play is well-placed for both his entertainment value and the fact that, as an enemy personally defeated by MetalGreymon in Adventure episode 20, it makes perfect sense that he would have a grudge against Taichi in particular. (It’s also explicitly mentioned that Hikari and Tailmon never met Etemon in person even once, and that Taichi never actually got to see MetalEtemon, so there’s a lot of attention paid to logistics like that.)

Also, while 02 is not really brought up within the scope of the story (and really shouldn’t be, not when this story so heavily centers around Adventure and its themes), its place in canon and its contributions to the worldbuilding are fully respected; a lot of the offhand references to family situations and background are elements that were originally introduced in 02, and many aspects of its Digital World lore are used to assist the plot premise (in particular, the idea of the Digital World being connected to something that can conjure up unconscious dreams wasn’t explicitly invoked until 02). Rather amusingly, at one point, Hikari uses the events of 02 episode 13 to tell a “scary story” to troll Mimi, and it’s interesting and rather refreshing to see the implication that Hikari’s been able to move past the incident enough to use it to troll someone else. There are also some latent epilogue references as well, with Hikari directly bringing up her goal of becoming a kindergarten teacher, Takeru making some really subtle references to wanting to be a novelist and chronicle their adventures (in true Takeru fashion, he never states it outright, but anyone familiar with the epilogue can figure it out), and Taichi alluding to an ultimate goal of humans coexisting alongside Digimon.

Finally, attention should be called to the play’s relationship writing in general. As stated before, the play does call attention to relationships between characters that often don’t get brought up by the mainstream but are somewhat more well-known to fans -- Koushirou and Taichi, Sora and Mimi, Jou and Yamato -- but even the well-known ones are treated with nuance endemic to that from Adventure and especially 02, given that Taichi and Yamato don’t actually have the stereotypical “cold rivals” atmosphere that shounen anime would usually suggest, and the two of them have an extended heart-to-heart in which Yamato actively tries to figure out what’s wrong with Taichi and treat him kindly. (Like in Adventure, the only time they break out in a fight is when Yamato gets emotionally compromised and starts worrying that Taichi isn’t doing enough for others’ welfare.) It’s also very consistent with how the two treat each other in Kizuna as well (the izakaya scene comes to mind, and has a lot of similarities to the awkward-but-ultimately-close conversation they have at night in this play).

And, of course, the centerpiece of the narrative overall: the human-partner relationship. Of course, a lot of this was probably helped by Seki lecturing Tani to not mess this part up, but it really is impressive to consider in light of the fact we’re working with a lot of puppets that have handlers clearly in plain view, so you have to have some massive suspension of disbelief to make this work. But not only are the movements well-done to make it convincing that you really are seeing these actors physically interacting with their partners on stage, the narrative also puts huge spotlights on them, making the Digimon outright be the ones to snap their partners out of their worst patterns of thinking (especially with Agumon and Taichi), and dedicating a long period of silence where literal stage spotlights are dedicated to each kid having some alone time with their partner. The intimacy is very convincing, and, truly, Tani’s insistence on making sure every single one of the main Digimon was represented in spite of the prohibitive budget paid off very well. The point is made: a Digimon partner has to be someone who knows you well and intimately and can call you out at your worst moments, and Taichi even spells it out: Agumon’s capable of seeing right through him.

Putting it next to Kizuna -- a movie dedicated entirely to examining the meaning of a partner relationship, what happens when it deteriorates, what that means for oneself, and what it takes to recover it again -- it’s perhaps unsurprising that this play ends on the same line that was used in all of Kizuna’s advertising and was central to its own plot: “We’ll always be together.”

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

A Change For The Better

A comfort piece, mention of verbal abuse. 

A slumbering giant lies beside you; massive, intimidating in his own right but when he slept you were reminded of just how gentle the mutant could be. Those hands, enormous three fingered mitts capable of such destruction even death if permitted but those digits brought pleasure and comfort beyond anything you could have dreamed.

Your finger tips glide over the green scales of his beak watching him as the handsome terrapin mumbles what sounds like your name in his sleep. His lips curl into a soft smile while he leans into the touch and your heart swells with adoration. The turtle was extraordinary, different and absolutely perfect and he was yours, every rigid, powerful inch of the colossal mutant yours.

 He wasn’t what you had expected when you prayed for someone caring, someone that loved without consequence but you wouldn’t change anything, he was just what you needed.

 You remember those words like it was yesterday; stupid, pathetic, dumb, the bouts of anger fueled by his bad moods.  That child before left you full of anxiety, unhappy and emotionally drained with his rage and insecure shortcomings. Those years you endured his abusive verbal tirades, years wasted on a festering ball of hate that projected his weakness onto you. A verbal punching bag that he used regularly then acted like nothing had happened a short time later.

 When you finally had the courage to rid yourself of his toxic behavior you felt like a weight had been lifted. No longer walking on eggshells or dreading going home, your confidence returned and that fateful day that changed your life for the better finally came.

 You had been sitting on your balcony watching the city come alive, when you heard something above you. You lived on the top floor so the roof was just above and you were the only one that utilized that space.

 Curiosity killed the cat but you still climbed the final stairs to the roof to investigate. Using the light of your phone to find you patio lights, you plugged in the cord and your little section of roof illuminated. Just then a shadow just to your left slipped back into the shadows.

 “Please.” You urged quietly stepping towards your guest. Truth be told you had sensed this presence before, many times as you took your verbal lashings. It was funny, you really hadn’t thought about it when it happened but your subconscious knew someone else was there with you those nights, listening, waiting.

 Again you called, “Please come out. I’d like to meet you.”

 The silence bore on for a few moments before his voice came through the darkness, low, rough yet it held such an unthreatening tone. “I don’t want to scare you.”  

 “Are you here to hurt me?”

 “N-No, I would never…” He responded quickly and adamantly and there you could see the movement in the darkness. He was big, very big but you weren’t afraid.

 “Then I promise you won’t scare me.” With your words you can see him step forward, but just one step, he stopped just before the line of light that ran across the rooftop.  He was hesitating.

 “I’m not like other men.”

 With a soft titter you let out a long breath and closed your eyes, your hands moved over each other fingers tangling and untangling with your excitement. “God, I hope not. I would be disappointed if you were like them.” Those words gave him hope and he stepped forth into the light. Eyes lighting up with admiration you watched in awe as his enormous green muscled form came into your life.

 Since that fateful night your life had made a change for the good, you had never felt so loved in your life. Appreciated and adored you had never been happier.  He was a champion of the city but to you he was your savoir, protector and had brought you peace.

 For someone who lived in the sewer he smelled amazing and tasted even better. Those lips of his were magic, leaving trails of fire along your flesh. His body though, that immaculate temple bestowed upon him from the heavens itself was a gift in itself. Every inch of him was well defined, thick, and built for bringing you to the highest peaks of pleasure. Nothing like anything you had ever experienced with anyone else. Years of training had left him talented in so many ways that had nothing to do with ninjutsu.  

 His face was not traditional being half human and half turtle in all, but you found him handsome, sexy and quite frankly perfect. And those eyes, vibrant and full of life and when they were locked with yours you had no room to breathe, just utterly mesmerized by his gaze.

 If his looks weren’t enough the terrapin was brave, honorable and the most loving man you had ever met. Dotting, caring, grateful and you felt blessed.

 The warmth of his hand sliding over your exposed hip broke you from your thoughts. Your hand had found its way to his cheek resting the heat of your palm there and those sparkling vivacious orbs were trained on you leaving you once again breathless. His hand abandoned your hip resting on the top of your hand to move your palm to the warmth of his mouth. Lips parted and the turtle pressed a kiss to your hand and set it back where it had been.

 “Where were you just now?” he asked softly running his long fingers through your hair before running down your arm to rest on your hip once again.

 You toke this moment to realize you suddenly felt he was too far away and you moved swiftly into his arms which he eagerly allowed. His arms wrap around you and the mutant rolled to his shell pulling you onto his chest. Both your hands gripped the top of his plastron and you pressed your ear to the platelets just above his beating heart. It’s strong and the rhythm steady, a reminder he was real, flesh and blood, not your imagination.

 When his large hands ran down your back in soothing circles you were reminded he had asked you a question and you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I was thinking of where I’ve been and where I am now and how so very lucky I am.”

 Using your hands as leverage you push up and your lips move over the top of his chest with a few sloppy wet kisses. When you look upon his face you can see his smile in the moonlight, he looked content and happy giving you a sense of calm in the moment. “What are you smiling about?”

 “That’s funny.” He started. “I was just thinking the same thing.” His left hand came forward and cupped your face running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “Can I- can I tell you something?”  His voice wavered just a bit and he suddenly looked a little sheepish.

 “Of course, you can tell me anything.”

 The terrapin let out a deep breath and you could see him mentally gather his courage. Curious and curiousier.

 “That night we first met……”

 He paused for a moment as if worried you’d get upset with the next words he was about to speak. You roll your cheek into his large palm and give him his reprieve. “That wasn’t the first time you had been up there was it?”

 “No.”

 You wanted to laugh but you didn’t want him to feel like you were laughing at him, “I know.”

 “You do?” his head lifted a little off the pillow in shock.

 “I could sense you up there each time……” you didn’t want to finish the sentence.

 Slowly his hand moved from your cheek down to the back of your neck squeezing it gently for reassurance. “I was out on patrol one night and I heard him yelling at you. I stayed, listening, ready to jump in if things….escalated.  Each time I was out I made sure to stop by and check on you. There were a few times I watched you from the adjacent building making dinner tortured by the smells of what you were creating. I wanted to taste them so bad but….he was there. Then I didn’t hear him for days, no shouting just the calm presence of just you. That night when that brick shifted under my foot was the best ninja fail ever. I finally got to meet you.”

 A sudden rush of love swarmed your heart, tears ready to spill and you surged forward capturing his mouth with yours. The mutant accepted the kiss hungrily opening his mouth at the urgent push from your tongue. They mingled swiping over each other until he rolled bringing you beneath him. He quickly settled himself between your thighs and rocked his hips forward.

 You could feel how quickly he filled out as the length traveled up your inner thigh fueled by his growing arousal.  There was no barrier between you both and you quickly realized how easily you could be stuffed full with every inch of him. Rolling your hips down you showed him just how eager you were and broke the kiss panting against his lips.

 “I love you.” You gasped as he plunged forward locking himself inside you.

 “Always.” 

[going-dead]

Phasmophobia

Danny was very sick of tourists coming to explore Amity park. Like very sick of them, especially the ‘ghost hunter’ ones. In the end they just caused more problems than the actual ghosts, getting in the way of the fights causing Danny more stress and injuries than normal. Not to mention they sucked at their so called jobs. He was pretty sure even a single elementary schooler of Amity was a better ghost fighter than all of the tourists combined.

But at the moment it was the dead of winter and probably one of the coldest weeks of the year. So only the stupidest of self proclaimed ghost hunters would venture out to hunt ghosts in weather like this. While it was nice not having to worry about danger prone tourists Danny still was miserable, he could deal with the cold just fine in fact he preferred the cold. The problem was that It was the holiday season, the worst time of the year. At least the ghost attacks were less frequent as they all prepared for the Christmas truce party.

Still he supposed it could be worse. His parents weren’t fighting as much this year, though that was probably due to the fact they were still treating him like he was made of glass half of the time after he told them about the whole half dead thing. Danny figured that was due to the fact they blamed themselves for the portal incident, causing them to coddle him to an almost tortuous degree. It was as if they expected him to disappear if he was so much as bumped in the wrong way. It had gotten a bit better at this point at least, if things continued as it did at the beginning Danny was pretty sure he’d rather have them still be shooting at him. Now they only tensed up when he left the house instead of not so subtly stalking him all day.

At the moment Danny was sitting on the counter in the kitchen with his mom while she was cooking dinner. “Danny dear get off the counter that’s where the food goes not you.” Maddie said shooing him off the counter with a spatula.

Danny floated off in a huff, “This is ghostphobic mom. The counter is a perfect seat.”

Maddie rolled her eyes, “The term would be phasmophobic, and no it’s not it’s; I don’t want your butt all over where I’m making our dinner-phobic.”

“Fine transphobic then.”

“How about asking you to set the table? What would that be?”

Danny mulled it over for a few seconds. “A reasonable request I suppose.” He phased his hands though the cabinets grabbing the plates. Honestly he could have just as easily grabbed them normally but he was still trying to get his parents used to him having powers. “Oh by the way Sam, Tucker, and I are hanging out tomorrow to celebrate winter break starting and school being out for two whole weeks.” “Alright sweetie, but be safe okay?”

“Of course I will be mom.”

“I mean it Danny, please.”

Danny sighed “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to text you regularly to let you know I’m safe. I’ll be fine and stay out of trouble, I promise” Maddie nodded seemingly plated at least for the time being.

The next day Danny was really regretting making that promise. The day started out so well too. Danny, Sam, and Tucker were walking along the park trail. Danny was walking a few steps in front of the other two, subtly making the path easier with his powers. The only people out insane enough to bear the cold were people who had to go to work and teens who were bored out of their minds.

“All I’m saying Danny is that if you want to choose that class you should choose a race other than human for once. Hellspawn would be the best option in your case.” Tucker argued.

“Says the dude playing the race for furries.” Danny shot back turning his head to look back at his friend.

“Hey! The beastmen race is a perfect fit for my class, they have an exp boost for trickery and magic skills  it’s the best for playing a character who mains in ambushing with traps.

“Boys boys stop arguing. Danny will be fine playing as a human he’s just gonna have to spend more time grinding. Also he’s right, beastmen are so the furry option.” Sam cut in.

“Whatever, I just don’t understand why he always plays the most boring race in every game he plays. I mean why would you want to play as a human when you could be a fantasy race like an elf or something.”

“Well that’s easy for you and Sam to say you both are still hum-,” Danny was cut off mid sentence by his ghost sense and a glowing red circle surrounding the group. He hardly had a chance to go ghost before being fully enveloped by the light.

When Danny was finally oriented enough to open his eyes he vowed to never complain about getting motion sick while his dad was driving again if it meant he would never have to go through that awful experience again. It felt like getting sucked into the Fenton Thermos if it was the size of a straw and being spun in a blender all at the same time. He looked around seeing if his friends were brought along with him. And just his luck, of course they got pulled through whatever the hell that was too.

“Ugh, you guys okay?” He closed his eyes again and focused on stabilizing his core and getting the last of the nausea to leave.

“Bleh I think I’m gonna hurl.” Sam groaned from beside him.

Danny heard Tucker shift beside him. “Yeah I’m good, I guess all that time staying up late playing VR games kinda helped against motion sickness. Landed on my arm though so definitely going to bruise later. Where are we anyway?”

That actually was a good question, Danny lifted himself off the ground literally, using legs to stand was lame anyway. The sight he was met with was both confusing and surprising. Looking down he saw that the three of them were in some sort of red magic circle or something, with candles lit around it. Looking past that was the part that was surprising. He was expecting this to be the work of a ghost but standing in a circle around the three of them were six  humans in different colored robes. He couldn’t recognize any of them though, they must have been from out of town or just total shut ins. He was pretty sure he recognized where they were though, it was the basement of an abandoned building next to the mall, Sam was super into urban exploring the year before and it was one of the first places she dragged the two boys to.

“Haha uhh hey didn’t know there was a costume party going on, I would have dressed up, looks like you got all the colored robe thing going on though. Would my hazmat suit work instead of a robe?” Danny looked at the group around him and cracked an uneasy smile. Maybe it was some sort of accidental ghost summoning or something, it wouldn’t be the first time. Though the fact it brought his friends along pointed to it either being on purpose or something much more powerful, or both.

The man in the black robe turned to a woman in a white one. “Why did the spell bring two kids along with it .”

Danny tried to ignore being called an ‘it’ not like his parents didn’t do it before they knew about his identity. “I’m not the murder clown and I do have a name you know.” But his words seemed to fall onto deaf ears.

“I did the calculations right if that’s what you’re trying to imply, as you can see the subject did appear in the circle as planned. We probably just underestimated how much power the sacrifice would provide with the addition of the solstice.” White robe snapped. Great, this was totally just what Danny needed at the start of his winter break. Not only did they seem like ghost hunters they were the crazy obsessed culty ones.

“Either way the goal was achieved in the end, we have the ghost boy.” Black robe pointed to two men, one in yellow and one in blue robes. “Take care of the two bystanders, but don’t kill them. After all we shouldn’t kill our soon to be followers.” Yeah that wasn’t concerning at all Danny thought.

The one in the yellow grabbed Sam and the one in the blue grabbed Tucker at the black robed man's command. Danny assumed that probably meant the black robed one was the one in charge here. “Hey! Get your hands off me you freaks!” Sam yelled, struggling against the man’s grip.

But Danny’s friends didn’t have a chance against people twice their size. Before either of them could struggle more the two men slammed their heads to the ground in almost unison, knocking them out almost instantly. It happened so fast all Danny would do is watch on in horror. He felt like he watched their now limp bodies for ages, their chests shallowly rising at least giving him the relief of knowing they were still alive. But the sight of small puddles of blood forming around their heads snapped him out of his horror and into a rage.

Danny placed his feet to the ground turning to look at the two in the black and white robes. “Why?” He seethed, “You said they were accidentally brought along when you were trying to get me here. Technically in a way this falls onto me. So tell me, why?”

The man in the black robe seemed taken aback from being confronted so suddenly. The woman in white didn’t seem to have the same problem, maybe they both were in charge? Honestly though Danny didn’t care at this point. “We will take over the little town you haunt. After we do that we will find out where all the ghosts are originating from and then make them into our soldiers so we can take over the country and then the world. To do that we obviously needed you out of the way since you seem to be the only one capable of combating the other ghosts that come into this world. Or you would just defeat our pawns before they could take true action. So we found a way to summon and trap ghosts, then brought you here so we could get you out of our way.”

Honestly Danny was disappointed hearing that more than anything, his rage almost completely disappeared after hearing the plan. “Hold up that is the stupidest plan I have ever heard.” And that was saying something seeing as he dealt with Vlad's plans on a weekly basis. “First off you do realize it would be very hard to get or even force ghosts into your service if you don’t offer them, anything in return. Not to mention how some ghosts have almost godlike powers and you expect to overpower them? Also I am not even close to the only one who can fight ghosts. Everyone in Amity Park has at least some know how when it comes to ghost fighting. They sell basic ghost protection equipment at the supermarket. I just happen to be better suited than everyone else because I y’know can like fly and go intangible when chasing them. Using ghosts to take over the world is so stupid do you even know how to properly catch a ghost? Seriously this is like next level dumb, not to mention how did you even know the summoning would work if it didn't you’d just all be standing in a darkly lit room looking dumber than you already do.”

That seemed to anger the white one a lot. Apparently she didn’t like her intelligence questioned. “Why you little-.” She stomped her foot. “This plan was thought through down to the smallest detail. You want to know how it worked huh? How about asking your friend over there. I wonder what happens when the dead are killed? You will find out soon enough.”

Danny looked over to where we gestured and his refound taunting attitude vanished. Laying over in the corner inside a smaller less complex looking circle was a ghost or the ectoplasmic remains of one at least, the core was completely destroyed. Judging by the fact that the ectoplasm was red it probably had a fire core before it was destroyed. From the lingering ecto signature Danny doubted the ghost was even sapient. It was most likely the remains of something like a blob ghost or the ghost of an animal or even a weaker ectopus. Still all he could do was stare at the remains in horror.

“Of course summoning you was harder so we used that thing for its ghost energy to help power the circle. Instead of chalk we used it’s ectoplasm to ensure the strength and longevity of the seal to hold you in the circle.” The woman smiled as if she achieved something great. Achieve something she did indeed, but it certainly was not what she intended.

The rage Danny felt before came back in full force. Before with his friends he at least knew they would recover, all three of them got injured fighting ghosts more often than they should. But to injure a ghost to the point where not even their core remained was something so taboo that only the most despicable ghosts would do. Even Skulker kept the cores of his prey stable enough not to fade away completely. A ghost's form could be completely destroyed but as long as their core remained they would reform back where they first formed in the Ghost Zone. The only ghosts Danny could think of who would go out of their way to destroy a core were some of the ancients like Pariah Dark or Nocturne.

Danny finally managed to tear his eyes away from the ghost's remains to lock eyes with the woman. She and the black robed man took a step back out of instinct. Looking into his eyes they felt the feeling every animal of prey felt when it knew it was being watched, being hunted. The temperature in the room dropped and frost started to crawl across the walls. Danny took a step towards the two leaders before pausing to reconsider and turning and starting towards the two men standing above his friends.

Then men in yellow and blue robes looked to the man in black for guidance, unsure of what action to take. He looked uncertain as well but shook his head. “There’s no way it can pass through the seal, we tested it.”

Danny's eyes flicked over to the man then back to the two who hurt his friends and gave them a predatory grin, his teeth now looking slightly sharper than usual. He made no sound as he stepped over the circle with ease closer and closer to the two men. They both reached for their weapons, small bats, apparently they were the muscle of the group, and swung at the approaching ghost. Danny simply went intangible causing the two to overswing and hit each other instead, knocking the wind out of them both and causing them to drop their bats. While they were catching their breath Danny grabbed them by their hair and knocked their heads together. Their bodies crumbled to the floor just a few inches from the teens they did the same to just minutes before.

The one who had yet to say or do anything, dressed in red, made her way towards Danny while his back was towards her. Just as she got within arms reach of him she slipped and fell. The temperature had dropped even more at this point causing the ground surrounding Danny to ice over. Danny hardly acknowledged the large thud behind him simply trapping the fallen woman up to her neck in ice as he walked past and headed towards his final two targets.

When first summoned by the group Danny could, within reason, probably be passed off as a weirdish looking human excluding the glow around him. But now as he stalked towards his prey that was no longer the case. His chest no longer moved like it was breathing. His feet made no sound as they made contact with the ground. His eyes, non-blinking, no longer had pupils or even whites to them just a void of endless ectoplasmic green. His ears were pointed almost bat like. The tips of which, along with his lips, were tinted blue. His hair, normally white like snow, now was just the white that came from complete absence of any color. The hair was defying gravity almost as if it was underwater while smoke like wisps trailed off from his hair as he moved. His mouth was twisted into an emotionless smile splitting through his cheeks showing needle like teeth all the way back to where his molars would have been, there was no tongue or throat behind them, just another endless green void. The skin of his neck that was showing past the hazmat suit was marked with lightning like scars. The glow around him seemed to absorb all the light in the room.

The man in the black robe looked between the approaching horror and his partner before running towards the exit. Danny moved so fast it was almost as if he materialized right in front of the man. The man stumbled back falling down in shock but still tried to scramble away from him crossing his chest as he did so. Just as Danny started to raise his arm towards the man he paused and lurched back.

He looked down at his chest where an ornate knife was now lodged. Holding onto the hilt was the woman, she gave the knife a final twist before letting go and herding her partner into the corner farthest away from Danny. Danny showed no pain as he grabbed the knife and pulled it out, the blade was dripping with ectoplasm, and dropped it on the ground. The wound in his chest already healing, filling with more ectoplasm to replace what was lost.

The smile that was marring Danny’s face was replaced with a scowl as he made his way towards the corner where the two were cowering. Placing a hand on their necks he lifted them both up against the wall and started slowly burning their skin with an ectoblast. He let them go, letting them fall to the ground only when their screams of pain turned silent as crushed vocal cords and burnt throat muscles took their toll. Both cult leaders looked up at him in horror faces pale. "What's wrong?" Danny smiled, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."

The woman looked at him in fear as she grasped at the raw skin of her throat, which now was covered in blisters and charred in some of the worst places. “Wha-, what, what are you?” She managed to rasp out before coughing up some blood.

Danny let out a dark chuckle, his voice echoed over itself. “I-,” he snarled, “am a Phantom .”

After Danny sent an anonymous tip to the police about the cult, he brought his friends back to his house. Of course his mom freaked out after he stopped responding to her texts and even more when he phased into the living room with an unconscious Sam and Tucker. He was pretty sure she was about to break out the BOOmerang if she didn’t hear from him for much longer. She was more than willing to take the two of them to the hospital to get them checked out.

Danny made a quick stop into the ghost zone to tell Clockwork to spread the word to other ghosts to be on alert and that there were humans that were trying to summon and capture ghosts. After telling Clockwork what happened, in much more detail than the briefest summary he gave his mom, including how he probably went a bit overboard with dealing with the cultists. He also admitted he didn't regret it even if he did go overboard. They hurt his friends and caused a ghost to completely fade, and in Danny’s opinion they deserve whatever came to them. The whole story caused Clockwork to also start fretting over him making sure to let Danny know that his reaction was a completely normal response to someone threatening something that falls within his obsession especially since it happened in his haunt of all places. Danny swore that his ghostly mentor could be worse than his own parents sometimes especially when it came to reassuring him about his more ghostly tendencies.  

Luckily after being released from the hospital it turned out the worst Sam and Tucker suffered were concussions that would heal in a decently short amount of time. That didn’t mean they weren’t complaining about it though.

“Stop laughing about my suffering Danny! I won’t be able to start playing Fantasy War Online VII until my two week tech restriction is lifted by my doctor. It was bad enough I had to go to a hospital but to be taken away from my lovely devices as well is just too much.” Tucker lamented.  

“Quit complaining and suck it up. I’m on the restriction too Tucker.” Sam pointed out.

Tucker huffed. “Yeah well you’ll probably manage to catch up to all the people who are getting it on release day easily, since you’re scarily good at MMO’s.” He flopped back onto Danny’s bed. “Hey at least this gives us more time to convince Danny to play something other than a human for once in his life. Like I said before the hellspawn is the perfect race for the build you’re going for.”

Danny just rolled his eyes. “And like I said before, I like being a human.” “Whatever dude just don’t complain when I utterly beat you if we end up fighting because you wanted to be the lamest most boring race ever.”

Danny shrugged. “Somehow I’ll cope, I just think it’s nice to be seen as normal and not scary.”

Sam laughed. “Danny you are the least scary person like to ever exist. The only things scary about you are your grades and your wacky parents. I doubt you could be scary if you tried.”

Danny looked out the window watching the stars as they started to appear in the sky. “...Yeah I guess you’re right.”

[missymurphy1985]

Bella Italia

Your Summer in Italy is definitely going to be one to remember....

Feat. Jim from the Delinquent Season

Request - Yes

Warning - smut (kinda from the offset...), age gap relationship

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @janelongxox @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @elenavampire21 @being-worthy @noctvrnalmoth

You've been working at the Sapienza University in Rome for the last 6 weeks, helping your father who was teaching a Summer School class over there. Originally from Dublin, you'd come to Italy for the summer with your parents initially for a vacation, but you got bored quickly and ended up helping with the admin side of things as an intern, whilst taking a summer class yourself in Piano. You'd had dreams of being a concert pianist since you started playing 13 years ago, your grandmother leaving her piano for you in her will when you were 7 years old. You'd fallen in love with it immediately.

All was going perfectly, except for one thing. Interns regularly worked in teams of 2, and you'd been paired with Jim. A Dublin man who despite being 10 years older than you, was the most attractive man you'd ever met, with the most exquisite ocean blue eyes and floppy brown hair.. he was simply perfect... And quite the distraction. You'd worked together for two weeks, and you knew he had a son - his wife had left him for someone else and taken their son back to Sligo where she was originally from, for reasons you didn't ask about, and he'd come out to Italy to get away from it all and take a semi sabbatical.

After three days, you'd shared a secret kiss in the small office you worked together in, after you both stayed late to help with paperwork. Your father was none the wiser, and he'd never find out - it was a holiday romance, that's all, and you were just having fun.

Which is exactly what you were doing sat on your desk at 7pm one Monday evening, under the pretence of 'working late', with Jim's fingers buried deep in your core, thrusting them in and out of you, curling them up perfectly to hit your g spot every time. His mouth took you to highs you'd never been to before. Your body was rocking against his hand, your orgasm building up quickly.

"Oh god... Oh god.... Oh god...." You moaned, as your back arched and you came hard over his hand, your hips bucking wildly.

Within seconds of your core exploding, he'd pulled down his jeans and entered you swiftly, lifting you off the table and pushing your body against the wall, thrusting upwards into you like a piston. Neither of you wanted romantic, you were both primal when you got together physically.

"That's it y/n... Good girl... Squeeze me... Fuck...." He was panting now, his pubic bone hitting your swollen clit eliciting a deep groan from your throat. The way you mained during sex turned him on no end, you could feel his cock twitching inside you.

"You gonna come Jim? You gonna fill me up?" His lips met your neck, biting and kissing lightly.. you'd need a scarf tomorrow..

"Fuck baby.. I'm gonna cum... You ready for this?" Your legs were tight round his back, nails scratching his shoulders as you felt him thrust hard into you and cum deep inside you, his thick release coating your walls. He panted into your neck, as both your bodies calmed. Pulling out of you and handing you a tissue to clean up, you both redressed and headed out the door like nothing had happened. Suddenly he grabbed your hand in the empty corridor and pulled you into him, stealing a long passionate kiss before pulling away and heading back to his room on campus. That was new.. normally he wasn't interested in anything once he'd had his end away, why did he kiss you?

Prior to coming to Italy, you'd only had sex with one guy who, frankly, never fulfilled your needs. Your sex drive was incredibly high, and he simply couldn't keep up with you. Your twice weekly trysts on a Monday and Thursday evening with Jim were proving to not be enough either, you found yourself wanting him daily, almost hourly...

"Hey, y/n, can I borrow you for a minute?" Jim asked the morning after your 'meeting' at your desk. You nodded, and he took you down the corridor towards a small janitors cupboard at the end. What the hell was he doing? He opened the door, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

"Where did you get that key?" You asked.

"The janitor is easily bought..." He moved over to you - this was definitely new. The university was full of students and teachers, you'd never met up for sex on anything other than a Monday or Thursday evening when it was deserted...

Pressing his lips to yours you melted into it, tongues meshing together. His hands pulled your maxi dress up over your hips and sat you on a small filing cabinet in the corner. Kneeling in front of you, he pulled your underwear down your legs and kissed along your thighs. Another new thing... He'd never pleasured you this way but you weren't complaining.

His tongue licked up your open slit slowly, your hands were gripping his floppy brown hair as you groaned, bucking your hips upwards to meet his mouth.

"Fuck yes.. Jim..." He responded by taking your clit into his mouth, pulling on it. Two fingers entered you slowly, pulling forwards to find that spot inside guaranteed to make you flood him with your juices.

He started pushing his fingers in and out, picking up the pace as you panted above him. "You need to stay quiet... Can't have people hearing what I'm doing to you now, can we..." He moved back up, his fingers still buried knuckle deep inside you, as he placed his other hand over your mouth to stifle your moans. Pulling you slightly off the cabinet to an almost standing position, he leaned into your ear and began whispering, edging you closer.

"Ride my fingers... Make a mess for me baby..." He kept his hand as still as possible and allowed you to control the movements. You ground your hips in circles, and back and forth, aiming it perfectly so his fingers reached your g spot with each movement. His mouth was on your collarbone, groaning into it, knowing how much it turned you on when you could hear him. His hand was still over your mouth as your moans intensified, your orgasm edging closer. His lips next to your ear again.

"You gonna cum?" You nodded, and he panted in your ear, his moans sending you over the edge as you shuddered, coming undone over his hand. As you rode out your high, you heard him unzip his jeans and spin you around, bending you over the cabinet as he lined up behind you and thrust inside, bending over your back, the angle hitting your sensitive spot over and over hard. One hand was still over your mouth, the other pulling your hair as he pounded you. Your legs were shaking as you felt his cock twitch inside you, and moments later he came, filling you and sending you over the edge again.

Pulling out, he lifted your body back to his, facing him again now as he kissed you deeply, confusing you even further. The kiss felt more passionate and loving than normal, his lips lingered and he ran his hands softly through your hair.

"Jim...?" You asked, cautiously. "Jim what's going on?"

"Nothing, just needed to feel you.. you okay?" His eyes met yours, and he tapped your nose against his.

"I'm fine..." You lied. You weren't fine. You were falling for him, but you'd always assumed you were just a fuck - now something felt like it was shifting but you weren't prepared to get your hopes up on a man who was 10years older than you with a child back home. He kissed you again, and pulled his clothes back on, before a quick glance back and a smile, and he was out the door. You didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

The following morning, you came to work with a slight spring to your step, only to find your father in your office with a young lady you'd not met before.

"Y/n, this is Kate, she'll be working with you from this morning." You raised an eyebrow, shocked.

"Oh... Hi... Erm... Where's Jim?" You asked, smiling politely at Kate.

"He flew back to Ireland last night - he and his wife are trying again apparently, isn't that amazing! Y/n, you okay?" Your heart sank and you felt sick. Your face must've turned a shade of white.

"Um... Yes... Sorry Dad, yes I'm fine.. can you give me a minute I think I've eaten something that hasn't agreed with me.. sorry Kate I'll be right back..." You ran to the toilets down the corridor and locked yourself in a cubicle before throwing up violently. Sinking back against the door, you couldn't stop the tears. You knew he was married, but he said they'd separated, there was no chance of reconciliation after she'd cheated on him... And yet here you were, clearly having been lied to and used.

You pulled yourself off the floor and cleaned yourself up, before heading back out. Swallowing down any feelings you thought you had for Jim, and replacing them with hate and anger.

Good riddance.

[asweetprologue]

window to the soul

Octoberfest 3: ghost (from geraskier hollow) + stare

“It’s drawn to strong emotions,” Geralt said, and Jaskier knew that he was about to become bait.

The monster of the week was a wraith, but of an unusual type. Over the years of traveling together, Jaskier had seen plenty of wraiths - noonwraiths, nightwraiths, even a plague maiden once. He probably could take one on himself, knowing what he did about the process of destroying them, though it would be difficult without the use of yrden holding them in the physical realm. Luckily it was Geralt’s job to dispatch them. Jaskier usually didn’t even go along to watch anymore, unless the story behind the haunting was particularly ballad worthy. 

This time, the wraith was different. Geralt had quickly identified the lost soul, a young woman who had recently died. She’d been deeply in love with a merchant that had regularly come and gone from the town, and had tried to cast a spell to trap his heart. Jaskier knew, after everything with Geralt and the djinn, that there was no curse or potion that could truly emulate love. Her spell had made the merchant obsessed with her, the man driven slowly mad by a fixation that he did not want and could not escape. In the end he had killed the girl and then himself, to escape from the madness that she had struck into his mind. The strength of her grief and the magic of the binding spell had changed the spirit of the woman into something else entirely, something extremely dangerous. 

“It’s a sort of hybrid between a vampire and a wraith,” he explained. They were in the field beyond the village, and Geralt was meticulously checking over his potions. His blades were laid off to the side, the slick oil that he used to slay spectres shining across his silver blade. It was nearing sunset, the twilight hour that made it easier for apparitions to make themselves seen in the material world. Jaskier was sitting across from him, nervously stripping leaves from a small twig. Geralt continued. “The emotion she felt and her unrequited love turned her into a heartwraith. Sometimes people call them ‘hungry ghosts.’ They’re never satisfied, and they feed off of people’s emotions to try and fill the void in them.”

“Sounds like a truly awful existence,” Jaskier mused, watching Geralt. The evening light played across his broad shoulders, turning his hair from silver to gold. Jaskier thought he might be able to understand where she was coming from, even if he’d never have tried to bind Geralt to him unwillingly. It was a terrible thing, to be so deeply and unfortunately in love with someone who didn’t want you. 

“I need to draw her out,” Geralt said gruffly. “She’s seeking out powerful emotions, like the couple that were attacked and the man who was beating his wife. I’ll need your help.” Jaskier sighed. Of course, it didn’t make much sense for Geralt to try to draw her out. Though Jaskier didn’t subscribe to the notion that witchers felt less than regular humans, Geralt was what Jaskier would dub repressed. The man couldn’t look an honest emotional conversation in the face without getting flustered and running away. 

“Whatever you need,” Jaskier said, like he always did. He didn’t love playing bait, but he knew Geralt would never let anything bad happen to him. 

Geralt nodded and picked up his silver sword, his steel one still securely in its sheath on his back. “Come on. We need to build a fire to destroy her locket.” The girl had kept a locket with a small lock of the merchant’s hair inside, which Geralt had guessed helped tie her to this plane. Over the next few minutes, the two men built a small pyre. Geralt pressed the locket into Jaskier’s palm, his fingers brushing over Jaskier’s skin. He tried not to blush at the contact. 

“When she’s distracted, throw this into the fire. It’ll weaken her,” Geralt said. Jaskier nodded mutely, clutching the warm metal close. The fire crackled merrily beside them, painting the landscape around them in swatches of ocher and dark blue. It was truly approaching night now, only the barest hint of sunlight still left on the far horizon. 

“What do you need me to do?” Jaskier asked. “To get her attention, I mean.”

Geralt gave him an odd look. “Nothing. I’m going to draw her in.” Geralt’s face was pinched in a way that Jaskier had come to realize meant he was experiencing some kind of emotion, though it was always hard to tell which one. Anger, frustration, sadness and pain all translated into relatively the same expression - tight jaw, drawn eyebrows, thinned lips. Jaskier wanted to reach out and sooth the tension from his friend’s features, but luckily the locket demanded his hands’ wandering attention. Geralt gestured to the soft earth beside the fire, clearly bidding Jaskier to sit. He did so, flopping gracelessly into a crossed legged position, back straight from tension. It was hard to forget that a wraith could appear any moment to wreck the quiet evening. 

Geralt settled next to him, dropping into the kneeling position that he favored for meditation. His eyes were grave as he looked over Jaskier’s face. “Just… sit still,” he said softly. Jaskier wasn’t sure what to do with that tone, so he just tried to do as Geralt asked. He settled in, waiting for something to happen, but Geralt just stared at him. 

For a moment it was awkward. Jaskier felt a blush spread across his cheeks as those golden eyes regarded him, sweeping over his face and following the line of his neck. Geralt was a man who always split his attention half a dozen ways at once, one eye always on the door and an ear out for trouble. Jaskier had accepted long ago that Geralt never fully listened to him, and that was alright. It wasn’t in his nature, and Jaskier didn’t need participation to hold a conversation. Now, though, he felt the full force of Geralt’s focus on him, looking back at him as if trying to see beyond a mask. Geralt’s own face was impassive, that slight frown still marring his features. 

What could he hope to accomplish through this? If he wanted to elicit strong emotions, there were certainly easier ways to do it than a staring contest. Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever elicited strong emotions in anyone that he wasn’t actively singing to. It was he who was often overtaken by the whims of his own heart, prone to fits of temper and weeks of lovesickness by turn. Geralt never seemed to feel anything other than mild annoyance. Gods, what if Jaskier annoyed him so much that just looking at him made the witcher angry enough to summon a spectre? Jaskier knew he could be infuriating, but surely if Geralt detested him that much he would just leave Jaskier behind. Right?

Anxiety filled his chest, but he’d been instructed specifically not to move. Forcing himself to relax, Jaskier found himself taking the opportunity to just look back for once, something he so rarely had a chance to do. He absorbed all the details of Geralt’s face that he never allowed himself to - the way Geralt’s left eyebrow was ever so slightly interrupted by a tiny scar, the slight wrinkles on his forehead from years of frowning and the even fainter ones around his eyes, the ever so slight part of his lips. The dramatic light of the fire and the moon overhead made his face into a patchwork landscape of color, the valley of purple shadow in the hollow of his cheek highlighted by soft gold. Jaskier committed every feature to memory, thinking of the notebooks he could fill with songs dedicated to Geralt’s eyes and lips and brilliant white hair. He loved him so much it felt like it was going to drown him, leaving no room in his chest for his lungs. 

After he’d finally taken in all the abstract elements of Geralt’s face that he could in the low light, Jaskier’s eyes dragged back to meet Geralt’s. The gold of his irises were nearly consumed by dark pupil, his eyes expanding to take in as much light as possible in the darkness. In this lighting he looked both more and less human, and it made Jaskier feel helplessly fond. Their eyes met, and suddenly the situation struck Jaskier as a bit funny. Two men sitting in a field, silently staring at each other, one pining away like nothing else while the other tried to summon a ghost. It was ridiculous. He quirked a playful eyebrow at Geralt, as if to say, Aren’t we just a couple of fools?

Jaskier watched Geralt’s face shift, a second of surprise flitting across his face. And then, without warning, there was something new there, something Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever seen before. A softening in Geralt’s eyes, in his brow, as he looked at Jaskier, open and affectionate. The expression hit Jaskier like a punch, or a kiss, demanding and devastating. Geralt’s mouth opened on a low exhale, and Jaskier leaned forward, wondering if he dared, if Geralt might - 

There was a screech, and the wraith was upon them. 

Geralt was up in an instant, silver sword flashing as he blocked a clawed hand from coming down on Jaskier’s head. Jaskier yelped as he scurried out of the way, clutching the locket he’d almost forgotten. There was a sudden burst of purple light in the field, making the shadows around them dance and twist eerily. The wraith made a horrible noise, like flint scraping across metal, endless and clearly annoyed. Geralt pushed her against the wall of the magical trap, cutting off bits of wispy energy with his sword. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure when the exact right time was, but the wraith was certainly distracted. Jumping forward, he tossed the locket down into the fire, watching as the clasp popped open and the little lock of hair fell into the embers. It caught quickly, and Jaskier heard the wraith shriek again, this time a haunting and mournful sound. When he turned back it was just in time to see Geralt shove his sword in her chest. The strange, cottony fabric of her ragged dress seemed to dissipate in the wind, her dry flesh cracking and falling away like old paint. After a moment there was nothing left but a pile of ash. 

“Go in peace,” Geralt said, and turned to Jaskier. Dropping to one knee, he said, “Are you hurt?”

Jaskier pushed himself into a better sitting position. They were close, too close. He hoped the warmth of the fire would mask his blush. “I’m fine, thanks to you. Is she really gone?”

Geralt nodded. “Should be. She has no tether to this world anymore without the locket.”

“Right,” Jaskier said. He paused. “So. Um. What you did there seemed to work, at least.”

Geralt leaned back away, out of Jaskier’s space. He missed the proximity immediately. “I wouldn’t have exposed you if I could think of another way.”

“Well, it’s not easy to find someone as irritating as me on such short notice,” Jaskier said nervously. “Hardly efficient.”

Geralt gave an almost comical shake of his head, surprise slapped across his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

Jaskier shifted, uncomfortable. Giving a forced laugh, he said, “Well, I can only imagine that you were conjuring up strong emotions of the, ah, annoyance you so often display when I do something like, I don’t know, sing or eat or breathe. I know you’re not so easily swayed by my charms.” He tried to pass it off like a joke, but he knew it fell flat even as he was saying it. There was too much hurt in his throat to make it come out anything less than bitter. He stared into the fire, watching the locket turn a liquid red from the heat. 

A warm hand suddenly came up to cradle his jaw, and Jaskier blinked in surprise as Geralt’s fingers urged him to look up. “It’s not that,” Geralt said forcefully. “You must know, Jaskier, you have to - When I look at you, it’s so...” He cut himself off with a frustrated sound. Words had never been his strength. “I feel many things for you, bard.”

Jaskier swallowed. “You do?”

Geralt’s eyes were hot on him, and Jaskier wondered if one could be branded by a glance. It certainly felt like it. “Yes,” Geralt said. “Intensely.” 

“Oh,” Jaskier stammered. “Um. I’m not sure if I’m reading all this right, but assuming that you’re saying you don’t hate me, then, ah -”

Geralt gave an annoyed huff, and Jaskier was just about to comment, say something like, see, I am irritating, but then Geralt was kissing him, and he decided to let it go. He leaned into the press of lips, gasping softly. It was brief, nearly over before it began, but Jaskier could feel the warmth of it after Geralt pulled away, breath ghosting over his skin. Jaskier shivered.

“Quite the opposite,” Geralt said softly. His eyes were molten gold, hotter than the locket still melting in the fire at Jaskier’s side, and Jaskier never wanted to look away. 

“Oh, well, that’s a relief,” he said, and leaned up to kiss him again.

~~

this fic was heavily inspired by Somedrunkpirate’s piece A Lover’s Lament, which is one of my favorite stories of all time. If you read it you’ll be able to see exactly what scene I borrowed from, and I need you to know that it lives in my head rent free. 

edit: for some reason tumblr ate everything but the heading for this fic and I didn’t realize until this morning, so thanks to the ten people who liked it with no content LMAO. yall the real

[robininthelabyrinth]

First time submitting prompts, fairly new follower. Love your writing!

NHS and LWJ friendship. Subtle and maybe people other than their big brothers don't see it and it shocks people when they find out. Mostly Canon compliant?

Associates - Part 3 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2

In the end, it was Lan Wangji who went to get Wei Wuxian, rather than wait patiently for him to return of his own free will as he had originally intended.

It had been Nie Huaisang’s idea, after nearly a year of Wei Wuxian travelling – they’d never actually pursued the jealousy idea he’d initially suggested on account of it being a terrible idea, Lan Wangji’s temporary moment of insanity in even considering it aside. It had come up seemingly apropos of nothing, one day when the two of them were working together in Lan Wangji’s study, Lan Wangji filling out the paperwork in his graceful handwriting as Nie Huaisang flittered around solving problems – he preferred pacing as he thought, which perhaps explained his reluctance to work on documents despite his beautiful calligraphy, and all the marching around made him, in some moments, look remarkably like his elder brother, something Lan Wangji deliberately refrained from ever mentioning.

“You need to go pick him up,” Nie Huaisang had suddenly said, in between planning out the next discussion conference and explaining why a seemingly minor dispute regarding shifting the boundary line near the Yuncheng Bao sect by a single li could have catastrophic consequences for the Jin sect’s long-term stability. “I know you’re afraid of giving the impression that you’re trapping him and restraining his freedom, but that’s your problem, not his. He wants to be asked.”

“Does he?” Lan Wangji had asked, finishing the sentence he was on and putting down the brush. Some things took priority above night-fishing rights near a contained Waterborne Abyss, no matter the new head of the Laoling Qin sect might think.

“Mm, yes. He’s been taking a lot of night hunts in the immediate vicinity of Gusu, close but never too close…Lan Zhan, he’s hinting that he wants you to chase him.”

“Pride?”

“A bit, maybe? Mostly I think it was his position in Yunmeng Jiang, where the former Sect Leader Jiang wanted him and Madame Yu didn’t, so his status was always that slightest bit uncertain. Here and now, he wants to know that he’s really welcome…don’t give me that look! He knows he’s welcome, you’ve made that clear, but making you be the one to ask is just another way to ensure that it’s actually true.”

And so Lan Wangji had gone to where he’d heard that Wei Wuxian was night-hunting, flying down on Bichen when he saw him walking with Lil’ Apple along a mountain path – he called his name, and Wei Wuxian had turned and smiled…

Wei Wuxian had come back with him.

More than that – he’d kissed him, he’d said he was staying with him, he’d agreed to marry him, to live their life together from then on.

They were officially engaged now, the auspicious date having been selected, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling having demanded roles on the side of the bride – Wei Wuxian briefly protested being the bride, then realized that he was marrying into the Lan sect and promptly reversed course, announcing that he wanted all the trappings of being a bride, excluding the dress – and life was very, very good.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks was about as long as the cultivation world could hold off on needing its Chief Cultivator to be more than part time – he’d done a lot of the work in the mornings while Wei Wuxian was still asleep or when he was busy, and of course he had the system of delegation that Nie Huaisang had constructed for him and naturally Nie Huaisang himself helping out through his letters – and regretfully, Lan Wangji had had to return his full focus to his duties.

At first, it didn’t mark that much of a change: Wei Wuxian would bring projects of his own and they would work side by side, Lan Wangji already accustomed to the presence of another through all the work he’d done with Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji insisted that Wei Wuxian go out regularly with the juniors for night-hunts even if he himself could not. It all seemed fine, except only that Lan Wangji had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important.

It was only when the first big issue came up – a serious dispute between two small sects – that Lan Wangji realized what that was.

He sent a message to the Unclean Realm and waited.

Nie Huaisang arrived at the Cloud Recesses at the exact time one might expect if Nie Huaisang had received the message and left at once at top speed, accounting for the relatively slow pace he had when flying as a result of his mediocre cultivation.

Letter still crushed in his hand, he swept into the jingshi in his usual manner, all high drama and flash, wailing, “Lan Zhan! You betrayed me! You, of all people! My oldest friend!”

Lan Wangji, who had been expecting this, rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, sitting in the desk he’d claimed as his own, looked up, startled. “Nie Huaisang?”

“Oh, hi, Wei Wuxian, congratulations on your engagement, has Lan Zhan shown you the present I sent? Probably not, he never does – Lan Zhan! Don’t think I’m letting you distract me with Wei Wuxian! You answer for this right away!”

He waved the crumbled letter at Lan Wangji.

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Wangji said. “I requested your assistance in my capacity as Chief Cultivator.”

“You called me a spineless, gutless coward!”

Wei Wuxian made a choking sound.

“I sought to accurately characterize your recent behavior,” Lan Wangji said, and noted that Wei Wuxian’s choking noises got worse, although he did not actually appear to be in need of air. “Do you object?”

(There was something about Nie Huaisang’s company that reminded Lan Wangji irresistibly of being a child again, he had found, and it was only recently that he had begun to remember that as a child he had once had a tendency to bite. A pleasant rediscovery, even if the sharpness of his teeth were now expressed via paper and ink rather than through physical attacks.)

“You were the one who took a month off,” Nie Huaisang complained, a blatant lie given that Lan Wangji had been on partial duty for no more than two weeks, but dropped into his usual place at Lan Wangji’s side obediently enough. “Lan Zhaaaaaaan, don’t make me do work –”

Lan Wangji was going to say something about how it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang was doing any less work by doing his part in the Unclean Realm rather than being physically present in Gusu for consultations, he was just doing it less efficiently, but that was when Wei Wuxian coughed into his hand.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, with too much formality, but Nie Huaisang waved his hands at him querulously, clearly disapproving, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah – Nie Huaisang. Since when do you call Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan? I thought you called him Lan-er-gongzi?”

“Oh, no, it’s been Lan Zhan since I was – what, seven or so?” Nie Huaisang said. “I wasn’t joking about him being my oldest friend, you know. We were just fighting back then, when you came for the lectures.”

Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who nodded in confirmation.

They’d failed each other rather thoroughly back then, neither one being there for the other when they could have been. Nie Huaisang had not been wrong to observed that simply because he had always been free and open with his affections, Lan Wangji had assumed they would always be there to be resumed at a later time, without any need for maintenance – playing hot and cold, offering and receiving comfort and support at certain times, totally distant at others…it wasn’t until much later, when Lan Wangji emerged from seclusion, that he had needed Nie Huaisang again, and realized what he’d lost in the blank and disinterested glance of the boy he’d once thought of as his friend, who now seemed to visit the Cloud Recesses only in search of his elder brother.

They’d spoken in those intervening years, but it had always been light, superficial. Lan Wangji could have reached out a hand at that time, sought to resume their relationship, but he was consumed with his own grief, his own troubles, and out of respect for the face of his sect he had refused to share them; perhaps if he had, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have done what he had done, would have relied upon him instead.

Perhaps things would have been very different.

It wasn’t until he’d finally swallowed his pride to ask Nie Huaisang for help with the overwhelming work of being Lan sect leader and Chief Cultivator both that they had broken through that distance once more. It had been difficult at first, readjusting their long-lost patterns to their adult behaviors, but they had slowly but surely fallen into a comfortable dynamic that suited them both.

“I had no idea,” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You spend much time together?”

“Nie-xiong assists me in my duties,” Lan Wangji interjected before Nie Huaisang could spout something stupid about eloping, as he was sometimes wont to do. “He has been critical in ensuring that I am not overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian mouthed ‘Nie-xiong’, but what he said was, “You, Lan Zhan? Overwhelmed?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother went into seclusion,” he explained. “As sect heir, I became responsible for the duties of sect leader of the Lan sect, and I had also accepted the post of Chief Cultivator.”

“And he didn’t have anyone else to help, so he came to me,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully, ignoring how Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “I hope you don’t mind. It was very convenient a trade: I know plenty of things about being a sect leader – more than you’d think, I swear! – and Lan Wangji, as Chief Cultivator, can help me whenever someone tries to make something out of that awful business last year.”

There had been a few unfortunate sequelae to those events. Nie Huaisang’s role had never been officially confirmed, but somehow word had gotten out regardless and sects throughout the cultivation world were looking at Nie Huaisang in suspicion – less out of concern for Jin Guangyao, although there were a few that had especially benefited from his rule that were disappointed, than with an eye towards the future. The wise ones were afraid of his patience and planning, but far more were simply greedy, looking for a chance to finally uproot the notorious Headshaker now that his best protection, his brother’s two sworn brothers, were not there to defend him.

As he had promised, Lan Wangji had defied any attempts by others to do anything of that sort.

As he had promised, he would not change his mind or withdraw his support, no matter what Wei Wuxian said.

His shoulders tensed as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to need to talk to Jiang Cheng,” he remarked, seemingly unrelatedly, and then said, “Well, I trust Lan Zhan’s judgment.”

Nie Huaisang had covered his face with his fan and was looking over it at Wei Wuxian. “You do? And here I thought you didn’t associate with evil…”

“Those are from Lan Zhan’s sect rules, not mine,” Wei Wuxian declared. “If he doesn’t judge you to be evil, who am I to say otherwise?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“We should talk more, sometime,” Wei Wuxian continued. “And hey, Nie-xiong, I don’t know if you still collect those books –”

“Oh, of course, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Though you don’t need to ask for them from me. Lan Zhan’s built up quite a collection over the years.”

Lan Wangji sighed, even as Wei Wuxian spun to look at him with a predatory look in his eyes, not unlike a sighthound that had just fixed on its prey. “You do?”

“Nie-xiong has gifted me with many art pieces over the years,” Lan Wangji admitted. His ears felt as though they were on fire; they were undoubtedly red. “You may peruse them at your leisure.”

“At our leisure,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his eyes deeply intent. “I can’t wait to see what spring books you like best, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji averted his eyes, feeling hot.

Nie Huaisang giggled and snapped his fan shut. “You don’t want to see the art I sent, Wei-xiong, trust me,” he cackled. “You want to see the pieces. Just ask!”

Wei Wuxian grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s a private discussion! Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Jiang Cheng – you two work on your Chief Cultivator stuff.”

“Your insight would be welcome,” Lan Wangji said, but Wei Wuxian waved a casual hand.

“Later, later,” he said breezily. “I don’t know either of those sects, I couldn’t possibly say anything intelligent – maybe next time you have a question. I look forward to working with you, Nie-xiong.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Lan Wangji watched them smile at each other – still a little wary, but both clearly willing to attempt a renewal of their own friendship, even after everything – and his heart felt light.

The only thing, he reflected, that would make this perfect would be if Lan Xichen came out of seclusion.

But with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang on the job, they’d be sure to figure out a way to do that soon enough.

He was sure of it.

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day One, Hobbies

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Through three accidental bonding moments over their usually solo hobbies, Logan & Janus realize they have a bit in common & enjoy what the other has to offer.

CW: Food mention, NSFW insinuated very briefly, Greek mythology Word Count: 6497 Genre: Gen Rating: Gen Ships: Slowburn Loceit, slowburn Intruloceit, pre-established Intrulogical, pre-established Dukeceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​ @catalinaacosta​ @whatishappeningrightnow​ @anxiousbean4404​ @vexelore​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​ @serpentinesomebody​ @poptartsaysurloved​ @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @sanderdarksides​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​ @cosplayhanna​ @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​ @awesomerandomgirl1​ @loceitweek2021​​

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Without any effort made to conceal himself, Janus observed Logan and Remus from the kitchen pass through. Cynically his eyes measured the almost formal distance between the lovers on the couch. There was no need to guesstimate their familiarity; Remus gushed every chance he got about their private life but Janus was still nosey as ever. He leaned forward there with an elbow bent across the counter, the other propped up with an apple brought to his mouth every so often with a satisfying crunch. His gaze switched between keen on their movements and hazy as trains of thought whisked him away. 

Janus was aware his staring made Logan uncomfortable in these moments. He shifted, glanced in Janus’ direction, cleared his throat, pushed his glasses back unnecessarily, all as though being perceived so closely was an entirely new concept; but that was just another reason to continue. This was, after all, the Dark Side; his side, and far be it from Janus to let Logan forget that detail. Besides, it wasn’t like he was a peeping Tom, leering as their casual afternoon became intimate. No, whenever that occurred, Janus was out of the room faster than Remus could get it up.

Today was tedious in its domesticity. Remus scribbled like a madman with furious scritchscritchscritches in a notebook that seemed to change positions whenever Janus looked at him, specifically. Logan rested his head gently against a loosely balled fist. With a quiet schwiff every couple of minutes, he turned a page of the book in his lap. The room was silent otherwise.

Crunch. Schwiff. Scritchscritchscritch. Crunch. Schwiff. Scritchscritchscritch. Crunch -- The apple was finished and the sticky core was disposed of.

“Logan,” Janus called suddenly in a sweet tone as the trash’s lid closed. 

The Side in question stayed silent; either to finish the line his eyes were currently on or to give Janus a taste of his own uncomfortable medicine. Either way, Janus rounded the kitchen corner and balanced a hip against the arm rest next to Remus. A gloved hand idly found its way into his partner’s curls; thoughtlessly, Remus leaned into the feeling, but remained otherwise unresponsive, clearly content with his scribbling. Logan finally blinked up. His expression seemed indecisive between exasperated and dubious, with a predictable amount of disinterest.

“What is it you’re reading?” Janus asked, brows and chin raised with an amount of intrigue that Logan didn’t immediately trust. Not to say Logan didn’t trust Janus individually, but even if he was the Side who understood Deceit the best, there was still quite a bit of water under this particular bridge -- or, uh, whatever idiom would fit here.

Instead of responding verbally, Logan held up the blue and black cover for Janus to read himself; which he then did. With a slightly cocked head, the words were enunciated slowly.

“Born Under Saturn. The Character and Conduct of Artists; A Documented History From Antiquity to The French Revolution,” Janus blinked back up at Logan’s face, digesting the rather wordy sentence. “An analysis of historical artists?” He attempted to boil the topic down to something more … succinct as Logan lowered the book again.

“Basically,” He allowed, eyes poised to resume his reading.

Janus hummed with peaked interest and continued to watch as Logan’s demeanor receded from vaguely conversational to studiously mute once more. In truth, it sounded like a rather compelling read. Being Thomas’ Sides, of course, they were all inclined to art in some way; for the more left-brained Sides such as Janus and Logan however, the critique and reasoning behind the art and associated artists compelled them more frequently than the act of creating art, itself. 

“What’s the part about Saturn?” Janus asked with knitted brows, the hand in Remus’ hair going still as he interrupted again after a moment. This question seemed to get Logan going as he shifted in his seat.

“Well, I had assumed from the title that the study would be centered around evidence pertaining to when and where artists were born, alluding to the hypothesis that Saturnian positions and dispositions resulted in a certain type of artistic character,” Logan explained, annoyance bleeding into his tone as he placed the back of his hand on the page he was currently on in a humorless gesture.

“And I take it from your very contented mood that that’s exactly what the book is about,” Janus teased reflexively, taken aback by Logan’s sudden enthusiasm. Perhaps, Janus thought, he hadn’t been so bothered by being stared at and was simply wrestling with his expectations of the text.

“Ha ha,” He laughed dryly; the sound made Janus smirk. “Saturn is, unfortunately,” Logan waved his hand at the book, “Just a metaphor here.”

“A metaphor for what?” Janus pressed gently, giving a final tug of affection to Remus’ hair before retracting his hand; sensing the appendage being stolen, the distracted Creativity leaned to follow the stimulus until it was far out of reach. Janus turned away and sat delicately on the shallow coffee table in front of Logan, who then paused.

He didn’t wonder why Janus was interested in this topic; after all, he thought, philosophy and theoretical debate were right up Janus’ alley. Additionally, they were speaking about metaphors, he rationalized. Logan didn’t need to understand nor regularly use the literary device to know its practical application, particularly to Deceit who always spoke in those encumbering and roundabout ways. What Logan really paused for was a moment of recognition that after years of distant silence, they were embarking on a rather cordial discussion.

“The melancholic,” Logan explained.

“So not the Roman god?”

“Well, yes and no, but for the comparison to make sense, no is easier,” Janus nodded and crossed his legs, listening with intent held in his brows. “It is a tad convoluted but the theory relates to the history of the four humors,” Janus gave a soft, one-noted hum and Logan nodded. “After all, the Greek etymology for the word melancholy is melas, meaning black and kholé meaning bile; black bile, of course--”

“Being one of the four … fluids,” Janus scrunched his nose distastefully, “Associated with the four humors,” He finished his interruption, gesturing with a loose wrist. 

“Exactly,” Logan breathed with a surprised half smile.

“So what does Saturn have to do with black bile?” Janus asked reasonably.

“Well that part goes back to the interpretive study of Astrology,” Janus tilted his head with surprised interest. “Which, despite its dubious plausibility today, played a frequently understated role in the founding of modern science, especially modern psychology.” Logan paused, watching Janus’ face shift subtly in thought. 

“Forgive my relatively ignorant knowledge of Astrology,” Logan nodded permissibly as Janus began to piece the theory together with slow words, “But I guess what you’re saying, or rather, what you expected the book to say, is that artists all suffer from a melancholic disposition?” Logan hummed and shook his head, causing Janus to purse his lips. 

“Again, yes and no. The book is saying that, to some extent.”

“You had just been expecting the evidence to be reliant on literal Saturn rather than...whatever they’re actually using,” Janus tried again and was rewarded with another half smile.

“Are you nerds done yet?” Remus piped up suddenly as Logan opened his mouth to continue. Janus’ head turned and the awareness in his partner’s eyes made his own narrow; how long had he been attentive to their conversation? “I wanna show Lolo what I made.”

“Quite, then,” Janus smiled curtly at Remus who beamed with knowing sarcasm in a way that only Janus would be able to detect. Rat bastard. “Another time,” He promised almost provocatively as a parting to Logan, who looked rather miffed and torn between continuing this unexpectedly stimulating conversation and tending to his boyfriend’s desires.

Janus stood before brushing invisible dirt off himself. “Have a wonderful afternoon, lovebirds,” Janus lilted, fingers wiggling in a goodbye wave as his back disappeared down the hall.

Logan blinked several times before inhaling and turning to Remus, who seemed a few moments more patient and perhaps a little more amused than usual.

- - - - -

Remus’ door having gone unanswered, when music began to softly crackle from the direction of the kitchen, Logan followed it with a vague intrigue. He paused in the entry, blinking at the four black-sleeved and yellow-gloved hands that flitted about the counter spaces. They rifled through the fridge and plucked from the cabinets with a sense of mindlessness from their owner, who stood at the sink. Using his natural two arms, Janus filled various bowls with water as he hummed along to the quiet, bouncy swing song that played from an antique looking gramophone Logan could’ve sworn wasn’t there yesterday. The scene was fascinating, from a scientific point of view; he had never considered how Janus’ many arms worked and seeing them here, stretching out and acting as though they had their own sentience piqued his interest immensely. 

For long moments, Logan watched silently before the arms retracted, bringing various items back to the workspace closest to Janus. Packets of gelatin, food coloring -- Logan squinted from his position; corn syrup? The answer to a question he hadn’t asked made itself apparent as he recalled a few various tidbits Remus had given him about his partner. Logan cleared his throat to get Janus’ attention, satisfied with his distant examinations.

“Oh,” The baker turned around, excess arms disappearing inside him with a flourish as they completed their purpose of fetching. “Logan, good morning,” Janus greeted in a sunny tone, though confusion hinted in his eyes.

“Good morning,” He returned, taking conservative steps into the kitchen. He nodded at the gelatin packets. “So this is the gelatin art Remus talks about,” Logan observed without question.

“Remus talks about it?” Janus asked, reserved happiness in his distracted tone as he stepped from the sink to the counter and began measuring out tablespoons of corn syrup.

“Frequently,” Logan confirmed, crossing his arms casually. The conversation came to a peaceful lull as Janus began to stir the syrup and water. Concluding that, he turned and took steps that placed him closer than usual to the other.

“What does he say?” Janus asked like a teen greedy for rumors, giving a sly glance from under his lashes as he paused. The moment lingered as he reached around Logan for the gelatin packets he stood in front of, meeting his eyes all the while. Suddenly, Logan couldn’t remember a single thing Remus had ever said. The tips of his ears reddened with a blush that creeped up the back of his neck. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat.

“Just that you enjoy making gelatin,” Logan responded after Janus had made his way back to the counter, his posture feeling as stiff and unnatural as his answer. He could see the disappointment in the way Janus’ lips pursed as he began dumping the neutral colored gelatin into the solution.

“Is that so.”

“Yes,” Logan cleared his throat and again felt that his response was lame. It made the air between them go stale. How did Remus manage to speak with Janus so casually and with so much enthusiasm? Of course, he wouldn't be Remus without an absence of shame, but still; Logan found himself envying the fact. 

He was appreciative of the cheerful music that eased the awkwardness. Also that Janus didn’t seem to mind how apparently awful he was at idle conversations despite his desire to engage in them. After a few moments, Janus went back to humming as he repeated the task of pouring gelatin into the bowls and discarding the packets. As the heat in his face receded, Logan recalled more of Remus’ words over the time they had been dating. 

He always spoke very highly of his partner, which was to be expected. Janus was graceful, patient, and, quote, ridiculously smart. Despite taking everything Remus had to say with mounded tablespoons of realism flavored salt, examining Janus now and through the lens of their recent interactions, Logan would have to agree. 

“He has an awful habit,” Janus revived the conversation as one song faded into the next. He turned and leaned back against the counter; as he spoke, he slowly began turning the knob of a manual can opener against a can of condensed milk. “Of eating various inedible things,” Janus scrunched his nose and Logan exhaled. “You won’t believe the things he’s consumed over the years.”

“That’s why you make the gelatin, correct?” Logan asked, hoping this time his phrasing opened up the possibility for more elaboration.

“Mhm,” Janus hummed with a shallow nod and twisted the lid off before throwing it in the trash as well. He turned and stirred the thickened milk into the largest bowl of water and corn syrup. Discomfort washed over Logan once more as he began to realize the conversation had died again. His head fell but soon snapped up as Janus thankfully continued after a moment.

“Of course it doesn’t negate the problem entirely,” His tone was less annoyed than Logan would’ve thought. Though there was plenty of quiet frustration, mostly he sounded concerned and tired. “But I like to imagine it helps some at least.” 

“I think it helps more than you realize,” Logan offered slowly in a tone that was sure of itself despite the confusion in his brow. Did Janus not realize his instrumental intervention?

Remus never really shut up about how much he appreciated Janus. The various ways Janus managed him and his mental health over their lifetime together, how effortless Janus made it all look; Logan had to admit, hearing about it constantly was rather intimidating, especially at the beginning of their relationship. He had high expectations to meet if everything Remus said was true, and like he thought before, it was beginning to look that way as Logan got to know Janus for himself. Remus talked a fair amount about how much he appreciated Logan as well though, so he never did have much of a chance to get demoralized about it. Even so, gauging the dynamic between Janus and Remus without his interference was a bit startling as everything came into focus.

They flowed together easily; in the interactions Logan had witnessed, their affection always had a sense of routine and familiarity, but not in the stale way that felt boring after years of repetition. Perhaps, Logan began to think, it had clouded his view a bit and prevented him from questioning if Remus ever expressed his gratitude to Janus, directly. The likelihood that he didn’t seemed infinitesimal, and yet the doubt was still clear in Janus’ words. Was it that he didn’t believe Remus then?

Janus cautioned a look at Logan from over his shoulder, surprise and then confusion flashed across his features; exactly how much did Remus talk about him? He didn’t mind being complimented of course, he adored praise, but something about the idea of Remus jumping into a new relationship only to gush about him constantly didn’t sit right with him. Especially if that person was Logan. Who knew how Logan felt after all this time? Janus scrunched his nose and tossed the now empty can with a sense of distaste.

“I suppose he talks about me too much if you think that,” His tone was apologetic as he gave the mixture a final stir before turning to meet Logan’s eyes with a flashy smile. “Enough about all that though; would you like to help?”

Logan blinked, his mind catching up to the topic dismissal. “Help?” He repeated automatically before realizing what Janus meant. “Oh. No,” He unfolded his arms to wave a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not one for baking, I’ll just get in the way.”

“Nonsense,” Janus insisted, reaching forward to gently steal Logan by his sleeve. “If you need more motivation than just my requesting, think about how thrilled Remus will surely be knowing you had a hand in this batch.”

Logan let himself be pulled towards the workstation, not having it in him to refuse Janus’ smile and persistence more than once.

“I suppose you have a point,” He conceded with a sigh and Janus clapped his hands together quietly.

“Splendid,” he plucked the box of food coloring from the counter and pushed the dark blue dropper into Logan’s hands. “This is the easy part anyway. I trust you completely.”

Somehow, the implication of Janus trusting him made him pause, feeling his chest going warm. Logan stared down at the small bottle in his hands, feeling even more clueless now being involved than he had simply watching Janus; but Janus still trusted him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Janus was trusting him on reputation alone, something the others consistently seem to find inconceivable. Not often was Logan trusted so explicitly, which was concerning to say the least, but function aside, the sentiment filled him with unexpected happiness. 

“Just get this,” Janus tapped one of bowls filled with water, corn syrup, and gelatin, “As close to this shade,” He then pointed to the blue swirl part of the Tide Pod resting between the various ingredients, “As you can get,” Janus finished with another disarming smile. Forcing himself to look away, Logan thought that at the rate Janus used that sort of charm on him like that, he’d never remember anything ever again.

“Okay,” He asserted slowly with a nod and unscrewed the small bottle. As he set to dropping small amounts of the dye before stirring and comparing the colors, Janus seemed to be doing the same with a shade of bright orange. “I suppose that’s good,” Logan ascertained after a few silent moments, holding the clear bowl up to his face for closer inspection.

“Flawless, I would say,” Janus complimented, completing his own color a second later. “Next,” He said slowly and reached to gather several of one kind of item that Logan didn’t immediately recognize, “We set the molds,” Janus explained as he neatly lined about a dozen purple, palm sized squares between them. Logan uttered a small, ah, in understanding.

He scanned the counter for a tool that would be useful here; the idea of pouring the liquid straight into the molds seemed rather silly and messy. If this were Patton, Logan wouldn’t put it past him, but Janus was far more structured, far more sensible.

“Should we use those?” Logan asked, reaching for the rather thick gauge baking syringes set to the side as Janus opened the molds to reveal a swirl shape identical to the signature Tide Pod.

“A step ahead of me,” Janus lilted with a nod, raising his eyes just enough to spot the syringes he planned on retrieving next. “Go on then,” He pointed his chin at the gelatin, reaching over Logan for a needle of his own. “I trust it’s fairly self explanatory for you.”

And it was; the entire procedure wasn’t particularly challenging, as long as Janus wasn’t smiling at him or charming him out of his brain cells. Logan drew up about half the syringe’s barrel and then held one half of the mold in his palm. Comparing it to the Tide Pod, he began to gently squeeze the blue solution along half of the swirl pattern, dragging it across the material for an even consistency. Janus smiled to himself, watching from the corner of his eye and began to do the same with his own orange gelatin, working from the opposite end of the line. 

“When it comes to the ones already filled,” Janus began as they approached meeting in the middle, though before he could finish, Logan interrupted knowingly.

“I suppose I should avoid picking the mold up so as to not disrupt the other side,” He guessed and positioned his syringe at a different angle, experimenting with how he should go about it now before settling on a method.

“Precisely,” Janus delighted quietly, moving behind Logan and out of his way to fill in the orange sides of the already completed blue ones. “Typically,” He continued as they settled back into a rhythm, “I just do both colors at once, holding it as you had started,” Janus glanced out of the corner of his eye; Logan looked so concentrated, it was impossible not to find the focus in his eyes adorable. For a brief moment, before Janus continued, Logan began to worry that he was getting in the way as he feared. If Janus had a certain way of doing this and he was doing it wrong, comparatively, then it was just as he thought; that he shouldn’t have gotten involved. 

“But I don’t quite mind this either,” Janus finished softly and Logan exhaled the breath he didn’t realize was being held. As the silence began to press on, he started to wish he could figure out something to say to Janus’ kindness. Then he wondered if this was how Remus often felt.

As Janus took Logan’s empty syringe and quickly rinsed both of theirs in the sink, he explained their next and final step before they would be placed in the fridge until completion. Sealing the molds with their domed, other half, they would repeat the filling action with the condensed milk and gelatin mixture.

“Simple enough,” Logan said as he accepted the syringe that Janus handed him with a smile. This time, Logan offered his own small expression before the two set to work. After a few silent moments, he continued with a rather impulsive question. “Does Remus ever help you with this?” Surely he did; in the same way Logan found it impossible that Remus never expressed his gratitude to Janus, he couldn’t fathom that the two didn’t enjoy this together.

“Oh, no, never,” Janus answered immediately with an appalled tone. Logan blinked, his hand going still as he again reevaluated how he perceived their relationship. “The first and only time I tried to get him to help,” He continued, his own hands pausing to stare wide eyed and offended at Logan, “He ate three of my molds!”

Logan couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips, though he tried to dismiss it quickly by pursing them and looking away. The distress Janus clearly felt for something so simple was … a bit bewildering, but also very him, Logan decided. He got the sense that Remus would love to help, if he could, but that he had the habit of ruining Janus’ things in the process. With a heavy sigh, Janus went back to filling the molds and when Logan could keep the smile out of his voice, he continued.

“The other day he brought a few rocks from the Imagination to my room and asked what they were. He does that,” Logan glanced at Janus, “Stops by and asks questions like that, but when I located my geology kit, the first thing he did,” Logan smiled again, fondness creeping into his tone despite himself, “Was tear the handbook pages in excitement,” Janus clicked his tongue and shook his head, empathizing with the tragedy, but Logan continued, gesturing in small ways now. “It was completely illegible,” Logan paused, recalling the fear in Remus’ expression as he apologized profusely, handing the torn book back by the tips of his fingers. 

“Was?” Janus prompted quietly, watching Logan’s faintly passionate storytelling from the corner of his eye.

“At least for its intended use as a portable guide. If you pushed the papers together, you could piece the sentences but,” Logan paused again and shook his head, “He insisted on writing it, all of it. He took one of my notebooks right there and stared down at the little book and wrote everything he could make out,” Logan laughed dryly and resumed filling the mold he had stopped on. “I bet he has the entire handbook memorized now.”

“He adores you very much then,” Janus said without reservation, without even looking away from the molds. The conclusion caught Logan off guard and silence persisted as he waited for Janus to elaborate; but no such continuation came. Again Logan found himself holding his breath, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know that Remus loved him. He said it at least ten times a day. It just felt very different coming from someone who’s known Remus for so long, Logan guessed. It’s different when someone else can see love that easily.

“I know,” Logan whispered sentimentally after a while, and wondered in the enduring silence of their work if he should’ve said that Remus loved Janus very much, too.

- - - - -

Janus paused on the bottom step of the Dark Side stairs as he spotted Logan, bent slightly at the waist and jotting something down on a rather large stack of white paper. The astringent smell of Sharpies was unavoidable. While it certainly wasn’t new at this point for Logan to be found here on a casual basis, it was a bit strange that Remus wasn’t in the immediate area.

“Hello, Logan,” Janus greeted in a smiling tone as he continued into the room and approached the workspace that was their dining table. 

“Hello,” He returned the friendly gesture without tearing his eyes away or stopping his hand from drawing a simplistic symbol in one of the dated squares.

“What brings you here without your typical consort?” Now peering over Logan’s shoulder, Janus realized it wasn’t just any stack of paper he was writing on, but a wall calendar.

“Remus just went to the bathroom. He’ll probably be back in a few moments.”

Janus made a soft sound of understanding and continued to watch. Capping the silvery marker he had been using, Logan switched it out for a dark blue one. Intrigue growing, Janus observed as he neatly drew an open circle, then some complex looking arrow shape beside it. Next Logan drew an odd arch shape on the other side of the square beside another open circle, this one with a dot in the center. Then two smaller circles diagonal from each other connected with a single line. Finally, next to that symbol, he drew a half crescent moon. Janus’ brows furrowed delicately. 

“Logan, dear?” 

“Hm?”

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Logan blinked and paused before slowly standing from his leaning position. He … didn’t really know where to begin. Talking about his hobby with Remus was one thing; while his boyfriend readily listened to his enthusing and had even offered his artistic expertise in ‘livening up’ the calendar today, the idea of explaining it to Janus felt like a different beast altogether. Why was that? Logan observed his feelings on the matter, staring down at the calendar. The writing there was neither impressive nor sloppy, but a typical middle ground of insignificantly informative, in his opinion. Mindlessly, he brought the marker up to his chest and capped it with a decisive click. His stomach became uneasy imagining himself divulging eagerly, about anything, to Janus. Why was that?

“I’m,” Indulging in a pseudoscience? Partaking in something that is unreliable and interpretive at best? Having an indemonstrable belief system? Being less than serious? Logan turned to face Janus, his arms falling to his sides. “Calculating planetary positions and hypothesizing on their potential,” Spiritual? Emotional? “Financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” Logan’s heart raced. He counted the beats. One, two, three, fourfivesixseveneight--

“I see,” Janus said reflexively but then paused to digest the sentence. It sounded interesting enough to him; foresight was high on his list of well regarded practices. Whatever helped in that pursuit, Janus found at least a little compelling. Though he cocked his head slightly and gave Logan a once over. Was he acting rather … defensive? There was no lie in his words, Janus would’ve immediately known after all, but he got the sense that he wasn’t being painted the full picture here. 

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Logan’s collar. Janus wasn’t looking at him in any specific way, there wasn’t anything interrogative about the silence, in fact Janus’ expression was rather polite. Logan had noticed at some point that Janus looked at him more like an equal than any of the other accepted Sides. In return, he had come to trust the intrigue frequently found in his expressions. And yet he was anxious. Why? Historically, talking to Janus had never made him nervous before, sharing in pastimes together hadn’t either, so … why did he feel like sinking through the soles of his shoes and never speaking about this, ever again?

“Well,” Janus broke the silence with his entertained tone. “You were always into space and such, I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Logan inhaled through his nose, more suddenly than he meant to, and realized only now there was a tension in his hands as they twitched to relax. Janus didn’t see anything wrong with his description of the hobby, but the fact was that he didn’t know the whole story. Logan’s explanation was, of course, accurate; accurate enough to not count as a lie, but Janus’ suspicion was warranted. A suspicion that was much closer to curiosity than Logan realized in his paranoid attempt to seem and sound more serious than necessary.

“Yes,” He mumbled and turned back around to the calendar. Janus watched with narrowed eyes as Logan placed the marker back with the rest, seeming to have a particular order that they belonged in. After a pause, he diverted his attention to the open, beige colored notebook on the other side of the table. Logan began to lightly drag a finger along the bottom of a written line of symbols there. Janus could only assume he was committing their exact meaning to memory in a way only someone like Logan could.

“So tell me,” Janus interrupted again as he elegantly sat himself down at the table opposite Logan, whose train of thought halted abruptly. “What do those symbols mean?” Janus asked, cradling his cheek in his palm as he reached the other hand to point at the five dark blue markings Logan had made. Logan swallowed and blinked slowly, bracing himself. There was no way he made it out of this conversation with Janus’ opinion of him remaining positive.

Keeping his tone as neutral as possible, Logan then dragged his finger along each symbol as it was defined, meeting Janus’ inquisitive eyes with his own hesitant gaze.

“Full moon,” Open circle, “Sagittarius,” arrow. Logan directed his finger to the other side of the square, dictating that those two symbols didn’t correlate in a direct sense to the next three. “Gemini,” He continued, pointing to the odd arch shape, “Sun,” dotted open circle, “Opposition,” the two smaller circles connected by the thin line, “Moon,” Logan finished at the half crescent moon shape.

A puzzled look flashed across Janus’ face before the words connected like a puzzle, forming a sentence he understood theoretically but in no literal way; full moon in Sagittarius, Gemini sun, opposition moon … which was in Sagittarius then? Janus could only guess. These were phrases he’s heard before, of course, but Logan said them in a way that felt far more significant than any well-rated horoscope app had.

Logan let Janus ruminate on his explanation, hoping no more questions came at the detriment of his reputation. Again he started to consult his notebook, but it was only a few moments before Janus spoke again.

“So … what’s the significance of … all that?” He asked and Logan’s mind raced in the same way Remus, Roman, and Virgil could speak at a mile a minute.

“The significance,” Logan began after what felt like much longer than a moment of struggling to quiet his mind, “Is as I said; potential financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” He completed in a mumble before clearing his throat, unable to meet Janus’ eyes anymore, causing the latter to frown.

The fact that Logan was growing increasingly uncomfortable wasn’t lost on Janus, of course. He watched the gears churning in Logan’s mind as mental gymnastics were performed. It wasn’t a secret to Denial why he felt discontented currently; being taken seriously was paramount to this Side and everyone had a long history of finding Logic to be a joke. After years of being dismissed without advocacy, Janus could only hope to display a patience and interest deep enough for Logan to find himself comfortable in his presence again.

“As you said,” Janus agreed, dismissing that superficial statement. “But what about that one, specifically? It’s in blue so I assume it has some significance.”

Logan’s lips tightened; where did he even begin? Explaining the correspondence between phenomena and full moons? Diving into Jupiter’s mythology and Sagittarius’ significance to Thomas, personally, as his moon ruler? The unease in his stomach shifted up his throat.

“Oh hey, Dee!” Remus suddenly interrupted as he returned from down the hall. If Logan were a man of lesser self control, he may have jumped right out of his skin.

They both turned to blink at the entrance, Logan a second too late as Remus dotted an affectionate kiss to his cheek. Rigidly, he gave a half-lipped smile to the gesture.

“Lolo telling you about his nerdy Astrology stuff?” Remus plopped himself into a chair between them at the table.

“Just a little,” Janus said as he sat back and crossed his legs.  

“Booooo,” Remus cheered, giving Logan a thumbs down before grinning. He leaned over to peer at the dark blue symbols that were drawn while he was away. “Full moon in Sagittarius,” Remus read like he was fluent in this second language Janus had only just learned the existence of. “And uh,” He paused, cocked his head in order to read the markings easier, “Gemini sun, uh, what’s that one again, Lolo?” Remus pointed at the connected, diagonal circles. 

Janus narrowed his eyes. He got the sense that Remus could easily say what that sign meant, but had asked Logan in order to hear him talk about it. How sweet.

“Opposition,” Logan repeated like a sigh as he reached to scratch the back of his neck. “Since the sun is in Gemini for most of this month, it will be opposing the moon’s position in Sagittarius that day.”

“Does that spell trouble for Tommyboy?” Remus asked mischievously, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the unused seat behind Logan.

“On the contrary,” Logan responded, opening his mouth to continue but then quickly closing it as the corner of his vision registered Janus again. 

The frown on Janus’ lips grew deeper as he silently observed the two. It seemed to come down to him and his effects on Logan’s nerves; the assumption that he would dismiss him like Patton, Roman, and Thomas, or say that he was wrong like Virgil.

“Please,” Janus urged in his most genuine tone as he held up his hands like a white flag. “Pretend I’m not here, do carry on.”

Logan inhaled slowly and seemed to take his time believing that sentiment. Another mental stalemate began; Logan wrestled with the expectations he held himself to, the assumed expectations Janus had of him, and the misconception that his hobby would be seen as silly or less than in any way. The silence dragged on until Remus broke the tension once more.

“Yeah, c’mon Lolo. Dee listens to me rant about stupid shit all the time. He’s got the patience of a Saint, I swear,” Remus smirked at Janus, who then reached out to pull affectionately on his partner’s ear.

“Like I have a choice with you,” Janus mumbled fondly, lacing his voice with thick sarcasm. 

Quickly, Remus turned his head like a baited shark and bit after Janus’ hand as it was retracted, narrowly missing the appendages with his teeth. Janus rolled his eyes and Remus beamed before shifting in his seat and staring up at Logan expectantly.

Logan’s chest burned with some unfamiliar feeling as he watched the clearly loving display. Naming emotions certainly wasn’t his strong suit, but whatever it was tightened his throat and made swallowing difficult. As usual for him, the feeling was quickly pushed away.

Which caused it to land directly into Denial’s jurisdiction. Janus had long perfected the art of remaining stoic in the face of blindsiding emotions that weren’t his own; which of course included now, as the denial of jealousy swiftly punched him in the stomach. Janus’ breathing stopped as he waited for the familiar pang of envy to subside, knowing by instinct that the originator stood before him.

“I suppose,” Logan continued after a moment before clearing his throat. “It is on the contrary that Thomas will be experiencing anything negative on this day or the two previous days leading up to this full moon,” He reached to flip a page in his notebook, revealing a neatly drawn chart of dates and signs. His finger rested decisively next to three in particular. “The moon will be in Sagittarius, opposing the current sun sign; Gemini. This is particularly good for Thomas since he has a natal Sagittarius moon.”

“Laaaaaame,” Remus exaggerated belligerently. Having been through this before, Logan gave a renewed half smile, knowing Remus only found Thomas’ lack of misfortune ‘lame’ and not the inherency of his explanation.

Janus exhaled finally as the emotional turmoil in his stomach subsided with Logan’s contentment. His chin raised curiously, eyeing the revealed page. This all sounded fascinating. He got the feeling that there was so much more to this topic, and that he would be very willing and rather eager to listen to it all as long as it was coming from Logan.

“Tell me, Lolo,” Remus said in a dark voice, frantically leaning forward, splaying his palms on the table and disregarding the way his quick movement made Logan’s markers roll away. “Do your charts and shit say when he’ll die?”

“No,” Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. The air turned sweet and Janus’ brows raised despite himself. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’d be incredibly subjective anyway,” Logan gestured dismissively and turned away, catching sight of Janus’ intrigued smirk. The expression made him gulp. “It’s all incredibly subjective,” He continued, now in a mumble as he went to close his notebook. 

Hastily, Logan began to gather the haphazard markers like he planned on packing his project away for the day. Lie and jealousy aside, Janus found himself invested.

“Well,” He began as Logan took a step back from the table to stare at the floor, seeming to have lost a marker in Remus’ chaos. “I thought it was all rather … enchanting,” Janus flirted unashamedly, producing the green hued utensil between his fingers with a curled smile. Logan blinked, the tips of his ears going red. “You’ll tell me more sometime?” Janus insisted, turning the thing in his grip and offering it more pointedly.

Logan swallowed and reached to quickly pluck the object from Janus’ fingers. 

“Sure,” He sighed, suddenly feeling like he had agreed to something rather damning.

“Delightful.”

Chapter One || Chapter Two