#Sorry I just entered a mild panic and I needed to process

[yoihino]

So the author of a webcomic I really really love stopped updating after a seasons finale 2 years ago and the last post in any of his social media is in instagram stating that season 3 was in production and that it would not be long until they started updating again. That was a year ago. So.

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter One: Denial

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy encourages Joel to join bereavement group counseling, where he meets you. You connect over a similar loss and the common thread of loneliness, leading to something unexpected for you both.

Chapter Warnings: grief, angst, mentions of OC deaths, mild references to: suicide, self harm, drug use (none by reader or Joel), language, panic/anxiety attack (Joel), Joel POV

WC: 8.8K

A/N: I've been working on this goddamn series since May. Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to it but I am committing to a posting schedule now that it is almost complete and I appreciate you all for being so patient. Hope you enjoy tons of fluff and softness and angst.

Series Masterlist

Joel's hands gripped the steering wheel as he stared blankly at the faded brick building connected to the small, run down parking lot. He watched as the clock ticked down to six in the evening, and with each passing minute a new car parked nearby or someone walked through the double doors. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he was surprised to see people of all ages streaming inside.

Then he saw a young woman with two children, one in each hand, neither of which could have been over seven years old, walk inside with watery eyes and he dropped his gaze to his lap in shame.

Mia had been gone for nearly ten years. He had no business being there. His grief wasn't fresh. Over the years, he's learned to cope with it, to live alongside it. The people who were there that night needed the support.

Joel didn't need support. He was just lonely.

He reached for his key, still dangling in the ignition, when his phone rang. With a sigh, he patted down the front of his jeans until he located his phone, then lifted his hips off the worn seat with a grunt so he could fish it out.

"Yeah?"

"You better not be thinkin' 'bout leavin'."

Joel swiveled around in alarm, searching the parking lot for his brother's truck, but all he saw were the last few stragglers hurriedly walking up to the front doors, the anguish practically weighing them down as they moved.

"You watchin' me now?"

Tommy chuckled on the other end.

"Nah, I'm at home. I just know you."

Joel rolled his eyes as the clock ticked to 6:01 on the dash.

"This is stupid, Tommy."

"It ain't stupid. It's been almost ten years and you've never looked twice at another woman. You can tell me you've moved on or that you're fine, but I'm not buying your bullshit," Tommy said sternly on the other end. "I don't think you ever gave yourself a chance to process what happened and it's important you do that. For your mental health and all that."

"Maria tell you to say that?" Joel scoffed, but still unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

"Maybe. Don't matter who said it, it's true."

"Fine. I'm walkin' in now, I'll call you later," Joel said, then hung up without waiting for a reply.

The building wasn't very big. From the lobby, Joel could hear a male's voice making what sounded like brief introductions as he strolled quickly down the hall. He rested his hand on the push bar and took a deep breath. Right as he was about to enter, he heard someone else's light footsteps jogging up behind him. He turned around as you approached, a little breathless and with a guilty smile.

"Oh, good, I'm not the only one who's late," you said, nodding towards the door.

"Uh, yeah," Joel said, clearing his throat softly, "we can share the heat," he joked, opening the door and stepping aside so you could walk through first. You shot him a grateful look and mouthed thank you before entering the room.

The group all turned their heads at the disruption, as expected, but the counselor waved them in with a warm smile.

"Welcome! Have a seat, we were just getting started."

Joel found the first empty chair he could, in the very last row closest to the door. You glanced around the room before sliding into the same row as him, just a few seats down.

"As I was saying, welcome to the grief and loss support group. I'm Dr. Harris, but please feel free to call me Ryan."

Ryan was young. Definitely under forty. Something about that irked Joel. He imagined this man going to school to learn how to be caring, how to listen and say all the right words at the right time so he could make a decent paycheck and call himself doctor while he went home to his wife and picket fence and his patients went home with a gaping hole in their hearts.

"There is no wrong way to grieve," Ryan was saying from the podium with a practiced look of solemnity. "All of you are here for different reasons. And while you may look around here and think nobody else could possibly understand what you are feeling, I am here to tell you that you are simply wrong." Ryan took a moment to let his words settle over the group before continuing. "We have all lost somebody in our lives. That is the common thread that weaves us all together. And I'm here to tell you to use it." Ryan clenched his fists for emphasis and Joel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Lean on each other. Listen to one another. This is a safe space. Nobody will judge you here, no matter what you may think, everybody in this room is here for the same reason."

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan invited the people in the room to approach the podium to speak, no longer than ten minutes, he had said, reminding everyone that their time was limited and they always could speak again at the next meeting.

One by one, people trickled up to the front of the room. First it was an elderly woman who explained with tears in her eyes that her husband of forty years passed away a month ago.

"It sounds silly," she sniffled, "but it feels like I'm... untethered. Like I lost my connection to this world when he left and I'm scared I might just... float away."

Next was a man around Joel's age who visibly struggled to hold back his tears about his late sister.

"I just keep reminding myself I didn't cause it, I can't control it, can't undo it. I'm really mad at myself for not paying attention to the warning signs. She was struggling, y'know?" His glassy eyes addressed the group briefly before he cast his gaze back down. "The best thing I can do is try to rebuild. Don't let the anguish fester. Don't let it consume me. Because she wouldn't want that."

After that, a girl no older than twenty, arms and neck covered in tattoos walked to the front. "She was my best friend since we were eight. And I know it's my fault, I know it is," she choked out, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I gave her her first hit. I could see she was falling too deep into it and I didn't try to help her, I was too focused on my own shit and not seeing what was right in front of me. To this day, I can't look her mom in the eye-" the girl hung her head and took a moment to gather herself. Chairs squeaked as the group patiently waited for her to continue. "But I'm clean and sober almost six months now," she said with a watery smile. A small round of applause broke out amongst the group and she nodded her thanks. "I'm thinking about going to school for social work. Maybe I can honor her memory in some way."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you cross and uncross your legs nervously but made no move to walk to the front.

Same as him.

When the clock on the wall ticked closer to seven, Ryan addressed the group one final time.

"I'll stick around in case anybody wants to have a talk after group. Just a reminder that I'm only here once a week, but my esteemed colleague, Grace, runs another group on Tuesdays, so please feel free to stop by one or both. I also left some cards in the back next to the coffee. My information is on there if you would like a one on one appointment and on the back is the crisis hotline. Please take one, you never know when you may need it."

The room collectively seemed to stand, a murmur rippling through the group as people began to softly speak again, reaching out to neighbors, either introducing themselves or catching up from the last session. Joel scratched at his chin and looked around the room as people continued to filter around. Some paired off to grab coffee, some went to talk to Ryan, but Joel just stood there. All alone.

He took a deep breath and headed for the back, then lingered at the small stack of business cards Ryan had mentioned. He picked one up and flipped it over, studying it, when he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Excuse me," you said, and he swiveled around in surprise.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, stepping to the side so you could reach the coffee. He pretended to look at the card but watched as you filled up a cup. He waited for you to add cream or sugar but you didn't. You lifted the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip before recoiling at the heat and doing it again.

"That, uh, any good?"

Your eyes locked onto his and you shrugged. "'Bout what you'd expect."

He smiled and looked around the room, fidgeting with the edge of the card before sliding it into his pocket. "This your first session, too?"

You shook your head and stepped aside, a little closer to him, so others could get to the coffee. "I've been coming here almost two months."

That surprised Joel. Based on the way the rest of the group seemed familiar with each other, he had suspected the two of you were both new.

"Two months? Wow," Joel said, "how's it workin' out for you, if you don't mind my askin'?"

You sighed and gave him a little smile.

"Some days are better than others. But I figure it doesn't hurt, so..." you trailed off and crossed your arms, your fingertips tapping against the paper cup. "My mom begged me to come, so I did. I think it makes her believe she's helping in some way by pushing it and I grew tired of feeling like an emotional burden."

Joel frowned. "I'm sure that ain't true. No parent thinks their kid is an emotional burden."

You chuckled and drained the rest of your cup. "You'd be surprised." You tossed the cup into the trash before giving him a brighter smile. Although expressing your emotions was the entire reason you were there, you still felt uncomfortable doing it. "So this was your first time? What did you think?"

"Jury's still out," Joel replied honestly. "Promised my brother I would give it a try, same as you. My daughter just went off to college last month and I think he and his wife are worried 'bout me bein' all alone for the first time in, well... forever, I suppose." His lips pursed in thought for a moment. "Feels kinda like I don't belong here. My wife passed almost ten years ago. I've learned to live with it by now. It ain't as raw as all that-" he gestured up to the podium, referencing all the individuals who poured their hearts out for the past hour. Then he realized he was rambling and chuckled. "Sorry. Can't seem to shut up." He looked at you sheepishly and you smiled back.

"That's good. That's what you're supposed to do here," you assured him, then took a deep breath. "I lost my fiancé a year ago, so I can relate... kind of."

"I'm sorry," he said, furrowing his brow and examining your face. "You're so young, you shouldn't know what that feels like at your age."

"Not that young. I'm thirty-one," you joked. He laughed and rubbed his chin.

"Well I got twenty years on you, seems pretty young to me."

"You're fifty-one?" you asked, and he nodded. "You look good, I wouldn't have guessed a day over..." you trailed off as you studied his face and he grinned.

"Go ahead, be honest."

"Forty-three," you decided, and Joel laughed. When was the last time he felt this lighthearted?

"Well that's the nicest thing I've heard all week," he replied. The room began to thin out and you shifted your weight.

"Well, I guess I should get going," you told him, almost sounding regretful. Then you pinched your eyebrows together. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Joel," he said, sticking an arm out to shake your hand. You gave him a warm smile before telling him your name, your hand getting dwarfed by his thick, rough fingers.

"Will I see you next week, Joel?"

"Yeah," he replied, walking out with you and holding open the door. "I'll give it another chance."

"Good. I mean, you know, I'm glad you're giving it another chance," you found yourself inexplicably stumbling over your words and before your face began to heat up you veered off towards your car with a quick wave.

Joel's eyes trailed after you for a minute before he opened the door to his truck and climbed inside. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his lower lip, lost in thought while he stared straight ahead at the emptying parking lot. Then you drove by in a higher end white SUV and he watched as you took a right turn out of the lot and disappeared down the road. He sighed and started his truck, realizing he was one of the last cars in the lot, and decided to stop at a fast food drive thru on the way home.

"Uncle Tommy told me you went to a grief support group the other day, how did it go?" Sarah asked him over FaceTime. He pushed the lever on his recliner and leaned back into the chair with a grunt.

"S'alright," he mumbled.

"Did you share anything?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"'Cause, baby girl, these people just lost someone close to 'em. I can't get up there and talk 'bout your mama, it's been so long-"

"That doesn't matter," she said, interrupting him. He could hear other kids in the background laughing but she remained focused on her screen. "I don't think you've ever really processed Mom's death and it's important to me that you try. I worry about you, old man," she teased, and Joel grinned.

"No need to worry 'bout me, I'm stayin' busy."

"Yeah, doing what? And don't tell me you're eating frozen meals and watching baseball because it'll break my heart."

Joel's eyes drifted to the empty plastic tray on the coffee table.

"No," he said gruffly. "Ain't baseball season. I'm watchin' basketball."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Dad," she whined, "what about your friends? The guys from work?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her they were busy with their families, with their wives, so he lied.

"Yeah, I'm gonna get together with Jimmy later this week. Gonna shoot some pool."

"That sounds great!" Sarah exclaimed, her face instantly brightening. Her eyes snapped up to someone behind her phone and she grinned, holding up one finger, then looked back at him. "Listen, Dad, I gotta run. I promised a few friends I would go to the football game with them."

"Oh, so you'll watch football with your friends and not me?" he teased, and she giggled. "Alright then, text me when you get back home safe."

"I will. I love you."

No matter how many times he heard it, those words always warmed his heart.

"Love you too, baby girl."

The call ended and he set his phone down with a sigh. Sarah was right. He couldn't waste away in his house all alone, waiting for her to come home to visit or for Tommy and Maria to come by for dinner. He needed to get a hobby. He glanced outside then looked at the time before turning off the television and pushing himself out of his recliner with a groan. He shuffled down the hall to his bedroom to change out of his old sweatpants and ratty tshirt, then snatched his keys off the kitchen counter and headed out to the driveway.

He drove aimlessly through town, his window down with his arm hanging out, soaking up the sun's rays. Kids were playing on the sidewalks and people were walking their dogs or pushing strollers. Everyone just seemed so... happy. Content.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Maybe he should start with a fish, first.

He jumped on the highway and cruised with one hand on the steering wheel. Hank Williams crooned from the radio and Joel took a deep, relaxing breath. He was coming up on the exit for the mall. Sarah loved dragging him to the mall. A smile played on his lips and he figured why not.

He veered off the highway and slowed when he approached the red light, the mall parking lot straight ahead. It didn't look terribly busy. With the weather as nice as it was, he imagined most people would be spending their time outside.

Joel found a good spot right out front. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked inside through the Macy's. A blast of freezing cold air conditioning hit him like a ton of bricks, cooling the sweat that was collecting on the back of his neck. He managed to make his way through the maze of the department store and entered the mall itself. There were a few groups of girls around Sarah's age giggling and carrying shopping bags and the random couple here or there walking into William Sonoma or Brookstone.

When he passed by the food court, he saw a few solitary older men sipping coffee and reading the paper or people watching. Joel huffed under his breath, wondering who on earth would come to the mall just to read a paper until he realized he was no better.

Was he going to become just like them one day? Would he come to the mall to nurse a coffee just so he wouldn't feel so alone? The thought had his throat closing up.

He paused and leaned against a railing overlooking the bottom floor of the mall, pretending to be looking for someone when in reality he was struggling to breathe. His heart was fluttering too fast in his chest and his vision was narrowing.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on taking deep breaths. It was like reality crashed down around him all at once: Sarah was moved out of the house. Tommy was happily married. And Joel was going to die all alone.

He gasped and blinked, trying to clear his head and mentally talk himself down, but it was no use. He leaned forward a bit to rest his forehead on the cool, stainless steel railing but his knees began to buckle. Just when he thought he would need to stop someone and beg them to call an ambulance, he heard someone say his name, temporarily snapping him out of his daze.

"Are you okay?" you asked, the smile slipping from your face when you noticed how flush he looked. He could only manage to shake his head. Without hesitating, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him stand, then glanced around. Spotting an empty bench, you led him over and helped him sit. You rubbed your palm over his upper back soothingly and sat next to him, reminding him to breathe deeply until his vision cleared and he felt his strength return.

"Christ," he mumbled. He sat up and leaned back so the back of his head rested on the bench and stretched his long legs out. "Thank you," he added, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"No problem," you said, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Or, no. I don't know," he sighed, dropping his hand from his face. "I think it just hit me all at once."

You slid over on the bench to give him more room. "What hit you all at once?"

"That my little girl is growin' up and -" he stopped himself, the words and I'm all alone getting trapped in his throat. "And I just miss her, is all."

You slowly nodded and glanced around the mall. "What does she like?"

He smiled. "Clothes. Music. Makeup. Books."

"What kind of books?"

"The fantasy kind. Y'know, like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter."

A huge grin spread across your face. "Follow me, I have an idea," you said, standing up and looking down at him before you realized you might have overstepped. "I mean, unless you're-"

"No, let's go," he replied, standing up and stretching out an arm for you to lead the way. He fell in step next to you as you led him down towards the other end of the mall and after a few minutes, he realized where you were leading him.

"The bookstore?"

"Yep," you said cheerily, shooting him a playful grin. "Trust me."

And he did.

"There's some really incredible series out there right now. Why don't we pick one out, you can read it and share it with her so you guys have something to do together from a distance? Do you know if she's read The Word of the Heir? That's by an incredibly talented author who actually got the idea when she was only seven years old," you told him excitedly, leading him deep into the bookstore, dodging tables and displays until you made it to the fantasy section. Joel slowed down and looked around, his panic attack slipping further and further from his mind.

"Uh, I ain't sure," he replied as you held up the book. You tucked it under your arm and began to look again.

"How about Empire of Kings? I haven't read that one but the author is relatively new and I've heard he's an extremely talented storyteller."

Joel shrugged, again unsure what Sarah may or may not have read. All of the titles sounded so foreign to him until his eyes landed on the spine of a thick, hardcover book.

"Oh, this one sounds familiar," he said, plucking it from the shelf. "The Crimson Stone. I think she wanted to read this but I don't think she ever finished it. It's a series-"

"Yeah, I know that one," you told him quietly. He glanced down at the book again and read the author's name.

"Daniel Davis, ain't this the guy who died in that bad wreck downtown?" Joel mumbled as he flipped the book over in his hands to read the back. You nodded. "Maybe I'll get this one."

"Don't waste your money, I can give it to you for free," you said, gently taking it from his hands. You ran your palm distractedly over the cover before flipping it open and looking at the tiny black and white photo of the author on the inside jacket. "This was my fiancé," you added, your voice thick. Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Shit," he mumbled. "I-I'm sorry, his name just sounded familiar, I remember it from the paper..." he trailed off, floundering for what to say to comfort you. Why couldn't he fucking think?

"It's okay," you told him, waving him off, but the guilt still laid heavy in his chest. "There's no way you would have known." You slowly closed the book, giving the picture one more glance, and handed it back to him. "But really, if you want to read them I have tons of copies just sitting around. He had a few other books outside of this series, as well, if you guys wanted them."

Joel's eyebrows knit together. "I don't wanna take your books. They gotta have sentimental value or somethin'."

"No, seriously, I have boxes of them just sitting there. He was in the middle of signing copies for readings he was supposed to do before-" you stopped yourself and cleared your throat. "Anyway. I can bring them to group next week or you can come by the house and look through them yourself if you like."

Joel nodded and nervously chewed the inside of his cheek. "Do you wanna talk 'bout it?"

You looked up at him then, all wide eyed and filled with so much sadness that it made his chest ache. No one so young and pretty should have to go through so much pain. Your eyes drifted over his face for a moment, quietly studying him before responding. "Yeah. I kind of do."

Joel looked over his shoulder and spotted the café across from the bookstore. "You wanna get a coffee and find a quiet bench or somethin'?"

"That sounds nice," you replied, so he put the books back on the shelf and walked out into the mall. He spotted a bench near an empty storefront and he told you to go have a seat with the promise of bringing you back something to drink. There wasn't a line at the counter. He couldn't imagine many people wanted coffee that late in the day, so it only took a few minutes before the barista slid the two cups of black coffee across the counter and he met you back at the bench.

"Black, right?"

You smiled and gingerly took the cup. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"From group the other day," he replied, then sat down with a grunt. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each of you letting your coffees cool before you spoke.

"I usually don't talk about it. Every week I tell myself I'm gonna go up to that podium and pour my heart out and every week I chicken out."

Joel didn't say a word. He learned early on with Sarah when she was upset, she just wanted someone to listen to her. So that's exactly what he did. He sipped his coffee and just listened. And before you even realized it, you were telling him everything.

You began by telling him Daniel was from Austin but you met in Portland, where you grew up. For a while, the two of you tried doing a long-distance relationship, but once you were finished with school you took him up on the offer to move in with him in Texas. Shortly thereafter, he proposed and you had spent the last year of his life planning your dream wedding. The night of the accident, you had been touring a venue an hour outside the city. It was dark when you finished up and drove back home.

Daniel didn't do anything wrong. You insisted Joel knew that first.

A truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and ran a light, completely crushing the driver's side and killing Daniel instantly. Somehow, you had only come out of the accident with a small concussion and a badly bruised chest from the seatbelt.

"Jesus," Joel muttered when you exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, darlin'. That's some fucked up shit." His eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat. "Shit, sorry for cursin'... twice." He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and a slow smile spread across your face. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you burst out laughing.

"Thank you," you said in between giggles. He grinned, confused but happy you were laughing and not crying. "I needed that. And you're right, it was some fucked up shit."

Joel chuckled and took a sip from his coffee. He heard his phone ring so he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before silencing the call and putting his phone away.

"You can take it," you said, wiping a stray tear from your eye and jutting your chin towards his phone.

"Just my brother. I'll call him back later."

"Ah, the infamous brother that made you go to group?"

"The very same."

"Younger or older?"

"Younger, but the way he bosses me 'round you'd never know it," Joel said with a grin.

"He's probably just looking out for you."

"He knows I'm feelin' especially lonely without Sarah. Sarah's my daughter, by the way," he said, pulling his phone out and showing you his lock screen: it was a selfie of him and Sarah on the beach, Joel looked red as a lobster and Sarah's hair looked tangled from the wind but there was no denying the happiness in both their eyes.

"She's beautiful," you said warmly. He smiled and put his phone away.

"Got that from her mama."

"I don't know, I see a little bit of you in her smile," you teased, bumping up against his shoulder playfully. He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, I can relate a bit to what you're goin' through. Y'know, losin' a partner and feelin' like you got no one left," he said. You took a deep breath.

"Yeah, sounds like you do."

Joel nervously picked at his jeans, trying to figure out the right way to say what he wanted to say without sounding like an old creep, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke first.

"Maybe we can hang out together and keep each other company?" you offered. He turned his head and grinned.

"I was 'bout to suggest the same thing."

"Really?" you asked, looking as relieved as he felt. He nodded.

"Sounds like we both could use a friend."

Something in your expression shifted. It was too quick. He couldn't pinpoint it but whatever it was disappeared, leaving behind a genuine smile.

"I would really like that, Joel."

"What the hell? You couldn't call me back yesterday?" Tommy scolded when he marched into the small, messy office the following morning. Joel glanced up from behind his desk; papers, a calculator and a pencil scattered about in front of him. He took his reading glasses off with a sigh, abandoning his work. He hated doing the administrative part of his job. He always preferred to be on site or meeting with clients.

"I was busy."

"Busy?" Tommy repeated before collapsing in the worn out chair across from him.

"Yeah, busy. I was... with a friend," Joel mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant but Tommy's ears perked up.

"A friend? Who?"

Joel shrugged. "Someone I met at that group you made me go to."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "Hey, that's great. See? I knew it'd be good for you. What's his name?"

Joel pursed his lips before softly saying your name and Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"A woman? That's even better, Joel."

"It ain't like that-"

"'Course not," Tommy said, "I'm just sayin' it's a step in the right direction."

"She's too young," Joel said defensively, giving Tommy pause.

"Okay..."

"We're just friends. She ain't from 'round here, ain't got anyone in Texas."

Tommy frowned as he watched Joel shift uncomfortably in his chair, wondering what made his brother get so sensitive, so he chose to tread lightly.

"So you're keepin' each other company. That's nice."

"Yeah," Joel said, standing up with a grunt and rubbing his lower back before he snatched his coat from the wall. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Tommy said, standing to follow Joel out of the office. While he locked the door behind him, Tommy couldn't help but ask, "How young is too young?"

"Thirty-one," Joel replied, fishing the keys out of his pocket.

Tommy shrugged, falling in step next to his brother as they walked towards the parking lot. "Sounds like an adult to me," he muttered, but Joel chose to ignore it. "When are you seein' her again?"

"End of the week," Joel replied before climbing into the truck.

"Friday?"

"Yeah, after work. We were gonna order some dinner and look through some books she's tryin' to get rid of."

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitched. "So, like a date?"

"It ain't a date," Joel said firmly, his jaw set as he pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive in the direction of the first worksite. "She's mourin' the loss of her husband, it's not a date."

"Husband?" Tommy repeated, then Joel shook his head, growing flustered.

"Fiancé. Not husband."

"When did he pass?"

Joel thought back to what you told him the night you first met. "A year ago."

Tommy hummed and looked out the window, tapping his fingers against the car door in rhythm with the beat from the radio. Joel side eyed him while they sat in silence for a few minutes before he rolled his eyes and sighed. "What?" Joel asked with an edge to his voice.

"A year's a long time, is all."

"She's in grief therapy, Tommy. She's in pain and tryin' to come to terms with it. Quit makin' it sound like somethin' it ain't."

"Just 'cause she's in grief therapy don't mean she ain't ready to move on-"

"Goddamnit, this is the last time I tell you anythin'," Joel grumbled as he made a left hand turn. Tommy hid a smile behind his hand and looked out the window.

"Alright, no need to get all defensive on me now."

Joel opened his mouth to argue but quickly snapped it shut. The more he pushed back just gave Tommy more ammunition. Besides, he knew the truth. You were looking for a friend, someone who could relate to what you were going through. There was absolutely no way you were interested in a man twenty years older than you. The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh. You were young and beautiful and charming and you had your whole life ahead of you.

No, surely Tommy was wrong.

When Joel pulled up to your house, his eight year old truck the noisiest thing on the whole block, he let out a low whistle and threw it into park, deciding at the last second to keep his car on the street for fear of leaving an oil stain or something on your pristine concrete driveway. He sat in his truck for a moment, taking in the monumental Victorian house before him. He recognized it from his youth, but back then the siding was chipped and the windows were foggy, in desperate need of replacing. He always admired houses like yours and part of his heart broke whenever he saw one fall into such a state of disrepair that it was beyond saving, but not yours. No, at some point in the past ten years, the house was upgraded but managed to maintain the original charm.

There was fresh siding and new windows installed, the insides framed in what looked like delicate lace curtains, complimenting the style of the house. The roof looked like it had been replaced and the front door looked new, but the original architecture remained. He could easily tell whoever bought the house took great care with it, and the contractor in him breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't fall into the wrong hands, or god forbid, a flipper.

When he walked up your driveway towards the small stone path that led to your front door, he slowed to look at the garden that flourished in front of the wraparound porch. It was a beautiful mix of wildflowers and hedges, and while wildflowers had a tendency to look messy and unkept, you somehow managed to make it look neat and well put together. Fat, fuzzy bumblebees bounced drunkenly from flower to flower and as he climbed the wooden steps, a hummingbird buzzed past his ear, spooked by his presence.

He pressed the button to your doorbell, noting you chose not to install one of those camera doorbells and for some reason, that bothered him. Normally he wasn't a huge fan of technology, but you were all alone in this big house. You needed to be safe, to be careful. Your house was in a nice neighborhood, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

The door swung open and you greeted him barefoot with a warm smile before stepping aside to let him in. You were wearing a loose tshirt that hung off one shoulder and he chastised himself when his eyes traveled down your tight fitting jeans to your ass as he followed you into your home.

He shrugged his reaction off to just typical male instinct and forced his focus onto the lovely foyer surrounding him as he slid off his boots. Polished cherry wainscoting lined the walls and his eyes widened when he noticed the small tiles in the shape of little octagons below his feet.

"Is this original?" he asked you in disbelief as he pointed to the ground. Your gaze followed his finger and you nodded.

"We tried to keep everything original, if we could," you explained.

"Wow," he breathed as he stepped forward into the hallway, his eyes unable to keep up with how fast his brain was operating. His gaze slid over the original hardwood floors of the hallway, fresh wallpaper, and wide, polished staircase with a plush carpet installed in the center of the steps. Much to his delight, you chose to furnish the house to match the style, as well. Antique fixtures hung from the ceiling and a real wood table was pushed against the wall. A small lamp sat on top with a stained glass Tiffany shade, and next to it was a pile of mail and a framed photograph he tried not to examine too closely out of respect.

"This way," you said over your shoulder, and he followed you blindly deeper into the house. You pushed open a swinging door that led into your kitchen, and for the first time since arriving, his nose was the first of his senses to respond instead of his eyes.

It smelled absolutely heavenly. He had no idea what you were cooking but his mouth instantly watered at the smell of garlic and salt and some kind of meat.

He swallowed and hoped his stomach wouldn't growl and embarrass him.

"Thought we were gonna order somethin'?" he asked as he watched you hurry over to the stove to stir something.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I felt like cooking," you replied without looking. He glanced around the room, noticing you chose to update the counters and cabinets to look more modern, but kept the original flooring.

"Mind? Are you kiddin' me? Haven't had anythin' decent to eat since Sarah left for college."

Memories of fast food drive thrus and frozen dinners flashed before his eyes as he watched you turn off the burners on the stove. You opened a cupboard and stretched on your tiptoes to reach a bowl, the hem of your shirt riding up ever so slightly and revealing a small sliver of skin on your back and suddenly, his mouth was watering for an entirely different reason.

Stop it.

"Need some help?" he offered, and you fell back onto the flats of your feet, shooting him a nod and smile. He didn't mean to, but he reached up from behind you for the serving bowl, his front brushing gently against your back, and your shoulders tensed. Shit.

"Sorry, here ya go," he said, handing you the bowl and immediately giving you some space, not catching the glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.

"Thank you," you murmured shyly. He watched you spoon vegetables into the bowl for a moment, grabbing random jars of seasoning and sprinkling them on top before stirring it up, and he finally remembered his manners.

"Can I help?"

"No, no, I got it," you insisted, waving him toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. "Go sit down, I'll be right out."

He wandered over to the propped open door and entered your dining room. Pausing for a moment, he admired the chandelier above the table that looked old but the brass had been polished and the crystals cleaned. The drop ceiling was even remarkable: squares of textured patterns that repeated across the whole room, adding a whole other layer of elegance to the already impressive first floor. His eyes drifted to the dark wood table, where two spots were already set across from each other. He pulled out a chair and sat down, shifting his weight a bit and noting the chairs must have been recently reupholstered based on how firm the cushion was underneath him. You breezed in after him, hardly giving him enough time to take in the elaborate fireplace and mantle at the end of the room, and began to set down plates of food. His eyes bugged out of his head when he saw fresh, fried chicken and whipped mashed potatoes.

"You didn't have to go through all the trouble," he assured you, but you smirked at the way he stared at the chicken, the aroma from the breading overpowering his senses.

"It wasn't any trouble, I like to cook," you replied, disappearing into the kitchen to grab the vegetables and a basket of fresh rolls before finally joining him at the table.

Joel spread the cloth napkin over his lap, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from devouring everything in sight. He glanced up at you and you grinned.

"Go ahead, help yourself."

You watched with a small smile on your face as he loaded up his plate, then played with your own food until he took his first bite of chicken. He froze, his mouth full, and stared at you in awe before he dropped the chicken leg on his plate and leaned back, a deep, appreciative moan rumbling from his chest, making your thighs squeeze together under the table.

"Goddamn," he said once he swallowed. "That's the best fried chicken I've ever had in my entire life, darlin'."

You giggled and finally took a dainty bite of your own before nodding in agreement. "It's not bad."

Joel scoffed and took another bite. "Don't sell yourself short, now. I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. What'd you put in this?"

He listened, completely enraptured, as you explained how you soaked the chicken in buttermilk the day before and all of the seasonings you used in the breading.

"Oh! I almost forgot the lemonade," you said, standing back up and rushing into the kitchen, returning with two cold glasses and setting them down on the placemats. He nodded his thanks, mouth still full, and you giggled again.

You were already planning on packing up all the leftovers so he could take it home, but you still encouraged him to have as much as he wanted while it was warm and fresh.

"Did you make the rolls, too?" he asked after he took a bite.

You laughed and shook your head. "No, I'm not that good. I bought them this morning from a local bakery I like around the corner."

You had finished your meal long before he did, watching with your chin in your palm as he went back for seconds, reveling in the noises and compliments he made with practically each bite.

"Here, have some more," you told him, nudging the plate of chicken in his direction, but he leaned back in the chair and shook his head. "I can't, but everythin' was delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm thrilled to cook for someone again," you replied with a sad smile before standing up and picking up your plate. He immediately stood and began to collect the rest, but you waved him back down.

"Sit, sit, I still have dessert," you told him, and based on the way he looked at you in that moment you would have put money down that he could be knocked over with a feather.

"Oh, darlin', you did too much," he replied, immediately flooding with guilt that he didn't even bring wine or flowers.

"Stop! I told you, I like doing it and I never get a chance to anymore, so please, sit down and I'll be right back."

Begrudgingly, he did as he was told and, while listening to you in the kitchen, peered out the back window at the meticulously kept grounds. Your house, like you, was absolutely beautiful. It felt like stumbling across an oasis in the middle of the desert.

You reappeared in the dining room with a bowl of diced, sugared strawberries and a plate of warm biscuits. He watched in stunned silence as you fixed him a plate, spooning the strawberries on top of a fresh shortcake, but told him to wait a moment before hurrying back into the kitchen and returning with a small bowl of homemade whipped cream.

Joel thought he died and went to heaven.

He could tell you didn't want to hear him complain that it was too much, so instead he lavished your baking with praise and thanks, both of which seemed to make your eyes shine bright and your lips remain curled into a smile the whole time.

"You're taking the leftovers home, too," you warned him once you finally allowed him to help bring things back into the kitchen. You were packing everything up nice and neat in matching Tupperware containers and stacking everything into a paper bag. As much as he wanted to decline, he really wanted your leftovers more, so he continued to thank you as he began to wash the dishes in your farmhouse sink. You had tried to fight him on it, but he finally wore you down and won. Stubborn little thing, he thought.

After dinner was cleaned up, you led him back down the hall and up the wide staircase, explaining that the books were all housed in a den at the top of the stairs, but when you opened the door to the room, den seemed like too small a word for it.

It was gorgeous, plain and simple. The cherry wainscoting continued in this room with a dark green wallpaper to accent the wood. All along the wall were antique sconces lighting up floor to ceiling bookcases stuffed full of literature. On the back wall was a large, heavy looking desk with a wingback velvet chair. The desk itself had books and papers scattered about, as if someone were in the middle of something and was rudely interrupted, but based on the layer of dust, he had to imagine nobody had sat there in some time.

And then it hit him: this was your fiancé's office.

A laptop sat open and turned off on the corner of the desk, along with a dusty printer behind the chair on the carpeted floor. He noticed what had to have been manuscripts of some kind based on the lack of coverings on the bound papers piling up next to the printer.

He was an author. This is where he worked.

That was when Joel realized you had been suspiciously quiet. He turned towards you, his eyes scanning your face, studying it. Your arms were wrapped around your middle as you stared blankly at the desk.

"We don't gotta do this today," he said softly, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No, it's okay," you replied, your voice so small it nearly broke his heart. You turned and walked toward the corner of the room, opposite the desk, where a small couch and coffee table sat. A few cardboard boxes were stacked nearby, two of which remained unopened, one recklessly torn into. You started with that one.

"Here," you said, pulling out a few books and handing them out. He stepped forward and took them, looking down at the covers and the beautiful artwork that adorned them. "These are the first trilogy, you should probably read them first before the next. They're different stories but they inevitably weave together so it'll make more sense if you-" you paused, your voice getting caught in your throat, and that's when he realized you had been fighting back tears.

"Hey, it's okay," he told you gently, putting the books down on the coffee table and carefully touching your shoulder, urging you to sit on the couch. After a moment's hesitation, you did, and he sat beside you. "This was too fast. I'll leave these here and maybe one day, when you're feelin' up to it, we can try again."

You looked up at him, eyes watering, and shook your head.

"No, take these now. I have more, I have tons, actually," you said, nodding towards the unopened boxes. "I just haven't come in here since he died and I didn't think it would be this hard." You wiped furiously at your cheeks, trying to hide your anguish.

Joel's heart thundered in his chest. He rubbed your back, trying to offer you a glimmer of comfort while he glanced around the room. "Maybe it was too soon," he offered again.

"No, it's been a year, Joel. I needed to do this." You took a deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you. I know this is probably more than you expected-"

"Nah, hey, none of that, now," he cooed, mindlessly petting your hair. "If you needed someone to be here for this, I'm glad you picked me, okay?"

You sniffled and nodded, quietly thanking him again before taking another deep breath and exhaling with a nervous laugh as you looked around the room with him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"'Course," he replied.

"How long did it take for you to move on after your wife passed?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about it, his fingers still playing with the ends of your soft hair as he slowly rubbed your back. "Well, hard to say. She was sick for a long time so I think I had time to come to terms with it before she died, y'know?" You nodded and listened to him, hanging on his every word and inadvertently leaning into his gentle touch. "Then I had Sarah to worry 'bout and, I don't know, time just... passed me by." He chuckled dryly for a moment before continuing. "My brother thinks I never got over it, Sarah thinks I never processed it, but they only think that 'cause I never dated anyone else."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession.

"Never?"

He shook his head and gave you a lopsided grin. "Been busy, I guess."

"But aren't you... lonely?"

He sucked in a sharp breath and cast his gaze to the floor. How did you manage to see right through him so quickly? Was it the common ground or something else?

"Wasn't too bad til Sarah left," he admitted, "but now... yeah. Yeah, it's lonely."

You scanned his face, watching the flicker of sadness in his eyes he tried to hide from you, and you inched a bit closer.

"I'm glad we found each other, Joel," you whispered. His eyes found yours again and he smiled.

"Me, too, sweetheart."

Then, without giving it another thought, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. It was so tender and soft it felt like he was on the bus in fifth grade and Christine Murphy was giving him his fist kiss all over again while kids in nearby seats teased them with sing-song voices.

You pulled back and looked into his eyes, searching for any hesitation but all you must have seen was confusion because you leaned forward again, kissing him with a little more emotion, your small hand coming up to cup his greying, prickly jaw. You tasted like strawberries and lemonade and you smelled like vanilla and it was making every neuron in his brain fire all at the same time, to the point where his body had no idea what to do but remain frozen.

It was when your tongue first slipped past your lips and flicked nervously over the seam of his mouth that he finally came crashing down to earth. He sat back, breaking the kiss and holding you by the shoulders, staring deeply into your eyes. You were both panting slightly, probably from the excitement and adrenaline, as he tried to figure out what to say, what to do. You were in a fragile state, he decided. You made a mistake, the moment got away from you both and it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You were too young and sweet and beautiful. You didn't really want anything to do with an old man like him. He just happened to be there when you were vulnerable and that was all.

The words never came. He couldn't form a coherent sentence. As the seconds dragged on, your face began to fall and embarrassment flooded your chest, the atmosphere in the room suddenly so thick that it was difficult to breathe. You cleared your throat and leaned back, his hands falling from your shoulders, and then you were the first to speak.

"Oh, no."

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[mythicamagic]

Purple Tremors: a Xiaolumi fanfic (Genshin Impact) ~ Chapter Two ~ (End)

Summary: Xiao's expression shuttered, before his fingers curled to clasp her hand equally tight. He stepped in close as if to hide her inside his shadow.

"Give your body over to me. The wind will take you. Nothing will hurt you while we travel."

Aka: Xiao finds an injured Lumine on a beach in Liyue after her encounter with the Raiden Shogun.

Chapter one: here

Rated M for some mild suggestive themes. Read on Ao3 - here.

-----

Lumine stared ahead of herself, chin pillowed on her arms. It was difficult to know what to make of the situation, but between the choice of a little awkwardness or prolonged physical pain, she chose awkwardness. 

She waited, completely bare save for a towel slung over her waist- and laying upon covers that smelled like Xiao. Vaguely she could hear the Adeptus moving about the room, blocked from sight by a shoji screen. Up until a little while ago, he'd been crushing herbs with a motor and pestle while she'd carefully languished in a special kind of bath. Xiao had filled it himself by pouring a vial into the tub that gradually increased to fill up the whole thing with steaming water. Lumine had expected to feel pain when entering it- but the waters had only gently lapped at her wounds. 

Incense smoke now wrapped around her gently, soothing. Lumine breathed deeply, in and out. None of it quelled the thrum of her heartbeat. The situation was unusual and her feelings were out of place but an undeniable something fluttered in her bloodstream. She’d never laid naked on anyone’s covers before. 

Lumine mentally shook herself. Her entire body was in agony and Xiao was helping her, that was all. Get a grip, Lumine.

At the first touch of lithe fingers upon her back she froze, inhaling sharply.

"Sorry," Xiao grunted. His weight settled onto the bed beside her. Lumine's back thrummed at the contact, but whatever he'd put in the bath made touch become a dull ache rather than painful. His hands returned- carefully this time- rubbing a damp substance over her back and massaging it into her skin. "Try to bear it as best you can. I know my hands are rough without the gloves."

"No, they're perfect," she found herself gripping the sheets tightly. Gods.

Strong and sure palms dragged back and forth, kneading her damaged skin. The callouses of his hands actually added to the soothing motions. The scent of incense wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and there was no pain despite her sensitive wounds. Instead, Lumine was free to appreciate the strong and sure touches. 

"I'm not a healer like some of my other kin. In fact, I'm probably the worst person to be doing this, considering…what I carry with me," Xiao muttered as he worked. "But I don't want to agitate your wounds too much by waiting for someone else or carrying you to them, so I'll perform this to the best of my ability. It's a healing process I remember, back when the yaksha-" 

He cut himself off. It occurred to Lumine that he was rambling, a very odd thing for Xiao to do. Maybe he was as nervous about touching her as she felt about being touched. 

"I'm grateful. Honestly, I feel leagues better than I did earlier already. What was in that bathwater?"

"Essence of slime."

She jolted. Panic entered his voice. "Kidding- don't move about too much. The vial was something Cloud Shaper gave to her fellow Adepti. She made it from her ability to gather water vapour and added her own flourishes. It's meant to be a safety measure. If we're in a tight spot and need water, this gives us a supply that never runs out. You can make the temperature hot or cold by your own will."

"And the paste? It smells kind of minty." 

"It's specifically Dragonspine mint mixed with Silk Flowers for the soothing texture and a range of other things I threw together."

Lumine hummed contentedly, feeling his palms rub down her spine exquisitely. She knew Xiao. He didn't just 'throw things together. ' 

Her guess was that the other ingredients were much harder to come by and he didn't want to make her feel guilty.

His fingers began massaging a trapped nerve, and Lumine sucked in a sharp breath, twitching with discomfort for the first time.

"Are you doing alright?"

She laughed weakly, smothering the pain. "You've asked me that a lot today."

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd give me a straight answer."

"I have-"

"Lying that you're 'fine' when you're scarred and trembling isn't imbuing me with much confidence," he drawled. 

Lumine visualized his hands as they traveled lower on her back, always so careful. Sometimes it felt like they lingered longer than necessary. She didn't mind.

With a sigh, she shifted on her stomach,  resting her chin on the covers. "...I'm just tired. Really, really…tired," the shapes of the room softened into blurred images as her gaze unfocused. The numbness that kept everything at bay seemed to fail- ebbing like a tide and revealing her soft underbelly of raw emotions. 

Xiao said nothing and didn’t prompt her to open up again. He continued massaging the minty-smelling paste onto her back in silence, occasionally unwinding her trapped nerves.

"Logically I know the right thing- the best thing to do is to keep going,” Lumine broke. “To not lose heart. I've met so many people during my travels who have suffered worse than I have. Some lost family members too. They carried on. They're still fighting." 

There was a pause in Xiao's hands- before he massaged them beneath her ribs slowly.

"I never doubted that I'd find my brother, not really. But that last fight…I really felt like I couldn't. That I'd keep searching and searching in every region and he'd never be there. Like he didn't want to be found. And if I don't have him by my side I don't-" she choked on the words. "I don't really know who I am. I just let people call me 'The Traveler' because it's convenient. Paimon seems to lead me by the hand like I'm a lost child sometimes."

"I've guided lost children before, believe me- you're not one."

"Are you sure?" she gave a wan smile, before hissing as something twinged in her back. Xiao's hands were quick to ease the pain, soothing. "I'm blubbering like one."

“A 'traveler' reminds me of ronin. You wander but you are not lost. This was just an unexpected detour for you. From the strength you’ve shown multiple times…I know you’ll find your way again.”

She wished she could regain that sense of certainty he displayed. 

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked softly. "I wouldn't insist if it wasn't important. I understand the desire to keep matters to yourself. However…I sense something damaging your aura. It feels similar to energy I've experienced before."

"I had a fight with the Raiden Shogun," Lumine closed her eyes, remembering it. "That's when I got hurt. Everything went dark. I went to this…strange desolate place. She was there…" Lumine trailed off, shaking her head. "I hid it as much as possible from Paimon and the others. After that, well- you know the rest. I felt like I needed to get away."

"So the Electro hurled at you was a direct attack from a God. That explains it. Her wrath has imbued your body as I suspected."

Lumine said nothing, closing her eyes tiredly. She could've rested under the gentle touch of his hands forever honestly. His hand on her shoulder brought that brief fantasy to a close.

"Are there any further scars?"

She bit her lip. Now was the tricky part. She'd been wondering if he'd ask. 

Maybe it would be kinder not to mention it. Xiao was a trusted, infinitely valued friend. She didn't want to put him in an even more awkward position than they already were. 

Besides, her heart was pounding inappropriately at just his fingers on her back. That made her feel guilty enough. Here he was, just trying to help her- and she was getting…ideas. Paimon would be so disappointed in her. Lumine snorted at the thought. 

"Traveler?"

"Uh- no. Not that I'm aware of."

There was a definite shift in his voice. A drop in tone that hinted at displeasure. It made her shiver in new ways. "That you're aware of? This isn't a light matter. I need to cover every inch of scarring before I can proceed. If we don’t do this right- your body may suffer irreparable damage."

She winced. Well there was no arguing with that. Besides…she was already practically naked on his bed and Xiao sounded fine. Utterly professional. Maybe she was the only one affected by being with him like this. 

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Lumine let it go, shifting to sit up. She covered her bare chest with one arm, cheeks flaming red as she carefully twisted to face him and reveal the spiderweb of damage spreading over her torso. 

A yaksha mask gazed back at her. Lumine jolted, sucking in a hard breath. "H-have you been wearing that this whole time?" she squeaked. 

Xiao's expression was of course inscrutable. He sat back on his heels, the gorgeous black, blue and gold designs of his mask giving a solemn air, but ultimately hiding all emotion. She couldn't even see his eyes.

He touched the rim briefly. "It is necessary, in order for me to perform the task at hand to the best of my ability. Is there…" he cleared his throat. "Is there anywhere else you're scarred or is that it?"

"That's it," Lumine murmured. Disappointment curdled in her chest. She couldn't exactly explain why. Perhaps she'd been seeking a connection during this whole mess- but Xiao's mask put a stop to that. She couldn't tell what he was thinking when he touched her. 

"Alright. Hold still. I'll try to be gentle but don't go expecting a miracle. "

Lumine shifted the towel more securely across her waist before nodding. She held her breath, sweat beading on her brow as he reached out. 

Her exhale stalled and stuttered as Xiao's hands met her chest. His fingers began trailing over the damage, carefully stroking the medicinal herbs onto her skin. A map of healing. 

It was different, facing him. On her stomach, Lumine had just rambled her worries away. Now the contact felt inescapable. Direct. Xiao was sitting so close. His hands were kind and careful- fingers dipping into the valley of her breasts before having to slip under her arm and graze a damaged nipple.

Lumine sucked in a sharp breath. She caught it- the faint tremor in his hand. 

Her eyes snapped to his face, but of course could see nothing. 

"Xiao," she spoke, surprised at her own breathlessness. Could he feel how her heart hammered relentlessly in her chest?

"What is it?"

Her lips twitched. "Can I take off the mask? Please?"

"Why would you- I mean that's not-" his voice grumbled out, leaning slightly away from her. "I have need of it. Don't worry about pointless things right now. Focus on letting me heal you."

Lumine quieted. "...It's not pointless to me."

She could see it now: the little tells in his body language. How he held himself stiffly and tried not to touch her more than necessary. Wang Ping'an had once written that the Conqueror of Demons wore a mask- not just to strike fear into his enemies- but to hide the part of him that was human.

Lumine didn't think any further on it. She reached out and grasped the edge of the mask near his cheek.

She noticed him freeze up. "Lumine- don't."

"What are you afraid of?"

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, grip loose, unsure. "...I'm just unfamiliar with healing. I'm not disciplined enough to be…completely perfect at handling it. I'm ashamed of my own ability to get so distracted by you."

Ah, would the sensation of warmth ever leave her around this man? Fondness beat in her chest. She shook her head ruefully. 

"Getting distracted isn't necessarily a bad thing. Especially right now. I'm happy to have you distract me from how much pain I'm feeling."

She felt his grip tremble. Slowly, gradually, his fingers slackened. Lumine took that as all the invitation she'd get to carefully lift the mask up and away from his face.

Twin pools of luminous yellow greeted her. They made her pause, thrown. She'd never seen Xiao look at her with such heat before. His cheeks were dusted red. His mouth was pressed into a hard line- and he was unable to hold her gaze. 

Heart fluttering, Lumine cupped his cheek, redirecting his attention back to her. He trembled and released hot, tight breaths against her wrist. As she stroked inquisitive fingers into dark hair, she noticed something.

"Your ears-!" she exclaimed. 

Xiao jerked in her hold, blushing an even darker shade of red. "D-damn," he hissed under his breath. "It's not uncommon for adepti to sometimes lose control over their human forms. Ignore it."

She didn't think she could ignore the pointed tips even if she wanted to. 

"Have you ever lost control of your human guise?"

"...No."

Lumine bit her lip, stroking the shell of his ear with a light touch. The reaction was instantaneous- a shudder running through Xiao that left him sinking into her palm. He turned his face to kiss her hand, panting softly.

"Couldn't you- just let me help you. Why are you so incorrigible?" Xiao mumbled into her skin, pressing slow kisses to the tips of her fingers before leaning his marked brow into her knuckles.

"I won't apologise for it," Lumine smiled. She forgot about her exposed chest and used her free hand to tilt his head up, resting their foreheads together. They traded air with quiet breaths. Xiao's lashes lowered, closing his eyes as if to bask in her presence. 

"You scare me more than anyone," came his grim confession. 

Before she could pull away to voice her confusion, Xiao gripped her arm. "I don't understand the hold you have on me- and that's what's frightening. Feeling this way for a mortal is…new. And wrong. For someone like me anyway…"

"Someone like you?" She hummed, combing her fingers through his hair and massaging them at the base of his skull. Xiao all but purred, leaning into her touch with a stifled groan. "Kind, protective, vigilant you," Lumine opened her eyes. "Perhaps you're just as lost as I am, just in a different way. But, want to know a secret, Xiao?"

"Hm?"

"I might have to wander, but you're the one place I want to return to. Every time I leave."

His eyes snapped open wide. Xiao's lips parted wordlessly, searching her face with a pensive, hopeful look that made her heart break. Something about her earnest expression must have finally got through to him, as his shoulders relaxed. 

His gaze briefly dropped to her chest, and then back to her mouth. 

That was all the warning she got. A sweet, firm pressure suddenly pressed against her lips. Lumine stiffened, heart leaping wildly in her chest. Heat shot to her face in a healthy blush. Her fingers curled in his feathery soft hair, dropping to grip his shoulders and pull him closer.

Xiao broke away briefly- and fear shot through her bloodstream- but he merely looked at her, with a strange look of wonder. As if he couldn't believe what he'd just done. 

Lumine tugged on his shoulders, wanting more. 

"I- " he rasped. "You're going to make me go crazy if you keep looking at me like that."

Lumine blinked, slowly giving a pleased smile. She giggled and pecked his lips shyly, before meeting him for a longer kiss. Their kisses bespoke of their mutual lack of experience- clumsy, rushed, but eager and warm. 

His fingers, still smeared with minty paste, tangled in her buttery blonde locks. 

Lumine slung her arms tighter around his neck as they parted just a hair's breadth for air, which soon became filled with her soft laughter. 

She couldn't articulate the sudden giddiness. Her body was still sore and throbbing from the electro, but her heart was near to bursting with gladness. She was here, with Xiao- and he was kissing her like she was the most precious treasure in the world.

His touch strayed downward, stroking down the column of her throat and covering it with heated kisses soon after. Lumine moaned, arching into his mouth and rocking her hips slightly against his, lost in his embrace. Their mouths and touches strayed, familiarising themselves with each other's bodies. Lumine didn't even realise she was ticklish under her thigh until Xiao stroked his fingers there. She found his back felt as equally tense as hers, filled with trapped nerves and stiffness. She mentally promised to give him a massage too.

Mid-kiss, Lumine blinked as she combed her fingers free from his hair- pulling out something.

She and Xiao parted to stare at the teal feather held between her forefinger and thumb. 

An undignified snort sounded out. Xiao's eyes twinkled. Lumine grinned- bursting into laughter in time with him. The sounds of their laughter mixed and filled the usually silent room, carrying even outside into the quiet night. 

When the mirth died down, they exchanged smiles. Something shifted in that moment, as if they'd quietly sobered. Xiao brushed the hair out of her eyes, still catching his breath. His eyes had never looked more alive. Playful. Lumine felt her chest tighten, heart squeezing. She could have fallen in love with that look in his eyes if he'd let her.

"Are you going to behave now?" He rumbled. 

"Maybe."

He bent down to her ear. Lumine expected another kiss- only to squeal as a light nip scraped her flesh. "Alright, alright," she conceded, unable to stop from smiling- kicking her legs out beneath him when he continued until she was yelling it.

"Good. You're hard work, you know?" he huffed, pulling away to grasp her shoulder- pushing firmly.

Lumine found herself on her back- pleasantly surprised as Xiao slung his leg over her waist, settling above to straddle her hips. Heat shot down to her core at the view.

His eyes glowed in the low light. Seriousness now painted his features. Back to business. "The herbs will have taken effect now- numbing your wounds. This next part requires you to be absolutely still, Lumine. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded slowly. "Will you…keep the mask off?"

He blinked. "Fine. I need to concentrate though- so…no kisses or touches or your other feminine wiles." 

She arched a brow. Feminine wiles? 

Xiao sat back and closed his eyes as if to center himself. 

The atmosphere immediately changed. A hush fell over the room, as if holding its breath. Xiao reached around his neck and removed the beaded necklace, instead placing it around hers. The pendant rested squarely on her chest. 

He then took a hanging incense burner made of brass and coaxed the trailing smoke to life, letting it gradually fill her lungs. 

When he spoke next it wasn't a language she knew, but it sounded old. An incantation. A vow. 

Lumine remained still beneath him, feeling the change as everything began to feel heady, like a warm summer night. Energy sparked, and Xiao lowered the incense burner to rest a palm over her chest directly over her heart. It thundered as he spoke. 

Without his mask, those golden eyes framed with red markings bore into hers. She gave the barest hint of a smile.

I trust you.

Xiao's lips thinned. He inclined his head and began writing invisible characters onto her body- one at the base of her stomach, her collarbone, her arms and legs, the nape of her neck. He gripped his wrist and let out a hiss, clenching his teeth. Adeptus energy spilled forth from his palm. 

It bellowed around her, flowing straight into the invisible characters he'd left on her skin.

Lumine looked down as best she could, gasping.

The tree-like branches of lightning scars on her chest were glowing. They shone the signature colour of the Electro Archon; the purple scars resembling fissures.

With each new burst of Adeptus energy, the fissures raised, until the scars quite literally began peeling from her skin to dissipate mid-air, becoming static vapour. Lumine watched in awe as the vapour gathered above them due to the sheer volume of scarring. It hung heavy and low in the air like their own personal storm cloud. Xiao straightened and exhaled, before bending over her until they were nose to nose.

He uttered something hard and biting in that strange foreign language, the words hanging between them with a sense of finality. 

The vapour suddenly solidified; raining down all at once as harmless water droplets. Lumine panted, unable to look at anything other than Xiao. He shielded her from most of the downpour, those striking golden eyes softening into something reverent and yearning. 

Lumine didn’t leave him wanting for long. She threw her arms around his neck and bridged the rest of the distance between them, whispering a smothered ‘thank you’ against his lips. Exhausted, Xiao sank into her willing embrace, unable to keep himself upright. Lumine curled around him tight, shuddering with delight when he found the place between her neck and shoulder to rest his weary head for the remainder of the night. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he rasped, only half conscious. “I’d do that…for you…a thousand times over.”

------

Time was a cruel inevitably and it wasn’t long before the sun began its sluggish climb into the sky for a new day. Paimon would be in a state of hysterics if she woke alone, so Lumine began walking down the stairs to Wangshu Inn’s Waypoint, Xiao shadowing her footsteps. Bathed in the brilliant hues of sunset, Lumine turned to face him once she reached the terminal. 

Unlike all the vulnerability and desire he’d expressed last night, Xiao’s face was wiped of emotion. He nodded curtly to her and turned away, summoning his primordial jade spear as if ready to depart himself. 

“I trust you’ll make it back safe from here. Don’t pull any reckless stunts like that again.”

Lumine bit her lip. She could sense his underlying care even in those acerbic words. Xiao brought a hand up- the yaksha mask appearing from thin air to hide his face once more. “I’ll see you lat-”

“Xiao.”

He froze. Perhaps he could act as though nothing had happened between them but she couldn’t. Things had irreparably changed. Unlike all the other changes in her life though, Lumine held onto those stolen kisses as something precious- a memory she’d revisit during lonely nights by the fire. And if she had anything to say about it, that wouldn’t be the last time they made such wonderful memories. 

Lumine stepped up to him, opening and closing her mouth as she searched for what to say. What could she offer in exchange for all he’d done? She settled on a fond smile, trailing her fingers up his tattooed arm to find purchase on his shoulder. Leaning up a little, she pressed a chaste kiss to his masked cheek. 

“You always find me,” she murmured. “Right when I need you. I’d like to return the favour next time.”

Xiao held himself still. His free hand twitched and rose, hesitating in the space between them.

“Don’t make promises like that,” came his halting reply- gloved fingers lightly stroking down her cheek in a lingering caress. “I’ll become greedy.”

Lumine’s lips bent into a smile, allowing a giggle to escape. She caught and held his hand against her, standing together with him for just one more stolen moment. Tilting her head to kiss the inside of his palm, she hoped her gaze conveyed her feelings. They roared loudly in her heart, yet not one word of love was spoken between them. She finally stepped away, and with a single wave and lingering look; teleported back to Inuzuma and all its dangers waiting there for her.

Alone, Xiao released a tight breath. He balled his hand into a fist, leaning against the railing for support. 

“I’m not as good or considerate as you seem to think I am,” he rasped, prying the mask off. His expression wasn’t one he ever wanted to reveal to her. “A good man wouldn’t have wanted to keep you so selfishly just now,” Xiao let out a shuddering breath, gripping his spear like his life depended on it. The Karma that felt so far away when she was near came rushing back, along with the weight of his sins and responsibilities. 

After taking a moment to compose himself, Xiao straightened and replaced his mask, glancing at the waypoint. “...Pray I don’t find you injured again, Lumine. I might do something even more foolish next time.”

With those grim words of warning for no one to hear, the Adeptus disappeared; returning to his duty with all emotion wiped clean from his being- but the image of her radiant smile lay burned into his ageless heart, and would likely remain long after the day's end. 

End

[lonely-lost-soul]

Withered

Request 1: Technoblade succumbs to the voices and accidentally hurts the reader

-requested by: anonymous

(Technoblade x female reader)

~~~

Everyone had good days and bad days, recently Technoblade’s life had more of those good days thanks to a certain woman who entered his world. She came in like a whirlwind, messing with his emotions to a point which he never dreamed would be possible. When Phil introduced her to him a few years ago, he thought nothing of the women at first. She was ballsy, matching his sarcasm and snark immediately after meeting him. Not to mention beautiful in his opinion, he thought that might be why Phil kept her around at first. Then he saw her metal working abilities and the weapons she created and he fell hard. Especially when he saw the things she could do with gold, god one day when she visited him covered head to toe in gold jewelry...Techno almost jumped her that day. Even if he didn’t fully understand his feelings at the time Phil knew something was up with his mild-mannered friend. He had to break it to Techno in an awkward conversation that spanned twenty minutes that he might have a crush on the girl. Technoblade laughed in his face at the suggestion, it took a raised eyebrow and another visit from her where she was dripping gold that he finally figured out what exactly Phil meant by a crush. 

It took another year of him only falling harder for you to finally ask you on your first date. Now here they were years later completely enamored with one another, though Technoblade was less likely to show it. He was forever the stoic protector but he melted under your touch, the tough man was wrapped around your gold-clad fingers. 

Today, however, was a rare bad day. 

To start it off, Technoblade slept in later than he would’ve liked and woke up with a splitting headache. The voices which were usually a constant hum, sometimes making snide or unhelpful comments were screaming in his ear. Techno tried to fight it, he did. He tried to think of anything else other than the sweet taste of blood and the beautiful sight of gore tainting the white snow outside. He tried to think of your hands caressing his face, or the sweet smell of pomegranates and oak wood that he came to associate with you. Technoblade pressed his palms to his closed eyes and rubbed them in a circle, trying desperately to release the built-up pressure. He let out a puff of air through his nose. As he opened his eyes his pupils shrunk considerably, and they glazed over. Techo’s usual sharp senses felt dull and muddled especially his smell. All he heard was the thousands of voices that demanded blood, immediately needing to be satiated lest he wished to lose himself fully to them. Through their screaming, he heard shuffling downstairs someone was in his house, an intruder. A snarl erupted from his throat as he tore the down comforter away from his body, shredding it in the process sending chicken feathers flying everywhere. 

He tore his cape from its resting place and connected it across his shoulders, he took his sword from its place on the wall. Technoblade gripped the weapon so tight his knuckles turned white, the voices only increasing in their restlessness and volume as he made contact with the sword. They knew blood was near and was about to be spilled. He slid down the ladder effortlessly and into his kitchen, the smell of bread was seemingly so strong it assaulted his dulled nostrils. Narrowing his eyes he noticed movement in the kitchenette, 

A figure stood there seemingly unbothered by his presence, the voices demanded blood and who was he to deny them their sacrifice.

Bottles and plates fell to the floor and shattered as he charged at the figure. He knocked over the table and more things thudded to the ground, in his wake. The person stumbled back but it didn’t matter, Technoblade would catch them and gut them for even thinking about entering his home. He pulled his sword back a deep growl rumbling in his throat, the person let out a sound and Technoblade put his hand around their throat. Squeezing down, successfully cutting off their airflow, the hands reached up and he felt their nails dig into the skin of his hand. He only smiled wider as the voices urged him to continue, loving the way the intruder was wiggling and desperate against his hand. Even as he felt blood pool on his own hand from their fingernails he still had satisfaction in seeing them suffer. The figure was completely and utterly at the piglins mercy, he lifted them into the air seeing their legs begin to kick out as they dangled. Technoblade leaned forward, thousands of voices chanted the same phrase in his head, 

    “Blood for the blood god,” He spit at the figure as he drove his sword into their chest they let out a scream of agony. Their face twisted up but even through that, they grabbed at the back of Techno’s head, bringing it down and into the side of their neck. 

Pomegranates and oak flooded his senses, and the voices were immediately silenced. They were silenced almost shamefully as the fog cleared in his mind and the figure materialized in front of him. As his senses returned, his pupils blew back to their normal shape and size and he was brought back to the reality of the situation by loud, gurgled choking. His head snapped back and he locked eyes with yours, face blue and splotchy, blood dribbling down your chin. 

     “Tech...no…” 

     “Heh? What…? Princess? Princess!…(Y/n)...no...NO!” His eyes widened in frantic despair removing the hand from around your neck, you let in a gulp of much-needed air into your lungs. He caught you before you could fall, his entire body was shaking in a way he didn’t know it could, for once in his life he was scared. His sword was still embedded in your chest, even through his panic, he knew taking it out would only make everything worse in the long run. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His big hands cupped your face brushing the hair out of your eyes, sweat was sticking to your forehead as your face scrunched up in agony. “I know baby, I know. It hurts, I’m sorry…hang in there for me my dear one,”  Techno rested you down on the ground on your back watching you wince once more. He stood up, desperately needing to get his spare health potions and bandages. He was tugged back a little by his cape. He knelt back down to look at you in the eyes, they scrunched up in the way he loved so much when you smiled. 

Why were you smiling? This was not the time to smile! 

     “Don’t le...ave. St...ay?” 

     “Oh, Princess. Don’t be cringe okay? I’ll be back I need to get you health potions and bandages. I’ll be right back, I love you.” Technoblade sputtered, out in a panic. Although his words were nothing but the truth; Technoblade loved you more than the stars in the sky. If you asked him to he’d find a way to gift the stars to you in a heartbeat.  

     “Lo...ve you too.” He felt you release his cape and he bolted gathering all the materials he could need to heal your wound. Stumbling back into the room he dumped his supplies onto the floor and knelt beside you, he gently caressed your cheek. 

     “I need to pull the sword out, here.” He handed you a thick piece of cloth, “Bite down for me okay?” He watched you nod and stick the cloth in your mouth, and bite down onto the fabric. He grabbed the hilt of the sword and yanked it out of you in one go, he tossed it across the floor like it scalded his skin. Your back arched in pain, tears weld up in your eyes as you let out a pitiful-sounding moan. In another situation that was much more intimate, he might’ve found your body language insanely attractive. He moved quickly putting pressure on the wound as blood bubbled up from the gash in your chest, it reminded him of Wilbur’s wound, he shook his head pushing the thought away. You weren’t like Wilbur you weren’t going to die and certainly not by his fucked up hand.

He wouldn’t let you. 

     “Good girl. You’re being such a good girl, please hang in there.” He pleaded grabbing the needle and the stitching thread, he quickly dipped the needle in antiseptic, “another deep breath for me.” He commanded you, once again he watched you nod before having the needle enter your skin. Whines of pain spilled from your throat, you tried your best to be as still as humanly possible and Technoblade commended you for your efforts. Eventually, it was stitched closed and Techno put gauze over the stitching to make sure it was protected. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as Technoblade turned to look at you, now he could tend to your less serious wounds. The bruising around your neck was dark and splotchy and in the shape of his hands, he felt guilt tear at his heart once again. He uncorked the regeneration potion and put your head in his lap, he gently removed the rag and poured the contents down your throat. Techno watched as you immediately relaxed in his arms breathing evening out only slightly, you’d certainly need way more than just one potion. 

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief gently cradling you in his arms, you immediately snuggled into them and he melted. He made sure to wipe away any tears that still spilled from your beautiful eyes. You were going to be alright, but he’d never forgive himself for hurting you, he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to you if you chose to stay by his side. He carried you up to his bedroom and was taken aback by the number of feathers floating around the air. He’d need a new down comforter too now? Why was he such a monster in this state? He laid you down on the bed kissing your forehead lightly, you weakly leaned into the kiss and smiled up at him through lidded eyes.

     “Get some rest,” Technoblade whispered “I’m going to make some more potions and call Phil. If you need me just shout, I won’t be far.” He watched you nod sleepily as he tucked you into more blankets. He swallowed thickly reluctantly turning away from you and heading back down the ladder. After all, he was starting to smell the stench of burning bread, which was unpleasant. He descended and immediately frowned miserably at the sight before him, everything was trashed. Glass and porcelain littered the floor as well as a ruined breakfast that you were clearly in the process of making for the both of them. His favorite too, he stepped carefully over the mess and pulled the bread out of the oven with your oven mitts. He was right it was unsalvageable he sighed opening the window and tossing it outside for something else to devour if they saw fit. Sending a quick message to Phil that he needed help and as many regeneration potions that he had, he hoped he didn’t freak the old man out too much. 

Technoblade rolled up his sleeves and got to cleaning up his mess. By the time Phil flew in most of the mess was cleaned up, but the old man looked frantic, he had an entire bag filled with potions with him. 

     “What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?” Were the first questions out of his mouth, “Is (Y/n) alright?”

Technoblade’s jaw clenched and he refused to look anywhere but at Phil.

      “Techno?” 

     “I lost control, Phil. Hurt her...the voices were so loud. I stabbed her, she almost died because of me.” His voice cracked a little as his hands clenched and shook at his sides, Phil bit his lip before hesitantly reaching out to wrap Technoblade in a hug. Surprisingly he melted in Phil’s arms rather easily, 

     “She knows you didn’t mean it mate…” He spoke softly rubbing circles on his lower back, “she’ll forgive you-”

     “But that’s the problem! She shouldn’t! This could happen again but this time I won’t be able to snap out of it. I could kill her, and that would kill me.” 

     “But she will because she loves you.” Phil placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders pulling away from him, “we’ll come up with a plan. Talk about what happened this time, what possibly triggered it, and what snapped you out of it. You aren’t hopeless mate. We’ll fix this, (Y/n), and I are here for you no matter what, remember that.” Techno dragged his hands down his cheeks and gave a small nod of understanding. “Now, take these potions to her and stay by her side. I’ll finish cleaning up and guard against any other dangers alright? You just worry about helping (Y/n) get better.” 

     “Alright…” Techno murmured taking the bag of potions from his friend before ascending the ladder back to you. You were asleep, your breathing was soft and shallow but you were alive at least. Gently, he splashed the potions on top of you, you were completely knocked out not even feeling the splash potion. He shucked off his cape hanging it back up against the wall, he made quick work of collecting all of the feathers that he could put away. He lifted the covers off you and crawled into bed by your side, he gently wrapped his arms around you careful of your wound. He cradled you gently kissing the side of your neck, still asleep you cuddled yourself more into his body heat. He brushed your hair behind your ear and rested his chin on the top of your head. From now on he’d make sure to be better, better for you, better for Phil, and better for himself. He’d protect you through thick and thin and if anyone dared hurt you again he’d rip them apart, and god forbid if he hurt you again. He’d never forgive himself. This couldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t let it. Even if he had to give up all his lives trying, you were his Princess after all.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed and it met up to your expectations! Next up is C!Philza simping over reader!

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 49. the doctor visits.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

“In here, she’s in here,” I breathe hurriedly as I lead Bruce back through the apartment to Willa’s bedroom. The door is swung open, revealing the small child sitting anxiously in her bed, still wearing just her shirt and underpants. “Please Bruce,” I beg, swallowing down the lump that’s formed in my throat as he enters the room, setting down his bag on the floor. Willa’s big green eyes gaze nervously over at us; joining her quickly at her bedside, I kneel down on the soft carpet and take one of her tiny hands in mine.

“Hi Willa,” Bruce greets gently, taking a few steps towards the bed. “Steve let me know what happened; I’m just here to take a look at things,” he explains. The little girl cowers slightly beside me, causing me to rub the back of her hand soothingly with my thumb.

“Tony didn’t tell me exactly what he did; I’m not sure if there’s anything you can do to reverse it, or-”

“Steve,” my friend cuts me off, a solemn expression drawn onto his face. Coming up on the other side of the bed, opposite me, the man takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. Sucking in a deep breath, he pushes his glasses back up on his nose before continuing, “I talked with Tony. He explained the procedure to me. I- there’s no easy way to tell you guys this, but… his actions are irreversible. There’s nothing I can do besides help with the healing process.” My heart sinks at his words, some desperate part of me unable to accept his revelations.

“No, there has to be some way, right?” I insist. “It- Bruce… you’re the smartest doctor on the planet. Stark’s smart, but you’re smarter. He knows computers, machines. But you- you know humans. Bodies. There’s gotta be a way to- to… I don’t know, to fix this.” To my dismay, he only shakes his head at this, letting out a sad sigh. I swallow hard, and before I can say anything else, a small voice fills the air from beside me.

“Fix what?” Willa asks worriedly. “W-was I bad? ’m sorry- please.” Big tears have formed in her eyes, her bottom lip trembling as it sticks out at us.

“No sweetheart, hey- not bad; you weren’t bad, Willa-bug. You’re not in trouble,” I tell her quickly, slight panic building in my chest as Bruce looks at me expectantly.

When I found out what Tony had done, I had no idea how to explain it to the kid. I put Willa in her room and stepped out to call Bruce in the kitchen, not wanting her to hear what I was having to explain. Bruce insisted I would need to tell her as soon as possible, in as simple terms as possible, but I still have no idea how to do that. At this point, I guess I just really don’t have a choice. She’s asking, and there’s no way I could lie to her. She deserves the truth, the whole truth.

“Willa, baby,” I start, not exactly sure where to begin. My gentle gaze drifts down to lock with hers, and the fear lingering in her eyes is enough to bring me to my knees. “The surgery Tony performed on you was to- it was to sterilize you, sweetheart.”

“S-s'er-a-lize?” the little girl repeats, clearly not familiar with the term.

“It means he- it’s a medical term. What he did was, he removed some parts of your body, the parts that could help you have a baby when you’re older,” Bruce explains for me. My eyes widen at his remark.

“Removed?” I nearly yell before I can even stop myself. Willa flinches beside me, a terrible tremble erupting from within her; instantly, I regret my lack of restraint. Using my free hand, I gently stroke back her hair from her face, shushing, “Shh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you; it’s okay.” To answer my question, Bruce nods, the devastation clear on his face.

“He wanted to make sure it would be permanent. He figured the best way to do that was to take everything out altogether.” At this point, my entire body just seems to be filled with a dull ache. While each new discovery should be steadily increasing my levels of anger and hate, I guess I must’ve maxed out at some point. Now it’s just… hurt. So much hurt. No other way to describe a feeling like this.

“H-have a baby?” Willa asks, trying to understand. Bruce nods.

“Yeah, he removed the organs that would’ve allowed you to carry and deliver a baby,” he elaborates.

“He… took them out? Have to… put new ones in?” Her innocent suggestion causes a round of tears to form in the back of my eyes.

“That’s- it’s not that simple, sweetheart,” I say gently. The confusion on her face only seems to intensify the further we explain. “Like Bruce said, Tony’s actions were permanent. I’m sorry, Willa-bug; I’m so sorry.”

The child looks at me, then at Bruce, then back at me, appearing completely perplexed. “It- s-so… can’t make more of me?” she asks, her voice falling to a mere hush. I suck in a shaky breath, nodding in confirmation.

“Yes, Willa. That’s what this means.” A dead silence falls over the room, and the small girl’s gaze falls to her lap, her look of confusion now gone entirely.

“Then…” she mumbles, even softer than before. “Then… not need me anymore?” Her words stab through me like a knife, straight through the heart. A single tear trails down her cheek as she sits before me, dejected. Defeated. More soon follow as Bruce’s eyes glance over to meet mine, worry and heartbreak appearing on his tender face.

“Willa,” I murmur softly, taking the girl’s hand in mine and giving it a tight squeeze. “I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that, doll?” She nods, but her eyes remain glued to her lap. “Can you look at me, sweetie? I need you to look at me.” Warily, the little girl’s eyes rise up to meet mine, and I’m only more saddened to see them just about overflowing with a fresh round of tears. “Willa… your ability to create more of you has no impact on your worth. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean there isn’t any need for you; you are good and loved and needed just as you are. Even after what Tony did.” Willa sniffles, not seeming convinced by my sincere efforts.

“They-… y-you-… can’t make more healers,” she tries weakly, her gaze falling back into her lap as more tears begin to escape down her flushed face. As gently as I can, I take my hand that isn’t holding hers and cup her cheek, thumbing away some of the droplets as they fall.

“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart. That doesn’t matter to me, or to Peter- it doesn’t matter to any of us. Having kids one day should’ve been your decision, Willa. Your choice to make, when you were much older. That’s why what Tony did was so horrible: because he took that choice away from you. It doesn’t change how the rest of us feel about you, doll. Not at all, not for even a second. Okay?” I tell her seriously, needing her to understand the words I’m saying.

“S-still love me?” the child whimpers, making me use all my strength to hold myself together emotionally. “Still think I’m good, still your b-best girl?”

“Still love you, sweetheart. Still my best girl. Always my best girl,” I confirm, leaning in and planting a kiss on Willa’s forehead. When I pull away, I see that a good portion of the devastation has dissipated from her expression, allowing me to let out a slight sigh of relief. I’m sure she’ll continue to have complicated feelings about the whole ordeal, and those feelings will probably change and evolve over time as she grows up and understands the gravity of the situation. I’m just glad that for now, at least, she isn’t worried about me or her friends not wanting her anymore because of what happened. I think the idea of that was entirely too much for her to bear.

Bruce smiles gently over at us, seeming just as relieved as I am that the little girl’s concerns have been addressed. “Alright kiddo, do you think you could let me have a look at your incision? I just want to make sure everything looks the way it should,” he transitions carefully. Willa’s eyes widen at his question and she glances up at me, silently pleading for a way out.

“He just needs to take a look, sweet girl. He won’t hurt you,” I murmur, running a hand over her hair. The child backs up slightly against the pillows behind her, her little frame beginning to tremble as she realizes that I’m not going to save her from Bruce.

The doctor stands from the bed for a moment, walking over to the door and grabbing his bag off the floor. Returning to us within moments, he sets the black leather item down on the floor, unzipping it before returning up to face us. “As smart and capable as Tony Stark is, he’s not formally qualified to perform this kind of surgery, so we just need to make sure everything looks okay,” Bruce reasons.

“Please, D-Daddy, no,” the child stumbles to begs, causing my stomach to twist with guilt as I rise up from my knees, moving the pillows from behind the little girl and positioning myself in their place. Willa, now sitting between my legs with her back up against my front, only begins to shake harder. “Please,” she whimpers, twisting back up against me.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” I coo, wrapping my arms around her warmly and bringing a hand up to rub her cheek. “You’re okay, Willa-bug. I’m right here, okay? I’ve got you.”

“Don’t hurt me, don’t- please,” she rambles, Bruce looking over guiltily as he scoots up a bit closer to the little girl’s body, reaching out gently and taking the hem of her shirt in his hands.

“I’m just going to lift this up and have a peek, okay? I won’t hurt you, Willa. I don’t ever hurt you, remember? I just help make things better,” he soothes softly as he lifts up the fabric to just above her bellybutton. “I’m going to lower your underwear a bit, okay? Just so I can see the wound.”

“N-no, no-o,”  Willa protests adamantly, her voice full of pain and panic as she kicks her legs in self-defense. “No, p-please, no- Daddy, D-Daddy, h-help,” she hiccups. Startled by her strong reaction, Bruce stops, his brow laced with concern.

“Sweetheart, Willa, I’m right here,” I hum, cradling her head in my hand and rocking her back and forth slightly. “I’m here, it’s okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you, honey. I promise, I promise.”

“Hey, it’s alright, Willa,” Bruce murmurs, seeming too hesitant in the moment to proceed.

“D-don’t to-ouch me, don’t hurt m-m-me,” she cries, struggling against my arms that are holding her in place. “P-please, not there, n-not there,” she begs, the clear terror in her voice and her words setting off a million alarms in my head.

“Not where, Willa? On your tummy, where the cut is?” Bruce asks to clarify.

“There, u-under my- n-not take my undies, please- D-Daddy, please, m-”

“No- no, no, no, baby- he’s not taking them; no one’s taking your undies,” I say quickly, finally understanding why her anxiety is so elevated. “No one’s touching you there, doll. He’s just gonna look at the stitches, just like I did, remember? Just look, no touching, still get to keep your undies. You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe.”

“Here, just to here,” the dark-haired man says, quickly and carefully slipping the elastic down just a few inches onto her hipbones to expose the incision. “Just to there, see? I won’t move them any more than that, I promise,” he assures her.

“Here,” I say, reaching behind me onto the headboard and grabbing the thin white blanket I draped across it earlier for in case Willa ever got cold at night. Unfolding the soft fabric once, I gently lay it out across Willa’s hips and thighs, covering her up more where she feels most vulnerable. “There you go, doll,” I soothe, slowing my rocking motions gradually as she begins to relax slightly into me.

An expression of acute concentration forms on the doctor’s face as he assesses the damage, thankfully not making any moves to touch it. “The stitches look fine; there’s no indication of infection at this point,” he comments. “A wound like this is gonna require some special care, which I can go over with you, Steve, and write down so you’ll remember.” I nod, stroking Willa’s cheek soothingly as she leans her head back against me, seeming worn out from all the emotions. “For now, though, I think we need to talk about legal options.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, not sure what he could be suggesting.

“Stark illegally sterilized your daughter, without her or your consent,” he reminds me. “I know you’ve tried putting your foot down with him in the past, Steve, and you and Willa being out of the tower eliminates a lot of the risk moving forward, but regardless- he’s crossed the line on this one, big time. You can’t let him get away with it.”

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[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Hola! \(^_-)/ May i request a HC's of Joui 4 catching their crush masturbating and moaning their name while making such erotic expression?😏 like they suddenly barge in their rooms 'cause they thought she got hurt?

hi anon, thank you for requesting and sorry for taking so long! I had so much fun writing this😏 -niob

Joui 4 catching their crush masturbating

Gintoki:

thanks to a neighbour who apparently has left their water running the whole night, your apartment got flooded and you were forced to leave for at least a month so it could get rebuild

unfortunately, it was not easy to find a place, but Gintoki was kind enough to let you stay at his place

after four weeks with almost no privacy due to Gintoki’s small home, you decide to use his and the kid’s absence to get rid of some pent-up stress

totally caught up in your little fantasy while touching yourself, you did not notice how Gintoki comes home earlier than planned

Gintoki enters the apartment, happy that he was able to get out of the job earlier and would now be able to laze around the rest of the day

weird noises from the room next door make Gintoki freeze on the spot, and he attentively listens to determine the source

he hears a muffled noise followed by his name, causing mild panic rise in his chest

were you hurt? did you just call him for help?

he barges into the room without a second thought, yelling, “y/n, are you okay?!”

you were okay, in fact you were doing pretty well until you suddenly were disturbed during a very intimate activity…

Gintoki needs a whole ass second to realise what is going on and what you were doing

during this time, you have already covered your body with a big blanket while squealing loudly and turning away from him

he is totally shocked, his face burning up as he tries to bring out a word, but they are stuck in his throat

he is so shell shocked that he only moves when you yell at him to get the fuck out

he slams the door shut, but keeps standing in front of the closed door, still processing what just happened

when his brain finally functions again, he deadpans asks you through the closed door if you need any help with what you are doing

when you face each other again after the incident he pretends nothing ever happened if you do the same, but if you show how embarrassed you are he will grin at you and ask you what happened that you act so weird in the most innocent voice he can muster

Katsura:

after getting chased through half the city by the Shinsengumi again and finally losing them in the area of your residence, he decides to slip into your house, without knocking or using the bell (just like a real criminal)

he plans to just lay low for a bit until everything has calmed down, expecting you to not be home anyways and he would surely be long gone when you get back

he lets himself fall down on your couch in the living room, only to jump up again when he suddenly hears weird noises

he doesn’t dare to move an inch, highly concentrated on listening into the apartment

nnghh… there, again! Katsura turns to where he believes the sound came from and finds himself in front of your bedroom door

what or who could this be, he wonders; you should be at work right now… that means… a burglar?? rage raises in his chest at the thought of someone (other than himself) breaking into your home and he takes a step back, his hand already resting on his katana, ready to finish the bold intruder at sight

ahhh… Katsura!… he hears through the door, and this time he recognises your voice

his body relaxes, he just stares at the door, not knowing what was going on, you were home it seems… wait… you just called his name, right? you were calling for him!

he slams the door open, while shouting your name, half a second later an incredibly high-pitched scream almost deafened him and stumbles backwards, almost falling over

you were under the covers quicker than he could see what was going on

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?! GET THE FUCK OUT!!!”, you scream

totally confused he follows your command and gets out of your bedroom

you later give him a lecture about not breaking into your house ever again

Takasugi:

lost in his thoughts Takasugi wanders through the spaceship, unexpectedly hearing his name when he passes by the door to your private quarters

undetermined what to do he just keeps staying in front of your door

did you actually call him? he is not sure, there was no way for you to know that he just walked by your door

after a short while he decides to just ignore it and continue his little walk through the ship, not even sure anymore if he really heard his name, maybe he misheard it

but after taking two steps he could hear it again: his name and followed by some weird, strangled noises

he takes two steps back, now standing in front of your door again, shamelessly eavesdropping to find out what is going on with you

a muffled whimpering followed by a wailing sound convinces Takasugi that something must be wrong, maybe you got hurt and couldn't get up?

Takasugi knocks at the door, softly saying your name but instead of an answer another wailing sound was audible

you were in need of help he was sure of it and opens the door, but the scene unfolding in front of his eyes was a different one: lying on the futon, one hand shoved down your panties, the other clawed into the bedsheets, your kimono open and loose, revealing your breasts as well as your stomach

utterly shocked to suddenly see Takasugi standing in your door you sit up instantly, not even able to make a real sound and scrambling around to cover yourself with whatever was available

Takasugi turns around on the spot, slamming the door shut behind him, distancing himself from your quarters with fast steps, trying his best to ignore the image that is now stuck in his brain

he pretends this never happened and also won't ever try to talk about it, but he might recall the image in his head when he feels a bit lonely (read: horny)

Tatsuma:

in order to celebrate a big business deal, the Kaientai are having a little party on the spaceship

on his second beer Tatsuma notices your absence and asks around if anyone has seen you; apparently, you were not in the mood to drink and left earlier

not very happy with the answers he got, Tatsuma puts the alcohol down and leaves to get you and celebrate together with you, even if that means he has to drag you out of your room

he arrives in front of your door, lifting his hand, but a weird noise coming from inside stops him from knocking against it

he listens carefully, one ear pressed against the door

a loud whine makes him jump back in surprise and causes the mental picture of you being hurt and in pain forming in his head

suddenly overwhelmed with worries he attempts to open the door, almost slamming himself into it due to it being unexpectedly locked

he runs off to grab the spare key and hurries back to your room to open the door

you shriek up, screaming, not able to wrap your mind around what just happened and how someone was able to open the door you have for sure!! had locked earlier

it took a brief moment for you to even realise who was suddenly standing in front of you while you were naked from the hips downwards, only wearing a big shirt, that was given to you by Tatsuma a while ago (because someone barfed on yours and you had nothing to change into)

you hurriedly cover your lower body with your blanked, not able to look up or knowing how to explain yourself when you remember that HE barged into YOUR room which was even locked

“GET OUT!”, you yell with a shaking voice, burning cheeks and still not able to look up

Tatsuma certainly did not expect THIS, but it does not take him long to realise what you’ve been doing and what you are wearing while you do it and it undeniable turns him on

your high-pitched voice brings him back to the reality that he disturbed you and he stumbles back, mumbling some apologies and getting out, but not without taking a last glance at you how you sit curled up on your bed with his shirt on

[stardustincarnate]

EARLY TRYST // Light Yagami x Reader

word count : 4534 genre : fluff <333 ! crack-ish, pre-kira!light, all that  mushy mushy stuff, best friends to lovers because who doesn’t love that trope?

a/n : i’m not sure if i’ve posted this here before but i’m fairly certain that i haven’t oh godric you’ll have to forgive me if i had  --

Who wakes up 5:00 early on a Saturday morning just to bug their neighbor to have a match with them?

Technically, you did. You were bored, and the first thing that came to your mind was playing your favorite sport with one of your bestfriends, who's also your neighbor, Light. Surely he wouldn't mind, would he? But it mattered not since he also did the same to you back then, insisting you two bike together just because he wanted a companion and knew you wouldn't refuse. You were hella pissed even so, and now it's your turn to get revenge.

You brought a ladder, placing it just enough to reach the window to his bedroom on the second floor. You eventually climbed up, practically pressing your face against  the window to get a clearer sight of him sleeping peacefully on his bed, his angelic face barely visible as it was partially covered with his blanket.

'Say goodbye to your sweet dreams, lover boy.'

You thought and knocked on the window loud enough for him to hear. Your first tries were futile so you knocked a little louder and more violent. To his dismay, Light woke up with a teeny-bit of panic in his chest. Creasing his eyebrow and squinting his eyes, he looked at the window, seeing a familiar figure. You snickered as he awakened, languidly making his way to the window, an irritated look on his face when he met your eyes.

He opened the window. "[Y/N], what the hell are you doing here? What time is it?"

"About time for you to play with me."

"Huh? Play with you? You're acting strangely childish. I was still sleeping." He clicked his tongue. You chuckled and shook your head. "Aw, sleeping beauty is upset because his dream was left unfinished. Don't worry, his dashing savior is here to make him feel better."

"You mean worse."

"Bad!" You playfully punched his shoulder. "Says the one who still has sleep in his eyes."

"Of course I have. You just woke me up." He scowled, turning his back at you and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his face a little flushed.

"Heh, don't be shy!" You teased, wobbling a little in your position.

"I'm not shy! Tch, seriously though, you're in a ladder? You only made it harder for yourself when you could've just knocked on the main door. Mom and dad are already awake. They'd let you in."

"Eh? But I was shy- you know- err, how am I supposed to say 'Can I go to Light's room or something?'" You blushed a little. He hummed in response and gave an understanding look. "Come on in."

"I can't fit in here- just meet me outside. I'll wait for ya."

"You got yourself in this so don't turn back now. You can fit but in another position." Before you could reply, he suddenly grabbed your arms and indicated you to push your head inside. You did, whimpering as he pulled you in by grabbing you by the armpits, your faces almost bumping in the process. You gave a squeal as you felt your feet of the ladder, causing you to grip him tighter, almost hugging him-or maybe even inhaling him.

For a better description you basically looked like a flying fish from outside who's getting devoured by a portal.

With all his might, Light pulled you in until your whole body finally got inside. Of course, as he was secretly anticipating to, you both fell on the ground, with you on top of him, your head against his chest.

You immediately stood up and accidentally stepped on his ankle, resulting a loud whimper from him.

"Oof."

"That hurt, you know."

"Sorry. But-" You both heard a loud crash from outside. You were certain that the ladder you used had fallen, and it was so loud you swore some of your neighbors woke up. "...As I was saying... That was a dangerous way to get me inside. I could've fallen."

"Too bad you didn't."

"How rude!" You scoffed. You jauntily walked towards his bed, flopping down as if it's your own. It felt so soft, and it kinda smelled like him too.

You closed your eyes and spread your arms. His expression softened that he couldn't hide a smile which you thankfully didn't see. He cleared his throat and picked up a pillow, throwing it at your face.

"Hey, I'll go get some coffee. Want some?"

"I've already drank one, but sure!"

"No wonder you're already so hyper. Now get out of my bed."

"Fine." You scoffed and got up, walking behind him on the way downstairs, making yourself smaller so they wouldn't notice.

"Light! You're up early." Sachiko greeted.

"Yeah, and it's her fault." He slid right to reveal your cowering figure. You shyly greeted his mother, flushing pink. "Oh hello [Y/N]! I didn't see you come in. Were you in Light's room the whole night? You two had a sleep-over..?"

"No mom. Why would we do that? She just has her own ways of disturbing my sleep. Is dad still here?"

"He's on the living room and just about to leave. I'll make you two breakfast."

"That's not necessary. We just need some coffee, after that we'll.. What are we gonna do again?"

"Play badminton outside."

"It's still a bit dark, don't you think?"

"It's alright. The sun is about to rise. It'll rise quickly." Light replied to his mom, taking two cups and then pouring hot water on them. "Mild coffee [Y/N]?"

"Nope. Black coffee will do."

"Didn't you already-"

"It was creamy white. It was bland for my liking. I need something stronger." You cheekily replied. He sighed and started mixing your coffee and then his own. "If I recall, yesterday I saw you walking home while drinking that black iced coffee from the convenience store. Too much caffeine is unhealthy."

"Yes, Sir Light, noted." You grinned, blowing your drink before taking a sip. "Hey, not funny. I'm genuinely concerned."

"Concern appreciated."

You both entered the living room, greeting his father who eventually got up, off to work. You sat beside Light as you both watched Sachiko kiss Soichiro goodbye. You smiled and mumbled an 'aw,' nudging Light and causing him to slightly spill the coffee he was about to drink.

"What?" He looked at you then to his parents.

"Nothing."

"Ah, I get it. You wanna do that with someone someday, don't you?"

"That's not-"

"It's okay. We all daydream like that, even me. So don't be shy."

"I'm not shy!"

"There goes my line."

"Hmp. So who's the lucky girl, or boy, you daydream about?"

"Why are you suddenly interested? Well what about you?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Because that doesn't matter-"

"Unfair. You're so secretive."

"Fair enough since you're just as secretive as I am. You don't even tell me the guys you like, and I'm your bestfriend."

"Because that doesn't matter-"

"Why do you keep on stealing my lines?"

"Oi that's not the point! I mean come on, an honor student like you rarely talks about romance so when you do, of course I must know. I am your best friend after all."

Light cringed, chuckling. "There's nothing special about that."

"Pfft. Honor students like you are so busy with studying that you rarely have time for romance."

"What? No. Look at you, you're an honor student yourself."

"Yeah but I mean the pros, like you. The valedictorians, first honors."

"Just because I don't that about romance doesn't mean I don't think about it. But like you said, I rarely think about it."

"Ooh! So who is the lucky one?"

"Why do you want to know?"

You puffed your cheeks. Honestly you had no idea too. Let's just say you were... curious.

"I need to gather information. I need some information to sip. Either way I'll figure it out when I start my investigation."

"No."

"Augh- I'll disown you, Light Yagami."

He put his cup down, looking at you.

"It's not really possible to disown the person you like, you know."

The coffee that you were drinking almost came out of your nostrils.

"Don't have so much hubris on yourself. I can do a ten-paged essay about why you are so dislikeable."

"But you can do an essay about why you like me ten times longer than that."

"I am so going to hit your ugly being!"

His smile only grew wider, fascination twinkling in his eyes.

"Hit me with your sweet love, maybe I won't mind."

Not blushing wasn't really an option. He burst out of laughter as you'd been left speechless. You continuously punched his arm, but he never stopped laughing. And his laughter was indeed infectious.

As you two were having fun, you suddenly felt eyes on your back. You stopped and turned around, seeing Light's mother slyly smiling at the both of you as she slithered away towards the kitchen. You and Light avoided each other's gaze for a moment and blushed, finishing your coffees wordlessly instead.

"Well, I'll go change now. You wait here."

"Let me come with you-"

Light raised an eyebrow. "What a pervert you are, [Y/N]."

"NO! That is not what I meant!"

"Well what did you mean?"

"I mean, let me wait outside your room instead," You leaned in, whispering. "What if your mom comes here and talks to me? I mean.. I'm super shy around her."

He nodded in agreement but then he added, "There's no need to be shy around your future mother though."

'This smooth-talking bastard!' You sighed and rubbed your nape, 50% about to roll your eyes and 50% about to blush again. You knew what he meant by that. He had always been a tease to you. But you decided to play against his will.

"Wow. I didn't know that the Yagami family will adopt me someday."

"Tch, dummy."

"Did you just call me dummy?"

"What? Of course not! You really need to clean your ears. I said dumplings. Your cheeks remind me of them. And now I'm hungry."

"You are awful!" For the nth time in history, you hit his arm. "I'm really gonna disown you in one of these days. Now get your ass moving already so we can conquer the street first."

"Well you were the one constantly blabbering and delaying things here-"

"Beca-"

"Shut up."

"Pft. Fine." He pulled you up, holding your wrist even on the way back to his bedroom.

After about five minutes of changing to a plain white t-shirt and jogging pants, matching yours by the way, you two headed out the neighborhood. You picked up the rackets and shuttlecock you had left on the ground, handing him one.

"We don't really have a net-"

"Oh come on! This is just a friendly match, so there's no need for that."

"What about the scores? We can play somehow else if you'd like."

"That's not necessary. I'm making the rules, and the only rule here is that the opponent gets the score if you fail to prevent the birdie from hitting the ground."

"That's not how you play badminton.."

"I am well aware of that. I used to be a part of the school's badminton team, hello? But I make my own rules here." You grinned slyly. He shook his head. "There's no fun in this. You just woke me up to make me do some pointless things with you."

You were actually a little offended by that. You puffed your cheeks and crossed your arms.

"Is it bad that I just wanna have some quality-time with my friend? And to get my revenge, too."

What you said made his heart leap a little, and he was having a hard time resisting the urge to smile. But in the end, he only snarled against his own will. "Let's get this done quick. I'll make sure to destroy you."

"Oh, you wish."

And the game started. The eerie silence vanished, replaced by your grunts, pants, and intense movements. The sky was eventually transitioning from a dim purple to a pale yellow one as you two played, eyes focused on nothing but the shuttle, sweat dripping down your bodies. Light was just as determined as you were to beat his ass. The scores were being mentally recorded by you two-no cheating of course. It was a pretty fair game. One moment you'd be on the lead, but he'd take it, and you'd take it back, and the cycle continued. He was the worthiest opponent for you in this, and he thought the same about you.

The deal was a maximum of 50 scores. Currently, Light was leading and almost close to winning. Certainly you didn't want to get beaten so you struck the shuttle at a perfect angle with just enough force. It flew fast; you were sure he'd miss it. But his reflex was quick, and he struck it with a force much stronger than yours-but his flawed angle sent the shuttle flying higher than he intended it to, and it unfortunately landed on one of your neighbor's roof.

That neighbor just so happened to be the one you two-no, the whole neighborhood-absolutely detested.

Light rubbed his nape and laughed nervously, seeing your grimace. "I'll give the score to you then. So, you have an extra shuttle?"

"Unfortunately that's my last one." You facepalmed. You used to have lots of shuttlecocks but you just kept on losing them since everytime you play with someone, they'd either get destroyed in the process or fly too high and land on unaccessible places, just like what happened.

He frowned. "Seriously? What about inside your house? I'm sure there are a bunch of them tangled in your mess."

"I told you that was my last one. I haven't been able to buy more of them so yeah. But thanks to this nerdy friend of mine, I'm now left with none."

You were only being sarcastic, but it sounded way too derisive for him that he felt somehow guilty.

"Now what do we do.." You pouted to yourself. He averted his gaze which then met the ladder from earlier, a brilliant idea crossing his mind. But the last thing he wanted to do was to get involved, in any way, with that awful neighbor. A grim expression crossed his face and you saw it as you walked closer to him.

"Hey, I'm not actually mad at you, dummy."

"No- I mean, that's a relief. But I think I can retrieve it with the ladder. They might notice me though."

You snorted, but at least there was still a way to save that shuttle. You then looked at the sky. The sun was now rawly smiling at you. Surely those rogues weren't awake yet.

"You know what? I'll do it myself."

"Don't. You might fall. I'll go do it. It's a gentleman's job after all." He grinned. "Do you think they're awake?"

"I don't think so. The curtains are closed anyway."

"Alright. In case I fall, you stay below."

"Okay, Princess Light. I'll catch you using these strong manly arms of mine. Muah!"

"Ew."

Thankfully they didn't have a second floor so the ladder's height was alright- although still short. Once Light had climbed up, you stayed below, holding the ladder just to stay sure.

"Damn. How did it get that far?" He struggled to reach it with his racket, even with his arms and body stretched already. After a few valiant attempts, he sighed and steadied himself a little. He had an idea of climbing the roof but the risk of falling down in the process was high. And he certainly didn't want to squash you either.

"Well this is hopeless."

"Don't give up now, my princess!" You continuously poked his butt with the handle of your racket, causing him to give you a death glare, wobbling a little in his position.

"Are you asking to get squashed? Stop that or I'll fall on you."

"That was just to power you up, silly! Don't you dare fall on me."

"How about falling for you?"

"Bitch."

"Now now, don't say bad words!"

He chuckled and was about to continue his mission when suddenly, the curtains flew open, revealing a grotesque face of a woman staring at Light's crotch-because that's where the window was apparently placed.

Let's just say that you two never want to recall that twenty-minute rebuking that you swore went on even as you two had already left the neighborhood, heading elsewhere.

"That went well." Light heaved a sigh, poking your racket with his as you two walked side by side. You nodded.

"Mission failed. Geez, that woman just wouldn't stop talking and bombarding us with malarkey. I'm starting to hate her."

"To be honest who doesn't? The whole neighborhood hates her as far as I know."

"Pfft, right. So what do we do now?"

He poked your cheeks, and poked, and poked, before pinching them so hard.

"Stop your fetish for my cheeks! This is abuse!"

He laughed, a genuine kind. He didn't reply but put an arm over your shoulder. You puffed your cheeks and played along.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm a bit hungry. So let's head to the convenience store."

"Unsurprising but I didn't bring any money with me."

"Not a single cent?"

"Noooope."

"I guess it's fine since I'll be the one treating you. You should be thankful." You only smiled.

On the way to the store you noticed a group of older and drunk men resting on the side of the street. Their eyes pierced uncomfortably through you. You lowered your head, still feeling their laviscious stares nonetheless. Light also noticed this, and so he pressed himself to you. You hadn't even passed them and when you did, the inevitable came. They cackled, whistling and calling you by names as they rapped the table for attention.

You ignored them and thankfully, they didn't bother you more. "Those bastards." You heard your companion clicking his tongue in annoyance, looking back at the drunk men. He saw where their gazes were and it strongly disgusted him. There was an unnerving silence as you two arrived at the store.

You both had hotdogs with buns and ice cream which was your specific request and which Light reluctantly complied to. The two of you were sitting side by side, looking through the glass wall and discussing mostly about school projects and then some gossips which all came from you. After running out of food to munch on, Light went back to buy a huge bag of chips you two would be sharing.

The sky was now a saturated mixture of orange and yellows. People strolling outside were quickly multiplying until eventually the sidewalk got packed. Few vehicles came passing by. The day was starting for a lot.

"Those guys often do that to you?"

Snapping back to reality, you cooed, "Pardon me?"

"The drunk men we just came across with, was it the first time they've called you out like that?"

"Nope. They're always out drinking.." You saw him creasing his brows. "I know what you're thinking. Well they can't be help so don't think too much about it."

"Can't be help or not, that's still wrong. Did you see the way they looked at your curves? Those men reek danger for a young woman like you. Who knows what their next moves are?" Clenching his fist, he growled. He was truly worried for you. He knew how the world is full of suspicious people like them, and who knows that they're capable of doing?

"Now now worry-wart, don't be so angry."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? You should really start walking home with me early. Does it kill you to immediately go home after school even when you have no business there anymore?"

He got you there. "But I don't want to instantly go home."

"Keep thinking like that and you might never be able to go home again."

You pursed your lips at how scary he made that sound. "Listen, [Y/N]. In this world, there are only a few people you can actually trust. And those guys? They're not looking worthy of someone's trust, even one bit. They're also not the only possible threats to you. Anyone you don't know, or even who you're acquainted with, could be. Even if they look so charming. I'm saying this as a warning, and as your friend. The way they looked at you really triggered me. I can't let you continue your routine anymore. Sure, I know you're going to argue that there's lots of bystanders in case something happens, but that's not always the case. And we're not even sure if they'll help you or proceed to give a blind eye to it."

There came a long pause as you absorbed his words. Hearing them made you feel grateful for having a friend like him-someone who speaks up because he cares about you and your safety. You merely nodded with your mouth agape.

"..I-I'll do as you say then. Thank you Light, really. I appreciate your concern. You give the best advices.. I-you're one of the best people out there."

"Sorry to suddenly explode like that." He smiled, and your heart softened. You asked, "And so, by saying that.. You trust me?"

"Needless to ask dummy. I wouldn't have said that if I didn't."

"Thank you. You know I trust you too. You're one of the people who's worth my trust." You flushed pink as you scratched your nape. This kind of conversation will always make you shy.

"You don't have to say thank you to me for trusting you. And what you said.. You're worth trusting, too."

You didn't argue. The following minutes were silent as you two stared at the void while eating potato chips. You didn't have any new topics in mind, and he seemed to be lost in his thoughts-or his daydreams. You didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on in that complex mind of his.

You absently stood up, craving for another black coffee, but you halted and went back when you remembered you didn't have your own money.

"Oh? You want something?"

"I want coffee. Well- if you don't mind. Ehehehe."

"That I am not going to buy for you. That's going to be your third coffee and the day's only starting."

"Hmph. Forgot I have a mom for a friend. But anyway, you good? You seemed to be thinking about something rather serious earlier."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled. Although he was really deep in thought of something-but what was it?

As he'd already said, he trusted you. He had been friends with you since middle school. He developed the ability to read through your mind. With you both growing closer day by day, he had already memorized your hobbies, your predictably unpredictable schedules, your common moods, your personality, and your flaws as a human being. Heck, he could even write an entire biography book about you with all the facts 99% accurate if he wanted to.

To him, you were fascinating, despite the fact that you weren't his ‘ideal’ girl. But as they say, some ideals are bound to get broken when something unexpected and much more interesting comes along the way. Sure, you couldn't read his mind as good as he read yours. You couldn't decipher and foresee what his next moves would be very well, wasn't in the exact same level as he was, but he grew attached to you. He trusted you, which was a rare thing for him to do-and consider the fact that trust is a hard thing to earn. You were an honest person, mildly annoying at some point to him. You're one that's willing to help others too. Rarely gets the initiative, but when you do, you execute amazing plans and actions.

The world is ugly, indeed, but he considered you to be one of those who made it less that way. You were one of the beautiful people in this ugly, mundane world. And that, he admired you for.

He couldn't see you as just a friend anymore. He could basically see through you, like you were his other half-like you were meant to be. You were someone he could connect with, someone he trusts, someone he could love. The label 'bestfriends' bothered him because he felt like it didn't suit you both, because something else did.

A couple.

And going back, what he was thinking about was the act of courting you and becoming your boyfriend. But doubts flooded his mind, such as you two being too young for romance, the possibility of your parents being against it since he knew you once swore that you wouldn't get a boyfriend until the age of 25 (which was actually a half-joke), and him not knowing what to properly do afterwards. Was he ready for this? Having you as his girlfriend wouldn't really change or affect anything such as his studies. It would still be the same.. just with an upgraded relationship and label with you. Besides, he had been wanting to court you for some time already. And if he doesn't do it then he'd only grow more and more restless.

He wanted to be yours. He was sure you also reciprocated his feelings. Getting into a teenage relationship is easy and quick and maybe reckless, they say, but not for someone with a complex and rational thinking like him. There were some things to consider- but you know what Light said?

'God damn it.'

"Love."

"Huh?" You weren't expecting that response at all.

"I mean I was thinking about romance."

"Ooh! Finally, you decided to add some teenage thrill in your life. So, what about romance?" You gave a sly look. "Need help? I can be cupid, except I will be hitting you with my fist."

His smile was little but genuine, looking out. "There's someone I like for some time now. I've been wanting to court her."

"Awe! My boy has finally grown! My son is finally having a love interest! Eh, but why do you look so uncertain? Is there a catch?"

"Not really." He looked at you, his cheek resting on his palm. You raised an eyebrow.

"If that's the case then go for it! Who would dare to refuse the Light Yagami anyway? If you're feeling doubtful, which is highly unlikely for you, don't be. Any girl would swoon over you, even myself." You chuckled. He gave a fake impression of still being doubtful, looking down with his hands now on his thighs. It was a rare sight to see. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tapping it. Just then, he looked at you straight in the eye.

"It's not like you to lose some confidence. Come on, don't be sad. You can do it. Go ahead and court the lucky one. Cupid approves." You gave him a thumbs up.

"..If you say so," he seized your wrist and stood up.

"Can I court you then?"

[fruitcoops]

Can yoy maybe write about sirius getting injured during a game, and remus gatting so frustrated because hes not the PT anymore so he cant help him right away?

♡♡♡

Yes, indeed! We haven’t done any angst/ hurt comfort in a while and I’ve been noodling around with this idea for a bit now. Thanks for the recommendation! Sweater Weather credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

TW for unconsciousness, mild concussion, beginnings of panic, and bruising

Sirius hit the ice, and he didn’t get up.

Remus’ heart skipped a beat.

He was next to him in an instant, gloves and helmet long forgotten as he carefully unbuckled Sirius’ chin strap. A fight had broken out behind him, but he tuned it out—he knew this process. He was trained for this.

But this was Sirius he was holding, Sirius whose eyes were still fucking closed and even though his breathing was steady he was limp in Remus’ arms.

Pulse. Check.

Eyes. Glassy under the eyelids.

Patient nonresponsive to his name or touch.

Stop shaking, Remus ordered his hands as he worked through his list. Stop it right now. You have a degree, you were trained for this.

“Mr. Lupin, please move so we can take a look,” a new voice said.

“I’m helping.”

“Mr. Lupin, we’re the medics here—”

“I’m helping,” Remus snapped. “His breathing is even but he’s nonresponsive, possible concussion.”

“We need to make room for the medics.”

“I am the fucking medic.”

Emmeline’s hand was gentle but firm on his bicep. “Remus, you’re a player now. Let us do our job. We’ll take good care of him.”

“Let me help.” Why is my voice breaking? I’m perfectly calm. “Please, let me help.”

“You already did.” Slowly, he scooted aside so she could kneel by Sirius’ shoulder and run the same tests Remus had just cleared him for.

“I already did that—”

“Remus.”

“I’m sorry.” The fingers that laid cold in his palm twitched and Remus immediately leaned forward again as Sirius’ eyes opened. “Sirius? Sirius, can you hear me?”

Sirius muttered something and Emmeline glanced behind Remus; a moment later, he felt someone’s hands pulling him up from under his arms. “Come on, Loops, give them space,” James murmured.

“Let go, I can help.” Remus struggled, but James’ arm was a steel bar across his chest as he skated backwards a few feet. Sirius was looking around now, answering questions with a dizzy expression. “James, he needs me—he needs me, I can help.”

“The best thing you can do is take some deep breaths with me. In and out, Re, in and out.”

Sirius stood on unsteady legs and leaned on the medics for support as they practically carried him off the ice; the rest of the team skated after them at a safe distance, all clearly worried. No limp, no wincing, red cheeks, headache? Concussion? No broken bones, no soft tissue damage, please God let him be alright. Something warm trickled down Remus’ chin. “I can help.”

“You already did.”

“Stop it,” he said harshly. “Stop it, don’t tell me that. I can do more, I have to do more, it’s my job.”

“No, it’s not.”

“He’s my—” Remus’ voice gave out. “He’s Sirius.”

“I know.”

Logan was skating back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of the bench, his eyes locked on Sirius’ retreating back. The hit replayed in Remus’ mind—clean, fast, brutal. A simple trip over a misplaced stick, then Sirius flying headfirst into the boards and going limp as the dumb fucking rookie scrambled to his feet.

Dumo went over and led Logan into a side hug by his elbow. A tremor visibly ran through Logan’s body and Remus went cold. Had he missed something? What was it? What test didn’t he run—

“Sit with me.” It wasn’t a question. He nodded, and James guided him to the bench, past Logan and Dumo as they talked quietly in French.

“Lupin, are you alright?” Coach asked before they even came off the ice.

“They wouldn’t let me help,” he said weakly.

Something akin to pity crossed his face. “We’ve got six minutes left. Sit this one out.”

“I can play.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Will someone please just let me be useful?” Remus startled himself a bit with his volume and felt James’ hands go slack with surprise on his arms. He swiped furiously at the sweat—not sweat, it felt different—that covered his cheeks. “Please, Coach.”

“You’re done for this game,” Arthur repeated, though his voice was kind. Remus wanted to hate it, but he couldn’t. “We’ll keep you updated. Pots, go get Tremzy off the ice. You’re on for this shift.”

“Yes, Coach,” James said, giving Remus a quick squeeze. “Deep breaths. He’ll be alright.”

------------------------------

Sirius was still in the PT room when the final buzzer went off; Lions win, 3-2. Remus barely got his pads off before he went running down the hall with Logan hot on his heels, leaving their gear scattered haphazardly in their stalls.

Emmeline was just closing the door when they arrived. “Can we see him? Is he okay? Concussion protocol was updated so my tests might not have been enough but is he still awake?” Remus blurted out in a single rushed breath.

She didn’t miss a beat. “He’s up and talking. We think it’s a very mild concussion that just hit a little weird and knocked him around.” Logan’s grip tightened on his forearm and her eyes flickered down to it. “Both of you can relax. You’re welcome to go in if you like.”

They were halfway through the door before she was even done speaking. Sirius was sitting upright on the PT table, still in his under armour and holding an ice pack to the side of his head. He lit up when he saw them. “Hey, I was just—”

“Are you okay?” Remus demanded. He pulled the ice away and prodded the bruised skin, then stared directly into Sirius’ eyes to check for any lack of focus. He looked alert, which was a good sign. “You look worried. Does it hurt? Are the lights—”

“Re.” His hand folded over Remus’, and tears clogged his throat. “I’m fine. Emmeline and the team cleared me, and Hestia did all the tests. Did we win?”

“Yeah,” Logan said quietly. “Coach didn’t let either of us back on the ice.”

“Who fucking cares about the game?” Anger flared in Remus, hot and sudden. “You were unconscious.”

Sirius remained infuriatingly calm. “I was.”

“You—you hit the boards and you didn’t get up.” Eyes not open. Breathing shallow, but even. Heart rate steady. Follow the process. “Sirius, you didn’t get up.”

“I promise I’m okay.” He reached out and pulled Remus close, rubbing small circles on his back with one hand and reeling Logan in with the other. “It was a rough hit, that’s all.”

“They wouldn’t let me help you,” Remus whispered. His voice was muffled in Sirius’ shoulder and he tucked his face into his neck, holding him even tighter. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Sirius placed a small kiss behind his ear. “Est-ce que ça va, Tremz?”

“Ouais, plus bien maintenant.” They shifted slightly as Logan pressed his forehead to Sirius’ with a sniffle. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

“Seconded,” Remus muttered.

“Got it,” Sirius laughed lightly, kissing the tops of both their heads before releasing them. His eyebrows rose as he spotted something over their shoulders. “Um, hello.”

“Hey,” nine Lions said from the doorway. Emmeline looked mildly amused at their sardine-crammed position. James drummed his fingers on the doorframe and tapped his foot at the same time; if they didn’t come over in the next five seconds, Remus was afraid he might explode.

“Is our turn now?” Kuny ventured, standing on his tiptoes to see over the rest. “Cap still okay? Not hugged to dead?”

“Death,” Nado corrected quietly.

“Cap not hugged to death?”

“Really, I’m fine,” Sirius laughed as they all tumbled inside, rushing to check in on him. Remus noticed Logan place himself like a brick wall if someone got too close to Sirius and felt a wave of affection go all the way down to his toes.

“Give him space,” Emmeline reminded them from the door. “The concussion is mild, but it’s there.”

“I would love to see you try to get those boys out of here,” Hestia snorted as she entered. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Remus and he nodded to her; she winked and shot him a quick smile before grabbing the clipboard off the wall.

“Treatment plan?” he guessed as she tore a piece of paper off and handed it to him. Dumo was still hugging Sirius in a vice grip.

“It’s so nice to have someone who understands this stuff,” she sighed. “Pretty easy, to be honest. I’ve written a few reminders, but you know the drill.”

“Thank you, Hestia. Really.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “I promised to take care of your boys, didn’t I? Have a little faith, Loops.”

“I have so much faith in you it’s embarrassing.”

She laughed at that, throwing her head back and clapping him on the shoulder. “I guess that’s what happens when someone tapes your face back together, huh?”

“Exactly. Can I take him home now?”

“Go easy for the next couple weeks,” she teased.

Remus rolled his eyes and stuck the paper in his back pocket. “Alright, alright, very funny.”

“You should probably go home and get some rest, though. He’s not allowed on the ice for the rest of the week and I, for one, don’t want to be the person breaking that particular news.”

“What?” She left with a final kiss blown in his direction; unfortunately, Sirius did not seem to have overheard her. “Wait, you don’t get to just leave! That’s such a cop out!”

“What’s a cop out?” Sirius asked.

Remus closed his eyes and huffed. This is going to be fun.

[glitterrosesnz]

decided that enough was enough, Venti couldn’t just keep showing up in my fics as a Chaotic Caretaker. so. Venti fans, come get yall’s juice-

---

Venti sat at the bar, his head resting on the countertop, seemingly asleep.

For anyone else, this wouldn't really be considered out of the ordinary. Sure, the bard was rather good at holding his liquor, but everyone has their limits, so the other patrons mainly chalked this behavior up to Venti having had one too many.

Diluc, on the other hand, with his inside knowledge of Venti being a god, and the fact that, thus far, the bard had only ordered one glass of wine, found this behavior very out of character.

"...Are you okay?" Diluc asked, quietly, so as to not draw the attention of anyone else. When Venti didn't immediately respond, he picked up the bard's half-drunk glass of wine and lightly nudged him with the bottom of it. Venti finally opened one eye to look at him.

"....'M fine." He mumbled, "Just.... used a bit too much energy today."

"If that's the case, you should go home and rest, rather than continue to sulk around in here." Diluc said, crossing his arms.

"I went to Windrise earlier and rested for a bit." Venti said, sitting up and subtly rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"That's not what I- wait. Do you even have a house?" Diluc asked. Venti gave a tired laugh in response.

"Why do you ask? Are you offering for me to live with you?" He asked, a smirk on his face. Diluc sighed.

"I'll take that as a no, you don't have a house then." He said, "And absolutely not. If you think even for a minute I'd let you freeload at Dawn Winery, then you must be well past drunk."

"Can't let people say I didn't try." Venti said, coughing a little before sighing, rubbing his nose again as he sniffled. Diluc narrowed his eyes, looking the bard up and down again, taking in his... unusually messy and unkempt appearance, suspicious. 

"...Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, and Venti gave that tired laugh again-

And then suddenly the bard paused, stiffening as he quickly pressed the back of his hand against his nose. Diluc raised an eyebrow in silent question, but Venti was no longer paying attention to him.

The bard abruptly stood up, muttering a quiet curse and stumbling a little. Quickly, ignoring Diluc's protests, he rushed around the counter, ducking down behind the bar to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Diluc asked, and quickly got his answer as Venti's breath audibly hitched, his head tilting back-

"Heh- H'NGKt-shiew! HihH- H'NTCH-iew!" Venti stifled the two sneezes into his hands, the force of them making his body curl up tighter-

And a pair of feathered wings unfurled from his back, flaring out.

Thankfully, the wings didn't go high enough to be seen over the countertop. However, they did end up knocking over various bottles and glasses, sending the crashing to the floor, leaving shards of glass and puddles of spilled wine on the floor, and drawing the attention of quite a few of the patrons in the bar. Diluc quietly waved their attention away.

"I do hope you plan on cleaning this....." He started, only to trail off as he watched how the god tiredly shuddered as he drew his wings back into himself, and let them fade away. The whole process looked.... draining, to say the least. Diluc offered his hand as he helped Venti stand back up. Even through his glove, he could feel the heat coming off of Venti, and now Diluc was officially worried.

"I apologize for the mess I've made..." Venti said, staring down at the glass and wine on the floor. "Get me a mop, I'll help clean it up."

Diluc found he didn't really care about the mess on the floor.

"You're sick." He said, and Venti didn't even try to deny it.

"...Yes, I suppose I am coming down with something or other." The bard said, still not making eye contact with Diluc. "I'm sorry for being such a bother."

"Oh, stop with the rhyming." Diluc said, and he tightened his hold on Venti's hand, stepping out from behind the bar, dragging the bard along behind him. "I'm taking you to Jean."

There was, surprisingly, no resistance to this notion. As Diluc walked out into the cool night air of Mondstadt, he could feel Venti shiver beside him, but he chose not to comment on it, continuing to walk in the direction of the Knights of Favoinus headquarters. He didn't really like going in there, but for tonight it was necessary.

They'd just about made it halfway there when Venti suddenly stopped, tugging on Diluc's hand, attempting to free himself. Diluc looked at him questioningly, only to see a, now recognizable, look of mild panic on the bard's face, his free hand once again pressed against his nose.

"Really? Again?" Diluc asked, and Venti nodded frantically, not responding verbally, probably holding his breath in an attempt to keep himself from sneezing. Diluc looked around, there weren't many people out and about at this hour, but there were some people standing around, and so he quickly dragged Venti into the first alleyway he saw. He let go of the bard's hand just in time, as Venti was snapped forwards by a sneeze, his wings appearing and flaring out (causing Diluc to jump away to avoid being hit) as the god fell into a small fit of sneezes.

"Hih- H'ISHH-iew! H'Tt-shiew! Heh...hIH- H'ETSh-iew!"

"Bless you." Diluc said, as Venti sniffled miserably, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"You can't bless me, I'm a god, I'm already blessed." Venti said, laughing a little, which only caused him to start coughing. Diluc rolled his eyes as he gently patted the space in between Venti's wings in the hopes of it helping a little.

"You done?" Diluc asked, once Venti had stopped coughing. "Okay. Lets hurry up and get you to Jean."

"Wait." Venti said, his voice cracking a little from how hoarse it'd become. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Wait. We...kinda have a problem."

"What's wrong?"

"I...don't have enough energy to hide my wings." Venti said, quietly. "I've been doing this all day and I-"

"You don't need to explain it." Diluc said, sighing as he shrugged off his coat, before placing it over Venti's shoulders, effectively hiding the snow white wings from sight. "There. That should do until we get to Jean."

Venti reached up to pull the coat tighter around himself, looking almost swamped in it, considering how much shorter than Diluc he was. He clearly appreciated the warmth it brought to him though.

-

"Diluc, Venti!" Jean exclaimed, standing up from her desk as the two of them finally entered her office. "What are the both of you doing here so late at night?"

"Our little bard here need a..... secretive but warm place to stay the night." Diluc said, closing the door to the office behind him as he walked in.

"Why? What's wrong?" Jean asked, and almost as if on cue-

"Hih'NGKT-shiew!" Venti stifled a sneeze, his wings flaring out, knocking Diluc's coat off of him. Jean startled a little, but quickly recovered.

"Oh." She said, "I see."

"....'M sorry to bother you." Venti said, sniffling, gratefully accepting the tissues Jean proceeded to hand him in response. "I'd usually just stay in Windrise, but Mr. Diluc here decided I'd be better off with you."

"And you will be better off." Diluc said, "Seriously. You'll get better faster if you stay someplace warm."

"The tavern is warm." Venti protested, for the first time that night. "You could've just let me stay in the tavern."

"Absolutely not. Even sick, you probably would've drunken over half of my supplies." Diluc said, "Speaking of which. I still have a mess to clean up, so Jean, I trust I can leave the rest of this to you?"

"Of course." Jean confirmed, "I only had just a bit of paperwork left to do anyways, I've got time. You can go now."

Diluc gave her a nod, and turned to leave, picking up his coat from where it had fallen to the floor as he did so. He paused before opening the door, thinking for a moment, before laying his coat down on a nearby chair, in case Venti needed to use it again, before finally leaving the room. Once he'd left, Jean pulled off one of her gloves, placing the back of her hand against Venti's cheek before he could pull away.

"Hmm. You've got a fever." She said, "I've got some medicine in my desk but.... does medicine even work on you?"

"...It's only healing magic that doesn't work." Venti muttered, "Medicine is fine."

Jean quickly got the medicine out of her desk, setting up the right dosage, before handing it over to Venti. He took it quickly, grimacing in response to the flavor. Jean lightly put her hands on Venti's shoulders, just barely brushing up against his wings as she gently guided him out of the room, Venti picking up Diluc's coat and holding it tight against his chest as they left. Jean led him up the stairs towards one of the makeshift bedrooms, specifically made for people who had to spend the night at the headquarters. Luckily, Jean seemed to be the only one working late tonight, as they encountered no other guards as they walked through the halls.

"J-Jean...." Venti started, breath suddenly hitching, his wings tensing- "You....you might wanna duck...hIH- H'ESHH-iew!"

Jean took his advice, letting go of his shoulders and ducking down just in time to avoid receiving a wing to the face.

"Snf....Sorry..." Venti muttered, tired, as Jean stood back up, leading him the rest of the way to the bedroom.

"It's not your fault." She said, kindly. "You can't exactly control it."

Venti didn't respond, too tired to speak again after the amount of elemental energy he'd used up during the day. He slowly climbed into the bed, curling up around Diluc's coat, holding it like one would hold a stuffed animal or a baby blanket. Jean gave a soft laugh as she pulled the covers over top of him.

"Am I to presume Sir Diluc won't be getting that coat back anytime soon?" She asked, a note of light humor in her voice. The response she received was a light hum, which she took for a yes. She supposed she'd have to find some means of getting Diluc another, identical, coat then...

Jean turned to leave the room.

"Shout if you need something, okay?" She said, received another hum in response, and then quietly shut the door, leaving the god to sleep in peace.

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

[anika-ann]

No Strings Attached - Pt.1

Y/N vs. The Mutual Crash

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 2900

Summary for the series: When you literally run into a cute guy named Chuck in school hallway, you soon learn there is much more to him than meets the eye. Unfortunately for you, you learn the hard way.

What’s worse, the encounter sets events in motion you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams – and it make you question everything you know.

Warnings: for this chapter - tiny bit of 18+ nsfw smut in the beginning though it’s barely there, swearing, mention of a migraine... that’s it?

A/N: Just so I don’t spook you, we’ll start off easy… with a 2,9k chapter… enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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Almost as soon as you woke up, there was a feeling in your gut; today was going to be strange. Strange in a way that you might not be entirely able to put a finger on, nothing all that special happening, but even though it was only half past six, you knew it was going to be one of those days.

Maybe it was the fact that you cautiously dropped a forehead kiss on Steve’s still sleeping form only to find out he was very much awake. His arms swiftly took a hold of your waist and pulled you on top of him, drawing a startled yelp from your lips, which he quickly silenced by a passionate good-morning kiss.

Maybe it was the fact that you nearly ended up being late.

You were not the only one waking up with a peculiar mood. After Steve’s kiss stole all air from your lungs, he was rolling the pair of you over, trapping you against the mattress, arousal evident, hands wandering and sneaking under your sleepshirt, trailing higher and higher until they reached one of his favourite playgrounds. The rest was history; it was quick and little sloppy but undeniably lustful. Still, it led to mutual satisfaction and to not having even remotely enough time to get ready for the day.

Maybe it was the e-mail Bucky sent yesterday at almost 10 p.m. informing his students that there would be a last-minute change of classroom, because special guests were coming to give a lecture. A lecture that started at 8 a.m.. You hated early morning classes; the only thing making them bearable was Bucky, because he was a damn good and funny professor.

God knew if the guests were about to be a blessing or a punishment. Either way, you had a hunch today was going to turn out kinda weird.

And you only had that confirmed as you rushed through the corridors, the home-made coffee in your opened thermo cup in hand—and suddenly it was gone.

Because you crashed into someone. Well, someone crashed into you. It was a mutual crash.

Point being – a hiss of pain escaped your lips, cup slipping from your fingers as the last remnants of coffee stained it, hands thrown in the air—only to slap the person’s shoulder in the process, because they happened to be in the way.

“Whoa!”

“Dammit!” you cursed, shaking your hand to distract yourself form the mild burn.

You eyed the puddle of brown liquid at your feet before your gaze moved up, noticing a few droplets on your jeans, and finally you fixed your gaze on your crashmate.

A relatively tall brunet stared at you, dark eyes wide, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry!” you both blurted out at the same time.

Short awkward silence followed as you just kept staring at each other, unable to utter a word. And then you chuckled at the absurdity.

You noticed the guy’s lips curling up in a brief smile as you shook your head and went to find tissues in your backpack.

It wasn’t funny – more like annoying, actually. But you did find it funny. Maybe it was because you had a perfectly steamy morning quickie with your fiancé, making you giddy. Maybe it was because this guy, dressed in a grey shirt and black dress pants was kinda cute, the dark curls of his hair causing him to look rather endearing and charming at the same time and—he was smiling too. There was an air around him; a very friendly air.

“Oh, no, let me help!” he rushed to crouch by the offending puddle before you could even open your backpack and you swiftly lowered yourself too.

“It’s no problem, the cup was pretty much empty, luckily…” you mumbled, shooting him a forgiving smile. He met your eyes, one corner of his lips rising higher.

Oh no. He really was cute.

Now, after the mess with Daniel, you were wary of cute guys, even if it came to innocent flirting. But this one, your crashmate… well. There was something about him screaming ‘trust me’; with Daniel, when you looked back at your first encounter, everything screamed ‘smug jerk’.

The brunet reached for the pack of paper tissues you were holding and so you shrugged, handing him some. If he wanted to help, who were you to stop him? It was both yours and his fault.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t full and I didn’t go all Hugh Grant on you,” he uttered as you both worked.

You stared at his Converses for a full second and then it hit you, drawing a surprised laughed from you.

“Was that a Nothing Hill reference? Am I Julia Roberts in this scenario?”

He smiled unsurely at you, seeming rather embarrassed – but seeing your expression, he relaxed. “Yeah, but luckily, you’re not, because the cup was almost empty. Still sorry about the coffee though.”

Picking up the soaked tissues, you went to find the nearest trash can.

“Well, if I-“ didn’t let my fiancé fuck me raw when I was supposed to be getting ready for the day-  “-was watching where I was going, this wouldn’t have happened, so we’re good,” you assured him.

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t, eh,” he pointed somewhere behind him vaguely in a sweeping gesture, smile a smidge shy, ”run to the cafeteria or something to buy you a fresh cup?”

Alert! A guy’s asking you out!

And alert it was; after the fiasco with Daniel, you made it a point to cut things off before they could develop into a sticky situation.

“Oh! That’s really nice of you…?”

You didn’t remember seeing him around before. New student? An exchange student? Because it always went so well with those…

“Chuck.”

“Right, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” you quickly uttered, introducing yourself as well. “But I don’t really--- I, eh-“

You gave up and just awkwardly showed off your left hand. The beautiful ring that once belonged to Steve’s mother – and goddammit, wasn’t it still making you feel all soft and fuzzy – sitting on your ring finger.

Chuck’s gaze zeroed on the jewellery for a moment and then it seemed that something clicked in his brain. He swiftly raised his hands in a no harm gesture, brief panic crossing over his face.

”Oh no! That’s not what I meant, though--- congratulations, but I really didn’t mean to ask you out or something-“ he babbled, hands clenching and unclenching, toying with the belt-loops of his pants the next moment.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Was he trying to cover for the fact that he was embarrassed for wanting to ask you out or had you totally misjudged this situation?

“-though this totally was a meet-cute if I’ve ever seen one and it’s not that you’re not good-looking, I mean attractive and beautiful, because of course you are-“

Oh god, he wasn’t cute.

He was an adorable disaster! You didn’t even care what the truth was at this point.

“-but obviously you’re engaged and I really wasn’t making a move or anything—and I’m gonna have to stop talking right now,” he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes with a self-depreciating smile, his chest rising and falling as he was trying to calm down.

Your cheeks burned from smiling so wide, a cackle fighting its way past your lips. Even if you didn’t want to laugh at him.

“Okay, Chuck. I think I get what you’re saying,” you assured him and because he was clearly adorable, he warily cracked one eye open as if to check if the embarrassing situation you two found yourself in went away. When he noticed your smile, his tense shoulders relaxed, both eyes opening.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry for embarrassing us both. I might as well be that guy from Nothing Hill…”

You laughed – like honestly, nearly having to clutch your belly, laughed. You couldn’t help it.

“Well, you’re charming enough. But I’m afraid I’m no movie star in hiding.”

“You’re cute enough to be one, no discussion here,” he said, his twinkling eyes gave your face a very quick once-over. Somehow, you found his compliment both funny and flattering. A lopsided grin appeared on his face, twisting into a grimace as he hesitantly raised his finger. “But, if we’re talking meet-cutes, I’m afraid I’m more of a Richard Gere here… I got a little bit lost. Point me the right direction, please?”

Whoa, he was stepping up, talking Pretty Woman now. You really liked that dorky comment though.

“Where you headin’?”

“2.34?”

You blinked in surprise, wondering if you heard wrong. Because that was where you were heading.

“Oh? Interesting…” you muttered, earning a curious head tilt from him. Glancing again at your jeans, you grimaced. Those stains had to go… guess direction would have to do. “Yeah, that one is a little tricky… and dumb. You have to go through 2.33. Not that there’s any badge on the door on anything.”

He gasped theatrically. “Tricky!”

“I know! It’s a test of our interhuman skills; can’t really finding without asking someone first. I’ll see you there, I suppose, gotta clean up the cup and… well, me.”

“I’m sorry, again. And thank you,” Chuck said politely, sending you a final smile.

“You’re welcome, Chuck.”

Here’s a thing about hunches: sometimes, they come true.

Being run down in a hallway was nothing too weird, oh no. Not even when a funny charming guy was involved.

Things only got weird when you entered the lecture hall and finally realized why was Chuck heading to the same room as you did. He stood next to Bucky at the professor’s stand, quietly talking to a stunning blond woman in a dress suit and glasses.

Feeling blood rushing to your head, setting your cheeks aflame in embarrassment, you went to find a seat, noticing everyone was sitting with a space of at least three seats between them and never behind. As if you were about to write an extremely important test. Great.

Could this day get any better?

Two taps sounded through the room as Bucky tried the microphone.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good for some of us, at least,” Bucky stated, unmistakably finding you in the crowd as if he knew exactly how your morning went – at least the part before you left the apartment. You wanted to sink through the floor – and wasn’t that a familiar feeling under Bucky’s knowing gaze. “Find your seats, please, so we can start. We have some special guests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today with us to present you a special program you can apply to, so… you know. Pay attention. They’ll tell you the rest.”

Oh, so you had run into a guy from Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Spectacular.

To be fair, he had been a dork. How were you supposed to tell he was important?! He was still pretty cute standing there.

Also: the blonde by his side? Yeah. You understood now why he reacted the way he did earlier. Because if he knew a woman like that, the idea he was trying to ask you out – or anyone, really – was laughable. Hell, you’d ask her out.

“Morning, my name is Charles Carmichael and this is my colleague, Sarah Walker,” Chuck started off pleasantly, if little nervous from having all eyes on him.

“Like your professor said, we’re here to present you… with an opportunity to get a training for special analyst in one of departments. And before you ask why we’re ambushing a history class when we’re looking to fill an analyst vacancy…”

Several people laughed and you did too – he sounded like the guy from the hallway, only a bit more presentable.

“-it’s because we really talk about this with pretty much every student on this university, so you can see we have a lot of presentations still ahead. Anyway, I’m gonna talk a bit about the program and about our ministry in general, so… yeah. Please listen carefully and watch carefully too. Spoiler: it’s important. Thanks.”

The lights dimmed and he started the presentation, slowly pulling you in and making you forget the incident in the hallway.

And despite his charming ways… the presentation was rather strange too.

It was just one of those strange days.

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You didn’t think there would be anything to add insult to the injury, to turn into the so-called cherry on top.

You were wrong.

Chuck, or Charles Carmichael, was an alright presenter. He remained a dorky character, only enough to hold all of the students’ attention, that was quite okay. It was the pictures that appeared in between those images that felt perfectly in place, that were… just weird. Like… a rose. A beach. New York skyline. Pictures that were not at all related to what he was talking about. He always played it off as a joke – supposedly placing them there to keep you on your toes – but there was something that just felt… off.

And during what you later found out was like the last third of the presentation, you felt a headache starting to build. Not a terribly intense one, but strong enough to be fairly annoying and insistent on bugging you, just above your eyebrows. You couldn’t remember your head ever hurting in such way.

Then things got worse; you indeed got a test to complete. The nice people from Ministry of Foreign Affairs told you not to worry about getting it wrong affecting your marks in your course, obviously, so you didn’t, not really.

But it was hard to ignore that it was the weirdest fucking test you had ever seen.

In each task, pick five of ten words you associate with the word in question, read the instructions. Which on its own could be considered strange, but… it was the supposedly associated words that truly confused the heck out of you.

For ‘rose’ there were clear answers like ‘thorn’ and ‘flower’. The rest of the offered words? Non-sense. Like—utter nonsense. Bulldog, Victoria, Sao Paolo, camp, mirror, Tower Bridge, eagle, heroin. You stared at the words, reading them over and over, the pressure in your forehead growing more vexing by the minute.

For some inexplicable reason, your mind kept on gravitating towards the Sao Paolo, eagle and heroin; surprisingly vivid images of each flashing behind your eyelids as you closed them to relieve the headache. The light was starting to hurt your eyes despite being rather low. It was irritating.

Deciding the stupid test didn’t matter, you went with the first thing that came to your mind for each question, finishing among the firsts. It was rather relieving to see everyone’s face as confused as you imagined your looked.

Leaving the class, you spared Chuck one last glance, finding him staring at you with eyebrows furrowed; brief glance at Bucky told you why, for he wore the very same expression. It seemed that you weren’t very good at masking your suffering. You attempted a lame smile, knowing that you were about to ditch the class that followed.

Catching up with Linda, one of the girls who were with you in Callahan’s class, you begged her to give him your apology; the headache was turning into a splitting damn migraine.

Linda shot you a compassionate smile and assured you she would vouch for you looking absolutely terrible and having no other option than leaving.

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, nails digging into your palms as a mild case of vertigo threatened to throw you completely off balance.

“Hey, do you want me to call someone? Take you to the infirmary?” Linda worried, sporting a textbook example of having concern written all over her face. “Not joking, you do look like you’re gonna pass out. Rogers’ gonna be out for blood if he finds out I talked to you and let you wander off in this state.”

The image of Steve stalking down the hallway with an exasperated expression on his face searching for your classmate seemed rather amusing; but that was unlikely to happen.

“Nah, he should be all sunshine. Lots of endorphins released this morning,” you mumbled, absently rubbing at your forehead.

You only realized what you said when a dramatic silence followed, soon broken by Linda’s snort of laughter. The shock of you blatantly revealing something like that in your compromised state helped you to focus a bit more, bringing some clarity to your vision.

“I so didn’t need to know that. Good thing I have Callahan now and not him, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. I’d be imagining him shirtless with a perfect case of bed hair. Gosh, you’re such a lucky bitch.”

“Don’t I know it,” you offered with another weak smile.

“I’m sure you do,” she hummed, lightly patting your shoulder. “Now you get home safe and get some rest.”

“Thank you, Linda. Really.” She only shrugged it off as if it was nothing. The friendly display brought an honest smile to your face and caused you to perk up enough to joke. “Oh, and Steve usually sleeps in a t-shirt, sorry to break it to you. But his bed hair is dreamy.”

“…I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She would have if you added that the rumour about Professor Rogers being true. That he was indeed packing.

With a smirk at that thought alternating with a grimace whenever a sharp pain hit the back of your head, you headed home.

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Part 2

About

Chuck characters

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

In case you missed one of my way too many announcements, in Chuck, every episode was named Chuck vs. Something. I decided to keep the theme and go against my usual not-so-frequent use of Y/N in my stories.

P.S. – if any of this felt familiar to Chuck fans, know, some of the plot is a big nod to episode 1x07 Chuck vs. the Alma Mater. It’s one of my faves for many reasons – the plot, hilarious lines, the LOTR references… Honestly, they had me at this scene (0:05 – 0:25  though you can watch the full 2 min, obviously)  

Anika Ann out

[whyarewecalledtheshipname]

kh3, recoded spoilers:

another part to my data boys as gummiphone assistants crack lol. Basic concept: Data Sora and Data Riku get sent to Riku's phone to accompany him on his ventures through unreality.

in this installment: Riku realizes his kh munny doesn't work in Unreality, so Data Riku pulls some bs in order to help Riku win prize money in a motorcycle race.

warnings: some cussing, ig, crack

___

“That’ll be $25.03.”

Riku blinks. He looks down at his munny. He doesn’t know how to divide a single munny into “point three” munny. He’s never needed to do that back home.

He does the next best thing, and holds out twenty-six munny.

The cashier reflexively reaches out his hand, then pulls away. He stares at Riku’s hand, then glares at Riku’s face.

Riku pulls his munny back just an inch. “...I’m sorry, I only have twenty-six.”

The cashier squints, then glares again. “Is this a joke or something?”

Riku’s phone rings in his pocket, but Riku feels himself growing confused, and doesn’t want to add the data kids to the mess. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong? Is it the total?”

The cashier looks to the side, as if attempting to take a mental break from the situation, before turning back to Riku. “Dude, stop with the prank. You already ordered your food, just—”

“What is it?” someone calls from within the kitchen of the restaurant.

“Hold the food,” the cashier calls back. “This guy’s trying to pay in marbles or something.”

“What the fuck?”

Riku blinks. What did that mean? The word, the marbles, the prank, all of it?

“I’m sorry,” Riku apologizes again, and he knows Data Sora is going to give him a talking to for it. “I’m—Cancel my order, I—”

The cashier sighs, and taps on the monitor of the register. “Alright, man, just—don’t do this kinda stuff; no one watches prank videos anymore.”

Riku nods, despite not understanding a word being said, and ducks out of the restaurant, munny in hand.

He wanders the streets for a good while, until his confusion and embarrassment simmer down. Only then does he finally answer his phone, which hasn’t stopped ringing incessantly.

“Hellooo?!”

Riku braces himself. “What is it, Sora—”

“Riku! What was that? What happened? Why didn’t you answer? And what did I tell you about over-apologizing?”

“I was busy,” Riku quickly answers, if only because otherwise, Data Sora would keep asking questions.

“Busy not eating! And right when you finally decided to! Go back!”

Riku thinks about the munny he’d stuffed back in his pocket, and feels his earlier frustration returning. “And what? They wouldn’t take my munny, and I don’t think it’s because of something I did.”

Data Riku scoffs, and it’s the first sound he’s made this whole time. “That’s why I was calling you. Was there a weird “S” looking symbol on the menu?”

Riku doesn’t have to think twice. It had stood out to him instantly. “Yeah.”

“I thought so. That symbol represents the currency here. Your munny from home is different, and it won’t work here.”

“Then why didn’t you warn him?” Data Sora chides, lightly smacking Data Riku's elbow.

“I didn’t check until just a while ago, okay?”

Data Sora gasps, his mild anger seemingly vanishing. “Riku? Not planning ahead?”

Data Riku rolls his eyes, but Data Sora’s antics instantly improve Riku’s mood.

“So now what?” Riku asks, and now there’s less tension in his voice. “I haven’t run into any monsters here, and who’s to say they’d drop munny anyway?”

Data Sora crosses his arms into his usual thinking pose, humming. Data Riku, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow at Riku. The little smirk is back, and Riku can’t believe he used to do such a thing.

“I think I found something,” is all Data Riku says.

Data Sora’s arms fling out beside him in surprise. “Huh?”

Data Riku answers by strolling over to his beloved keyboard, and calling up a holographic display.

Riku blinks, and Data Sora gasps.

“So,” Data Riku asks cheekily, “do you remember how to ride?”

~<~>~

“How did you know about that?” Riku asks as he follows the gps on his phone. He glances up to read a street sign, then looks down at his phone again.

Data Riku scoffs. “Come on. If there’s one adventure of yours I have data of, it’s your time in The Grid.”

“That makes sense.”

Data Sora is turning from one Riku to the other, eyes wide. “Huh? Adventure? Grid? What’re you guys talking about?”

Data Riku points at the hologram in the middle of the room, and Data Sora is transfixed on it once more.

“What I understand so far is that you have to sign up for these things in advance,” Data Riku explains. “Because it’s an official event, which is the only kind that will even give you a chance at winning prize money.”

“Prize munny?” Data Sora asks. “I thought munny was no good here.”

“Currency,” Data Riku clarifies. “Money, different from ours. Or at least this world’s equivalent of munny.”

Riku turns a corner, and suddenly he hears the echoes of squealing tires. It sends a rush of excitement through Riku’s veins.

An obvious hole in their plan then makes itself known.

“How am I supposed to race? I don’t have a bike.”

Riku’s words cause Data Sora to turn back to the hologram from before, and he practically drools over the flickering image of a motorcycle. “Biiike…”

Data Riku keeps typing without missing a beat. “I was going to focus on the process of registering you for the races in the first place, first. But—” and Riku’s screen suddenly shows a different display “it’s done. Almost. Basically.”

Riku scans the webpage on his screen, slightly distracted by the increasing sounds of revving engines and the smell of burning rubber.

“This is the login screen for current racers,” Data Riku’s voice explains. “This will serve as a pathway between the gummiphone and the servers housing the roster data. I’ll do some tweaking, and if all goes well, you should appear on the roster as if you’ve been entered the whole time.”

Something about this situation feels vaguely familiar to Riku, but’s it’s a barely-there sensation that’s interrupted by the sound of Data Sora snoring in the background. Riku smiles. “What do you need me to do?”

The gummiphone screen switches back to the room in the datascape. “Here? Nothing,” Data Riku answers. “What I do want you to do is find me a vessel.”

Riku stops walking midstep. “What?!”

Again, Data Riku doesn’t even blink at his monitor. “It’s not for me. It’s for you. Or, more accurately, your bike.”

At this, Data Sora wakes up from his standing nap. “Bike? What bike?”

Both Riku’s smile.

“Exactly,” Data Riku says. “I can’t just make a bike out of nowhere, not out there. The code needs to exist within something tangible, preferably something which’s code I can simply rewrite.”

Riku nods, and looks around. “Alright. What exactly could you use as this ‘something’?”

The display on Riku’s phone screen changes, flickering between various images of different types of electronics.

“Any smart device should work. They’re like your gummiphone, devices that can be personalized and connect and interact with you as its user and other compatible devices.”

Riku commits the appearance of said devices to memory, and resumes his search. “Where could I find one?”

“...Go into that restaurant.”

Riku looks at his phone to see what Data Riku is referring to. Across the street is what looks like a fast food place, but Riku doesn’t understand.

“Why? I can’t buy anything there. That’s the whole reason we’re going through all this trouble to win prize money at the races.”

Data Riku is grinning, and it’s unsettling. “Just go in.”

Against his better judgement, Riku listens.

Once inside the restaurant, Data Riku instructs Riku to approach one of the booths labeled “self-checkout”. In the booth is a large tablet fixed in place, where it seems customers can place their order themselves without the need for a cashier.

Riku is about to experimentally tap at the display, when suddenly, the tablet starts to seemingly leak pixels—

—until it disappears in a shower of code.

“Oop—”

“Okay, leave the building,” Data Riku instructs.

Riku blinks. “What—Where did the screen go?”

“Don’t worry about it, just leave.”

Riku gapes at his phone. “Are you—Are you stealing?”

“Mind not announcing it to everyone here?” Data Riku’s arms are crossed. “And don’t forget we’re the same person. If I’m stealing, you’re stealing. Now let’s go.”

“Excuse me?” a voice calls, and Riku spots a woman in a uniform walking toward him. “Sir, do you need any—?”

Of course, this is the moment Data Sora decides to join the fun. “We’re stealing?! Awesome!” His voice rings clear from the phone speakers, and the woman balks.

Riku panics for a second, then bolts out the door. Behind him, he hears a voice shout, “What the fuck?”

He isn’t of a mind to ponder the word meaning this time.

On his phone screen, Data Sora is cackling, throwing his arm over Data Riku’s shoulder, who’s having way too much fun at Riku’s expense.

“I can’t believe you just stole a whole tablet,” Riku grunts as he flees the scene.

“Thanks for the vessel,” Data Riku answers, sounding unusually cheerful. “Hurry and get to the track.”

“I’d get there a lot faster with that bike you promised. It’s the least you can do after stealing from that restaurant. I can’t believe—”

Data Sora is still having the time of his life. “Way to go, Riku!” And Data Riku looks way too proud of himself at the praise.

Riku rolls his eyes after glancing over his shoulder for any pursuers. “Teenagers.”

“Alright, jump!”

“What—”

“Jump!”

Riku sees the pixels up ahead, glittering and reforming into a familiar shape.

He jumps.

And he lands on something solid just as the pixels settle into their new form.

People, cars, and buildings all flash past Riku as he crashes down the street, toward his original destination. Data Sora is absolutely losing it as he watches from the gummiphone (which Riku had docked on the console), and looks like he might pass out when Data Riku emulates the scene within their world, with the two of them cruising on a shared bike.

“Wait,” Riku shouts over the wind, and the engine. “Couldn’t I just sell this thing for money?”

“You’d really sell something that you stole?” Data Riku calls back, grinning when Data Sora wraps his arms around his waist.

Riku would swerve into a post if he could focus on the gummiphone for more than a split second at a time. “I didn’t steal anything; that was all you.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

___

i didn't even get to write him actually racing lol oops. and there's a whole other side to this i'm imagining where sora drags yozora to the very same races riku is about to pop up in, sort of a rapunzel/eugene vibe lmao. yozora really doesn't know why tf his heart tells him to put up with sora's shit but he does it anyway. my poor amnesiac boys.

i also know i didn't really explain my bs logic for how data riku turns a tablet into a motorcycle (i never even mentioned the motorcycle once it appeared either LMAO). i would have, in data riku fashion, but it would've made for a block of text full of made up nonsense lol

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 8

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,314

Notes: Sorry. This was such a draining chapter to write. I tried to throw some fluff into the beginning, but overall it's a heavy ass chapter. Just remember, this is what you all asked for!

Shout out to my pre-reading possy, @texaskitten30 and @txemrn, and @twinkleallnight​ for my moodboard!

Tags: Meh, they're down there and in the comments. Maybe you'll get them, maybe you won't. Who the fuck knows anymore. If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

The royal family had a wonderful couple of hours together, after Riley and Eleanor returned from Valtoria. Eleanor gifted Liam a picture that she drew for him while she was away. Liam loved it, he loved all of the pictures his daughter made for him. This one would join the others, proudly displayed in his office so that he could brag about Eleanor’s talent to every person that wanted to meet with the King. Some royals made you ‘kiss the ring’ if you wanted something from them, Liam made you look at a gallery of his daughter’s artwork. He was such a proud father. 

They sat on the couch together as Eleanor told stories about her adventures with Uncle Drake over the weekend. Liam sat, listening intently with one arm draped over Riley’s shoulders, occasionally pressing a kiss to her temple. Not only did he know that she was suffering in silence with all of the information she had gathered over the weekend, but he had missed his wife. He missed looking at her, touching her, just being close to her. She missed it too, and made sure to stay snuggled as close to his side as she possibly could, they always found comfort in each other, and comfort was something that she desperately needed in that moment. 

Before they knew it, Drake had returned and picked up Eleanor to spend the night in Ramsford. Riley and Liam said their goodbyes to the pair and returned to their living room to talk. Riley took a deep breath to center herself.

“So I take it, you told Drake?” Liam turned to face her. 

“I’m so sorry Liam, I know you wanted to wait until we had more information before we brought anyone else into it. I just left that party, and everything was so horrible, and I couldn’t call you, and I was all alone and I…” 

Liam pulled Riley close, placing one hand on her cheek, brushing it with his thumb. “Hey, calm down, deep breaths. It’s ok, I’m not upset with you.” He kissed her lips gently. “If there was anyone we could trust with this, it’s Drake.”

She silently nodded and pulled out of Liam’s embrace, taking a seat on the couch and motioning for him to join her. “You’re going to want to sit down Liam. Please sit down.” Liam sat next to her, and she immediately took his hands in hers. Just rip off the band-aid. Get the big stuff out of the way first. “Liam, your mother, she’s alive.” 

She felt Liam’s hands clench in hers, and saw his body stiffen. Silence filled the room, and Riley let it happen. He needed to process this his way, in his time, she was just there for support. “That woman,” Liam refused to refer to her as his mother, and he certainly wouldn’t use her name. As far as he was concerned, there was only one Eleanor worth anything in his life, and she had just left with Drake. “died a long time ago. She was poisoned. You were given misinformation.”

“Liam, she’s alive. I met with her.” She watched his face go through every emotion possible before finally settling on hurt and sadness. 

“You met my moth...her?” A single tear fell down Liam’s face, he looked like a heartbroken child, and it tied Riley’s insides in knots. 

She looked down and nodded her head. “She’s in charge of the Via Imperii in Cordonia. She’s their president.” 

Liam shot up from his seat and began pacing the room. “She brought me into this world, deceived me, and used that deceit to plot my downfall? This will not stand. She has committed treason, she needs to be taken into custody immediately.”

“Liam, you can’t…”

“I don’t give a damn if they release the tape!” He bellowed, interrupting her. 

Riley had never seen Liam this angry, this hurt. She knew telling him was going to be bad, but there was no way she could prepare herself for the sight before her. She approached him tentatively and took his face in both of her hands, stopping him in his tracks and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Liam, we can’t arrest her because then everyone will know she’s alive. We can hold Barthelemy because of everything else that was on that hard drive, but Godfrey would be released. We can’t let that happen, he’s clearly an enemy of the crown, a cell is the best place for him.”

There was another long silence, and then, Liam’s emotional dam broke. He collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Riley followed him, getting on her knees and collecting him in her arms, holding him close, and letting him cry. They stayed that way for several moments, Liam sobbing while Riley rubbed soothing circles on his back and pressed kisses to the top of his head, hoping the embrace would help relax him. 

He finally broke the silence, speaking through sobs. “I spent...my life...grieving her.” He pulled away from Riley, looking in her eyes. She felt her heart tighten at the sight of his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “I spent my life thinking she loved me, but I clearly meant nothing to her.” 

“Liam, she loved you...she loves you. I could see it in the way she spoke about you.” She gently wiped the tears from his face. “Those letters, those journal entries we found, they were all real. She genuinely felt all of those things for you.” She watched the confusion in Liam’s eyes, he was clearly torn on how he should receive this information. She knew there was more she had to tell him, but she wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it. “Liam, there’s more. I can wait if you would rather…”

“No, that’s alright. Please, continue.” He switched on his stoic royal facade and stood from the floor, extending his hand to help Riley up. 

Riley took his hand and stood, linking their fingers together before he could pull away. “You have a younger brother.”

Liam’s grip on Riley’s hand tightened as the tears again began to fall. Riley guided him slowly back to the couch, helping him sit down. She sat down next to him and stroked his hair as he sat in silence, staring off into the distance. “Is he…?”

“He was raised in the Via Imperii by your mother. He’s currently working in the Palace.” She took a deep breath to prepare herself to make the next statement. “Thomas is your brother.”

Liam’s head dropped forward, his breath hitching with every attempt to calm himself. There was a long silence in the room. Riley continued to rub Liam’s back in an attempt to comfort him, silently wishing he would say something. Anything. Yell, scream, break a vase. Then she could at least get an idea of what he was feeling, and do something to try to help. Suddenly, he stood from his seat and started walking toward the door. 

“Liam, where are you going?”

“I need to take a walk. Gather my thoughts.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I need to be alone right now. You stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”

He never turns down my company, he always wants me with him. Is he mad at me? Should I not have told him? 

She heard the door slam shut and she looked up. He was gone. 

No goodbye, no kiss, no I love you. He’s never just walked out like that. What am I supposed to do?

She picked up her phone off the table and dialed Bastien, asking him if he was with Liam. He informed her that he was told to stand down. Riley ordered Bastien to follow him and keep an eye on her husband. She never gave Bastien a direct order, usually she would just ask politely, so he understood that this was a serious situation, and complied. 

Riley fought every urge she had to follow him out that door and stay by his side, regardless of him telling her not to. If this was how Liam needed to process, she wasn’t going to get in the way of that. She tried not to take his actions or words personally, given the atomic bomb she just dropped on him, but part of her felt like he was upset with her, and she didn’t want to be in his face to make him more upset, that was the last thing either of them needed. She had sent Bastien, and he would keep her looped in if something were to happen. 

It had been well over an hour since Liam had left their quarters. Riley had tried calling a couple of times, but his phone was going straight to voicemail. She had passed the point of letting him process, and crossed into worry and mild panic. She sat in bed trying to read a book, but what she was actually doing was reading one sentence over and over again. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on anything until Liam got back. 

Riley finally let out a long breath when she heard the front door open and close. She put down her book and prepared herself. Liam entered the room with his head down, even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell how tired he was. He walked straight to his closet without looking up, or saying a word to her. She wasn’t sure what to do or say, so she figured it would be best to let him come to her first. 

A few minutes later, Liam walked out of his closet and headed for the bed, not making eye contact with Riley. He silently pulled the covers back and got into the bed. Riley was sitting up, watching his every movement. She couldn’t take it anymore, she had to break the silence. “Liam…” She said barely above a whisper, he turned his head and looked at her for the first time since arriving home. “I’m sorry.” She placed her hand gently over his. 

“Riley, you have nothing to apologize for. I am the one that wanted you to do this. You did nothing wrong. None of this is on you.” He smiled a sad, soft smile at her. 

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.” He looked at her with a confused expression. “What you just said, telling me you were the one that wanted me to do this. I know you Liam Rys, better than anyone. You’re thinking about how you brought all of this on yourself.” Liam started to look down, but Riley wouldn’t let him. She held his chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “This is all on them, it’s the Via Imperii’s fault. That’s why we’re going to take them down. Together. Just like Anton, just like Auvernal, just like Barthelemy, just like any other enemy that has ever, or will ever come our way. We are the King and Queen of Cordonia, Liam and Riley Rys. We are a force to be reckoned with.” She never broke eye contact with him once, ensuring she got her point across.

Liam took a deep breath, removing his wife’s hand from his chin and bringing it to his lips. “You always know just what to say, love.”

“Years of diplomatic training. I need to be prepared for every possible scenario.” She winked at him, and he chuckled. She was relieved to see his mood lift ever so slightly. It was a start. “C’mon, let’s try to get some sleep. We can circle back to this nightmare in the morning, start working on a plan.” They both laid back onto the bed, and into each others arms. 

In the middle of the night, Riley’s eyes fluttered open. She was laying face to face with Liam, who was looking at her with worry in his eyes, gently running his hand up and down her arm. 

“Hey, are you ok?” She lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Please don’t leave me, Riley.” Liam’s voice trembled as he looked at his wife with pleading eyes. 

Riley sat up straight in bed, confused by Liam’s statement. “Liam, never. I love you, you’re stuck with me for life.”

He gave her a sad smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I just...there have been so many people that said they cared about me, and then left. Losing them was so hard. But if I lost you Riley, I don’t know how I would be able to continue on. You are the most important part of me, my everything. I don’t exist without you.”

Riley’s heart broke at Liam’s confession. After the way they left things before she fell asleep, she never would have thought that this would be a conversation they would be having. And it definitely wasn’t a conversation she was expecting to have at 3AM. She cupped his face in her hands and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. “Liam, I promise you with all my heart, and everything I am, that there is nothing on this earth that could take me away from you. My husband and my daughter are the greatest joys of my life. A world without the two of you is not a world I would ever even want to think about.”

Without another word, Liam leaned forward and kissed her. He used that kiss as an outlet for all of the emotions battling inside of him. He gently guided Riley to lay in her back as he rolled on top of her. 

“Show me.” He whispered. 

“Yes, my king.”

Riley and Liam spent the rest of the night getting lost in each other, finding the comfort they so desperately needed.

Continue Reading

Tags: @txemrn @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @anjanettexcordonia @twinkleallnight @mile9213 @kittypryde-bipride @motorcitymademadame @kat-tia801 @bebepac @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @athena-penrose @pixie88 @eadanga @choicesficwriterscreations @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @annarenee355 @burnsoslow @shewillreadyou @imturaxamara @gabesmommie1130 @cordoniaqueensworld​ @hopefulmoonobject​

[hydra-collector]

in love

AO3

Ship: Intrulogical, background Royality

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

TW: depression, mild panic, kissing, mild self-harm

Words: 2407

Summary: Logan is in love. But he’s not nearly ready to admit it.

"...and I mean I know we talk about it a lot, but what do you think Pavlov-"

"Remus?" Logan set his pen down from his notebook.

"Hm?"

"What does it feel like when Thomas is in love?"

Remus let his hands sink to his lap as Logan stared at his notes, almost embarrassed to ask such a question.

-rapid heartbeat

-flushed cheeks

-warmth in chest

"Well, you've been around when it happened, haven't you?"

Logan fidgeted, tapping his pen on the paper. "Well, yes, but it doesn't really affect me."

Remus laughed, grinning at the logical side. Logan blushed in embarrassment, looking at Remus.

"What's so funny?"

"How the hell would you not experience something that affects all of us?"

Logan looked back down. Remus was right. That was stupid.

Remus's face softened, and he placed his hand on Logan's for a short moment. "I mean, all of us have our own stuff. Patton gets really giddy and happy, whoever the guy is ends up being the only thing he talks about. Roman and he get really lovey-dovey, especially when my brother starts doing big romantic gestures for him. Virgil's panicking half the time, and the other half he's really chill since Thomas really likes the guy and is comforted by him. Janus is either deciding how bad or good the guy is gonna be for Thomas or trying to get him to simp. I get really gushy and obsessive and horny, and usually help with the flirting. And you... you're such a dork."

"What?"

"Not as in whale penis. You act like a complete fool, fumbling over your words and losing coherency at the slightest bit of affection Thomas gets. You'll try to come up with the best plans to seduce him or go through all the logical outcomes, but really you're just a dumbass gay. You're completely hopeless."

Logan shifted on the bed, drilling a hole in his notebook with his stare. "Well, that's not good."

"But it is! You're so dorky and lovable, sometimes I think the guy might like Thomas better if he was you. You mess up your words, or blush like he just confessed to you, or smile lovingly whenever he talks, or start noting down everything he likes to research it, and you get more affectionate with us, even if it's just a high five or leaning on someone's shoulder. You become such a dork, and you're absolutely adorable."

Logan couldn't control the heat on his cheeks, unable or unwilling to write down any more of his findings.

"I- um- well,"

Fumbling over your words.

Logan tensed up, offering only a small nod before bolting out of the room. He could vaguely process Remus's voice calling his name, but the only thing he could think about was the pounding in his chest and the flush on his cheeks.

He ripped up and burned the notebook when he arrived in his room.

~~

Logan laid his head on the desk, close to crying. But he didn’t cry. So he was fine.

He heard footsteps entering the room, and a hand on his back. He tensed up before relaxing, and the hand patted his head a few times until he turned it. 

“You good?” Virgil asked.

Logan stared at him. “I’m fine.”

Virgil pulled up the stool he kept by his desk, sitting down so he could be at level with Logan. “You’ve been acting different lately.”

Logan put his head back towards the wood. “I said I’m fine.”

“C’mon, you’ve been acting like a total dork. Staring off into space in a daydream, forgetting to do your work, even forgetting your facts when you get flustered about someone asking you about it."

Logan was tense, his nails digging into one arm. Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned into it, grateful for the affection.

“Hey, do you not like it when we talk about that stuff?”

Logan sighed. “I’m not incompetent.”

Virgil rubbed his hand comfortingly across Logan’s back. “Okay. I’ll tell the others to stop joking about it.”

Logan leaned towards him slightly, and he adjusted his chair to give his friend a side-hug. Virgil started messing with his hair, eliciting the tiniest of grins from Logan as he swatted Virgil’s hand away.

“There we go. There’s a smile from our favorite nerd.”

The residual smile stayed on his face as he turned his head towards Virgil. 

“So who is it?”

Logan froze. He knew there was a blush creeping up on his face, and he hated that. Virgil was still grinning at him.

“No- no one.”

“It’s gotta be someone. You’re acting like a buffoon with how lovestruck you are.”

“I- I’m not!”

“I can see it, c’mon, admit it.”

Logan’s heart rate was increasing as he dug his nails into his skin, turning his head to the desk again. “I- please, I’m not-”

“Logan, I can still see you blushing. You’re a lovestruck fool.”

No, no, no, no no-

“Virgil-”

“Come on- ”

“ Will you shut up?!? ”

He took a deep breath, pressing his head against the wood hard. There were deep nail indents in his arms, and his back was tense and stiff.

“I’m sorry, Virgil, that was… unnecessary.” He had to force the words out.

“...Sorry, Logan.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate it if you would leave.”

He heard the chair move back to its position, and Virgil’s footsteps recede. Logan let the tension fall from his shoulders, and it felt as if there were tears pricking at his eyes. But he didn’t cry.

He stayed there for a long while, thinking about the list he would need to make to fix his friends’ view of him.

“Hey nerd!”

Remus’s voice, his lovely, comforting voice, entered the room.

“You look like you’re dead. Or dying. You’re too stressed.”

Remus placed his hands on Logan’s shoulders, apparently in an attempt to massage them. God damn Remus’s knowledge of anatomy.

It felt nice.

He ran over his plan in his head, not crying. Not anywhere near crying. There couldn’t be tears in his eyes, because it didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

“Leave.”

Remus’s hands retracted, and Logan could feel droplets of water fall onto his arms. He held back the chokes and sobs with everything he had.

“Oh. Okay.”

The pained sound of Remus’s voice only caused more tears to fall. He wanted to go crawling back to his footsteps. He heard them getting faster as they left, and his chest was shot with pain when he heard a sob, one single, awful sob as Remus headed into the hallway.

Logan couldn’t hold back the rest of his tears, the sobs that escaped his throat. He should’ve never started talking to Remus in the first place. 

He should’ve never let himself care.

~~

Logan avoided Remus at all costs. He’d nearly run whenever he saw him in the room, make up excuses if Remus said his name, even though his heart jumped whenever he heard it. Remus must hate him at this point. And you can only love someone who hates you so much.

This would eventually go away.

He missed Remus. He missed his big smile, his ranting voice, his quiet voice, his touch. He so desperately wanted to hug him, say it was all a lie, his avoidance, and be friends again. He wanted to hear the “I love you,” whether it was platonic or… not.

But he couldn’t.

Because when he would go back, he’d fall harder. And maybe it was a fear of rejection, maybe it was his serious persona, but maybe… 

He didn’t deserve it.

Logan had been in his room all day. He stayed in his room most days, everyone was getting worried about him. Patton kept trying to convince him to come to dinners, but those were with Remus, so he ate in his room. Janus kept telling him it wasn’t healthy, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t showering. Virgil noticeably avoided him occasionally, but for the most part vocalized his fear that there was something really wrong. Logan wasn’t sure how bad to judge his situation. Roman tried to either force him out or guilt trip him into hanging out with them. He knew they were just trying to help, but it was quite irritating.

Remus…

Remus, at least in the beginning, would come in, say a sentence or two, asking Logan if he wanted to talk. When he didn’t get a response, when Logan paused his typing to force tears back into his eyes. Remus’s voice was so small and soft, so anxious and hurt.

And it was Logan’s fault.

He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. This felt pointless, all the work he was doing. He was just tired, and hurt, and he hurt other people, and he was useless. He wanted Remus to come in with his new idea or fact, use Logan’s chest and stomach as a soft pillow or table for his messy papers.

But that was a stupid desire.

“Logan.”

He turned his head vaguely towards the door, where an annoyed looking Virgil stood. He awaited Virgil’s continuation, as he wasn’t going to prompt it himself.

Virgil trudged over to the bed, grabbing Logan’s arm and pulling him off of it.

“Hey!” Logan scrambled not to fall on the floor, to no avail. 

“You’re depressed, come on.”

“I’m not-”

“Logan, I really don’t wanna have this argument. We’re worried about you. Remus is worried about you. And we’re worried about Remus, and you should be too.”

Logan adjusted his position to sit against the bed. “Remus doesn’t care about me.”

Virgil snorted, joining him on the floor. “You really think that?”

Logan continued staring at the floor.

“He’s head over heels for you, L. And now he thinks you hate him.”

Logan curled in on himself a little, tensing.

“Why are you so keen on avoiding him anyway?”

Logan considered his response for a moment. On one hand, he didn’t want Virgil to laugh at him. On the other… he didn’t want Remus to keep getting hurt.

“...I love him.”

“Well, yeah, but why’s that making you avoid him?”

“I…”

Maybe he didn’t even really know.

“I’m not supposed to feel. I don’t want to. And Remus, well… he makes me feel a lot of things. Things I don’t understand.”

He took a glance towards Virgil, who had turned his head towards the ceiling. 

“Yeah. I don’t think anybody really does. I sure don’t. Roman and Patton make it look so easy, but it took a long time for them to get there. You remember, right? How Patton got so flustered he couldn’t even talk around Roman. And then he’d just choose his target to gush about Roman to.”

“It’s just… Remus told me that when Thomas is in love, I get really stupid and unorganized, and then you said that, and… if being good enough for Thomas involves-”

“ What ?”

Virgil’s tone sounded aggressive, and Logan turned to look at him anxiously. “Did I-”

“Logan, you’re already good enough for Thomas. You don’t need to be completely emotionless. Plus, logic often relies on how Thomas feels. Sure, Thomas might be a little more awkward than usual, but there’s nothing wrong with that. And if you tell Remus how you feel, it’ll rid you of the negative effects on Thomas faster than repressing your emotions and staying in your room until you’re completely depressed.

“Plus, if you don’t tell him, I will.”

“Virgil!”

“He’s been crying for the past three days, Logan.”

Logan sighed, leaning against Virgil and closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

Virgil wrapped his arm around him. “Now get the hell out of your room.”

~~

Logan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before heading to Remus’s room. It wasn’t too far down the hall from his own. His heart beat fast as he knocked on the dark green door, covered in scratches and unidentifiable fluids.

He heard a soft sound come from inside, something that put a pang of pain in his heart. He got no response other than muffled cries.

“...Remus?”

The sound immediately stopped.

Remus opened the door to reveal his disheveled look. Messy hair, red eyes, and a costume that looked like he’d tried to rip it up.

“Are you- do-”

“I’m sorry.”

Remus hesitated, staring into Logan’s eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Logan held a hand out, desperately hoping Remus would take it.

He did.

“I never… I never should have made you feel like I hated you. It’s… it’s torture to hear you feeling negatively at all.”

Remus was crying, a wavering smile growing unsteadily on his face. He came closer, letting go of Logan’s hand and reaching his arms out in a huglike motion. Logan accepted it, shoving himself towards Remus’s half extended arms. He held on, tight, pushing his fingers through Remus’s hair, eyes shut tight.

“I- I should’ve helped you, L. I knew you were having a hard time, and I ignored it. And- and maybe you wouldn’t have felt so bad, this is- this is my fault-”

Logan held on tighter. “No. No it’s not. It’s not your fault that I was an asshole and avoided you and made you think I hate you, especially because… I don’t. At all.”

Logan took a deep breath. “I love you. Romantically. And I’m finished with telling myself I can’t be.”

Remus dug his head into Logan’s chest, a grin spreading on his face. He started laughing, almost, or perhaps he was just crying. “I love you too.”

Logan smiled, stroking Remus’s hair as he placed a kiss to his head. Remus leaned back, his addictive touch gone from all but Logan’s hands. He was led properly inside Remus’s room, and the door was shut so Remus could lean up to kiss him.

It was surprising at first, but as he relaxed into it, pressing back. He wrapped his arms around Remus’s waist, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. The beating of his heart couldn’t be ignored if he tried.

Finally, and reluctantly, they broke. Remus put his head in Logan’s chest again, a content smile on his face. Logan loosened his grip, relaxing into the hug.

“We’ll have to try that again sometime,” Logan mumbled into Remus’s hair.

Remus placed a small kiss between Logan’s shoulder and neck, the closest spot he could reach.

“Well… is there any problem with doing it again now?”

[thewayshedreamed]

Under the Weather

Nessian AU

I really liked this prompt, so thank you to whomever submitted it! Hope y’all enjoy a little soft Nessian this afternoon 💕

Nessian prompt: Nesta is sick and Cassian takes care of her and then Nesta is surprised and Cassian realizes that Nesta hasn’t had ppl take care of her since her mom died ♥️♥️♥️

acotar masterlist

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Nesta was so sick and tired of being sick and tired. She had made it through the acceptance phase, which was impressive considering it was often the hardest for her. Today made day three, and she was officially in the resentment phase of her illness. She was taking a mental inventory of all the others who had attended the small gathering of friends from her senior thesis class, noting how most of them remained well despite their less than stellar hand hygiene that night. She, on the other hand, was a meticulous hand washer. By her very nature, she wasn’t the type to remain in super close proximity with others’ needlessly, either. How she was the one who fell sick (thanks to Claire) was beyond her. 

So, here she was, a senior at Prythian University and mere months from graduation, sick as a dog and banned from the research lab until she went 48 hours without fever. She tried not to think about that fact too often as to spare herself the mild panic it occasioned. She repeated her current mantra for the umpteenth time that day.

You have plenty of time. You have plenty of time. You have plenty of time. 

The only way she found comfort from the chills and fever-induced cold was on the couch, surrounded by cushions, and wrapped as tightly as possible in her mother’s quilt. At this point she thought herself to be a glorified burrito, but unfortunately, she was far more infectious.

She was finally starting to doze as she heard a polite, yet firm, rapping on her apartment door. Her eyes flew open as she scanned her brain frantically for several things: the day of the week, the time of day, and who, based on that information, could possibly be here to disrupt her rest.

Just before she decided to close her eyes again and ignore them, she heard a deep, friendly voice through the door. They weren’t speaking to her directly, but the voice was no less familiar.

“Hey, man. Yeah, doing good. You too!”

Even though she didn’t hear the other party’s end of the conversation, she knew Cassian was engaging in pleasant small talk with one of her neighbors. It could have been any one of them; he seemed to have more rapport with most of them than she managed after years of renting her place. He ran into any one of them at random on Wednesday afternoons when he met Nesta to work on their thesis together.

She launched herself from the couch, wincing at the aches that wracked through her body in the process. Dehydration had her vision blurring; dark spots working their way into her visual field. She steadied herself on the arm of the couch, cursing herself for forgetting to cancel this week’s thesis session with him.

He knocked again, this time a little louder. She glared at the door as if he could see her, hobbling toward him with her arms wrapped tightly around her body as she moved. She cracked the door open enough to peak out at him, and she felt a sudden rush of guilt at wasting his time. He was standing there with a small smile on his face, thumbs hooked through the bottom of his backpack straps.

“Hi,” she croaked.

His smile faltered immediately, his face morphing into an expression of genuine concern.

“Nesta? Are you okay?” He pressed gently on the door to get a better look at her, but he made no attempt to cross the threshold without her invitation.

“So sick. Got it from Claire. I forgot to tell you.” Her voice was raspy from disuse, and she only had the energy for short statements or sentence fragments.

He didn’t look the least bIt offended at her forgetfulness as he scanned her for signs of the severity of her symptoms.

“Don’t mention it. I’m fine. Who’s here looking after you? Ask them if they need me to run and pick up anything.”

The widespread aching applied to her facial features as well, as proven by the sensations she felt as her face slid into a look of confusion.

“It’s just me, Cassian. You know I live alone.”

He scratched the back of his neck, showing his discomfort.

“Yeah, I know. I just figured...” he trailed off, a new thought flashing across his handsome face. “Can I come in? I’ll get you settled before I head home. It’s the least I could do since I’m already here.”

Nesta didn’t have it in her to respond vocally. She simply walked away, door ajar, and made her way back to her couch. Had she been feeling even a fraction better, she may have refused him, but she knew Cassian well enough to know his stubbornness rivaled her own.

She flopped down into the cushions, pulling her pillow close to her chest. She reached blindly down her body in search of her quilt as shivers ran through her, letting out a small whimper when she couldn’t reach them. She grimaced at such an outward expression of vulnerability in front of another person.

A quiet chuckle sounded from above her as she felt her quilt being pulled over her legs and body.

“Oh, she’s pitiful, I see.” Mirth danced through each and every word.

She opened one eye, glaring at him through the side of it. He laughed openly at that as he lifted her feet to tuck the quilt beneath him. Only her mother had ever done that for her before today. She felt a pang of longing rush through her chest, but she took a deep breath and pushed it away.

“I’m going to do a quick inventory of supplies. Where’s your medicine cabinet?”

Her eyes were already squeezed shut again, sleep sinking its claws into her consciousness.

“Bathroom,” she muttered into her pillow, before sleep took her once more.

——————————————————————————

She awoke to the jingling of keys in her lock, followed by heavy footsteps and the unmistakable crinkling of plastic bags. Her body tensed, forgetting for a few seconds who was entering her apartment. A deep voice was muttering under its breath, cursing the loudness of the bags as he deposited things on the coffee table.

Lifting her head from her pillow, she glanced over to see Cassian’s massive form hunched over the coffee table as he attempted to quietly unload his haul. He noticed her attention within seconds and greeted her with a broad, friendly smile. Somehow, Nesta didn’t think it was the fever warming her cheeks this time.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, totally unaffected by the glare she shot at him for the nickname. He raised his voice slightly, comparable to a murmur, and she felt herself flush all over again as he kneeled next to her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took your house key off the hook when I went out. I didn’t want to leave it unlocked while I was at the pharmacy, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

She nodded, letting him know she couldn’t give a shit less in her current state. He continued.

“You had some ibuprofen in your cabinet, but that’s about it. I got you some cold & flu meds to help with your other symptoms. It’s acetaminophen-based, so the pharmacist said you can alternate ibuprofen with it to help out with the aches and stuff if you need to.” His eyes scanned her face, making sure he had her attention. She witnessed a faint blush across his tan cheeks, her heart warming at the care he’d taken in selecting medicine for her.

“I also picked up some tissues and cough drops. Oh, and some menthol rub in case you get congested while you sleep. Have you been drinking much water?”

It took her several seconds to realize he was asking a question and that her participation was necessary. All she could offer him was a pathetic shake of her head.

“I figured as much. I got some of this hydration drink to help you rehydrate. I know it’s technically for kids, but I made do with the options I had,” he explained.

“Cassian. You didn’t have to do that,” she started. She watched as something similar to hurt flashed across his features, and she realized her tone hadn’t expressed a shred of gratitude to her lab partner. He was going far beyond the call of duty as her thesis co-investigator, and she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t appreciative.

“That came out wrong. Sorry, I’m all fuzzy. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” she supplied.

A small smile graced his face again. “It’s not a problem, Nes. Really,” he replied, as he rested his large hand on her upper arm. His eyes widened suddenly, locking onto her own in alarm.

“You’re burning up,” he stated as he pulled the blanket away from her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, feeling assaulted by the chill that gripped her.

“Your fever feels higher than I thought.” He rested the back of his hand on her forehead. Unsatisfied, he brushed the baby hair away from her face, leaned forward, and pressed his plush lips to the spot his hand had just vacated.

She flinched, not out of offense, but because it was something her mother used to do anytime her, Elain, or Feyre was sick. She claimed it was easiest to tell if the girls were running a fever that way, the lips being far more sensitive than her hands. Nesta wasn’t aware that others grew up doing the same.

Realizing what he’d done and the flinch that immediately followed, Cassian bolted upright with a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry,” he lamented, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just my mom... she used to check my fever like that when I was little. I wasn’t thinking.” He started to move away from her, but her small hand gripped his forearm. His hazel eyes locked on hers, and she watched as he noticed the tears streaming down her face.

“Nes,” he whispered, his brows pulled together in worry.

“No. It’s okay,” she assured him. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just that no one’s done that since... since my mom passed away. Any of this, really.” She gestured to the medicines and other items on her table. “I usually just fend for myself. I think I got a little overwhelmed is all. It’s actually really, really nice to be cared for. Thank you.”

She originally thought her small whimper was as much vulnerability as she was willing to show today. She’d been very wrong, apparently. She blamed it on her fever.

The tension in his shoulders practically melted away from him, his face relaxing back into the friend she knew. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, as he stood to go find her thermometer. He returned with it in hand, looking at her with raised brows as if to say “open.”

She obliged, her eyes crossing as she attempted to read the digital number on the tiny screen. He huffed a laugh at her expense, but he was interrupted by the loud beeping of the thermometer.

“102 degrees. Sorry, Nes, but the blanket has to come off for a little bit. You’re basically cooking in there.”

He pushed a glass of bland electrolytes into her hand, urging her to drink. She took a few small sips and set it softly on the coffee table. She flopped back onto her pillow, pulling her arms tightly around the quilt and hoping to absorb any remaining warmth from it that she could.

Cassian pulled the blanket away from her body but chose wisely not to fight her grip from around it.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he began, as he eased himself to a sitting position on the carpet. “You get some more rest while those meds kick in, and we’ll reassess the fever when you wake up. If it breaks, I’ll give all quilt privileges back.”

He leaned back on the couch cushion near her body, his shoulder blades almost grazing her own as she snuggled into her pillow. She was facing away from him and toward the back of the couch to shield her face from any and all light.

“How am I supposed to get rest when I’m freezing?” she whined pitifully. She couldn’t bring herself to care that she sounded much like a petulant toddler.

At her words, he leaned farther back into the cushion so that their shoulder blades were flush. She felt his laugh rumble through him as a result of their proximity, but more importantly, she felt his body heat seeping into her.

“Does this help at all?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, “but you can’t just sit there forever.”

“I can do what I want, Archeron,” he teased. “Plus, I’m here to work on thesis. I’ve been working on a formula that will populate all of our data entry into their respective graphs without us having to do it manually. I was going to blow your mind with it today, but I’ll settle for fine tuning until you’re coherent next week.” She could hear the smile in his voice and imagined his laptop perched on his long, jean-clad legs as he worked.

Contentment settled through her bones, and she slipped into oblivion once again.

——————————————————————————

Nesta rejoined the land of the living several hours later, she assumed, feeling almost entirely human again. She was still clutching the blanket, thanking her lucky stars for the deep breaths she was able to take in the absence of congestion. Even more noteworthy was the refreshing scent that surrounded her— something like smoky sandalwood and fresh air.

She eased her eyes open, feeling completely mortified at the shift in her position. At some point during her nap, she had rolled toward Cassian and was now wrapped around his shoulders. Her knees were tucked close to his right arm, her torso against his broad back, and most embarrassingly, her face was tucked tightly into the side of his left arm.

She didn’t dare move, hoping she could pretend to be asleep long enough to shift away from him. Delayed by her foggy state, she became aware of a comforting weight resting against her waist. Her eyes moved over his shoulder, glancing down her body. They fell on Cassian’s dozing face, head rested back and angled toward her, as if he’d fallen asleep while checking on her.

Nesta was incredibly aware of their closeness, especially upon realizing his face was less than a foot away from her own. She studied his face, softened by sleep, and let a small grin spread across her face. Cassian had cared for her all afternoon, working on their joint project, and deserved every ounce of sleep he was capturing at the moment. At least, that’s how she justified staying tucked close, afraid to disturb him.

To her horror, his eyes fluttered open, catching her in the act of admiration. Rather than looking off-put or creeped out, he offered her a small smile in return and angled his head even more toward her.

“Feel better?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

“Like a new person, actually.”

He learned forward, repeating his action from earlier in the afternoon. Warmth coursed through her at the feeling of his lips against her temple, noting that they lingered just a bit longer than necessary before he lifted his head.

“I think your fever broke, Nes,” he supplied, twisting his body to rest his arm across her waist as he spoke.

“Good news all around, I guess,” she murmured, her smile still in its rightful place.

He cleared his throat, looking almost sheepish now. It was the most adorable thing Nesta had ever seen.

“I got you some soup earlier. I could heat that up if you want—“ He made to stand as he spoke, but she interrupted by grabbing his forearm.

“Wait. Stay?” She was just as surprised as he was when the words left her. “I don’t think I’m hungry yet.”

His face softened, eyes scanning her for any apprehension at all. Finding none, he smiled down at her in response.

“Of course.”

Before he could settle back onto the carpet fully, she tugged his forearm in a silent request to join her on the couch. He eased behind her, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist to tug her closer to his body. She relaxed back into him as he nuzzled his nose into her messy braid, just behind her ear.

She couldn’t remember a time where she’d been so comfortable, and she felt another rush of gratitude at being cared for in a way she hadn’t been since her mother died. The feeling wasn’t something she could properly articulate, but it meant the world to her. It almost felt like... love.

Cassian huffed a laugh into her hair, mirth returning to his tone. “I was wondering if I’d get a turn to be big spoon,��� he teased. She should have known he wasn’t going to let her pretend she hadn’t wrapped herself around him only a handful of minutes ago.

She chuckled in return, finding that she wasn’t embarrassed by his teasing as she’d originally thought possible.

“I guess it’s only fair,” she joked, as she settled into him just a little more.

He gripped her a fraction tighter, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin behind her ear. She groaned as his arm left her waist, but she stopped it quickly when she realized what he was doing. He was covering her up again, true to his word, and tucking her in tightly. His arm assumed its original position, and a contented sigh left her of its own accord.

“Thank you, again, Cassian. For everything,” she whispered.

His only response was a tight squeeze around her middle before they both eased back into a deep, peaceful sleep.

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Tags (masterlist + Nessian):

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