#and just being 2 weeks behind sits so unwell with me

[cryptic-rainfall]

I finally fell behind on dracula daily, last entry I read was September 17. This year I've literally only ever been a day behind and always caught up the next day (the last time I was this behind was about halfway through May of last year where I had to give up and restart this year), so, I think this may be it for my dracula daily reading this year ;-;

I'm still debating if I can maybe catch up, it's a shame to give it up only 2 months from finishing, but part of the appeal was pacing it with the dates. I really really wanted to finish dracula this year ;-;

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 4)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 (Not Required) Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

When you get sick...

Word Count: 1.1k CW: SFW, Domestic Fluff, fem!Reader, Y/n is sick, Nanami takes off his shirt (nondescriptive)

A/n: Maybe you should meet Gojo sometime soon... idk... thoughts.

You mostly stayed inside the confines of your home, so getting sick wasn’t a common occurrence. 

Food was always prepared well, with vegetables washed and meat cooked properly. The house was regularly dusted and vacuumed, sheets and pillowcases thrown in the washing machine at least once per week. 

Nanami’s routine had certain protections as well, sitting a comfortable distance away from clients and coworkers while at meetings, and being in a partitioned office space in a quiet corner of the building during the work day. 

Despite these things, the sudden cold front seemed to disagree with your immune system, as you were now snuggled up in bed with a box of tissues. 

“Kento, darling, I can sleep in the guest bedroom, it’s fine,” you argued through your sniffles and occasional cough. He walked over to the side of the bed and pushed a few more pillows under your head. “It’s fine, it would take too much work to move things. You’re tired, so go to sleep,” he muttered, a slight chuckle leaving his mouth at your willingness. “You know I’m perfectly alright with sleeping here with you, you know,” you lightly pushed him away as he sat on the bed. “You’ll get sick too, and you have work,” you grabbed another tissue.

“I could always take some time off, I have some sick days in my contract,” Nanami smiled, feeling your forehead. “I’m glad you can still take care of yourself, but I’m here too. Just rely on me a little, Y/n,” he stood up and left to grab you some water.

It was the evening after a long day at work, when Nanami found you in an unwell state. Dinner on the stove was half cooked, sitting there, as you had quit for his sake when the sneezing onset. His poor wife, already asleep and shivering on the couch by the time he got home.  

Nanami picked you up, your arms wrapped lazily around his neck as he carried you to your shared room and laid you down. You woke up shortly after the covers were pulled over your body, head peaking out from the growing mass of blankets and pillows surrounding you. Two more were still awaiting their place behind your head. 

Now he was in the kitchen, turning on the stove to medium high and clicking the start button on the timer, which was already set to the final 15 minutes it needed until done. You had already felt a bit off that morning, something that he kept in mind all day, especially as he rushed home. Hence, a simple chicken soup was on the menu. 

He filled up a big glass with water, and took out two bowls from the cabinet, moving back to stir the soup that was bubbling.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the smell of soup that floated through the air. Dinner would be ready soon, so there was no point in going back to sleep, not that you weren’t close to dozing off already. Nanami came back clearing the nightstand of clutter and setting the box of tissues on the bed next to you. A chair was pulled up next to the nightstand, and two bowls were placed on it. 

You sat up comfortably, still surrounded by cozy blankets as you met your husband’s gaze. “I hate to admit it, you seem so miserable, but you’re very cute when you’re sick,” he laughed as you blushed. “I am not, I’m quite disgusting actually, darling,” you pointed to the pile of used tissues sitting in the garbage can. “I don’t think it’s disgusting at all, my love,” He grabbed your hand softly, and guided it to your spoon. 

“The soup is delicious, you’ll feel better if you eat,” he watched as you brought a spoonful to your mouth, a soft hum left your lips in agreement, it was quite good and easy to finish.

“Thank you, Kento,” you smiled, pulling the blankets off as you stood up to get ready for bed. “No you don’t,” he grabbed your waist and pulled you back onto the mound of pillows. “If you need something, I can get it for you,” you frowned, letting out a few coughs. “Besides I won’t be here tomorrow during work, so you should rest up while I am.” He stacked up your dishes and left, returning shortly.

“Which nightgown?” he asked, rifling through the dresses in your closet. “The pink short one,” you replied softly, voice slightly rough from your sore throat. He grabbed it and brought it over to you. “Do you need help changing?” He asked plainly, as you laughed. “I can do it myself, Mr. Nanami,” He sighed in defeat, unbuttoning his shirt to get ready himself.

“Well I don’t want you getting off this bed.” You shook your head in disagreement. “I still have to brush my teeth,” you whined, as he left you to finish getting ready in the bathroom, on your own, as he wiped down the nightstand with a wet cloth and changed. 

You came back, dressed for bed with your hair tied up in hopes of keeping cool throughout the night. Tossing yourself onto the blankets, you crawled under the covers enjoying the comfortable mattress the two of you had bought together. 

Nanami leaned down from beside the bed, his hand under your chin lifting your face, as he gently kissed your forehead. “I’m glad you don’t have a fever,” He murmured, lips still close to your skin. “I probably just have a cold, I guess,” you responded, snaking your hand down to grip his free one. “You should still stay away from me,” Nanami backed off from you, sitting down. 

“I don’t mind getting sick, it causes no problems,” he offered with a smirk. “But if you do really care so much… I’ll offer a compromise,” a look of surprise overtook your face as you awaited his proposal. “At least I get to sit here until you fall asleep, hmm?” you nodded, still longing for his presence, even at a distance. 

He kissed your cheek as you drifted to sleep, a smile still on your face and your breath slow and heavy as he could hear the congestion. 

“Goodnight, my love,” he sat still, lounging back into the chair. Little did he know it would be two more hours of watching you before he himself fell asleep, still sitting in that chair by your side.

[arshem]

thank u @archonfurina for the tag + questions! this was a v fun way for me to secretly pass time at work <3

‧₊˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ soft ask game ‧₊˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

01. a character you love.

Lee Gyu-Hyuk. i think about him every day. i listen to songs that make me think of him and make lil music videos in my head. he is... what can i even say ㅠㅠ very vague general non-spoiler spoilers, but everyone in Buried Stars Game ™ has their issues and Gyu-Hyuk is no exception, but he works so hard to take care of others and he's so kind and caring IT DRIVES ME CRAZY ACTUALLY hahahaha i am SO normal about him...

02. your favourite food from your culture.

i have been pondering this for days and i just dont know TT i dont want to act like because i'm from the US i have no culture but also it's hard for me to figure out what our cultural foods are. umm i guess i really like pumpkin pie? also pizza my beloved. i know pizza is not exactly an american thing but also. the way we do it is, so. i shall count it. pizza my beloved

03. what your dream apartment / room / house is like.

ooh okay. it's definitely gotten a bit smaller as i've gotten older, but it'd be nice to have more room than i've got now. not to go toooo wild but i'd love a 3 bed 2 bath single level house with a garage/shed and a porch?? with enough room for both me + my partner to have nice pc setups. also barely related but... i want a nice desk so bad 😭 my dad had one that's sitting unused in my mom's house and i dont have room for it at my apartment but it's so nice and sturdy and i journal a ton and would fucking LOVE to have an actually nice space to do it

04. your personal style or aesthetic.

tried thinking about this on my own and could NOT come up with an answer, so i asked my sisters for their input and i got "stinking cute" and "turbo punk with pop overtones" so take those how you will

05. a happy memory.

when i was a teenager, most thursdays i would go to a roller skating rink with a few friends. we'd skate for hours and pester the dj to play marina and the diamonds songs. then afterwards we'd go to the huge 24-hour grocery store across the street and buy ice cream and/or doughnuts and we'd sit in the car eating and talking for hours.

06. your favourite way(s) to spend time.

i am. such a homebody. i like doing all sorts of things but i honestly love just being at home with my partner and playing video games. oh. also i love eating. it is a hobby <3

07. story behind your url / title / quote / description / icon.

cryborgs i believe kinda came from VIXX's "Error" mv, not any type of direct reference, but just the vibe. my blog title is a slightly weirdly translated line from We Best Love, a bl drama that infected my brain for a while in 2021 (i still love it ok im not over it). i never know what to put in my description so i usually just put the media i'm currently watching/playing but also i dont update it so it's almost always wrong 💀 annnnd my icon is my beloved Han Do-Yoon from Buried Stars Game ™...... i love him.....

08. something that comforts you or brings you joy.

i dont watch it regularly anymore, but Running Man. regardless of what bad things are going on, i know i can turn on an old ep and be happy for 1.3 hours. it's gotten me through so much school stress, family issues, and general mental unwellness, it'll always have a place in my heart.

09. what you're looking forward to.

i started writing this a week ago and the thing i was looking forward to already passed soo um,. i really don't have anything too notable right now? i am looking forward to being done with my 6pm meeting -_-

10. something else that's important to you.

hmmmmmm i have this brain problem where sometimes i get pedantic about the meaning of words so right now i am like, "important" ?? what is it,,,, for somethign to be "important" .... anyways i think journaling is something that probably fits the bill? it's something i enjoy doing and i really like having a written record of things to look back on, and being able to see how i felt about things in the moment they were happening. i also journal about video games a lot and it's so fun to look back at the times Before big twists and reveals... ah my innocence...

[fangirlstorycreator]

Terry X Reader

Context: your Terry's wife, and you find out your pregnant. You try and announce it in a cute way 😍🥺💚

You had been feeling unwell the last few days. Being sick, but strangely only in the morning. Terry had been worried about you. "Sweetheart I'm concerned about you. You've been very unwell and I dont want you feeling like that" you kiss him sweetly and gently tuck his hair behind his ear. "Dont worry Terry, I'm going to see the doctor at 2 o'clock. They will find out what the issue is. Now you need to head off to work, that dojo isn't going to run itself" he smiles and hugs you before going out the door. "See you later sweetheart. I love you" "I love you too terry" Later on at the appointment, you tell the doctor about your symptoms. To which she says "mrs Silver, may i ask you a question?" "Of course" "when was the last time you had your period?" Your taken back by her question, you actually couldn't remember the last time you had one. "Oh I...I'm not sure?" "If its alright with you, I have a feeling I know why you have been feeling unwell. I'd like you to lie down in the surgical bed please" you lie down and she lifts up the bottom of your shirt, she then squirts a gel in your belly and moves some kind of device around on it. She smiles at you. "Well mrs Silver, my suspicions were correct" she turns a monitor around for me to see, that's when I see it. A little white blob on the screen, wriggling around, you cant believe your eyes. "I'm pregnant?!" "Yes you are mrs Silver, according to this, your 8 weeks into your pregnancy. Congratulations, I shall get you the necessary paperwork and information on how your pregnancy will progress. And of course, I shall print you off the scan pictures for you" your brought to tears, of happiness. Your going to be a mum! Your having Terry's baby! You could imagine how exited hes going to be! Later on when you were at home, you had prepared a little gift for Terry. He walks in from work, and looks quite tired. "Oh sweetheart I'm so happy to be back home with you" he walks up to you and gives you a kiss. "The dojo was packed today, and John was being a real pain in the ass. I'm just so glad the days over and I'm back with you" he kisses you again. "How did the appointment go today? Did they manage to help you at all?" "Yes they certainly did. But...before I tell you anymore...I have a little present for you" you reach for a little box on the sofa and place it in Terrys hands. "Aww sweetheart you didnt have to get me anything" "oh I think you'll like this one though. Go ahead, open it" he sits down at the kitchen table an opens the box. Inside he pulls out a t shirt in his size with a date on, dated 8 months from now. "Uhh sweetheart? I dont understand?" "Just keep going" he puts down the shirt and looks into the box again, that's where he stops suddenly, almost frozen. "Wait a second..." he says, as he lifts out a baby grow, with the words "baby silver" in one hand, and a positive pregnancy test in the other. You cant help but smile at him as he turns to face you. "Y/N...are we having a baby?!" "Yes Terry! I'm pregnant!" He shouts out in delight, and spins you around in his arms, holding you tightly. "Oh sweetheart I cant believe- wait, your sickness? Is this?" "Turns out I wasnt ill, it was morning sickness. Were having a baby terry" he takes your face in his hands and kisses you like never before. "Oh sweetheart, I love you so much, I can't believe we're going to be a family. I'm going to be a dad!" You smile at him and turn him to face the box. You reach in and pick up the scan pictures and hand them to him. "This is our baby, your little fighter. Your going to be a daddy" he looks at the picture and begins to cry. "I never thought I would be a dad, and now..." he starts crying heavier, real floods of tears. "Oh babe" you take him into your arms and hold him as he crys. "I love you so much sweetheart, you have made me the happiest man in the world"

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Three

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Smut, NonCon, Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Cruel!Bucky, Injuries, Violence, TRIGGER WARNING FOR NON CONSENSUAL SEX, fluff??? Maybe?? Can you call it that????

Word Count: 3.6K

A/n: I'm making soup right now!!!! It won’t be done until maybe eleven thirty (It’s ten thirty rn) and I work at 4 tomorrow morning so RIP me. Um... I hope to post the next part of In a Heartbeat soon (Tonight or tomorrow) but we’ll see. I hope you guys are all having a lovely evening and I love you all very much!!

Spoiler(ish) A/n 2: So this chapter is very dark BUT the next chapter will not be as dark so you have that to look forward to.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND VERY DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

PART ONE

PART TWO

~*~

“No breakfast again this morning, Your Majesty?” You shake your head at your guard, turning your back to her and motioning for her to tie up your corset.

She starts tying, apologizing every now and again when you inhale sharply at the tightness.

“Natalia, I would appreciate it if my name were not one you said to the king. With every mention of me, he becomes more agitated. He is entitled to do whatever it is that he pleases to me, for I belong to him now. I fear you getting involved in any way will only make matters worse for me.”

She wonders what James might've done when he last saw you to have you saying this, but she knows better than to ask.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I ask you forgive me for speaking so plainly without permission.”

It’s been weeks since the king left, and the Kingdom has started growing cold with the coming winter.

“Today, if you will allow it, I would like to take you to the stables. You have been here for well over a month and have yet to meet your horse.” You cock your head to the side. You didn’t even know you had a horse here.

“I have a horse?” She nods, draping a cloak over your shoulders. “You have whatever you want here. This is your home. Your kingdom. Anything you wish for will be brought to you. All you need do is ask.”

“I suppose you’re correct. Forgive me for being so blunt, but I have not felt very welcomed in my new home.” She nods, opening the door for you and walking you down the hall.

“I know it has been said many times, but the King is simply under a fair amount of stress. He knows not how his words affect you. You mustn’t think you are the cause of his anger. He is wrong to take it out on you. I know it isn’t my place, but before Steven was taken, the two kings were greatly looking forward to meeting you and marrying you. However, without his husband, I fear James has become a shell of a man.”

You hum, her words making sense when you think back to the way the King treated you and some of the things he said.

“It’s comical. The King fears I am trying to replace his husband when I have not even spoken his name. I have not said a word about King Steven and yet His Majesty treats me as if I am the one who lost him in the first place.” You stop in your tracks, horror filling you at what you’ve said.

“I am too bold, for I know not what I am saying. Please forgive me, Natalia. I did not mean anything by it.” She smiles gently at you.

“You do not need to be afraid of speaking freely in front of me. I will not breathe a word of it to the King. What is said in my presence stays with me and only me.” You smile gratefully at her but say nothing more, not knowing how much you can trust the woman beside you.

~*~

The days go by in blurs of grey. You rarely leave your chambers unless coaxed by Nat or Wanda, and even then it is only for brief moments.

Your appetite has shrunk and you hardly sleep more than a few hours a night, something both women are starting to become worried about.

Natalia was asked to take care of you, and she feels horrid for doing such a terrible job. But she isn’t sure what else she can do.

“We should hear from the King soon. It’s been nearly two months since his departure,” Wanda says from beside the bathtub. You’re laying in the warm water, eyes closed in a pathetic attempt at ignoring the world around yourself.

Something about what she says clicks in your mind and you peel your eyes open.

“How long did you say?” You ask, voice scratchy from lack of use.

“It’s been nearly two months since he left.” She repeats, smiling gently at you. You nod, teeth grinding together as butterflies fill your belly.

“Wanda, could you fetch the doctor? I am feeling unwell.” She nods, jumping up from her spot and hurrying to the door. While she’s gone you climb out of the bathtub and quickly dry off, heart in your throat as you get dressed.

You’re pulling on a plain beige dress when Wanda re-enters the room, a doctor following close behind.

“Your Majesty.” He bows then stands back up quickly, pushing his spectacles up higher on his nose.

“Please excuse us, Wanda.” She nods, disappointment in her eyes, but leaves nonetheless.

You wait until you’re sure she’s away from the door before speaking.

“I have not bled since arriving here,” you say bluntly, wanting to know now if what you think is actually true.

He raises his eyebrows and nods, licking his lips.

“When was your last bleed before arriving?” You take a deep breath, trying hard to remember. “Probably about a week... maybe two before I arrived.” He nods, pulling a small notepad out of his jacket and jotting something down.

“The days add up. I would not be surprised if you were with child. I’d like to do a few inspections, just to be sure, but I am fairly confident that you are.” He pulls the stethoscope from around his neck and puts the earpieces in his ears.

He presses the flat part against your chest, listening intently before nodding and jotting a few more things down.

When he crouches down and presses the flat part to your lower belly you feel like you may throw up.

It’s dead silent in the room, you holding your breath, and him listening carefully.

A smile breaks out across his face and he stands up.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty. I can hear two healthy heartbeats.”

You’re going to faint.

He must see you start to sway because he grabs your arms and hurries you to your bed, laying you down.

“I’ll send for Lady Wanda. Have her bring some water.” You nod, clenching your jaw as you try to fight both tears and dizziness.

You’re pregnant.

You’re going to have a baby.

You dread having to tell the King.

~*~

Two weeks after finding out the news and you’ve told no one. The Doctor, (Doctor Banner as you found out later) is the only other person who knows and you’ve sworn him to secrecy.

Two weeks after finding out you’re carrying the future of Acadia and that is news you’ve kept to yourself. Who can you tell? Your husband still hasn’t sent word, and there’s been no sign of him.

You sit in your chambers, picking at a piece of bread more than eating it.

“Majesty, you’ve lost weight. You need to eat, please,” Wanda begs. You look over at her then back down to your almost untouched plate of food.

After a moment of staring at the food you sigh, one hand coming to your stomach.

“Wanda, where do your loyalties lie?” She furrows her brows in confusion at your question.

“I don’t think I understand what you mean, your Majesty.” You sigh and look at her. “Could you keep a secret from the King if I requested you to do as such?” She nods without hesitation. “You are my queen and I am your lady. You are my top priority, before the kings.” You nod, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your stomach.

“I’m with child,” you tell her, eyes focused on the pristine walls.

She takes a sharp breath in, hurrying to your side and looking into your eyes.

“Is this confirmed?” You nod, placing a hand on your tiny bump.

“I have not told his majesty yet, because I have no way of contacting him. I can only hope that after he is made aware of my pregnancy... I hope he is kinder.” She nods, smiling gently at you.

“I’m sure he will be. He and King Steven spoke so fondly of having children. Of having you. When they come back I am positive King James will make up for all he has done to you. Now, you must eat. I will not leave this spot until you eat half of what is here. If not for your sake then for that of your child.” You purse your lips then nod, picking up a scrap of bread and bringing it to your lips.

She smiles encouragingly, watching with warmth in her eyes as you eat the food on your plate.

~*~

You’re falling into light sleep when there’s a sudden commotion outside of your chambers.

“He’s returned?” A muffled voice asks.

James.

You bolt upright, stumbling out of your bed and rushing over to your window. Sure enough, the group of riders is back. But one is missing from the King’s horse.

“He was unsuccessful. We could not find Steve. He... he is not taking it well.” That’s Samuel's voice.

You open your door, smiling at Nat and Sam.

“He is back?” You ask. Sam nods then scratches the nape of his neck.

“He is... not in good spirits right now, Your Majesty. It would be unwise to see him until he has calmed down.”

You take a deep breath, Wanda’s words ringing in your head. He needs to know this. If only to spare yourself some pain.

“I need to speak to him and I need to do so now. This has waited long enough. I do not care if he is not in good spirits. I have waited far too long to tell him.” The two nod and Sam points you in the direction of where the King is.

Your heart is racing in your ears and you hold your stomach, beyond nervous for the King’s reaction.

When you get to the throne room you find the door open, the King having his back to you.

“Your Majesty?” You call, only becoming more nervous when you see the way his shoulders tighten at the sound of your voice.

“I asked to be left alone,” he growls, his voice low and full of anger. You take a deep breath and nod, stepping into the throne room.

“I realize that, Your Majesty, and I apologize for intruding, but I mist speak with you.” He chuckles, turning around slowly to look at you.

He’s dirty and there’s dried blood on the side of his face. His eyes are red and blood-shot and you realize that he must’ve been crying.

“What could you possibly have to say that would lead you to believe it is important enough for me to hear?” Your mouth drops open in shock and he scoffs.

“You waste my time, you stupid girl. I want nothing of you, do you not understand that?!”

“Believe me, Your Majesty, I understand that plenty. You think I do not know of your resentment but I do. I am not here by my own free will, might I remind you. I am not the one who chose to come here. If my memory serves me correctly, it was you and King Steven who chose me.”

You hardly register what happens next. One moment you’re standing up facing the king, the next you’re on the ground, cheek stinging and the taste of blood in your mouth while the sound of a slap rings in your ears.

“You will not speak to your King in that manner! It is a privilege to be here, and it is time you realized that. You were chosen, yes. Chosen to bear the children of the great Kings of the West. However, that does not make you irreplaceable! You can easily be beheaded and another woman brought in your place.” He eyes you for a moment, his anger and sorrow consuming him.

“It seems my words are not enough to remind you what you are meant for. Perhaps my cock will do a better job?” You shake your head, scrambling back, but it’s too late. He’s already on top of you, shoving your legs apart and pushing your skirts up past your hips.

“No! Your Majesty, please! I-I’m sorry! Please, don’t!” He smacks you again, successfully silencing your pleads for him to stop. Tears leak from your eyes and you feel whatever fight you had left in you be drained.

Your mind goes blank and it’s as if all your senses have been turned off.

You can’t feel anything. Not his hands on your hips, nor his manhood tearing you apart. You can’t hear his angry grunts or the choked sobs he’s trying so desperately to contain.

You simply lie beneath him, tears trailing down your cheeks and eyes focused on a stain on the wall across from where you are.

Hot tears splatter against your face, adding to your own, and somewhere through your hazy mind you realize he’s crying. Why he could possibly be crying when he’s the one causing pain is beyond you, but you don’t care anymore. Not about him, nor his husband, nor his kingdom. The heir you carry... you’re hardly sure if you care about it anymore either.

When he’s finished he doesn’t look at you. He can’t. He can’t face what he’s done. Instead, he fixes your skirts, gets up, and leaves you on the floor.

You have no strength left inside of you. Your body is stuck on the ground, tears still flowing down your cheeks and dripping into a puddle on the floor.

Alone on the floor you lie, not sure for how long. Minutes, hours, days. You have no idea. You hardly hear the feet running to you, nor do you process the hands pulling you into a seated position, fingers on your neck checking for a pulse.

A woman’s voice shouting for the doctor while strong arms pick you up.

You’re carried through the halls, each one looking so much like the last, and then you’re on your bed again.

There are people speaking, voices all muffled together that you can’t hear and you wish would go away.

And then you’re jolted back to reality by a spray of cold water.

You gasp, arms coming around your body and hugging yourself as shivers wrack your frame.

“There you are, Your Majesty,” Doctor Banner says, his eyes moving from your face down to your stomach.

“Everyone out. I need to inspect the Queen in privacy.” You don’t look to see who else is in the room. You don’t care.

You keep your gaze locked forward, trembling as the cold water seeps into your bones.

“It was the only method I could think of to pull you from your shock, Your Majesty. I do hope you’ll forgive me.” You don’t reply and the Doctor sighs.

“Lady Wanda, run a hot bath for her. And have someone fetch some of the tea I asked for.” You’re assuming Wanda does as asked because you can hear the water filling up the tub.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Doctor Banner asks. You say nothing.

“Are you hurt?” You shrug.

“Can I examine you?” You nod. He lays you down and presses the stethoscope to your stomach, nodding once then sitting between your legs. He flips your skirts up and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I will need to have a word with his Majesty. He cannot be so rough while you are with child.” You shake your head, pushing yourself onto your elbows.

The doctor raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“You don’t want me to tell him?” You nod. He sighs but agrees.

“You must rest though, Your Majesty. I can only imagine how much pain you are in.” When you still say nothing he sighs and rises to his feet.

“From what I gathered, all is well with the child. It will take a few days for you to heal properly, and I recommend you eat more and add more meats and cheeses to your diet. You need to gain weight and sleep more. Both you and your child require that. I will inform the chefs of your change in meal schedule. I expect you to follow it this time.” You simply nod and the doctor leaves without another word.

Wanda is at your side before you can fall back into the abyss of numbness, helping you to the bathtub and pulling your soiled dress from your body.

“I’ll have it disposed of. You spend as much time as you’d like in the tub. I sent Nat and Sam to fetch tea and soup for you. No one has seen the King since...” She trails off, a frown on her lips at the way you make no sign of having even heard her.

A knock on the door pulls her from her worries momentarily and she hurries to open it.  

Nat comes in, a tray in her hand, and Sam is standing guard at the door, under strict order from the redhead not to let the King anywhere near your chambers.

“How is she?” Nat asks. Wanda shakes her head, sighing heavily. “She hasn’t spoken a word. Not even to Doctor Banner. I fear he may have done damage that cannot be healed.” Nat nods, her eyes on you.

“Your Majesty? I’ve brought you some soup and tea. Doctor Banner has said that you need to eat more.” She sits on the padded vanity stool after tugging it to the bathtub and sets the tray down on the floor beside her.

She picks up the soup and offers you the bowl, at which you simply stare. She sighs and raises a spoonful of it to her mouth, blowing on it gently before offering it to you. You open your mouth and allow her to spoon-feed you the warm soup.

It takes both women to get you out of the tub and into bed, but once you’re in bed you never want to move.

Wanda blows out the few candles you had in your chambers and her and Nat quietly leave.

~*~

“She’s been up for several hours. She lit a fire a few hours ago and has been sitting in front of it ever since,” Nat whispers, looking at the brunette with sad eyes.

“The King has destroyed her spirit,” Wanda whispers back. You sit perfectly poised in front of the fire, your back facing the two women.

“Has she spoken yet?” Wanda asks, to which Nat replies with a sad shake of her head.

Your fingers poke at your stomach, hatred in your heart for the life growing within you.

A plate of fruit and nuts sits in front of you, one you’ve been nibbling at since the early hours of the morning.

You’re not meaning to be silent, you simply have nothing left to say to anyone, no fight in you and nothing left to give. You’re tired and absolutely done with this life that you’re living.

“Nat?” The two watch you carefully for any reaction to the King’s voice.

“You should be beaten for all that you’ve done to her,” Nat says matter-of-factly. The King sighs and you hear his footsteps slow as he approaches your door.

“I came to talk to her. To apologize and explain.” The redhead snorts. “It’s a little bit late for that, Your Majesty. She hasn’t spoken a word since we found her yesterday. I doubt she wants anything to do with you.” You couldn’t care less at this point.

“Please?” The redhead sighs but steps aside, allowing her King access to his wife.

“(Y/n)?” You don’t move, eyes focused on the flames in front of you. He sits himself down beside you, eyes on the side of your face.

You’ve lost weight. Your face is slimmer, less lively than last he saw it. The bags under your eyes have only grown and you look... exhausted.

“May I have a moment alone with her? Please?” The two women exchange glances before slowly nodding.

“We will be just beyond the door if you need anything from us, Your Majesty.” He knows they’re not talking to him. As soon as the door is closed he sighs, shoulders slumping forward.

“I will never be able to apologize for all that I have done to you. You... you have endured far more than you should have and I have treated you unfairly. I have... I have brutalized you and broken you down. I take full responsibility for my actions.”

He sighs heavily before continuing, his voice quiet and broken.

“I miss my husband. And although that is no excuse, it is my explanation. I have never been one to love easily, and loving him... it was hard to accept for the longest time. And then I opened myself up to a love I have never experienced before, only to have him ripped from my grasp.

“We chose you specifically. Your beauty and wit... we knew you would make a wonderful queen. He would talk about you at night, we would discuss what having you would be like. And now every time I look at you I see him and it pains me. Because you are a dream that he and I were meant to share. It is wrong for me to take that out on you and I will never ever be deserving of your forgiveness.”

When you still say nothing he sighs.

“I... I would like for us to be civil, at the very least. And I know you have tried and I have not been open to this before, but I would like to start over if you’ll allow it.”

Even if you didn’t want to be civil with him, his word trumps yours.

“Join me for dinner tonight? I will have the cooks prepare whatever you would like to eat.”

You don’t want to eat a single damn thing. But do you really have a choice?

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

hi, may i ask you sick semi eita fic? he went amusement park with his team despite feeling a little bit unwell. Later he feels dizzy & nauseous, his team then take him to doctor/dorm. thank you 🥰

Oui oui, mon amie!!

TW: dizziness & nausea, vomiting, hospitals, brief mentions of IVs.

1.4k words, Gen.

ー ー ー

“Oh, the queue for that one isn’t too long!! Let’s go, guys!!”

Semi sighs. While Tendou’s volume doesn’t usually bother him, right now, stuck in the middle of Yagiyama Benyland, surrounded by screaming people and running children, he wishes his friend could turn it down a notch already.

The fabric around his neck feels constricting, suffocating. Semi tugs at the collar of his shirt lightly, clearing his throat silently as he trails behind the rest of the team.

He massages his stomach under the grey hoodie, feeling it gurgle under his touch. It was only two days ago when the pinch-server’s stomach first sent a painful, sudden jolt of white-hot pain throughout his body, making him shudder and gag, taken aback. But since his appendix has long been removed, Semi’s confident that it’s probably just a matter of too much coffee and too little water in his guts. It’s been a stressful week, after all. Nothing he can’t fix. It still hurts, though.

“Are you sure we’re tall enough for that ride?” Goshiki jokes, and everyone laughs, Tendou wrapping a lanky arm around the first-year and ruffling his head with the other hand. More laughter echoes among the group.

Semi shudders, chills running down his spine, stomach twisting. He struggles to even only force out a tiny smile.

ー

The safety belts press against his stomach and shoulders uncomfortably, and Semi doesn’t think he will make it. Next to him, Ushijima sits quietly, waiting for the ride to start. He briefly glances over, humming.

“Are you scared, Semi?”

There’s no malice in his voice, no curiosity either. It’s something along the lines of… Concern? Annoyance? Both?

“M’fine.” Semi gulps, “Just excited.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“M’not.”

“Alright. But if you were, it’d be okay.”

“Ushijiー!!” he gets cut off, abruptly, as the thing finally starts to move.

The higher it goes, the more Semi knows he’s not going to make it. There’s no doubt about it. He quickly tries to recall if there’s some sort of trashcan near the exit but he realises that he hasn’t seen any. 

His complexion bleaches rapidly. The thing is, Semi isn’t scared of roller coasters, he quite enjoys them, to be fair. Right now, the thing he fears the most is puking all over himself or worse, over the team’s captain.

And he knows it’s going to happen.

The people in the front row start screaming, Semi only a few rows back. It’s only a matter of seconds before he feels himself falling, and the world tunes out.

ー

He doesn’t actually pass out, really. Instead, once the operators remove his safety belts and wish him and his friends a fun day, he lets his shaky legs guide him down the metal staircase, eyes glazed over, blind. He’s not quite sure he’s moving, either. And he looks green.

Semi doesn’t even register that Ushijima’s strong hand is wrapped around his right upper arm, the left in the care of Tendou himself, eerily quiet. They set him down on the first empty bench they find, the team quiet behind the three.

It’s Reon to crouch in front of the ill teen, a firm hand squeezing his knee encouragingly. “Semi? Dude, hey.”

“...up…” he murmurs, seemingly catatonic, staring somewhere behind the team that has gathered in front of him, eyes filled to the brim with apprehension.

The setter swallows, a thin trail of saliva making its way down the corner of his chapped lips and down his twitching chin. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out, and soon enough he ducks his head between his knees and retches onto the pavement without a second warning. 

His teammates gasp, horrified and worried, but Reon is quick to avoid the onslaught and immediately usher the others away, leaving Tendou and Ushijima behind. The taller guy rubs at his back firmly, while the other puts a palm flat on Semi’s forehead, preventing him from giving himself a whiplash. 

His skin feels cold and clammy, ashen. Tendou hisses. 

Not long passes before Semi throws up again, more and more bile splashing between his feet, little droplets staining his shoes and jeans. He retches and gags, helpless, eyes stinging painfully, about to pop out of his skull.

Reon jogs back a minute later, stopping a couple of meters away to give Semi some breathing room. “Should we call an ambulance? He looks like death warmed over...”

Ushijima shakes his head. “We should try and make him drink something, first.”

“I don’t think he’s up to it, Toshi.” Tendou reasons, “Semi-Semi, hey, you need to take a breath, my man.” he adds, patting the boy’s shoulder while Ushijima keeps massaging circles on his back.

But Semi doesn’t. He can’t. His stomach twists and knots painfully, and he doubles over, arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen as he hiccup and dry-heaves weakly. 

“Does your stomach hurt?” Reon asks, careful, calm as ever, “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Yeah, we should call ‘em.” Tendou says, “It’s not normal to feel this sick after riding a roller coaster as bland as that one, andー”

“He was feeling ill before the ride, too. I didn’t think it was this bad, though. I apologize, Semi.” Ushijima interjects. “I think the ride was simply the last straw.”

The three stay quiet for a moment, Semi’s desperate struggles and pants and hiccups drowning out every other noise. And finally, blissfully, about ten minutes after sitting down, his jagged breaths come to a halt, and he slumps to the side, crashing into Tendou.

“Semi-Semi...? Oh shit. Is he dead? Semi-Semi?” Tendou gasps, “Guys, a little help?”

The ill teen is quick to blink his eyes open, glassy and dull, spent. “H’rts.”

“What hurts?” 

“S-stomach. Head.” 

Reon nods, serious. He then takes his phone out and quickly types something, before glancing at Ushijima and Tendou, who are both massaging Semi’s trembling back, subconsciously. 

“Okay, the closest bus stop is about five minutes away on foot from here, and then it takes about ten minutes to get to Sendai Red Cross Hospital by bus, and another minute on foot after that. What do you guys say?” Reon asks.

Tendou is fast to nod, “Let’s go, we might catch the first bus available if we hurry.”

“I’ll carry him.” Ushijima adds.

Semi then struggles, shaking his headー aggravating his nausea and gagging silently. “Th-the others, and y-you, th-the pa-park and- and the tickets andー”

“Woh, woh, slow down, Semi-Semi!! It’s fine, we’ve been here for hours already anyway, and the entrance fees aren’t that expensive. No worries, okay? Let us worry about the rest.” Tendou says, cheerful, “We’ll text the others to let them know we’re leaving. We can always reschedule for another time, alright?”

“Done.” Reon smiles, waving his phone, ‘Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club’ chat open and rapidly flooding with texts from everyone. “Let’s go.” 

ー

Luckily, and unsurprisingly, the bus is perfectly on time, and Semi doesn’t even have the time to register that he’s an eighteen year-old being offered a piggy-back ride from another eighteen year-old. He couldn’t care less. Instead, once he’s on the bus, he drifts, drained.

ー

“Anyone here for Semi Eita?”

Tendou, Reon and Ushijima are quick to reach the doctor, wide-eyed. “How is he!?”

She smiles, “Your friend will be okay, nothing to worry about. He was terribly dehydrated and overall exhausted, courtesy of the raging viral gastroenteritis he has. The nurses gave him an IV to pump some fluids into his system, and once it’s done, I’m going to prescribe him some probiotics to help with the infection and he’ll be free to leave.”

“Can we see him?” Tendou frets, “Is there anything else we should do? Are you sure he’s okay?”

The doctor nods, her expression firm and reassuring. “Viral infections are extremely common, we treat thousands of similar cases each day. I promise you, Semi-san will be okay. And yes, you may see him, of course. Come with me, please.” 

The three follow the kind doctor quietly as she leads them to Semi’s bed, in the ER, the thin curtains between his and other patients’ beds being his only source of privacy. 

Upon seeing them, Semi sits up, grinning sheepishly, cheeks tinted in red. “Hey there.” he grins.

His friends chuckle, rapidly making their way toward his bed, ruffling his hair and pushing him around with calculated motions.

He’ll be fine. 

ー ー ー

I got carried away and started researching how to get to the closest hospital from Yagiyama Benyland, a real amusement park in Miyagi. And yeah, the Red Cross Hospital’s real, too, and the bus as well. I had so much fun researching this stuff. So yeah, I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Also, anon, if you have an AO3 tell me so that I can gift this fic to you when I post it there in a few days.

September 2, 2021

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.2

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Two: Cherry: The engagement party. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, this chapter is a lil fluffy, this series is going to be a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: thank you all so much for the kindest feedback to the first chapter! i am so glad you liked it, genuinely it means so much to me!! you are all so sweet! 

-

Things between you and the hazel-eyed doctor have been strange to say the least. On most days, Spencer would avoid you like the plague. He no longer came into work before everyone else, he no longer walked you to your car at the end of the day. Your conversations were not only rare but also short and most often work related. He refused to sit next to you on the jet, and stopped going out with the group for afterwork drinks if he knew you’d be there. 

Overall, Spencer didn’t engage with you at all unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Of course the team immediately picked up on the shift in dynamic between the two of you. Profilers profiled. Even though Spencer and you haven't officially said anything was going on, everyone knew. It was obvious. 

You were glad however that they all kept their thoughts to themselves. The last thing you needed was for everyone to get involved with something that was simply between you and the brunette doctor. 

“What’s this?” Spencer asked confused as you placed a brown paper bag on the desk in front of him. 

“It’s breakfast.” You replied. Shooting you a hesitant look, the brunette doctor opened the bag and peeped inside. “I brought you a scone. I baked them myself last night, and this one is for you.” You added shrugging your shoulders lightly while Spencer retrieved the pastry. 

“You didn’t have to. What about-” Knowing what he was about to ask, you cut him off. “Don’t worry genius, everyone got one this morning before you came in. This one is rightfully yours.”

Spencer looked up at you, and half-smiled. “Thank you.” You immediately smiled back. “Don’t mention it.”

It was a strange feeling, being this nervous around him. Even after your breakup, you remained close. The two of you continuously dangled on this thin line between less than a relationship, more than a friendship. To an outsider it was definitely weird, but it was unique to your situation since neither of you really wanted to break up in the first place. The circumstances forced you too.

Spencer was your go-to person for pretty much anything, just as you were his. Which is why his current cold shoulder hurt your feelings. 

Truth be told, you found his attitude to be quite childish and immature. Yes, how he was feeling about your recent engagement was completely valid but as selfish as it may seem in your eyes there was no need for him to completely cut you off. 

“Look, I know things have been odd between us.” You began, resting your body weight against the edge of his desk. “But I just want you to know that I-”

He shook his head. “Please don’t finish that sentence.” “Spencer...” “No Y/N, I mean it. I don’t want you to tell me that you will always care about me, or that I will always have a place in your heart because that frankly doesn't make me feel any better about any of this.” He stated. 

“O-okay.” You breathed and turned your attention away from him, breaking eye contact. “So I guess that’s it then? You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” You asked without looking back at him. 

Spencer didn’t say anything. What could he say? That he didn’t want to be your friend because he wanted more? He couldn’t say that. That would make things even more complicated because as far as you were concerned he already moved on. As far as you were concerned Spencer wasn't in love with you, so he couldn't tell you now after all this time that he was. 

Which is why he distanced himself these last few weeks. It was easier to ignore you, to not talk to you unless he had to. It was easier to pretend you didn’t exist because if you didn’t exist the pain in his chest was imaginary. 

“Fine.” You snapped your head back to look at him. “I knew that you wouldn't take my engagement well, but never in a million years would I have thought that you would act like a complete dick about it.” The tone of your voice jarring. “I know that maybe you’re hurting Spencer, but like you said we both moved on so honestly grow the fuck up.” You spat before walking away. Only once has he heard you speak like this, back when he decided to break your heart and end your relationship.

Spencer cursed under his breath; something he didn’t do very often. He sunk back in his chair, and ran one hand through his already messy hair before sighing. You were right. He was being a dick, but again it was easier. It was easier to be an asshole than to deal with the turmoil currently going on inside of him. 

Although it may not seem that way, the last thing Spencer wanted to do was to hurt you. He was unhappy, yes. In retrospect he could have shown it less, he could have tried harder to truly be happy for you, because not once did you ever wish him unwell. Your breakup was hasty, and messy, and you had every right to hate him forever because of how it went down. But you didn’t. Apart from the initial shock, you were never angry with him. You stayed by his side, as a friend.

It dawned on Spencer in that moment, that’s why he was so vexed. It wasn't because of you; a friend. Spencer was angry with himself. He was the one that ended it despite your pleas. He was the one that cut you off. He was the one that pushed you into Ethan’s arms. It was because of him you were now engaged to someone that wasn't him. And he unfairly took that anger out on you. 

Tonight was your engagement party. He decided that he was going to go. It will be painful to see you in the arms of another, but he will show his support because that’s what friends do. Friends. 

The restaurant you picked wasn’t that far from where he lived. For a moment Spencer found your choice to be quite odd, given the history the two of you had with the place. But he quickly shook the thought away - it must be a coincidence. 

He stepped inside, and his gaze instantly landed on you. Wow. Gorgeous didn't even began to describe how you looked right now. You wore a figure-hugging white dress with a plunge neck, and floral appliqué detail. Spencer was mesmerised. And if it wasn’t for the fact that you were in a public place, surrounded by people that were here to celebrate you and your fiancé, he would have kept his gaze on you the whole night. 

Steadily, Spencer approached to congratulate you. 

It was then he noticed how Ethan’s jaw was locked. How even though Ethan had an arm around your waist, the two of you weren't standing right next to each other as a couple in love should be. When he got a little closer, Spencer also noticed how the makeup under your eyes was reapplied almost as if you had been crying. And that the smile currently present on your face was fake. Despite the occasion, you didn't look happy at all. 

“Spencer.” His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. Your eyes locked, and he could have sworn they lit up. “I- Thank you for coming.” You reached out your hand to gently squeeze his forearm, and smiled at him warmly. A real smile. 

The brunette doctor couldn't help but smile back. “I wouldn't miss it.” He replied. It was a lie, but it looked like one you needed to hear. You let your hand fall back to your side, just as Spencer turned his attention to the surgeon. 

“Nice to see you again Spencer.” Ethan uttered, a hint of vexation in his voice. “You too Ethan, and congratulations.” “Thank you.” Ethan glanced down at you briefly. “I’m a lucky guy.” He kissed the side of your head, before excusing himself to talk to another guest. 

Of course Spencer noticed that even though you leaned into Ethan’s touch, a small act that stirred the jealousy inside of the brunette agent, your body relaxed the second Ethan was out of sight. Sudden concern flooded through him. But before he could ask what was on your mind, you reached out your hand to straighten his tie. 

"I’m glad you’re here Spencer.” A soft smile circled your lips. It took every fibre of his being not to take your hand in his, and hold it right there on his chest. “I am really sorry about what I said this morning.” 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N.” He responded. “I hope you know that you will always be my friend, no matter what.”

“Good.” You let your hand fall and looked around the party. “Well, I better go and mingle.” You glanced back at the hazel-eyed doctor and sighed. “Wish me luck doctor.” 

Spencer wanted to stop you, but he knew better to bring up whatever was bothering you now. Knowing you, you wouldn't say anything anyway. Not in front of all these people. 

“Good luck.” Spencer smiled kindly. He watched you disappear into the crowd before heading off to find his friends.

An hour in and the party was in full swing. Chatter, drinking, and even dancing. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Everyone but you. 

You did your best to keep your head up and enjoy yourself but no matter how hard you tried, the feeling just wasn't there. With a drink in hand, you talked to your guests one by one. At this point in the night you have heard it all. From congratulations, to wedding planning suggestions, and even tips on having a  successful marriage.

Which is why you were glad that Ethan came up behind you and asked you to step outside. Even if the feeling was short lived.

“Listen babe, I have to go.” He stated. You furrowed your brows confused. “What do you mean you have to go?” Ethan sighed. “The hospital called. It’s an emergency.” 

“You told me that if anything happened they had you covered.” 

“Y/N don’t do this right now.” He breathed. 

“Don’t do what? It’s our engagement party Ethan.” You stated, annoyance levels rising. “My family flew from across to the country to celebrate with us. My dad is here to get to know you and you’re just-” “The hospital called Y/N. You know how this works, or did you forget the time you were supposed to meet my parents you got hailed away on a case.” He gritted.

“That’s different!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “How is that different Y/N?! Work is work!” Ethan grumbled. “Because you told me that if anything happened they had you covered.” You repeated sternly. 

“I don’t have time for this.” Ethan waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll stay at the hospital tonight.” And just like that he began to walk away. You wanted to yell after him but you knew it wasn't a good idea to get involved in his theatrics. So instead you wiped the single tear that was currently trailing down your face, and headed back inside. 

Thankfully no-one even noticed the two of you were gone - or so you thought. As you let out a deep breath, Penelope appeared in front of you. The bubbly blonde linked her arm with yours and eagerly pulled you gently across the restaurant to a table where the rest of the girls sat.

“Sit, sit.” She pointed to one of the empty chairs. “You look like you need a break sweetie.” “Thank you.” You breathed while plopping down and making yourself comfortable.

“So, how’s your night going?” Tara asked while taking a sip of her drink. “Are you having fun?” “Honestly, I’m exhausted. If I hear another comment on how you should never go to bed angry with your spouse I am going to throw myself out a window.” You replied making the girls laugh.

“It’s only uphill from here.” JJ joked. You rolled your eyes at her playfully. “Way to cheer me up honey.” “Anytime.” She shoot you a wink just as Luke and Spencer joined. Luke placed a tray of tequila shots on the table and pulled up a chair next to Penelope. 

“Hey, where did Ethan go?” He asked while sitting down. “I saw you guys leave when we were at the bar and only you came back.” Garcia nudged his arm, and he instantly knew that he shouldn't have said anything. He smiled at you apologetically as an inaudible sigh escaped your lips. “He got called to an emergency at the hospital.” No-one said anything. They just glanced between one another. 

“Excuse me.” You muttered getting to your feet, and as you walked away you heard Garcia say to Alves: “Way to go newbie.”.

The brunette agent suddenly jumped out in front of you causing a halt in your step. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hesitantly looked up to meet his comforting gaze. 

“Stopped me to say I told you so.” You mumbled fighting back tears. 

“I would never do that.” He affirmed even though he didn't have to because your statement was only rhetorical. Spencer was not the kind of man to gloat, or make you feel even worse than you already were. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“I’m not.” You replied honestly. “I mean my fiancé just left our engagement party, he told me he's not coming home tonight, and to top it all off he-” You bit your tongue. You couldn't tell him that last part. “Never mind. I don't want to bother you with my problems.” 

“You could never bother me. Never.” Spencer reassured.

A tiny smile circled your lips. “That’s sweet Spencer, and you have no idea how much it means to me.” He smiled back. “However, this is a party, so we best go and try have a little fun.” “Y/N...” He wanted to protest but you lifted up your hand and placed it on top of his. “I promise one of these days I will unload all my shit on you doctor. Tonight is just not that night.” 

Spencer nodded slowly agreeing with your promise. You smiled at him, still holding his hand. The two of you stood completely frozen and soundless; as if there was no-one else in the restaurant, no party. 

Spencer’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought it would burst at any given second. And even though his mind was racing in circles, there was a permanent image stuck vividly. You. He wondered if in that moment you felt as strong of a connection as he did.

His question was answered when you dropped your hand and broke the eye contact. The imaginary glass shattered; he was brought back to earth. 

He dropped his arms too, and cleared his throat. 

“Pumpkin, just exactly where is that fiancé of yours?” Your dad asked, suddenly appearing next to you. “He was supposed to-” His eyes landed on Spencer.  “As I live and breathe, Dr. Reid.” Your dad smiled. “I would shake your hand but I remember you’re not the biggest fan of that.”

“That’s alright Mr. Y/L/N.” Spencer responded reaching out his hand. “Good evening sir.” He greeted while shaking your dads hand. “Please son, we’ve known each other long enough, just call me Anthony. Plus if my memory serves me correctly I think I’ve asked you this before.” 

Spencer smiled softly. “Right, of course. How’ve you been Anthony?” 

Your dad smiled back. “Ah you know son, I can’t complain.” “Dad’s retired now, so he is spending a lot of time reading, going on walks.” You chimed in making your dad roll his eyes. He looked at Spencer. “Truthfully son, I am bored out of my mind. Retirement is boring.” 

“Dad, it’s well earned rest.” You noted.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead pumpkin.” Anthony joked causing you to gently nudge his arm. “Dad!” Spencer couldn't help but chuckle. 

Anthony waved his hand in front of his face before changing the subject. “Now, where is that fiancé of yours?” He asked again. “He had to go to work.” You answered, and Spencer could see that although he didn't say anything your dad wasn't impressed. 

“Well pumpkin, if he’s gone then would you mind calling me a cab back to the hotel? I’ll leave you kids to enjoy the rest of your night, and I will see you tomorrow for brunch as planned.” You nodded, kissed his cheek, and stepped away to call the taxi leaving Spencer and Anthony alone.

Once you were out of earshot, Anthony turned to Spencer. “Keep an eye on her for me, won’t you son?” He asked. “I want what’s best for my only daughter, and between you and me Dr. Reid, she doesn't seem happy.” 

Spencer didn't know what to say. He felt slightly guilty for not being there fore you these last couple of weeks. After tonight, and noticing the odd dynamic between you and Ethan, he agreed with your dad. Maybe if he hadn't been so distant he'd have noticed earlier? However, Spencer knew that if he told you how he felt you’d only go back to arguing and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

“I know it is a lot to ask given your history, and I will completely understand if you decline but quite frankly son, you’re the only person I can count on.”

“Don’t worry sir.” Spencer began. “I will keep an eye on her.” Anthony smiled at Spencer’s response. He placed a grateful hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gratefully. “Thank you Dr. Reid.” 

You rejoined them shortly after that. As your dad said his goodbyes, you asked him to text you when he got back to the hotel safely. 

Soon you and Spencer were alone once again - well not entirely given the party was in full swing. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” Spencer offered. You giggled looking back up at him. “It’s an open bar doctor.” You pointed out making Spencer chuckle. “Then let me order you a drink and keep you company.” He corrected himself. “Maybe ward off crazy relatives. How does that sound?”

“Given that my aunt May has been eyeing me for the last fifteen minutes, and she’s quite the talker, it sounds good doctor.” You replied. With a wide grin, Spencer extended his arm and pointed in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

No matter what his assumptions about your relationship with Ethan were, Spencer’s priority from this point on was going to be keeping that promise he made to your dad. 

Maybe it wasn’t over for him yet. Maybe he could still win you back. Truth be told he really wanted to try, but that was no longer important.

Being your friend was. As much as that would potentially suck.

I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the second chapter of this mini-series. i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

taglist: @girloncorneliastreet​, @haylaansmi​, @rexorangecouny​, @l0ve-0f-my-life​

masterlist | series masterlist

[strawberry-jammers]

My melody (pt1)

a ghostbur x reader where you get injured and a friendly ghost is there to help

part 1 part 2 part 3

this is very much unedited lmao

Hearing the cheers of my fellow citizens was music to my ears.

We fought long and hard to get lmanburg back, some of us thought it would never happen. That we would never win the long and tedious battle, but we did. Having to fight dream, schlatt, or anyone that tried to destroy what we had. Anyone would have been proud to stand here, having won the battles we faced.

So why wasn't he here?

Wilbur soot, our very first president, wasn't here to watch tubbo give his speech.

He was no where in sight really.

I looked over at Tommy, who was seated next to me.

"Hey, have you seen will? Hes not here." Tommy looked at me, the expression he had was an annoyed one. "I don't know where that bitch is. Now I'm trying to watch my bestfriends speech so shut the fuck up." Why did i ask him? Sighing, i look back at tubbo.

Hes probably off somewhere playing solitaire or something.

___

"EVERYONE RUN!!" explosions rang threw out lmanburg. It didn't help that we had to also fight technoblade and his withers.

"(Y/N) GET THE KIDS TO SAFTEY!" Nikki said frantically, grabbing a shield to stop techno's fire works.

"ON IT!!" I ran towards tommy and tubbo, the ones fighting techno by themselves. "ATOP FIGHTING THE DAMN MAN YOU TWO!" I grabbed tubbo, who followed withought question. "TOMMY LETS GO!" Tommy stared on at techno, not moving from his spot. "WE DONT HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" i forcefully grabbed tommys arm, running with him and tubbo away from lmanburg.

"STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? WE NEED TO FIGHT HIM!" Tommy said, fighting out of my grip. "WE CANT WITH ALL THESE ECPLOSIONS, NOW COME ON!!"

After a bit, we managed to get to the borders of lmanburg. Meeting niki, fundy and jack there as well.

"(Y/n) I couldve beat him! You shouldnt 've dragged me away!"

"Tommy the place was exploding from beneath us, You wouldve lost a life." He glared at me, sitting down on the grass with the rest of us.

"Say (y/n), do you think the others can defeat that wither?" Jack asks, sitting next to niki. "I belive so, they had already killed the first 2 before we left." He nodded, relaxing a bit.

We could still hear the explosions and wither from here. We looked on as techno fired more fire works at the others.

"I wanna help." Tommy says, starting to stand up. "No your not going anywhere! Were staying by the lmantree- and hes gone." I ran after him, tubbo following behind me. "GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!!" another explosion whent off, from right beneath me.

"FUCK!" I flew to the ground, scrapping my hands and knees. I screamed in pain. My skin hot and slightly brunt. It got my legs, and mostly the left side of my body.

Tubbo ran towards me. "(Y/N)!!" I layed there, in to much pain to move. Tubbo frantically looked around. "Ill go get niki!! Just hang tight okay!!" He ran back towrds the lmantree, leaving me on the 'battle field'. I soon heard yelling. I looked up to see philza and wil- wait wilbur?

He was yelling at a very hurt philza. His wings where scorched, his big feathers completely gone. Wil looked as crazed as ever.

I couldnt exactly hear what they where saying, my ears ringing like crazy. Phil was holding a sword, will holding phils sholders, as if he was begging for something.

My vision whent all splotchy. It got hard to see, and the ringing got worse. I felt someone pick me up right before my vison completely left me.

I dont remember anything after that.

~~~

Weeks passed, I awoke only a few days later. Hearing the news of wilbur dying, lmanburg being completely destroyed, and tubbo rebuilding the destroyed nation.

people visited me in the make shift home everyday (glad I built a home outside of lmanburg). People stared at me different for the scorch marks I had, but only in a sympathetic way. Tubbo had said we matched, knowing how painful it was. It was sweet of him in a way.

Tommy visited the day after i woke up. having heard i had ran after him, He apologized, only wanting to help the others. He didnt mean for me to get hurt.

"I didnt mean for this to happen, i just wanted to fight the blade, im sorry-" I smiled at him. "Its alright Tommy. Its not your fault, im just unlucky is all."

As the days whent on, the more I wanted to just get up and leave. I wasnt completely healed yet, so i was just forced to lay around till i got to do anything. I knew i couldnt do that, in fear of anything healing wrong, so i read instead.

Its a book ive read thousand times over, partly due to us not having many books around here(alot where burned in the explosions).

"This book truely never gets old." Turning the page, I heard the door knocking quietly.

"You can come in!" The door opend slowly, revealing a slightly.. Transparent? Figure. I dropped my book slightly, getting a better look at the figure.

"Hello (y/n)!! Oh, you seem unwell, here have some blue!!"

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Long distance

Summary: Falling in love with an Army Captain just weeks before he had to leave again, wasn’t something she had planned on. And Sy didn’t even know how much he wanted to have a family until she told him she was pregnant 2 months into his deployment.

Pairing: Syverson / Reader

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: fluff; implied smut

A/N: I think this might be the longest fic I wrote that doesn’t include any actual smut. Let’s see if people read it anyways lol

Masterlist

His palms were sweaty. His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. He could feel the tiredness in his bones. Not only from the flight, but from the last 8 months. His last 8 months of being in the army. Now he was standing here, in front of the door that separated him from the real world. This wasn’t fear he was feeling. This was pure excitement. He had always wondered in the many years he served, how he would feel when he stepped through these doors for the last time, coming back from deployment. 

He pictured himself not knowing what to do with himself. Maybe he would build houses again, like he did back when he was younger with his father. Before he died. His brother had taken over the family business. He wanted to spend time with his brother. His family. Shaking his head Sy smiled to himself.

What he never would have thought was that after 8 months he would come back to a girlfriend he met only 6 weeks before he had to leave for his last deployment. And what Sy never would have even dared to dream off were the two twin baby girls he was about to meet for the first time. His twin girls.

10 months ago

“Sy….” She looked at him. The man she only met two weeks ago. He looked peaceful in his deep slumber. His face relaxed. Slowly her fingers brushed over his cheek, seeing him frown.

“Sy… Wake up.” She whispered, her face coming closer to kiss his cheek.

She heard him groan, his arm pulling her even closer than she already was, making her chuckle.

“Sy you told me to wake you up. Now….” She turned in his arms, crawling on top of him. “Wake up.” She kissed his nose, his forehead, his eyes, his chin. Slowly his eyes fluttered open. Tired blue eyes looked up at her.

“Why is your naked body on top of my naked body?” He asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Oh… I don’t know….” She grinned, pushing her boobs against his chest, making him groan. She could feel just how much he was enjoying this on her lower belly.

“Apparently you sleep like a stone, Captain.” She teased, making him smirk.

“You kinda wore me out last night, Peach.” His big hands landed on her ass.

“Oh… I’m sorry Captain Syverson. I’ll keep in mind to stop you the next time you drag me to your bed…” She pushed herself up. Sy looked up at her. The early sunrise made her appear like an angel. His angel.

“So why did you want me to wake you this morning?” She asked. It was sunday, and it was before 8 am. He knew that she was always up early. They had met only 2 weeks ago in the local grocery store. She had moved here only a couple months before for her job. Working as a english teacher at the local school.

He looked so out of place in his red shirt and cargo pants, standing in front of the ice cream, trying to decide for a flavour.

“You look like a nut kind of guy.” Were the first words she had ever spoken to him.  He had looked at her, with the intention of probably ignoring her words, when his eyes met hers. She had felt it there too. Like being struck by lightning through her whole body. She had invited him for ice cream the very next day. 

Shaking her head she thought it was best not to dwell on the past weeks and instead focus on the time they had left before Sy had to leave. She raised her eyebrow at him.

“I wanted you to wake me, so we can do this.” He grinned, before he pulled her down against his chest, his lips finding hers as he turned her so she was on her back with him on top of her.

“Let’s wear us both out some more, hm?” He whispered against her lips as his hand parted her legs.

9 months ago

Goodbyes were not something Sy was used to. Sure he said goodbye to his brother before he went back to wherever the Army wanted him. But this was the first time his heart felt this heavy as he had to leave. 

She looked beautiful in the driver's seat, focused on the street as she drove him to the airport as he held her hand. He had told her he loved her only three days ago. Never in his life had he told a woman he loved her, but he loved her. 

“Stop staring at me, Cap.” She mumbled, her words followed by a yawn. They had spent the whole night making love to each other. He knew she wasn’t wearing any underwear under the thin summer dress she had put on to drive him to the airport, and he desperately tried not to think of how easy it would be….

“I’m serious Sy.” She looked at him from her side. He grinned to himself, turning his head to look out of the window where he could already see the base approaching. 

“Can’t blame me for looking at you, Peach.” He said. 

The rest of the drive they were silent, hanging on to their own thoughts. He almost jumped in his seat when the car stopped and she killed the engine.

Turning in her seat she looked at him.

“I can’t believe I’m one of those girls…” She whispered, looking at him.

“One of what girls?” He asked, turning towards her.

“One of these girls who say don’t forget me when you’re away.” She sucked her bottom lip in, and he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. He shook his head, as he leaned towards her, kissing her deeply. He breathed her in, his hand on the back of her head, his fingers feeling the silk of her hair. 

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He whispered against her lips.

“Promise?” She asked. He nodded, kissing her again. Forehead against forehead they looked into each other’s eyes, savouring the last touches before Sy smiled.

“Don’t dump me for some third grader from your school. I know they are cuter than I am.” 

“Idiot.” She slapped his chest.

“Your idiot.” He grinned.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you too.” He kissed her again, before he breathed in deep and opened the passenger’s door of the car.

8 months ago

“I was doing laundry today and for some reason, some of my panties seem to be missing.” She said. Sy was laying on his bed, his phone propped on his chest as he looked at her on the little screen. It was the middle of the night back at home, yet she always took time to talk to him, no matter the hour he called.

“Hmm…” He hummed, biting his lip in deep thought.

“You are so full of shit.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Don’t speak to your Captain like that.” He said sternly, his eyebrow raised, while his hand searched for the flimsy piece of fabric he stole from her, holding it in front of the camera.

“You're not my captain, Sy. You are a thief.” She let her head fall against the mattress, groaning.

“You okay, Peaches?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just a little unwell.”

“I wish I could be there for you.”

“But you are, Sy.” She smiled, turning in her bed. He saw her get under the covers, her head resting on her pillow.

“Talk to me until I’m asleep?” She asked.

“Of course.” He smiled.

7 months ago

Call me as soon as you can.

The message reached him in the middle of a mission. He only found the time to answer her two days later. The reception had been shit the last couple of days, so as soon as he was back at the base he excused himself and grabbed the satellite phone, dialing her number. 

“Oh my god Sy.” He heard the relief in her voice.

“Hey Peach. Everything okay?” He asked, closing the door behind him.

“I was worried when you didn’t answer.” She said. He sighed.

“I was on a mission in the middle of nowhere. So… You okay?” He asked again. He was met with silence on the other end of the line.

“Sy I’m pregnant.” The whole world seemed to stop as he heard those words. Blinking, he looked out of the dusty window of his office.

“You’re pregnant.” He repeated, at loss of words.

“With Twins Sy. You knocked me up with twins.” He could hear her crying. The ability to form words seemed to have left him. Here he was. Thousands of miles away from the woman he loved. The pregnant woman that he loved.

“Sy?” She asked quietly.

“Sorry. I’m just… surprised?” He asked.

“You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“Because we only know each other for like 3 months and you’ve been gone almost half of those.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I love you. You and our two… fuck. I’m gonna be a dad.” He ran a hand to his short hair.

“But… How? I mean we only had sex without a condom once and I made sure to pull out…”

“Apparently not fast enough Cap.” She sighed.

“How do you feel?” He asked her.

“How do I feel? Scared? Overwhelmed? Hungry? I have no idea how I feel. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. But… We’re gonna be okay. You. Me. The babies.” Sy said.

“You’re in on this? You won’t leave me alone with this mess?”

“I love you, Peach. We’re in this together.”

6 months ago

“I swear to god if you weren’t so far away I would slap your head.” She groaned, but had a small smile on her lips.

“Peach... “ Sy grinned. He was sitting in his office, about to have a briefing, but he wanted to see her before that. What he didn’t count in was her answering him completely naked.

“What? My boobs hurt. These little beans sure do start producing their food early.”

“God I wish I was there. I would find a way to make you feel better….” He hummed. He could feel his pants becoming uncomfortably tight as she kept the camera on her upper body.

“Such as?” She asked.

“Mhh…. Massaging your whole body as long as you can still lay on your stomach… Making you forget about your boobs by making you cum…” He whispered. He could see her blushing, her nipples hardening.

“I hate you.” She pouted. He smiled.

“I love you too.”

5 months ago

“Dismissed.” Sy said. The men in front of him nodded and turned around, leaving one by one until only he remained. He sighed as he looked at the clock. Right about now a doctor would find out if they were having boys or girls. Or both. 

It was getting harder and harder for him to actually focus on the work he was sent here to do. His thoughts now always went back to, was he doing the right thing? Could he get home earlier to be with the woman he loved? Those weren’t thoughts he was used to. 

Before her, there was no way he would even think of going home earlier. He was going to  have a week off in a month, just in time for her birthday and he planned to surprise her. He already put his brother on packing his stuff. 

They talked about that it would be for the best if Sy moved in with her. She had the bigger house, and frankly he didn’t care where he lived, as long as he was close to her. Sy also thought about asking her to marry him. Because that was the thing people did when they were expecting, was it? But he wanted to do it right. And not just because it was the right thing to do. He loved her, there was no question in his mind about it. But if she agreed to be his wife, she deserved the wedding she always dreamed off. Even if he had no idea what she dreamed off, because that topic never came up in their conversations. A video call interrupted his train of thoughts. Answering the call on his laptop, he could feel himself getting nervous.

“Hey Cap.” He heard her voice, before the picture connected. She was still wearing the hospital robe.

“Hey Peach. How are you?” He asked.

“Tired, but excited. We’re about to find out what we’re having.” She smiled.

“We are?” He asked. She nodded at him, as someone took her phone. 

“Hey bro.” He saw his brother’s face before the camera showed her laying next to the ultrasound.

“Hello Captain Syverson. Are you ready?” The doctor asked.

“I’m excited.” He breathed, looking at the love of his life. He could already see that she was crying.

“Don’t cry, Peach. Dan, Goddamn it take her hand.” Sy said. He heard his brother chuckle, before Dan took her hand.

“Okay. Ready?” The doctor asked. Sy only nodded. He never even thought he would have the opportunity to be there. At that moment. He wanted to kiss her for including him. 

A sound he never heard before reached his ears.

“Strong heartbeat from both, as expected.” The doctor said. Sy smiled. He was hearing his babies’ heartbeats.

“They both look very strong, just like we want them to.” The doctor continued. 

“They are so big already.” She sighed.

“Still a long way to go though.” His brother said.

“Yeah. We’re around halfway through, still a lot of growing to look forward to. Now… Are you guys ready to find out what you’re having?” 

“Yeah.” She said, looking straight at the camera. He only nodded.

“Okay… Let’s see…” The camera switched to the little screen of the ultrasound. He could see the doctor’s finger pointing.

“Yup. There’s no doubt. You are having twin girls.” He heard the voice of the doctor.

“Girls?” She and him asked at the same time.

“Girls.” The doctor repeated.

“Wow.” Sy said.

“I love you so much, baby.” She took the camera and he could see her big smile and the happy tears in her face.

“I love you too, Peach.” He smiled back, wishing nothing more than being there so he could kiss her.

4 months ago

Today Sy would move in with her. They talked everything through and organized his stuff being moved to her place. What she didn’t know was that Sy would indeed be there for the move and her birthday the next day.

“She’s gonna freak out.” Dan said as he hugged his brother, after picking him up from the airport with the moving truck.

“I hope in a good way.” He sighed.

“Please. She’s so in love with you. I never once heard her complain about anything, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately to organize your move and help her.”

“I know. It’s just… Why is this happening now, and not in half a year, when I’m here to help?”

“Because life has its own plan, big brother.” Dan smiled.

“Sissy, we’re here. I brought some help.” Dan called as he opened the door for Sy to step in.

“I’ll be right down. I felt like I need to pee for the millionth time today.” She called back, making Sy chuckle.

“You have an hour before all the helpers show up. I’ll be back then too.” Dan whispered to him, squeezing Sy’s shoulder.  He nodded, watching his brother leave as he slowly walked further into the house. He had been here often enough before he had to leave, yet he could see the little changes. She was making space for his stuff in her living room. 

Apparently they would keep his couch, because hers was nowhere to be seen. On the dinner table were so many pink congratulations cards. He picked one up, his thumb brushing over the glitter writing of “It’s two girl!” the “a” being crossed out on the card and a two written over instead. He smiled. He would be back in 3 ½ months just in time to see his girls being born. He would live in a house full of girls and he couldn’t wait for it.

“Dan, do you think it’s okay if I order just some pizza later? I really didn’t feel like….” He heard her voice behind her, followed from a gasp. Turning around, he smiled.

“Surprise?” He shrugged

“Oh my god, Sy.” She whispered, before she practically jumped into his arms. He pulled her close, his nose in her hair, as he breathed her in deeply.

“Hey, Peach.” He whispered.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her hands coming up to frame his face.

“Took a week off to be here for your birthday.” He said. He looked in between them, down to her growing belly. Slowly his hands ran down, until both of them lay on her belly.

“This is really happening.” He whispered, before he looked up at her again.

“You bet it is.” She smiled before she pulled him down so she could kiss him.

3 months ago

“I’m so tired Sy.” She groaned. “These girls are always having a party just when I am about to fall asleep.” 

Sy looked at her on his tiny phone. They had a visit from some military officers today and he had to shave. This was the only time he had to talk to her this week.

“Want me to talk to them?” He asked.

“You think they’re gonna listen to you?” She asked, chuckling.

“Hey, I’m their Dad. They better start listening to me.”

“Allright.” She grinned, changing the angle on her phone so it was laying on top of her belly.”

“Talk to them, baby.” He heard her say. Sy smiled.

“Girls. Leave your mommy to get some rest. She needs her sleep so you can grow to be healthy and happy little girls.” Sy said. He heard her laugh, before he saw her face again.

“I think it might be working, they stopped.” She shook her head.

“See? Already listening to their dad.” He grinned, putting the razor down.

“You look sexy like that.” She whispered.

“Like what?”

“Without a shirt. God I’m so horny all the time lately….” She sighed. He crocked his eyebrow.

“I thought the five days we spent in bed when I was there would had helped you with that.”

She shook your head.

“I just want to be fucked. I get wet looking at the weirdest things lately….”

Sy groaned.

“Don’t make me quit my last job just to come and fuck you.”

“Would you?”

“I would do anything for you, Peach.”

2 months ago

“I have bad news.” Sy groaned on the phone. He tried everything to not have to do this. He argued with everyone about it but there was no getting out of it. Frustrated he ran a hand over his short hair.

“What is it?” He heard her ask.

“I have to stay for a month longer, cause the Captain after me has to have surgery and won’t recover in time.”

“You won’t be here when the girls are born?” She asked.

“I’m so, so sorry, Peach. I tried everything. I talked to everyone. There’s no way of changing it.” 

“It’s not fair.” He could hear her sniff.

“I know.” He sighed.

“I want their daddy to be there when they are born. I want you to hold my hand. I need you, Sy.” She whispered. It broke his heart to hear her like that.

“I’m so sorry Peach.” He sighed.

3 weeks ago

It was the middle of the night when Sy was woken up by his phone. He tended to sleep on his phone lately, waiting for his Love to go into labour. Blinking his eyes open he searched for his phone before he answered.

“Baby?” He heard a weak whisper, followed from a grunt in pain.

“I’m here, Peach. What’s going on?” He asked, being awake immediately.

“It’s time. The babies are coming.”

He tried to stay on the phone the whole time. Yet he missed the actual moment of his girls being born because he had to work. He missed their first cry. Their first bath. The first time being held by their mother. But this was not the time to be sorry about everything he missed. He never had to leave them again, to be so far away. They had both agreed that it would be best if the babies stayed at home with Dan. Breathing in deep he stepped forward, the door opening for him. Immediately his eyes found hers. A bright smile graced her lips as she saw him. Quickly he walked over to her, letting his bags fall to the ground, catching her in his arms as she jumped, her lips connecting with his.

“I missed you. So much.” She whispered, clinging to him.

“Missed you more.” He whispered back.

“Okay let’s go home. I’ve only been gone for half hour, and I’m already going insane and feel like the worst mother ever.” She sighed.

“You are the best mother ever.” Sy said, picking his bags up from the floor as she began to walk towards the exit.

“And you’ll be the best dad.” She smiled.

It was a short ride from the airport to his new home. He could feel himself getting nervous the closer they got. And when she parked her car in the driveway he was a nervous mess.

“What if they don’t like me? They have no idea who I am?” He whispered. She killed the engine turning in her seat, taking his hand.

“They will love you, Sy. You are their father. The best father they could have dreamed of.” She kissed his cheek. 

“Okay. Let’s go and meet my girls.”

He followed quietly after she opened the door. Taking his shoes off, he grew more excited and nervous the deeper they got into the house. He could hear his brother’s voice.

“Oh there are my baby girls.” She whispered as they walked into the nursery.

“Were you the best girls for your uncle Dan?” She asked.

“They always are.” Dan answered. Sy stepped in, seeing Dan kneel on the floor, with his back to him. He turned around.

“Hey big bro.” He said, getting up. He hugged him quickly, but Sy didn’t really acknowledge anything as he looked at the two babies laying on a soft yellow blanket on the floor.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Dan said.

“Thank you for watching them.” She called.

“Always. I’ll be over for dinner tomorrow, yeah?”

“See you then.” She called, sitting down on the floor. Sy just stood there, staring down.

“Come on now. Meet your daughters.” She smiled. He looked at her, then slowly got closer and sat down on the floor.

He had seen the many pictures she had sent to him but nothing compared to the sheer beauty of the two girls laying in front of him. Slowly he reached his hands out, brushing with his fingers over their cheeks.

“Meet your Daddy, Maya and Eva.” He looked up at her, as she picked Maya up. 

“Come sit in the armchair.” She said to Sy, who still wasn’t able to form any word. He got up to sit in the chair as she carefully put Maya in his left arm. In awe, and afraid to drop her he looked down at his girl. His right hand carefully brushing over the little girls cheek. 

“And here is Eva.” She said, wanting to put her in his other arm.

“No. Come sit on my lap with her in your arms. I wanna have all my girls with me.” He whispered. Softly she smiled, sitting down in his lap, Maya in her arms as his arm came around her waist looking down at both of his baby girls. 

“They are beautiful.” He whispered.

“They are. And right now they are very calm. I don’t think I have seen them this calm.” She whispered back. 

“They are so tiny.” 

“Yeah. But they are gonna grow up.”

“Not on my watch.” He said, making her chuckle. They continued to sit like that for a while, until Eva grew a bit restless.

“I think someone’s hungry.” She said, bringing her knuckle to the little girl's lips who began to suck immediately.

“Can I…” Sy asked looking up at her.

“Let’s go to bed, so I can nurse them both, yeah?” She asked. He nodded and she kissed his forehead, before she got up from his lap.

Sy fell asleep in the arms of the woman he loved more than his own life that night. The woman he only met a year ago, but gave him everything he ever dreamed of.

“I love you, Peach.” He murmured before he dozed off.

“I love you more, Captain.” She smiled back, before she dozed off too.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Winter soldiers on, the cold and occasional snow giving way to the promise of spring. Her birthday comes and goes, celebrated at her mother’s with her family as it had been before there was someone else to lay claim to her time on special days. The vacant spaces in her apartment that had been occupied by Ethan’s books and clothes, his toiletries, and VHS collection, begin to be filled by evidence of her new, single life. Her solitary toothbrush in the cup by the sink starts to look normal, the indent on her finger where his ring lived begins to fade, and the silence she arrives home to at the end of her workday becomes mundane instead of painful. Though this change was initiated and welcomed by her, change is always hard. She goes through the motions of being okay until one day in early April, she realizes that she is. The budding crocuses bring with them the optimism of a new life, another chance. A third chance, as it were, to get it right. Now she only has to figure out what right is.

Though they’ve always been close, she and Missy become even closer, taking up the space in each other’s lives that would otherwise be consumed by boyfriends or lovers. They are each other’s better half, sharing the minutiae of their workdays and staying available for unexpected illness or the need to move heavy furniture. While every human needs other humans to thrive, the Scully sisters fill that need with each other, shunning the idea of casual dating simply for the sake of companionship. There is no companion more perfect than the one who has known you since before you could understand the need for such a partner in life, and who is by your side not out of obligation, but because their soul is stitched so firmly to your own. They have always pledged their dedication to each other through thick and thin, and the new year of 1997 proves that to be a sincere promise on both their parts.

As such, they sit at their favorite local coffee shop on Sunday afternoon when Missy finally dares to ask her sister the question she’s avoided for the past four months. Not because she was afraid of her reaction, but because she knew Dana wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Have you heard from Mulder at all?” she asks so casually that Dana flicks her eyes up and stares in disbelief, not sure that she heard her right.

“What?” Dana asks, her heart having lept for one single beat at the mention of his name.

“Mulder. Have you had any contact with him, or seen him?” Missy is misleadingly casual, acting as though this is not a question she’s been waiting months to ask.

“No,” Dana says flatly, her eyes dropping down to her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t expect to.”

“Does he know that you and Ethan split?” Missy asks next, her feet folded underneath her in the oversized armchair.

“I don’t see how he would,” Dana posits.

“Have you considered reaching out to him?” Missy tries, watching her sister for signs that she is going to shut the conversation down.

Dana shakes her head glumly. “After what I put him through, I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to hear from. That was nearly nine months ago, he’s probably long since moved on.”

“Have you? Moved on?”

Dana pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know how to answer that. What does it mean, to move on?”

“Do you still think about him?” No assertions, just gentle questions, leading her sister to the conclusion she knows she needs to come to.

Dana nods softly. “All the time. Every day.”

“Then I think your answer would be no. You should contact him, Dana. It feels like unfinished business.” Missy has a thing about unfinished business. She believes it prevents you from achieving your full potential in life.

“Missy...what would I even say? ‘Sorry I broke your heart, good news is it didn’t even work out so it was all for nothing’? I don’t want to cause him more pain than I already have.” Her tone is resigned and defeated. Another regret she will come to live with, pinned to her lapel with a collection of other mistakes that she can never quite atone for.

Missy shrugs. “You know what I think. The rest is up to you.”

Missy is right. The trouble is, she doesn't trust herself to make these decisions anymore. She’s proven to herself that she doesn’t know how to make the right one.

———

“Excuse me,” a rough, nasally voice calls from behind her. She turns to see a red nosed young man in the doorway of the pathologist’s office, slumped against the doorframe with watery eyes. “I’m here to pick up an autopsy report, for, um...I think it’s Richards or something.”

Scully has worked with this courier before, and compared to his typical demeanor it’s easy to tell that he’s unwell.

“Are you alright?” she asks as she uses her feet to push her rolling chair over to the file cabinet, retrieving the report in question.

“Uh, not really, no. But if I call out sick one more time I’m gonna get canned.” He leans his head against the cool metal of the doorframe. She suspects he’s feverish.

“You don’t look well enough to work. Where is this headed?” she asks, still holding the file in her hand.

The young man blows out a stream of air and she holds her breath for a moment, not wanting to inhale whatever he’s infected with. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hoover Building, Behavioral Science Unit. Agent Kissop.” He stuffs the paper back in his pocket and looks around, taking refuge in the extra chair near the end of her desk.

She feels a little flutter in her belly; what are the odds?

“I’ll tell you what,” she begins, “I was just about to head out for the day and I live in Georgetown, so I’m going that way anyway. Can I drop this off for you? You don’t look well enough to drive and I’d hate to see you on the news in the morning if you cause an accident.”

He sighs deeply, the biggest display of excitement he can muster. “Are you sure? I’d really appreciate it,” he says, his eyelids barely maintaining half-mast.

“No problem at all,” she replies, gathering her coat and purse. “You get home and take some Tylenol, okay? And get some rest.”

He nods weakly and she leaves him there, climbing into her car with the file and a pounding heart. She can’t help but feel like this is a sign. She’s been thinking about signs a lot lately, and she’s recently resolved to start paying attention to them.

———

Mulder stands beside the copy machine, doing his Wednesday afternoon ritual of fighting with the toner cartridge and cursing profusely. From around the corner, he can hear AD Kirkbride drumming up his own song of profanity, which is more of a daily ritual than a weekly one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kirkbride is shouting. “Now that dipshit is conning goddamn doctors into doing his pathetic job?”

Another much softer voice answers him, but Mulder can’t quite make out the words. He moves closer to the open door, bored enough to bother eavesdropping and seeing which of his colleagues is going to get their ass handed to them today.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is sick, that fucking lowlife. He’s sick every fucking week, it’s always something with him!”

“Sir, I don’t know what the history is between you and the courier,” answers the other voice, and it’s familiar in a way that makes him stop in his tracks, his stomach clutching in a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Can you direct me to Agent Kissop, please? Then I’ll be on my way and you can work it out with the courier service.”

It’s Scully. It’s her, he’s sure. He’s been dreaming of that voice for months, the soft sibilant S’s and the way her plush lips rest against her adorable overbite. Without thinking, he enters Kirkbride’s office and sees her standing in front of his desk with a file in her hand and an exasperated look on her face.

“Scully?” he asks, and she turns to him. Her hair is a bit longer, now just past her shoulders, and she’s wearing black slacks and a white blouse. She’s as beautiful as ever, maybe even more than he remembered. She doesn’t look all that surprised to see him. If anything, she looks relieved. Emotion boils up in his chest immediately and he feels his throat constrict.

“You know her?” Kirkbride asks, gesturing to Scully, and Mulder nods. “Great, then show her where Kissop sits so I can call the fucking courier service and tell them to fire that lazy asshat before I strangle him.”

Scully walks towards him and he turns wordlessly to show her out of Kirkbride’s office and down the hall to where Kissop sits. His heart is beating slowly but firmly, his pulse resounding in his ears. What is she doing here? Did she come here to see him? And if so, why? When they arrive at Kissop’s desk, Scully hands her the file and they exchange words that Mulder doesn’t bother to listen to. Then Scully looks at him hesitantly and slowly turns to walk away, towards the exit. He feels suspended, unsure if he can believe his own eyes that she is really here, and entirely conflicted over what to do about it if she is. He’s spent nine months trying to forget her, but she’s as real and alive as ever, standing before him. His self-protective instinct says to let her go, but his heart says to run after her.

“Quit standing here like a dumbass and go talk to her,” Kissop orders him, clearly picking up on some tension though she doesn’t have the faintest idea what’s causing it.

Shaken from his daze, Mulder follows Scully into the hallway.

“Scully,” he calls out, and she stops walking but doesn’t turn around. When he catches up to her, he touches her shoulder and she turns to face him with wet eyes.

They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, an expectant feeling hanging over them. He wants to touch her, to feel the press of her body against his again, but he doesn’t dare. That would seem like a relapse, of sorts.

“Would you have coffee with me?” she finally speaks, her voice small and unsure. It’s an invitation she is not at all confident he will accept.

“Okay,” he answers, and they walk out of the building side by side, silently.

They seem to understand without saying so that Mulder will lead them to where they ought to go, which is a little cafe called Burial Grounds just a block from the front doors of the Hoover Building. They stand in line stoically, tension crackling between them like static as they order something that will occupy their hands and give them a safe place to avert their eyes while they talk. They sit at a small table near the door and wait, glimpsing at each other’s faces and then away, summoning courage. Because this was at Scully’s invitation, it seems like she should have the floor.

“Ethan and I aren’t together anymore,” she finally blurts out, and his first instinct is to look at her hand, which is indeed bare of any jewelry. Next he looks at her face, considering her expression and whether she takes this to be good news or bad. She looks pained, but not about what she’s just said. She’s had this look on her face since he first spotted her in Kirkbride’s office. He’s unsure if he should be offering congratulations or condolences, and irritated that he’s being put in the position to figure it out, so he says nothing.

“I’m sure that I’m just about the last person you want to see,” she continues, her ocean irises tracing the logo printed on her cup. It wasn’t a question, but if it were he’d tell her that she’s the only person he wants to see, the only one he ever thinks about. The reason he can’t sleep and, when he does, the only thing he dreams about. “If it’s okay, there are some things I’d like to say to you. I understand if you don’t want to hear them.”

She flicks her eyes up to meet his for a moment and he nods softly, keeping his expression neutral. She returns her gaze to the skull and crossbones bearing the name of the coffee shop.

“I have always believed that life is about making the right choices. That we are presented with an ongoing series of options, opportunities and situations, and that we are tasked with determining the right choice that will put us on the path towards the best possible life. But as of late,” she pauses to take a sip of her coffee, stealing a glance at him before she continues, “I’ve come to believe that there is actually only one choice. One path we’re supposed to be on, and there are signs along the way to pay attention to. The choices might not always make sense at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, they are the ones you need to make in order to have the best possible life. Or the right life, the one you’re supposed to have.”

She pauses and slides her hand across the table, covering his with her own. The soft warmth of her skin electrifies him a little, sending a flush to his belly. She brings her eyes up to meet his, her brows knit with emotion as her chin gently puckers. She’s so beautiful it physically hurts.

“I ignored the signs,” she says tightly. “I made the wrong choice, Mulder. I thought I was doing the right thing, the best thing, but I was wrong. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

He feels his chest tighten, a telltale precursor to tears, and he looks away from her. Why is she doing this? To make herself feel better? She pulls her hand back and sniffs, then stands and slings her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for having coffee with me,” she says, and then he watches her leave. He sits there, staring at the pink lipstick that stains the rim of her cup, wishing she’d given him some more time to absorb it all. Wishing she’d never made the wrong choice.

[the-halloween-jack]

Young!Remus Lupin x Fem!Werewolf! Reader Pt.2

/ Part 1 / 

Summary: Remus receives a letter explaining there is a new werewolf at the school, only he is not sure who it could be. 

WARNINGS: Angst.

Link for GIF: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/834080793461082533/

Remus POV

It was only a few days before the school year would start again when Remus received a letter from Hogwarts. He eyed the letter with furrowed eyebrows, he had already gotten his letter containing his booklist, why had this been sent? He grabbed the note from the outstretched leg of the school owl. And began to read,

Dear Mr Lupin,

I have recently received a letter informing me that another student of the school has been attacked by a werewolf over the summer holidays. Unfortunately for them to survive they had to undergo the transformation, meaning you will now have company during the full moons. I won’t be informing you who this student is at this moment, as I feel it is in the students best interest to allow them the opportunity for you to be introduced in person. It is with this information that I ask you to keep this knowledge to yourself and overcome the need to inform your friends, after all this will be a private matter between the student, you and myself.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

Remus stared at the paper with wide eyes, he wondered who this student could be. What year were they in? Did he know them? Would they get along? Remus couldn’t think of anything worse than the possibility that they would not get along, two vicious werewolves who disliked each other locked in the small confinement of the shrieking shack. He shuddered at the thought. 

He knew Dumbledore had specifically told him not to tell his friends, and in any other situation he would not defy Dumbledore orders, but his friends had already begun preparations to become animagi for him, surely it was common courtesy to tell them there would be another werewolf they would have to watch out for. And you were bound to be scared, maybe they could end up helping you too?

The few days until the return of school passed quickly, it wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside the Hogwarts Express saying goodbye to his parents for the term. He was eager to find his friends, and tell the news he had recently uncovered. He saw James and Sirius standing next to one of the doors of the train, they were in conversation with Peter. Remus made his way over to them waving his arms to get their attention, Sirius spotted him and taped the shoulders of the others, pointing in his direction.

‘Hey, Moony!’ James called out when he had spotted him, Remus gave him a stern look, they knew full well not to use his nickname in public, he didn’t need any more people working out what he was. Once he was well out of everybody’s earshot, he began to talk,

‘Just the people I want to see, I have something to tell you…’ The others gave him a look of curiosity, before Sirius spoke up, eyebrows raised,

‘You haven’t seen us all summer, and this is how you greet us?’ 

‘Never mind that, this is important, though we should wait until we are in one of the compartments before I say anything’ 

With that being said Remus walked on the train, Sirius. James and Peter following closely behind. There were no empty compartments, so instead, they settled for one that had a girl in the corner sitting alone. Remus recognised her as Y/N L/N, a Gryffindor girl in their year. Remus would never admit this, but he had always had a bit of a crush on her, he worked hard to keep it to himself though, he knew if the others found out he would never hear the end of it. And besides, it’s not like they could ever be together anyway, he was a werewolf and she was a pretty girl, she would never want to be with him, not to mention how dangerous it would be for her. James was the first to speak up,

‘Can we sit in here? All the other compartments are full.’ Y/N looked up, there were purple shadows under her eyes; she looked unwell. 

After she nodded, they all piled in finding places to sit, Remus, making sure he sat in the opposite corner than the girl. Where were all her friends? She had always been so popular, why weren’t they with her now? Sirius, James and Peter all looked up at Remus expectantly, he had said there was something he wanted to say.

‘What did you want, Remus?’ Peter had asked quietly,

‘I shouldn't say,’ His eyes flashed towards where Y/N sat, ‘I can show you though, but don’t say anything out loud, I shouldn’t be telling you this’

If Y/N was listening to what they were saying, she was doing a really good job at hiding it, she was acting as though they weren’t there. Remus pulled out the letter he had gotten from the headmaster from his pocket. And handed it to the others to read. Their eyes widened with each word, they seemed just as shocked about the matter as he was. Sirius opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again after seeing the look on Remus’ face. They continued the rest of the train ride as though nothing had happened, but Remus was sure that they would be questioning him as soon as they made it to their dormitories.

Y/N didn’t talk to them the entire journey to Hogwarts, which was strange, she had always seemed the talkative type. He found himself occasionally looking over at her from the corner of his eyes. She looked as though she had been sick, he could also see the faint lines of fading cuts sticking out from under her long sleeves. What had happened? Remus couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment he felt as he saw her stand up and walk away without a word. They all watched as she disappeared through the doors before James spoke up,

‘That was weird’ 

Remus was right about his friends, they had barely made it to their dormitory when they had begun questioning him.

‘When did you get the letter?’ asked Peter,

‘Who do you think it could be?’ followed James,

‘Why can’t he tell you who it was?’ added Sirius,

‘Firstly, I got this letter a few days ago. And secondly, you read the letter, how could I possibly know who it is?’ Remus was annoyed by their stupid questions,

‘But can’t you just, you know… tell?’ Sirius continued, and Remus’ eyebrows furrowed,

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, can’t you just sniff them out with your wolfy senses?’ 

‘You and I both know that’s not how it works’ Remus rolled his eyes,

They talked about the letter’s contents for the rest of the night, theorising on who it could be. One by one they all fell asleep, but little did they know that the topic of their conversation was sitting in their common room.

Reader POV

When you first arrived on the Hogwarts Express your friends had welcomed you with open arms, it had been evident that Dumbledore had kept his word, no one knew about what had happened to you over the summer. Though you were quick to make excuses, you told them you were not feeling well, that you wanted to be left alone. That was how you found yourself sitting in an empty compartment, you didn’t want to put your friends in danger. Isolating yourself from them would mean they couldn’t get into any trouble by the time of the next full moon. But you had only been in the compartment a few minutes when James Potter and his friends arrived, asking to sit in there with you. You nodded even though you were hoping to be left alone, nothing too bad could happen during the trip to Hogwarts. You tried your best to ignore them, and to your immense relief they did the same to you, only you couldn’t help but notice the quick glances Remus Lupin would send you out the corners of his eyes. You were sure he was just curious, after all, you normally would have been surrounded by your friends, it probably seemed strange that you felt the need to sit alone.

The first weeks back at Hogwarts had been some of the worst you had experienced, you continued to completely isolate yourself from everyone, and even though you knew it was for the best, you couldn’t help but feel lonely. At first, your friends were concerned, they would ask you to sit with them in the Great Hall and during lessons, but as you continued to refuse they eventually stopped asking. It was the same at Gryffindor Tower, you had started to sleep in the squishy armchairs of the common room, you yearned to find yourself sleeping in your warm, welcoming bed in the dormitories, but your friends never failed to pester you with questions, you knew they were only worried about you, but at least the common room was quiet in the early hours of the morning. 

As the new full moon approached you could feel your health deteriorating, you began to eat less and the shadows under your eyes became more prominent. You were finding it harder to concentrate during lessons, and you could never seem to fall asleep.

Before you knew it the night of the full moon had arrived, you kept telling yourself you had nothing to worry about, Dumbledore had said there was another student who was in the same situation and no one knew about them. Earlier in the day, you had been sent to talk to the Headmaster, he explained to you about the shrieking shack and how you would be escorted there by Madam Pomfrey a safe time before nightfall. He had also said that tonight would be the night you would meet the fellow werewolf of Hogwarts.

Remus POV

Remus was escorted to the shrieking shack earlier than usual so as to be there when the new werewolf student arrived. Remus was pacing across the room dreading nightfall as much as he would any other full moon, though he still found himself anticipating the coming hours; the curiosity that had accumulated over the past few weeks was becoming almost unbearable.

His heightened senses were what allowed him to hear the approaching footsteps, his breathing stopped and suddenly the quiet patter of two pairs of feet was all Remus could focus on. The first was familiar, the graceful steps of the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Though the later were quieter, soft and almost hesitant. Remus was able to deduce that the new wolf was in fact a girl. 

As the footsteps grew closer Remus began to feel nervous and sick, what if they didn’t get along? What if they hurt each other? Though he didn’t have a long to ponder over this as before he knew it the footsteps had stopped and he could now feel two pairs of eyes on his back. Remus hesitantly turned,

He met a pair of soft E/C eyes, eyes he had seen in his dreams night after night, the shock he felt stunned him into to silence; the girl looked down, uncomfortable. This caused Remus to finally speak up,

‘Y/N?...’ 

She looked up into his eyes again and suddenly it all made sense, why Y/N had been so distant from her friends, why the marauders had seen her sleeping in the common room every time they left for one of their night-time escapades, why she no longer seem her bright and bubbly self. 

It was her, she was the werewolf.

/ Part 3 /

[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 9,328 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die,  @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile​

2.2

6. Tanaka

Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.

“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”

Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.

“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”

He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.

“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”

“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.

Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.

“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.

Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.

“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”

Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.

“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”

Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.

“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”

With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.

“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”

All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.

“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”

“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.

“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”

“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.

“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”

“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.

“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”

The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”

7 - Valentina

Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.

“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.

“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.

Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.

“Oi?”

Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.

Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.

“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.

Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.

“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you’ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.

“I understand.”

***

The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.

You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.

The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.

“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.

“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”

The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.

Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.

“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.

“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.

“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”

“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”

Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.

“Not you?”

“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”

Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.

You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.

“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”

He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.

“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”

“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”

He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.

“Da, no one is like me.”

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.

The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.  With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.

Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.

Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.

You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.

You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.

A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.

14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur

That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.

You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.

8. Tanaka

Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.

The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.

However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.

“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.

“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”

“Da.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.

The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.

“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.

“Me too.”

The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.

Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.

The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.

“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.

“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”

His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.

“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.

“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”

“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.

“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”

With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.

9. Valentina

The evening passes by in a blur.

The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.

The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.

“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.

“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.

You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.

“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.

“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”

“As you wish.”

You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.

“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.

“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.

“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.

“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”

“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.

You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.

“An honest mistake.”

“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.

You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.

“I thought I would have to scare him away.”

Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.

“It was innocent, Ryu.”

“He wanted to fuck you.”

“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”

You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.

“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”

He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.

Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.

“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”

He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”

“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.

“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”

“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.

“Underwear?”

“Not with this dress.”

“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.

“Yours.”

An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.

Sin. And something else.

A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.

“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.

A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.

“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.

“Why?”

“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”

“What do you mean we’ve changed?”

“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.

“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.

“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”

His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.

“Tonight then. Together.”

“Together.”

Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.

10. Tanaka

Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.

Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.

He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.

“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.

Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”

“Ya ponimayu.”

Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.

“Ryunoslav?”

“Da?”

“You have lipstick on your collar.”

Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.

La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.

Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.

“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.

All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.

Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.

“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.

“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.

“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”

“I will wait upstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.

It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.

His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.

The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.

“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”

Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.

“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.

“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.

“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”

“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”

“Careful, Kuroo.”  Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.

“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”

A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.

“Campari, sir?”

“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”

Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.

“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”

“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”

“I assure you, I am.”

Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”

Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”

“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”

“No.”

Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.

“Then maybe you have a woman.”

Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.

“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.

“The Boss is in a meeting.”

Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.

“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”

“Of course.”

Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”

Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.

“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”

Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.

“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”

Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”

“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”

Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.

“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.

“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”

Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.

“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.

They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–

“I’m seeing someone.”

11. Valentina

Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.

You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.

“Leave.”

White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.

“You don’t want to know who?”

“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”

You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.

“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”

You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.

You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.

A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.

“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”

“My husband wants me gone.”

“But not dead.”

You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”

“I will wait here.”

12. Tanaka

When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.

“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”

Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.

“Khazak, who is it?”

“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.

“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”

Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.

“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.

“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”

Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.

“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.

“I am in love with her.”

The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.

“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”

Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.

“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”

Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,

“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”

Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.

“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”

“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”

Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.

“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”

The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.

13. Valentina

The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.

You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.

“Few minutes, my ass.”

The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”

Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.

“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.

Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.

“Leave us, pazolvste.”

Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.

“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.

“Why are you here?”

“Daichi knows.”

You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.

“I told him I love you.”

There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.

“How did he react?”

“Not well.”

“And?”

He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.

The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.

But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.

You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–

.

.

.

End.

-----

Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.

@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema​​​ , @lookslikeleese​​​ , @linestrider​​​ , @hisoknen​​​ , @mindninjax​​​ , @whats-her-quirk​​​ , @messwriting​

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 14

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter:  14

Chapter Summary:  Settling into family life.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: It’s so much tooth rotting fluff. Like... I went overboard with the fluff, I couldn’t help myself.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13}

"Briar." Henry whispered, popping his head into the room where the little girl was playing.

"What?"

"Mama's resting up for tonight, how about you and me go check out that park down the street?" Henry suggested, hushing the girl when she squealed excitedly. Overall, finding a place to move in together hadn't been too much of an effort. Henry found Faye wasn't too picky when it came to homes. She had been impressed by every one they had seen. They had decided on one that was on a nice quiet street, not too far from town, had a big fenced in yard for Kal, enough rooms for everyone plus a park just down the street. Briar had been begging Faye to take her since they had moved in last week, but they found it hard to find time for an adventure while also trying to settle in.

If Henry had to venture a guess, he'd say they were about 3/4 of the way there. The kitchen and the bedrooms had been sorted. Henry's office/gaming room was still mostly in boxes, as well as most of the living room furniture. So far, the only thing not boxed in the living room was the couch, which Faye was currently passed out on. They had intended to unpack more, but Henry could tell she wasn't feeling right. Faye told him it was just a headache, but Henry insisted she lay down anyway.

Now was their chance to sneak out and procrastinate on actually working on the house. Henry made sure her jacket was zipped up and her hat was secure before taking her little mitten clad hand in his, leading the giddy girl down the street to the park. Her eyes lit up when she saw all the different things to play with, from slides to swings to monkey bars, all just waiting for her to climb all over them. Her hand was free from Henry's the second her little sneakered feet touched the grass, darting off to go and play on as many different things as she could.

Henry followed after the little girl, lifting her into the toddler swing at her request and setting her in motion, unable to keep the smile from his face at her elated giggles. He had intended to keep her low, not wanting to scare the little girl, but was soon reminded of her love of baby adrenaline when she started demanding to go higher and higher. He finally reached the point where she was swinging near his face, squealing in laughter the entire time, her little mitten clad hands holding the chains as her feet kicked gleefully.

"Catch, catch!" Briar laughed, twisting around to plant a kiss to Henry's jaw when he caught the seat. "Again!"

Henry was more than happy to comply, releasing the seat and letting her swing again, stepping back and giving another small push. He had half a mind to record her time on the swings; this was the type of moment that the best memories are made of. She was so happy, soaring through the air without a care in the world. He hadn't known her for very long, but he already could tell she was growing up more. She was turning into her own little person, with her own thoughts and ideas. So stubborn, unafraid to take risks and she had him wrapped around her little finger. Just like her mother. He somehow felt bad for missing out on the first years of her life, even though he didn't know her then. She deserved to have a father figure to spoil her. She needed someone in her life to show her how a woman should be treated so she wouldn't settle with someone that wasn't right for her.

How her own father could want nothing to do with her was baffling to him. She was the sweetest little girl. She would constantly pop out of nowhere to squeeze his leg in a hug and scurry off again. Every time he picked her up, she would kiss his cheek and throw her little arms around his neck. She cuddled close for bedtime stories, always reacting like it was the first time whenever he would read one to her. How anyone could decide not to be a part of her life was beyond him, but at the same time he was glad. If her biological father hadn't been a complete douchebag, he wouldn't be where he was now, living with the woman he had fallen with so hard, so fast. He wouldn't have a house to fill with their own memories together. He wouldn't have someone special with him at the premiere tonight. He wouldn't have taken the little girl with him on a sneaky adventure to the park while the woman he loved was napping on the couch. He wouldn't have his own little family so for that, he was grateful.

"Down!" Briar decided when she swung back to him, her eyes locking on the slides and large play structure not too far away. Of course, she would want to climb on something while she was there. Henry stopped the swing's motion and unfastened the little girl, her feet barely touching the ground before she was sprinting off again toward the slides.

Henry chuckled to himself at the little girl's excitement, sitting down on a nearby bench to keep watch as she played. She was a little ball of energy, climbing the ladder to the slide and going down head first, giggling the entire time. She zipped across the play yard, climbing the large structure in the middle and going down the curly slide on one side. Henry settled back into his seat as he observed, silently patting himself on the back. She would be too worn out to throw up a fuss for the babysitter when they had to leave later. He just hoped Faye was feeling better by then. He would hate to drag her out for something this important when she felt unwell.

Her stunning dress had been delivered just two days ago, her face lighting up when she caught her first glimpse of it. Henry knew she would look beautiful in it. He also had the feeling she would look even better when he took it off later that evening. The couple had wasted no time in christening every surface they possibly could. Their bed, the bedroom wall, the shower, the vanity, the couch, the kitchen counter, the table. Everywhere they could possibly get to and not wake the baby was fair game.

Between moving, and the premiere, he also had his mother's birthday coming up. That was something he needed to remember to tell Faye about. It had somehow slipped his mind with everything else going on. He had told his mother they would all try to make it out to see her for her birthday, but he had somehow forgotten to bring it up to Faye. Hopefully she didn't have anything else planned. His mother was really looking forward to meeting her.

Henry slowly scanned around the play area of the park, taking note of everyone else around. It quickly became apparent that all the other adults were women. Most of which were currently staring at him, quite possibly recognizing who he was. He really should have worn a hat to hide behind. Would that look weirder though? A random guy sitting on a park bench, hiding his face behind a hat, watching children play? Why weren't there more fathers out with their children? Sure, his own father worked a lot when he was growing up, but he always had weekends off, and he made sure to make time for his family on those days. This was a Saturday afternoon, shouldn't there be at least one or two other men around? His overthinking was making him more and more uncomfortable the longer he dwelled on it.

"PAPA!" Henry jumped up without thinking, his current train of thought instantly cut off at the child's scream. His eyes locked on her in a second and he dashed across the playground in four quick strides to kneel down next to the little girl on the ground who was holding her knee and crying. He was suddenly grateful no other men were around. It would have been really awkward for him to go running up to someone else's kid like that.

"Hey, hey, it's ok." Henry soothed, picking her up and letting her cry into his neck. "What happened, princess?"

"I... I fell do-down." Briar sobbed, clinging to him as he rubbed her back.

"It's ok. You're ok." Henry assured, deciding then was the best time to take their leave as many sets of motherly eyes had already locked on him, now hyper aware of his presence. This seemed to be quickly going from a fun bonding experience to Henry being turned into eye candy as he tried to soothe a crying child.

Briar had calmed down considerably by the time he had gotten them home, though he decided to continue carrying her anyway. If he had to guess, she wasn't exactly in the mood for walking. He tried to be quiet when he came back inside, hoping not to wake Faye and alert her to their sneaky adventure; it didn't matter how quiet his entrance was however, as Faye was already waiting by the door when he came in.

"Is she ok?" Faye asked softly, looking at the girl still clinging to him as though her life depended on it.

"I fell down." Briar sniffed, slowly reaching to her mother for more coddling.

"I bet that was scary." Faye soothed, taking the child in her arms and kissing her head softly. "Did you fall off of something at the playground or did you just trip?"

"Just trip." Briar mumbled, cuddling close to her mother.

"How did you know where we went?" Henry asked suspiciously, raising a brow as he began taking his coat off.

"Oh please, it's not rocket science. She's been begging to go since we moved here, you'll do anything she asks and the playground is in the direction I saw you two coming from. Busted, mister." Faye explained as she helped the little girl out of her coat and mittens.

"It wasn't sweeties before dinner this time." Henry defended himself, stealing a kiss as he reached beside her to hang up his coat, taking Briar's and hanging it up as well.

"You should have woken me up, I would have loved to have gone too." Faye pouted, slowly letting the squirming child down.

"You weren't feeling well, and tonight is an important night." Henry reasoned, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer.

"So you really want the babysitter coming here with everything still in boxes?"

"If I hurry, I can probably make the living room look livable. At least mount the TV or something. Possibly just set the iPad up on the coffee table and pretend that's what we use as a TV."

"Yes, because I'm sure they will believe that a giant geek ass dork nerd like you would have such a tiiiiiny little screen to watch his nerd shows on."

"Well I did find myself a small woman. Maybe I just really like little things." Henry teased, kissing the top of her head.

"Who do you think you're calling small?"

"You." Henry shrugged, kissing the top of her head again.

"I will have you know, I am not small. Everything else is just big."

"That's what you always tell me that every time we - ouch!" Henry chuckled, rubbing his ribs where Faye had poked him.

"That did not hurt."

"Well it didn't feel nice either!"

"We need to get the living room unpacked, come on." Faye insisted, quickly poking his ribs again and dashing off to the living room, Briar poking Henry's hip and racing off after her mother.

"Woman! You are teaching the baby bad habits!" Henry chastised, pursuing after both of them.

"I am doing no such thing! She needs to learn your weaknesses." Faye taunted, keeping the couch between her and her boyfriend.

"I already do whatever she asks, why does she need a weakness?" Henry laughed, slowly circling around one side, both girls skittering around to the other.

"One day you may say no." Faye shrugged, squealing when Henry reached over the back of the couch, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.

"Now why would I ever say no to either of my girls?" Henry asked, cupping her jaw and kissing her softly.

"There might be an occasion." Faye reasoned, bumping her forehead against his, her other hand sneaking up to tickle his ribs again.

"Would you stop?" Henry grumbled, dragging her over the back of the couch and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"I will never stop."

"Papa, no!" Briar gasped, running around to the back of the couch and grabbing her mother's hand. "Mama, come on!" She urged, trying to pull her free.

"Oh what, now you're on her side? I thought you were on team me!" Henry gasped, letting Faye be pulled from his arms.

"Gonna get you!" Briar giggled, attempting to tickle at his leg.

"Ok, now this is not fair!" Henry grouched, letting Faye go to snatch Briar up instead. "Two on one, really?"

"Papa, down!" Briar squealed, wiggling when he started to tickle her sides.

"Down? Now why would I put you down?" Henry laughed, jumping and barely suppressing a swear when Faye snatched his ribs again.

"Briar, I'll make you a deal. I'll let you go if you help me get Mama." Henry stage whispered to the child, setting her down and chasing after her mother when she darted off down the hall.

"Mama!" Briar cheered, chasing after the two, Kal now following the rest of the family to the kitchen.

"I know what you're planning, and it's not a good idea." Faye warned, slowly backing up to the counter.

"Oh, and why is that?" Henry asked, pressing up close to her, pinning her between his body and the counter.

"I'll tell on you."

"And who are you gonna tell? Briar? She's on my side now, remember?"

"Uhh... how about your mother? Would she side with me?"

"Oh!" Henry lit up, his mind jumping to another subject while he still had her trapped by his body. "That reminds me. My mum's birthday is next week, she's wanting us to come."

"That's a bit of a distance, isn't it? You have to factor in a toddler sized bladder into all travel plans now, my love."

"That is true. We also have to worry about Briar having to stop for restroom breaks."

"Oh, Mr. Somebody over here thinks he has jokes." Faye scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"We can fly there, it won't be as bad." Henry reasoned, kissing the top of her head. "She's really wanting to meet you two."

"Wait, she knows about us?"

"Faye, do you really think my mother wouldn't know about the woman I've been dating for the last ten months? We've moved in together, I think the people close to us are starting to suspect something."

"But I mean... does she know about us?" Faye asked, her eyes flicking down to the little girl trying to climb Henry's leg.

"She's excited to have another little girl to spoil. For some reason, us Cavill's just don't have very many girls."

"And she's ok with that?" Faye asked, fiddling with the hem of her shirt nervously.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"I don't know. It's... a lot. It was a lot having you step in and step up like you did. It just doesn't seem like something a mother would want for her baby boy."

"I'm in my thirties." Henry snorted.

"Yes. You are over six feet tall, over two hundred pounds and over thirty years old. You are also her little baby boy."

"Briar, am I a baby?" Henry asked, reaching down to scoop her up.

"No, you Papa Bear!" Briar giggled, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"And there's also that. Since when does she call you Papa?"

"She just yelled it a the park." Henry shrugged. "Is it something we need to discuss?"

"Well I mean... if the shoe fits." Faye mumbled. "I just don't want her to freak you out."

"I've been acting the part for a while now, if it bothered me, I would have said something. We're a family now, Faye. You're stuck with me."

"Oh am I?"

"Yes you are. If you leave, I'm going with you. Right Kal?" Henry asked, looking down at the canine, his tail swooshing across the floor in excitement at being included in whatever was going on.

"So now I have three children to worry about?" Faye groaned, her head falling back in mock annoyance.

"It would seem that way, yes. One is very easy to care for, however. He can let himself outside and his food is on an automatic timer."

"I don't know if you mean you, or Kal."

"Alright, two of us then."

"Enough with the distractions now, Mister Sir. We have more work to do around here." Faye reminded, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and taking Briar from his arms.

"So, I'm going to unpack the living room and you two are...?" Henry fished, reluctantly releasing Faye from her prison.

"I'm gonna help Briar get her room the way she likes it."

"Her room was the first thing we did." Henry pointed out suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as Faye skittered around him. "Oh no, you get back here, Woman!" He called, taking off after them again, mother and daughter both laughing as Faye hurried to Briar's room. He caught up with the two of them just as Faye was setting her daughter down, quickly snatching his girlfriend up and playfully biting at her neck. "You are not getting away that easy!"

"It was worth a shot." Faye sighed, letting him drag her back to the living room where he promptly sat on the couch, settling her in his lap and resting his head on her shoulder. "This doesn't seem like unpacking." She teased, resting her head against his.

"Of course it is. We are visualizing how we want it to look." Henry chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "What are you thinking?"

"Hmm... TV over the fireplace?"

"A solid choice."

"Coffee table in front of the couch. Side table over there. Briar's little table and chair over there. Probably put Kal's bed next to it."

"He'll lay next to her whether we put the bed there or not." Henry pointed out.

"True. How good are you at putting together IKEA furniture?"

"It is definitely going to be a job for another day." Henry decided, eying the few new pieces they had gotten for the larger living room.

"The toys should probably be near Briar's table so she's not tracking them everywhere. Kal's toy basket can go by his bed. We'll find a place for the pictures once we have the big stuff figured out."

"Sounds perfect." Henry agreed, holding her a little tighter when she tried to stand up. "Just a few more minutes of visualization."

"If you keep putting it off, it'll never get done."

"I'm not putting it off. I'm prioritizing physical contact with my lady right now."

"You just don't want to mount the TV."

"It's a pain in the ass to mount that thing." Henry groaned, looking at the still heavily wrapped TV leaned against the wall.

"It's your TV."

"And I did the sensible thing and paid extra for someone else to fight with it the second time I moved."

"We should have done that with all the furniture."

"Feels less personal, though."

"That's true. Now come on, big guy. We've got stuff to move around." Faye sighed, sliding from his lap and offering her hand to him to help him off the couch, not that he needed it. She would take any excuse she could to touch him, however.

The pair got to work, Henry doing the literal heavy lifting despite Faye's protest that she could move things on her own. They managed to get the furniture - minus the TV - in place; Briar occasionally popping in with a new snack every time, offering each a bite before scampering off again. Faye was putting Briar's toys in her toy chest while Henry went through the boxes, looking for any others containing toys.

"Oh, I found the bath toys!" Henry announced, holding the box up proudly.

"Oh, great. Briar's going to be thrilled when she takes her next bath." Faye sighed in relief. To say the little girl had been less than thrilled to have a plain no-toys-or-bubbles bath was an understatement. As it turns out, no more tears shampoo does not apply when the cause of the tears is from lack of toys.

Henry was putting the toys in the cabinet, down low where Briar would be able to choose what she wanted for herself, when he first saw it. It was a blue and white box with one particular word that grabbed his attention without even trying.

"Faye?" He called, his heart in his throat as he picked up the box, raising a brow at her when she appeared in the doorway, unable to force himself to form words.

"I haven't taken it yet." Faye admitted, seeming to shrink in front of his eyes, the words on the box staring accusingly at her.

Tesco Health Pregnancy Tests

Taglist: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

House Calls (2/2 )

Hannibal (TV)

This part took much longer than the first. The muse eluded me for quite some time but it has finally returned! And the fact that this beautiful gifset from the show is making the rounds again certainly helped. ❤❤ Shoutout to @mongooseblues for inspiration for and assistance with this fic! A small note for those that read part 1, I'm retconning the fact that Hannibal had a digital thermometer that beeps. He would definitely have a mercury one.

Read part 1 here. (Recommended, it is referenced quite a few times in part 2)

Read my other works here (works best on desktop) (Also on AO3)

My asks are always open for prompts!

For the second time in one week, Will Graham was awoken by the phone ringing. Granted, a week ago it had woken him because it rang at an unusually early hour. This time it woke him because he was still getting over the godawful bug he'd caught, and he was going to bed earlier and sleeping in later. 

He fumbled for the device and picked it up with a groggy " H'llo?"

"Will, it's Hannibal." The doctor paused to clear his throat roughly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have a favor to ask of you, if you're up to it." There was a strange noise on the other end of the line, a kind of shuffling noise-- or perhaps a sniffle?

"Sure," Will said with a yawn and a sniffle of his own, rubbing his eyes. "I've been feeling pretty good since yesterday. I can help with whatever you need."

"That's very promising. As to the favor...  It appears I've left my medical bag at my office." Here he had to stop to clear his throat again and cough before he continued. "I was wondering if you would be able to collect it for me and bring it to my home. I'm… well, it seems I've caught your illness and I don't believe it would be wise for me to leave the house."

By this time, Will had slid to sit on the edge of the bed as he listened, stifling further yawns. The damn flu still had him feeling so unbelievably tired and groggy. 

"I'll head out right away," Will replied, rubbing his face. "And… I'm really sorry to have put you in this position, Dr. Leh--Hannibal. I never meant to get you sick."

"Occupational hazard, and I don't regret any of my actions concerning your care. But I appreciate your assistance in getting my bag. I will see you soon I hope."

"See you soon." Will ended the call with a small sigh. Now he felt guilty *and* tired. He was almost glad there was something he could do for the doctor to help assuage his own conscience. 

Less than an hour later, Will arrived at Hannibal's stately house. It had been no problem to retrieve the black leather medical bag from Hannibal's office. Due to the late hour of their therapy sessions, Will always arrived after the office front entrance was locked, so he knew the code to the building’s back door. The bag had been hidden behind a table leg and it was easy to see how Hannibal had overlooked it  Now it was simply a matter of delivering it.

 Already a bit overwhelmed to be approaching such a house, Will hesitated after mounting the porch steps. Hannibal hadn't told him what to do when he arrived. If the doctor was sleeping he didn't want to rouse him out of bed, but he didn't want to just walk in either. However, the safest option seemed to be to bite the bullet and knock. As he raised his hand to do so though, he realized the door was slightly ajar. A man like Dr. Lecter wouldn't accidentally leave a door open, no matter how ill he was. It stood to reason, then, that it had been left open for him. With more than a little trepidation, Will pushed the door open and stepped in.

The house was dim and still, and just as stately and pristine as everything else of Hannibal's. Will heard the sound of a harpsichord from somewhere inside. Hannibal was awake, then. At least that was something. 

Will followed the sounds of the music, which led him into the cavernous kitchen. The stainless steel appliances were silent and eerie without Hannibal's bustling presence giving them life. The music was louder now, seemingly coming from the next room, and echoing slightly against the polished surfaces. A strange sixth sense kept Will from calling out that he had arrived, as if there was a spell on the house that didn't want to be broken. Will paused before he approached the corner that turned into the next room. As he did, the music stopped abruptly, and instead a different noise punctuated the air:

"HrrrrRRISHyuu! ErrrrRREISH-shooo! ISSSHH-chuhh! Hh'rrrsshh'CHHOOF!" 

It was of course Hannibal who had sneezed. Logically Will knew this was to be expected when a person was sick. Yet it seemed so strange to hear such a mundane noise from such an extraordinary person. It was as if he'd accidentally witnessed something exceedingly private. 

Still, the sneezing had broken the spell. The doctor said something in Lithuanian that sounded suspiciously like swearing, then began to blow his nose. As he did this, Will retreated several steps and reentered the kitchen more noisily:

"Dr. Lecter! I'm here! I've got your bag!"

"I'm in the study," came the congested reply, annexed by a chesty cough.

Will found the man where he said, seated in front of the instrument as he tended to his nose. Yet still, the doctor tried to smile warmly upon seeing him, though his shoulders had a limp sag to them, and he shivered as he sniffled into his handkerchief. He was wearing a fine blue silk robe with a plain white tee shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, neat but still a far cry from his usual suits. His hair was combed but lacked the crisp, styled look it usually had, hanging more naturally around his face. His eyes were fever-bright, and his cheeks were flushed from the same. He looked overall rundown and quite unwell. 

Will handed him the black leather bag right away. Hannibal took it, looking grateful. 

"Thank you so much for coming, Will. I didn't know who else to call." His voice was husky and thick, more than hinting at a miserable sore throat. 

"No problem. But what are you doing out here? I thought the reason I fetched this was because you were too sick to get out of bed."

"I'm really not very ill. I was merely trying to avoid getting anyone else ill by my going out. But you've already had this illness, so you are safe from infection, which is why I thought to call you."

"That's logical I suppose," said Will wryly. "You look pretty sick to me, though."

"I assure you I'm fie- fine…. '' Hannibal quickly disappeared behind the handkerchief again, his breath hitching to sneeze. His shoulders leapt violently several times, and the motion made his hair fall across his forehead. However, any other sneeze side effects were thoroughly stifled into silence. After finishing the fit, Hannibal wiped his nose and flipped his hair back again with a toss of his head. Noting how familiar the doctor seemed to be with the gesture, Will could only guess at the number of sneezing fits he had had prior to this one. 

Seeing the poor man’s sinuses take such abuse from the forceful stifles though made Will's own still-congested sinuses start dripping in sympathy. He hastily pulled out a tissue and wiped his nose.

"Ah, but you are still ill yourself. Where are my manners? I'll make us both tea." Hannibal quickly stood, but staggered before he could take a step, a hand going to his temple. 

"Dr. Lecter--!" Will was at his side in a moment to steady him, one hand on the doctor's arm and the other at his back, just as Hannibal had steadied him earlier in the week. Will was prepared to do whatever was needed to keep Hannibal upright, though his swaying made Will more than a little nervous, for Hannibal was much taller than he, and would more than likely take them both down if he fell. 

Thankfully, the doctor quickly righted himself, pulling away from Will's grasp. "Forgive me, I stood up too quickly." Dr. Lecter cleared his throat harshly, rubbing a palm across his eyes. 

"Are you sure you--"

"I'm fine, Will. Now, tea." He strode away to the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation, as was his talent. 

Will held his tongue for the time being and silently followed, sitting at the kitchen island while Hannibal puttered around making tea. The silence was companionable, only broken by the doctor's soft sniffles and coughs. At one point though, the doctor was overcome with a nasty coughing fit that bent him over at the waist as he grasped the countertop for balance. When the barking coughs subsided and he could breathe relatively normally once more, he flipped his hair back into place yet again and proceeded with what he was doing as if nothing had happened. Will noted all of this without comment. 

Once the tea was poured, Hannibal seated himself beside Will, and they sipped together in continued silence. Will found it odd, though not unpleasant, to be sitting next to Hannibal without speaking, for their usual interactions dictated that conversation was necessary. Will found the quiet enjoyable. Yet Hannibal could not relax, for he was forced to tend to another harsh bout of coughing, turned away from Will and muffled into his elbow. His lungs sounded as if they were trying to tear their way out of his chest. Will could only look on in concern, and it was several long moments before he quieted. 

"My apologies, Will," the doctor rasped as soon as he was able, the exertion having turned his face an even deeper shade of red.

"You don’t need to apologize. But you sound sick. And you look like you're running a fever. You should be in bed."

"I rest better down here with my music and my cooking. I couldn't lie in bed all day."

"I don't think you should do any cooking. You're shaking."

The doctor quickly hid his hands, which were indeed trembling with chills. "Even so. I find it hard to rest in bed during the day. I have trouble getting settled. It's too… quiet I suppose." He sniffled wetly, and was forced to dab at his nose with his handkerchief.

"Hmm." Will thought for a moment, studying his own hands, currently wrapped around his mug. "I suppose I have the same problem. And it's worse when you're not feeling well. But you helped alleviate that for me when I was sick." Will met the doctor's eyes, reddening slightly. "You should lie down after we're done with tea… and if you want, I'll stay with you for a while... If you think it'll help, I mean."

Hannibal regarded him in his penetrating way. "Are you that worried about my health, Will?"

"You're sick, Dr. Leh-- Hannibal. And I know how bad this flu is. I don't want to see you get worse."

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, aside from another moist sniffle. "That is very kind of you to offer. I suppose you are right. Some rest would perhaps do me good."

Will nodded. "When we're finished, I'll stay here and do these dishes while you go get settled. I'll come see you as soon as I'm done. But let me know if there's anything else you need."

Hannibal gave a tiny smile. "Thank you, Will." With that, he obediently swallowed the last few gulps of tea and stood, moving toward the back of the house.

"Hannibal?"

The doctor turned.

"You don't… have to keep pretending you're fine. If you are pretending, I mean. I know how badly you're probably feeling better than anyone. You don't need to fake anything for my sake."

Will watched as Hannibal's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly--a thin crack in the veneer. The sick man gave the barest of nods, then proceeded on to what Will assumed was his bedroom. 

Will felt quite out of his element in more ways than one as he cleaned the dishes from their tea. Having no idea where anything went, he left it all out on a towel to dry. Once the kitchen was as clean as he could make it, he steeled himself to go check on his therapist.

The master bedroom was as luxurious as the rest of the house, and Will did his best not to gawk or make comparisons between this and his own tiny house. Hannibal had hung up his robe and was huddled in bed. He wasn't fully lying down, but was propped up against a stack of pillows, his breathing noticeably thick and raspy in the silent room. As Will expected, lying down evidently made the doctor feel the full impact of his symptoms (or perhaps he was simply done pretending). Hearing Will enter, he turned his head, lethargically opening heavy-lidded eyes. Against the cream sheets, the contrast between his pallor and fever flush was even more striking.

"It seems I'm more unwell than I thought," Hannibal murmured with a cough. "This is why I wanted to avoid lying down."

Will made a sympathetic sound. "That means you *need* to be lying down then. Have you taken your temperature recently? If not, we should."

Hannibal glanced at the medical bag he'd brought up with him. "The only thermometer I own is in there, so I have been unable to."

"A doctor that doesn't own a thermometer?" Will chuckled, moving to the bag. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"I do own one. I've never seen the need to own two."

Will deigned not to reply as he rummaged through the bag, quickly finding what he needed. He shook down the mercury as he returned to Hannibal's side. Hannibal held out his hand to take it, then shakily inserted it under his tongue. He leaned back to stare at the ceiling while Will stared at the floor, hands in his pockets.

Will waited what felt like an awkwardly long time before he finally shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "How long does it take to get a reading? I've never--"

Hannibal held up a hand and waited a bit longer, then removed the device from his mouth, glanced at it, and handed it to Will without comment.

Seeing the reading, Will gave a low whistle. 104.1… that's high, Hannibal."

"My body temperature is always above average. This is more pronounced when I'm ill." 

"Do you have some medicine? You should probably take something. Or do you want a cool rag?"

"I have just taken medication." The doctor gestured to his nightstand with a thick sniffle where there was a small collection of unmarked pill bottles. "And there's no need for cooling methods. A fever is a natural physiological response to infection. Nothing to be alarmed about." He swiped at his nose with his handkerchief, stifling a cough.

Will was skeptical, but before he could respond, Hannibal jerked forward at the waist, pressing the handkerchief to his face again:

"Gghnxt! Kppshht!" 

The expression on the doctor’s face indicated that he could have (and maybe should have) kept sneezing, but he harshly pinched his nose with a wet squelch and blew, forcing the tickle to subside. 

Will sighed and shook his head, then made a face upon noticing the state of the handkerchief Hannibal was using.

"That handkerchief is...sodden. It's practically dripping. I'll get you a fresh one. Where do you keep them?"

"I only have 3 others and they are in worse shape than this one. I've rather been running through them."

Will chuckled. "I can't imagine why." He rummaged through his pockets, finally producing a nearly full, cellophane-wrapped travel pack of Kleenex which he handed to the doctor.

Hannibal made a face. "I despise using these." 

"I'm not sure you have an option right now. These have to be better than your soaking wet cloth ones."

"Debatable," Hannibal muttered. Still, he shook one out and gingerly brought it to his face. He gave several thick, gurgling blows, productive to the point of starting to disintegrate the tissue. Seeing this, Hannibal made another face.

"You really need to use 2 or 3 of those at a time," Will said, trying not to laugh. "But let me get you a trash can."

"There is one in the master bathroom," Hannibal croaked, looking peeved and sounding more congested than ever. 

Will quickly fetched the bin while Hannibal tried again to blow his nose, using 4 Kleenex this time. The 2nd round of blowing was equally productive. When he was finished, Will held the bin out and Hannibal tossed the tissues in as if he were tossing in a dead rat. 

"This is most unsanitary Will," Hannibal muttered with a slushy sniffle, yet still pulling out more to continue wiping his streaming nostrils.

Will only chuckled. Hannibal was breathing slightly easier now, but his eyes were heavier than ever. 

"You should sleep, Dr--Hannibal. You don't have to stay awake for my sake. I'll be here when you wake up."

The doctor nodded, obediently closing his eyes with a sigh. 

Will didn't expect such a quick response, and for a moment he watched the doctor to ensure he was truly going to sleep. When it appeared he was, Will perched on a nearby chair, unsure what else to do. It seemed he was to be staying with Hannibal in the most literal sense, for he wasn’t about to go wandering around this house by himself.

Half an hour passed, the minutes dragging slowly. The doctor lay perfectly still the entire time, but Will knew he wasn't sleeping. His frame was too alert. Meanwhile Will, with nothing to do except scroll through his phone and listen to Hannibal's deep breathing, was struggling to stay awake and wishing he too had a bed. Killing time was only making him more groggy, and his head was beginning to ache. 

Getting fed up with it, Will went with his instincts and tried something else. Swallowing a yawn and rubbing his eyes, he navigated to the e-reader app on his phone and pulled up one of his favorite novels. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud: "The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten…."

As soon as there was another sound in the room, Hannibal began to visibly relax, angling his face toward Will even as he got more comfortable in the bed, though his eyes never opened. Slowly, slowly he sank deeper into the pillows as Will read on. Will sensed he was trying to follow the story, but it seemed the doctor's fatigue was overwhelming, especially since Will was trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. Within another 30 minutes, Hannibal's hand had gone limp around the Kleenex he was holding as he softly snored, sleeping at last. 

Will finished the chapter he was on, just to be sure the sick man wouldn't wake again, before he finally closed the book. His mouth was very dry and he needed a glass of water. Before he left the room though, he turned on the white noise machine he'd noted near the bed (he had a similar one in his own room), hoping some kind of continued noise would help Hannibal sleep longer. Will then tiptoed to the kitchen, pouring himself a huge glass of water right away. As he sat and drank it, he thought about what else he should do, for he didn't want to just continue sitting around. 

"What do you do for someone when they're sick?" he murmured to himself. Another moment later, he answered himself: "Make them soup, I guess." 

Hannibal's soup had been wonderful, but Will was no chef. He could prepare many basic things, but spices and seasonings, and thus soups, eluded him. He cringed at the thought of preparing something from scratch for a culinary master like Dr. Lecter. 

However, another idea occurred to him, and he smiled to himself as he considered it. It might work, but he would need to run an errand. He stood right away and strode to the front door, wanting to go and be back as quickly as possible. He only hoped Hannibal would sleep the whole time he was gone, for Will had promised to be there when he woke, and he intended to keep that promise.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hannibal didn't wake until many hours later, and Will was indeed at his side when he did. It was Hannibal's treacherous nose that did it. Will had noted subtle signs of him nearing consciousness again for a while, but the final straw was an uncontainable volley of sneezes:

"HRRIIZZSHH-uh! HhURRSHH-shuh! hrrRIIIZZSHHD! Hhh-KKRRCHHSSHHooo!"

The sighed exhale that followed bordered on a groan as that doctor shakily grabbed the tissues at his side and tended to his cherry-red nose yet again with several gurgling blows. Will had been at his side from the first sound, looking for any way to be useful. Eventually Hannibal met his gaze, taking a moment to survey the younger man. 

"You look tired, Will."

Will huffed a cheerless laugh. "You haven't doctored me enough yet this week?"

"A physician's nature doesn't change just because he's ill," Hannibal sniffled. "And you've also been ill. I don't want you to overtax yourself on my account."

"I'm fine. But you look tired too. How are you feeling?" 

Hannibal didn't reply immediately, seemingly taking inventory. A shaky breath caused him to cough harshly before he could speak, and Will winced in sympathy. 

"I feel thoroughly disgusting. And ill," Hannibal mumbled through congested-sounding consonants. "My head and chest feel achingly thick. Heavy." He put his own wrist to his forehead for a moment. "Feverish." 

"Here, you need to drink." Will handed the doctor a tall glass of ice water. Hannibal took it and drank it down with a grateful look, but the chill from the ice immediately caused him to cough into his fist yet again.

Will watched all of this, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm still sorry I got you sick, Hannibal. I hate seeing you like this."

Though Hannibal's eyes shone with fever, he eyed Will keenly. "This is not your fault. Illness is an expected part of the human experience. You must not blame yourself." It occurred to Will that congestion was not the only thing making Hannibal more difficult to understand--his Lithuanian accent was also far more pronounced than usual.

"I still feel terrible."

The doctor quirked an eyebrow at him, looking faintly amused. "What a coincidence. As I've just told you, so do I."

Will couldn't think how to respond, so they merely shared a wry smile. Then, without warning, Hannibal's torso whipped forward, and he exploded into another pair of thick, spraying sneezes:

"Hhht-KNNXT! hhnnxxt-CHUUHG!" Evidently his ability to stifle was weakening as his symptoms worsened. The sick doctor stayed hunched forward, blowing and wiping his raw nose for the hundredth time, looking utterly miserable as he shook the last few Kleenex from the package. 

"At least that's something I can help you with," Will said, nodding at the empty wrapper. He bent down and came back up with 2 new boxes of tissues. He opened one and handed it over. Hannibal took it reluctantly.

  "Those are the best ones you can get. They should be almost like real cloth."

"I rather doubt that," Hannibal muttered. "But I thank you nonetheless. They are sorely needed." 

"And I plan to take your cloth ones home and wash them and bring them back tomorrow. Including the one I still have. So you'll only have to deal with these for a bit longer," Will said with a little grin.

The doctor's eyes lit up in pleasure. "I would be most grateful for that."

"Is there anything else you'd like? Either now or tomorrow?"

Hannibal again coughed into his first before he spoke, sounding thoroughly phlegmy. "I should likely take some food. I'm feeling weaker than I ought to."

It was Will's turn to light up. "There's another coincidence… I have food ready for you. Some soup and stuff."

"I thought I smelled something simmering, even through this dreadful congestion. That explains why I'm suddenly hungry," Hannibal said with a thick sniffle, leaning back into his pillows. "Thank you for thinking of it. Though I would hardly call your predicting my needs a coincidence, but rather proof of your capabilities as a caretaker. Just something to think on.” The doctor gave him a pointed look even as he sniffled again. 

Will was now embarrassed and quickly moved to the doorway. "I'll go bring some for you now."

Hannibal let the subject drop and nodded weakly, closing his eyes as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Will hurried to the kitchen and ladled a bowl of chicken soup from the pot warming on the stove. He had the ingredients for grilled cheese ready as well, and a hot griddle waiting, so it was only a matter of minutes before he had a fresh, hot sandwich to accompany the soup. As a final touch, he peeled an orange and placed it on the plate with the sandwich, then grabbed the bottle of soda he'd bought, and transported it all to the sick room on a large tray.

Hannibal was clearly a bit taken aback upon seeing it all. "This is quite the spread, Will," he croaked. "Did you make all of this?"

"Define 'make', Will chuckled. "I turned the stove on, yes."

"The soup isn't yours then?"

"It's Campbell's chicken noodle, fresh from the can. The genuine, original sick day food. Grilled cheese made with the finest Kraft singles of course. An orange for the Vitamin C, no seeds. For the drink, we have ginger ale, the beverage that can cure any ailment. And for dessert, if you so desire, we also have hot chocolate."

Hannibal was speechless for a moment. Then, a tiny smile began to play across his features. "This is ...really something, Will. I haven't been served a meal quite like this in a very long time. I can't even remember the last time I had a cola." 

"Only the finest. Or at least the finest I could manage on short notice."

"You bought all of this just today?"

Will nodded. "This is what I used to like when I was sick. I figured I couldn't go wrong with classic comfort foods. I'm sorry I couldn't give you something higher quality. But I hope it still helps."

"Indeed." The doctor chuckled hoarsely. "This is quite satisfactory. I'm sure it will help. Thank you once again." Without further ado, the doctor dug into his feast.

To Will's surprise, the doctor easily finished not only the orange, but the soup and the sandwich as well, and seemed to enjoy them as much as could be expected. He was most skeptical of the ginger ale, but he finished half of that as well, pronouncing it "very interesting." Will also made sure he drank plenty of water to round it all out. Finally Hannibal pushed the tray away with a contented sound.

"In a practical sense, I always knew the restorative properties of chicken soup, but it's been many years since I experienced them first-hand," Hannibal managed, after blowing his streaming nose several times. "My throat and sinuses feel significantly better. As does my headache. Perhaps we should save the hot chocolate for tomorrow however, for I am comfortably full now." 

Will thought he was going to say more, for he paused oddly. Instead the doctor's breath hitched violently:

"Gihh-chuuh! Chnnggh!..." 

Only the first two in the fit were audible. He seemingly sneezed several more times, but he stifled them into oblivion, with only the movement of his head to indicate what was happening. Watching such forceful suppression was still painful, but it heartened Will slightly to know that Hannibal was feeling well enough after some food to worry about his dignity once more.

Finally the doctor ended his fit and fell back against the pillows with a weary sigh and a weak cough, flipping the hair off of his forehead yet again.

"That looked exhausting."

"Perhaps it would have been if I weren't exhausted to begin with," Hannibal mumbled, an arm over his face.

"Then you should sleep more."

Hannibal uncovered his eyes to meet Will's. "It would be terribly rude of me to sleep again while you are here."

Then I'll get ready to go. I'll clean up all of this then head out. Let you have some peace. But like I said, I'll be back tomorrow with your handkerchiefs." Will grabbed the tray, preparing to carry it to the kitchen. 

"Will?"

Will paused, turning around.

Hannibal looked slightly imploring. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind reading a bit more before you go? I was quite enjoying the story."

Will couldn't help but smile. "It would be my pleasure."

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 3: AU Part 2

I hate that I have no self-control and have to make multiple posts for this lolololol

On AO3.

Part 1

When Hanzo woke, he knew immediately that he was not alone.

His eyes snapped open and he lurched upright, disoriented and tense.

His surroundings were unfamiliar, a fact that filled him with certain dread. His last memory was of trying to leave the bed of snow he'd been pushed into, how the dragon had only allowed him to stand so that it could nestle him into its side and curl up as if for a long rest. He remembered the deep, content cadence of its sigh as it settled with its huge head on Hanzo's lap.

As cold as it was, smothered in the dragon's hold, he'd been oddly...warm. And while Hanzo was no one's pet or prisoner, he was not so foolish as to disturb such a fearsome creature when its mood was in such a mercurial state, weakened and tired as it was. He'd resigned himself to being a dragon's pillow and had fallen asleep right there, hopeful that he could slip away in the small hours of the morning.

But waking up in an entirely new place had not been part of the plan. He barely took in the dark, polished stone of the room he was in or the thick furs that covered him across the lavish four-poster bed.

His surroundings were terrible for their strangeness, but what was worse was the man seated on the bed beside him, legs crossed, watching him. It was hard to see in the scant light that poured through the window as the sun just barely began to rise, but he thought he could just detect a small smile on those bearded lips.

"Good morning," the man greeted in a low, pleasant tone.

Hanzo went rigid. His hand snapped down to his side, but his weapons were gone—of course.

He risked exposing himself, but allowing capture was worse.

He summoned his flames, of a mind to send the man across the room with a ball of fire before he could so much as twitch—but the moment his light banished the shadows from the man's face, Hanzo stilled.

...It was his eyes. Pale white, nearly translucent, but in the flickering pulse of Hanzo's flames, they shined with a breathtaking iridescence that shifted with countless colors.

Pale-skinned and broad-shouldered, muscular arms bared by his dark robes, thick black hair pushed back from his face and beard trimmed short—he truly was a stranger to Hanzo in every sense of the word.

But, that scar. Those eyes. Hanzo knew those eyes.

The man's smile grew slightly, as if he knew exactly what Hanzo was thinking, and he threaded his fingers together, planted his elbows on his spread knees and perched his chin atop his hands, as if to better study Hanzo.

"Do you recognize me, pyromancer?"

Hanzo pursed his lips, wary. But even when he glared harder, tried to see some sort of flaw or deception, his eyes continued to scream a single truth.

But he did not have to admit it.

"I—I am clearly unwell," Hanzo said instead.

Without taking his eyes off of the man, he backed up until he was at the edge of the bed and quickly stood, head darting around as he tried to get his bearings, find the door. He looked back to the stranger and curled his fingers into a fist, flames threatening on the horizon.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"As impressive as your fire magic is," the man answered, "You would have succumbed to the cold. I thought it best to bring you to my home."

His home? Just judging from the simple, yet refined furnishings and ornate, carved walls, Hanzo assumed he was in some sort of palace.

His brow furrowed. This was making less and less sense. Some traveling lord had stumbled upon Hanzo and had simply—taken him in? In what appeared to be his own chambers?

No nobleman was that kind or giving. Hanzo knew.

Hanzo's skin itched with the desire to flee. Unfamiliar surroundings, unfamiliar company—he did not have any wish to linger here, at the mercy of this strange man and his stranger (familiar) eyes.

"Whatever you intended by bringing me here, it does not matter." Hanzo's face hardened. "You will not keep me here."

"No," the man agreed softly, making Hanzo pause. He was still smiling. "I imagine you do not succumb to anyone's will but your own."

The words caused a flicker of uncertainty to pass through him, though he did not allow it to show on his face. Why was nothing about this man proceeding as he expected? If Hanzo woke up, kidnapped to some strange, impossible palace in a snow-plagued, forsaken mountain, he should be caged. His captor should be talking to him through the bars of a prison, in his personal dungeon, not casually and comfortably sitting on his bed while Hanzo threatened to burn him.

...Somehow, some way, this is a trick. It must be.

It felt safer not to speak, so Hanzo did not. His eyes darted to the door, waiting across the room and, unfortunately, behind the man.

"Your weapons are there," the man said, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm behind Hanzo, and indeed, when he warily glanced over his shoulder, he saw the overlooked table tucked into the corner of the room, where his blades had been laid neatly and carefully across a length of soft cloth. "Forgive me for taking the liberty, but I thought it best to divest you of them so you could rest more comfortably."

Hanzo glared at the man for a long moment. He only slept comfortably when he was armed these days.

Still, Hanzo accepted the invitation to take his things and he did so in quick, efficient movements, keeping the stranger in his line of sight at all times—not that it mattered, as the man did not so much as a twitch from the moment he'd awoken. His eyes tracked Hanzo without a blink and it was perhaps that which kept Hanzo on his guard. His utter stillness, the watching—Hanzo was rested, armed, and could think of a dozen ways to incapacitate this man in a few seconds, yet he felt overwhelmingly like an unwitting creature, soft and vulnerable, ignorant of the hunter in his midst, readying for the pounce.

Hanzo glanced at the door, had no more than thought of taking his first step towards the exit when the man spoke once more.

"Of course, you may leave whenever you wish," he said genially. "But you did not answer my question, pyromancer."

Hanzo's lips thinned. Uncertainty and unease blossomed in his chest.

"...no, I did not. I will not."

The stranger's head tilted and an expression of open amusement alighted on his face.

"Is it so terrible to accept?"

"It is impossible," Hanzo stressed, eyes narrowing. But, despite himself, his determination to fight faltered. He could not deny a certain curiosity, for all that he did not believe in magic such as this.

The man shrugged, affable as ever. It made Hanzo glare at him even more fiercely. It was irksome, how agreeable he was being...

Finally, the man moved, gave his back to Hanzo as he swung his legs off the bed and rose. Hanzo tensed when the man faced him and approached.

"That is far enough," Hanzo said in warning, raising two burning fists when the man was just outside of arm's reach.

"I have sheltered you and returned your weapons," the man pointed out. "Can you not accept I mean you no harm?"

"That remains to be seen," Hanzo replied, stiff.

Still, the man only seemed amused. He placed a palm on his breast, directly over his heart, and bowed, deeply.

"Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Kuai Liang."

A strange name for a strange man. It was oddly fitting.

Kuai Liang rose and those pale eyes of his fixed on Hanzo with the same intensity that had yet to lessen since Hanzo had first met them.

"May I know your name, pyromancer?"

Hanzo almost refused him, simply on principle. But...Kuai Liang had sheltered him in his home, had given him back his weapons, and he had shown no sign of wishing harm upon him.

It went against every instinct within him, but slowly, warily, Hanzo lowered his arms as the flames in his hands gutted, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin.

"...Hanzo. Hanzo Hisashi."

Kuai Liang's eyes brightened with pleasure.

"Hanzo Hisashi," he repeated. The way he seemed to savor it—Hanzo could feel his hackles rising once more. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Kuai Liang stepped to the side, gestured with an open palm to the door. "Allow me to escort you," he said. "I'm afraid you will be easily lost without a guide."

Hearing that this building was that great a size did nothing to ease Hanzo's unease, but he supposed he had no choice.

"Very well."

Kuai Liang smiled.

Hanzo had hoped for a quick, silent walk, and to be able to put this entire strange encounter from his mind forever. Instead, when they'd only just left Kuai Liang's chambers, his stomach gave a loud, insistent cry.

Hanzo kept his gaze firmly on the ground, mortified as Kaui Liang turned to him in a sharp, surprised movement.

After a slight pause, Kuai Liang offered, "I have food if you wish—"

"No." Hanzo took a deep breath, tried to will back the rise of heat he could feel on his face. It was more important to leave this place. He could hunt for something once he was gone. "I am fine."

And, of course, his body chose that moment to betray him once more with another growl, sudden and painful enough he could not check the urge to hold his aching stomach. He could not remember the last time he had a decent, filling meal...

"I'm afraid I must insist," Kuai Liang said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I would be a poor host if I did not see you fed and prepped for your long journey down the mountain.”

Hanzo attempted to protest, but it was a losing battle and he was forced to follow after Kuai Liang, lest he truly be lost in his vast palace.

It was harder to remember the urgent need to be gone from this place when the smell of cooked meat grew stronger the further they went, and then impossible when Kuai Liang opened the door to a small cooking room, where a large flank of meat was still roasting over an open fire against the far wall.

The smell was heavenly and Hanzo was briefly hypnotized by the sight of hot, sizzling fat dripping from the meat, how it fell into the fire with a soft hiss and caused new bursts of the incredible aroma to permeate the room.

Perhaps...there was no harm in eating—so that he would not collapse on his hike, of course. It was only sensible to accept a meal when it was offered freely.

He tried not to seem too eager when he sat at the small wooden table Kuai Liang beckoned him to, but when Kuai Liang carved a generous portion of meat onto a large platter and served it to him, his smile twitched, threatening to grow wider at whatever expression Hanzo had.

It was slightly embarrassing, being caught so obviously, but Hanzo did not care the moment the meat first touched his tongue. Hot, tender venison, succulent and delicious. If he were a weaker man, he might weep.

For a while, there was only silence as he ate. It was not until he'd partially satiated his aching stomach that he realized Kuai Liang had not served himself.

He glanced up, unnerved to find Kuai Liang watching him, chin propped in one hand, a slight smile still lingering on his lips.

He appeared so...satisfied, by the sight of Hanzo eating. It made Hanzo freeze.

He glared.

"...Stop watching me," Hanzo demanded.

Kuai Liang's smile widened, but he acquiesced, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He tilted his head back against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, looked for all the world as if he were simply meditating.

The way he kept instantly accomodating Hanzo—it was very annoying.

Hanzo resumed eating but did not stop glaring at Kuai Liang, trying—in vain—to puzzle him out. If Kuai Liang was aware of his staring, he did not seem bothered by it in the least.

This vast palace, Kuai Liang's own status, seemingly that of a man of wealth and power—he did not make sense. In Hanzo's travels, he had never heard of such a person having domain over this corner of the land, and yet here he was.

Who are you, truly?

His curiosity could not be denied, no matter how much he tried to quell it.

"Where are the people?" Hanzo finally asked.

It was perhaps not his most pressing question, but it was the one that was safer to ask. Down the labyrinthine halls to this modest cook's area, Hanzo had not seen nor heard so much as a whisper of another soul. Even here, in what was clearly a servant's domain, there was no one else to be found. Yet, a palace so large would need a large staff to maintain it.

Kuai Liang's eyes opened. "There are none."

Hanzo frowned, chews slowing, but Kuai Liang did not take back his words, just watched Hanzo back.

"...You live here by yourself?"

Kuai Liang inclined his head.

"How is that possible?"

Finally, Kuai Liang glanced away from him. His eyes dropped and his entire demeanor was suddenly—dampened, somehow. A subtle sort of sadness crept over Kuai Liang and it made Hanzo forget all about the sharp hunger pains that had burrowed into the pit of his stomach.

"Like you, I am the last of my kind."

...Oh. It was no secret that Hanzo's people were long gone—hunted to the brink of extinction for nothing more than sport. Mercenaries and outlaws, lowlifes and lords alike had participated in the massacre, eager to boast their fighting skills and claim the prestige of slaying an exotic, powerful pyromancer. If any of Hanzo's people still walked the lands, Hanzo had not met them. He hoped he never would. They were safer—he was safer, alone.

A life of constant movement, never settling anywhere, never staying in one town long enough for anyone to learn his name—it was a life he'd resigned himself to, one he thought, perhaps, suited him, even, but there were times when he felt the aching bite of loneliness. Of a muted, mourning despair that he would pass from this world without a single soul to notice his absence.

It was not a life he would wish on anyone.

"I...I am sorry," Hanzo finally said. At least he traveled, could outrun his feelings when they threatened to unmake him completely. To walk the same empty halls, day after day, ceaselessly reminded of a time they were full of life—he shied from even imagining it.

Kuai Liang blinked and a rueful smile replaced the understated, melancholic expression. Somehow, the smile made Hanzo's chest ache more.

"It was a long time ago," Kuai Liang dismissed.

Hanzo was not placated. He looked straight into Kuai Liang's eyes.

"But it is still difficult," he observed quietly, and Kuai Liang's smile, absurdly, stretched just a little bigger.

"You see right through me."

He stood, took Hanzo's demolished plate and returned to the roasting spit.

"No man is a fortress, and I am afraid I am no exception to this rule."

His voice was soft and steady as he refilled Hanzo's plate with another generous portion, but even when he set the dish before him, Hanzo could not move his eyes from Kuai Liang, aware of how something more lingered in the air, the same something that had remained unspoken since he'd awoken.

Kuai Liang did not return to his seat. He stood, looking down at Hanzo, and the impression that his next words would be important grew.

"I rarely leave my home. I hunt what I need and want for little else. But I have grown weary of solitude. And, if you'll forgive my forwardness," and here Kuai Liang broke eye contact, straightened, and crossed his arms behind his back. He took a moment, and Hanzo found himself all but holding his breath.

"I came down from the mountain in search of a mate." Kuai Liang's pale eyes met his, and the earlier look of determination intensified. "And I have found one. You."

A ringing silence stretched.

Hanzo's mouth opened, closed. Opened again. But there were no words. He could not think of a single thing he could say to such a proclamation.

His face felt hot.

Kuai Liang's head tilted. "Have I broken you?" he asked, amused.

His tone finally snapped Hanzo out of his shocked stupor and he stood, his chair scraping loudly against the wood floor.

"I—You—NO."

"We are well-suited for one another," Kuai Liang argued.

"You know nothing about me and—" Abruptly, Hanzo realized how completely absurd this conversation was. "Absolutely not."

"I know that you are brave, honorable, and compassionate." When Hanzo opened his mouth to protest, Kuai Liang stepped closer, just past the bounds of propriety, but Hanzo could not muster the will to burn him. "It would have been easier to leave me to die, but you intervened on my behalf, and even tended to my wounds. What more proof do I need of your worthiness?"

Hanzo stared at Kuai Liang, stricken. He had been ignoring the obvious, glaring fact that had been shouting at him since he'd first met Kuai Liang's eyes, but now that truth refused to be ignored.

His brow furrowed and he stared into Kuai Liang's eyes, wished he could doubt his own, but could not.

"You...you really are the dragon from before..." It was impossible, ridiculous—but the evidence was too plain to ignore.

Kuai Liang smiled. "I knew you were the one the moment we looked at one another." Another step closer, where their chests nearly touched, and Hanzo told himself he would push Kuai Liang away and run—in just a moment. "My ice, it can be unpleasant for a normal human. And in moments of passion, even harmful."

Kuai Liang raised his hand, slowly, tentatively, and though a part of Hanzo's mind, defensive and wary, screamed that he use his flames, now, he did not want to harm Kuai Liang.

The gentle, cool touch of Kuai Liang's fingers brushed across the stubble on his cheek, whisper-soft.

"But with your abilities, you could withstand me." Kuai Liang's eyes fell, hooded and dark with desire. His gaze seemed to pierce straight through. "Yes, you could withstand me well. You are very strong."

"We are complete opposites," Hanzo argued, because clearly he was the only one who had not taken leave of his senses.

"Opposites, yes," Kuai Liang agreed. "But also equals. Compliments. I would have it no other way."

"Well, I will not have you," Hanzo claimed hotly, and his eyes narrowed in a fierce glare.

Far from seeming dismayed by his refusal, Kuai Liang only watched Hanzo as if he were an intriguing puzzle.

"You find me unsuitable in some way?" he asked. "Or, perhaps, you bear the claim of another?"

"I—" It would have been better, to lie, but that was one skill Hanzo had never possessed. "That is not—"

Triumph surged to Kuai Liang's gaze. "If I must prove myself, you need only say so. I can offer you much."

Hanzo finally pushed away Kuai Liang's touch with a sweep of his arm and took a few steps back. He would not hear any more.

"I do not want anything from you. I do not belong here, with you, in—that way. Whatever you believe you see in me, you are mistaken."

"I see only that which you have shown me." Kuai Liang watched him steadily, so sure. "You could have a home here. You would no longer have to hide who you truly are, or be forced to run any longer. You could be free."

Hanzo sucked in a sharp breath, shook his head harshly in the next instant. "You—you can not promise that."

"I can," Kuai Liang simply said.

He pushed Hanzo's chair out of his way, closed the distance between them once more. Hanzo flinched away the first time Kuai Liang reached for him, but Kuai Liang only paused, waited patiently, before resuming the movement. And the look in his eyes, gentle yet firm, kept Hanzo still when he took Hanzo's hand.

Kuai Liang raised Hanzo's hand, placed his palm atop it so he cradled him in his grip like something precious. Hanzo could not recall ever being touched in such a way. He wanted to hate it, but he did not.

"A few days," Kuai Liang proposed, voice a low, beseeching murmur. "Stay with me here, for just a few days. Let me show you what it could be like to share a life together. If you still wish to leave after that, I will respect your wishes. I will take you down the mountain myself."

An automatic denial sprung to his lips, but one look at Kuai Liang's eyes—pleading, soft, and filled with lonely, naked longing—killed the words before he could draw breath.

Hanzo looked away, to the strong, slightly cool and affectionate clasp of Kuai's hands around his. The weariness he always battled in his long journey, heart-sick from constant flight and avoidance, bloomed to an almost unbearable degree, threatened to swallow him completely.

"...A few days?" Hanzo eventually asked, voice unsure and wary.

Kuai Liang squeezed his hand and hope brightened his gaze.

"That is all I ask."

If Hanzo had not been wavering before, that expression would have unmade him; never, had he been beneath the force of such great, bare hope. To say anything else would be cruel.

"...Very well." He darted a quick look at Kuai Liang, glanced away immediately at the sight of his warm, wide smile. "Do not make me regret this," Hanzo warned.

Kuai Liang raised his arm, only smirked when Hanzo's eyes went wide, and placed a gentle, unbearably lingering kiss on the back of his fingers.

"I would not dream of it, Hanzo Hisashi."