#but man I’m glad whenever I can find some genuinely quiet time for myself

[willowfoot]

The older I get, the more sensitive I feel like I am to sensory stimuli/overload, especially hearing… I wonder if that’s somehow a consequence of aging (?), my ADHD meds (??), burnout, or even just General Awareness that I’m likely autistic which makes me more cognizant of potential sensory triggers lol

[strangelysamantha]

hi can i request a blurb or a whole imagine where jj rlly likes reader but she’s a kook and his friends don’t like her that much, 💗 thank u

hatred runs out ❀

jj maybank x kook!reader.

warnings: swearing, hateful feelings, that’s all.

words: 2,015.

summary: you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

request? yes!

a/n: my ask box is open, send away! i’m working on multiple imagines that should come later! like and comment if you enjoy this. thanks for the request! <3

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

“she’s a kook jj, i mean, you aren’t seriously crushing on her? are you?” john b looked up at jj, and frowned when he saw he wasn’t laughing. “john b, i don’t know what it is man, but she’s different. i just know it.” john b cackled, “she’s not different. she’s a kook, i mean come on… she hangs out with topper. that says enough.” jj rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. “you just don’t like her because she associates with sarah’s ex.” he shakes his head. “no, that’s not the reason jj. your mind is just fogged up, because you clearly aren’t thinking straight.” jjs anger was boiling up, and before he did something he would regret, he decided to just walk off.

jj stormed away. he continued walking despite john bs attempt of calling out to him to stop. he was trying to clear his mind, he genuinely liked you, so much that he felt the need to tell john b. jj wouldn’t usually be this upset, but when john b of all people disapproves because you are a kook, when the girl he is dating is sarah, it angers him. after ten minutes of air, and chilling out, he returns to john bs house.

once inside he sees you and kie. he was completely caught off guard. “oh? you’re here.” jj spoke to you, causing you to look up. “hey jj. yeah, i decided to stop by before my shift. do you want to join us? we’re playing uno.” your smile immediately lifts a smile to jj's face. “sure i’ll play some uno.” he approaches the table, and you deal him seven cards.

kie was the only one who semi liked you. obviously she wasn't ecstatic about you, but she was open to tolerating you. as time went on, she started to enjoy your company, she realized you weren’t that bad, and despite being a kook, the two of you related on many things.

“first card is a yellow two. jj can go first.” you stare at him, waiting patiently for his move. his heart was beating fast, as he tried to pick a card. as he placed a yellow seven, john b walked in. “why is she here?” you didn’t miss the sharp tone that lingered in john bs voice. “oh, i decided to stop by. i’m sorry, i should have asked.” you stand up, reaching for your jacket. “that’s right. you should have asked. you can’t just show up to someone’s house randomly. it’s weird.” you frown, not realizing until now that he didn’t trust you enough to even be considered an acquaintance.

“she’s welcomed here whenever she wants to be, john b.” jj spoke up for you. kie backing him up by softly saying yeah. “no. she’s not. it’s my house jj, and i don’t appreciate you inviting random kook strangers over. she’s not a pogue. she’s not like us. meaning; she’s not welcomed here.” you frown at his words. you quickly feel out of place and you rush to the door, pulling your shoes on. “i’m going to go.” you spoke up, grabbing your purse. “good. see you!” john b exclaimed, watching you walk out the front door and down the steps.

“what the fuck bro?” jj stared at john b waiting for an explanation. “what?” jjs eyes narrowed on his, he couldn’t be serious could he? “why do you always do that shit bro? i mean honestly. what makes her any different from sarah?” john b shakes his head. “don’t even compare them. they aren't similar.”

jj scoffs, “oh they’re not?” jj begins to expose the similarities but john b shuts it down immediately. “jj i’m not going to explain myself to you anymore. i don’t like her, and i don’t want her over here.” jj groans in frustration. “if only you got to know her man, then you’d know how amazing she is. i mean ask kie. kie thought she was annoying at first and now they can be in the same room without being in a yelling match.” kie nodded, listening in but staying mostly silent.

“fine. the only reason i’m agreeing is because you hate kooks too, which means you might be right. about her.” john b sighs, giving up. “thank you. please, even if you decide you still don’t like her, please just consider getting to know her.” he pleads, “i already said i will.” john b rolled his eyes, jj smiles, “okay. we should invite her to hang out with us after pope gets off work.” they all nod in agreement, planning something so they could see if they wanted you to join their party.

the pogues had planned on inviting you to the wreck, and then to a mini trip on the hms pogue, for a boat ride. you were ecstatic, excited that they wanted to actually hang out with you. you think hard, trying to find a perfect outfit. you didn’t want to overdress, or underdress, and you didn’t want to look bad. after deciding on a simple outfit and swimsuit, you head to the wreck.

you see the group in the back corner. when you walk inside, jj is the first to spot you. a smile spreads to his lips, as he waves you over to join them. you sit down by john b, jj sitting on the other side of you. “hey.” you say shyly, not entirely sure if this whole thing was a set up. you were hopeful it wasn’t, but you could never be too sure.

“hey, thanks for coming.” pope said. you smile brightly at him, “thanks for inviting me.” pope nods. your stomach was hurting by how nervous you were. jj made small talk with you, as you guys were waiting for kiara. you weren’t entirely sure what they were planning, you were just glad to be a part of it.

“alright guys. here’s the scraps.” kiara walked to your table, setting down a bowl of fries, and then a plaster of burgers. you smile softly, jj and john b immediately grabbing the food. you wait, not entirely hungry since you ate before you left. jj offered you a bite of his burger, “oh thanks!” you laugh slightly as you bite from where he had bitten, enjoying the taste, “hey you actually have mustard right there.” you smiled as you spread mustard on jj’s face. you couldn’t help the giggles erupting from you, as jj’s mouth opened wide in shock. “oh really? well you seem to have some ketchup-” his finger rubbed ketchup on your cheek. “all over…” he gestured to your face. “hey! give me a napkin.” you ask for a napkin and jj laughs. “no.” you immediately look over to pope, giving him a smile. “may i have a napkin?” you ask. he smiles, “sorry jay.” he hands you a napkin and you wipe the ketchup off your face.

“thank you pope. i like you. unlike some people at this table…” you look at jj and he’s just smiling like a maniac. pope laughs. “glad that you think so highly of me just because i handed you a napkin.” you nod, eating a french fry before glancing at john b. he was awfully quiet. “john b?” you question. he looks up at you. “yes?” annoyance already rolling off his tongue. “are you okay?” he rolled his eyes. “yes. even if i wasn’t, i wouldn’t confide in you about it.” you frown.

you wait a second, trying to think of how to lighten the mood. “you know what we need to do?” you look from pope to jj, to finally john b, poking at his arm. “what?” john b looks up at you. you tap jj’s stomach, indicating to him to stand up. he stands up, making room for you to be able to move out of the booth. you poke john bs side. “we need to dance.” you grab john b's hand, doing anything possible to lighten his mood. his frown was still hung on his lips. he hesitated and followed you to the middle of the restaurant. jj and pope stay back at the booth.

you lean over the counter, asking kie to play a song she knows john b would enjoy. “john b. you just need to calm down, and relax. you just need to dance like nobody's watching.” he stares at you, shocked. “it’s okay. i’ll do it with you.” his favorite song started playing, and you began to awkwardly dance. he laughed at your ridiculous moves. he held back from joining in, he didn’t want you to win. you began to break out dancing, and he can’t help but laugh. you look up as someone enters the restaurant. a smile flies to your face. “sarah!!!” she runs up to you.

“hey!!! i didn’t know you guys would be here.” you smile, still swaying slightly to the music. “sarah i would have definitely invited you if i knew you were free.” she nodded at your words. “all good girly, we still good for monday?” you smile, “of course.” john b stared, confused by this whole interaction. not only did you know sarah, you were actually friends with her. you had plans to hang out with her. maybe he was wrong, maybe jj was the one who was right. maybe, you actually were similar to sarah.

“do you want to join us?” you ask, sarah grabbed your hand spinning you around before breaking out in a fit of laughter. “stay another minute here with you losers… i’ll pass.” you jokingly act offended, “hey!” she shakes her head. “only kidding. i definitely would, but my dad wants me home. he claims he has a fun night planned but it’ll probably just consist of watching a movie and eating from here.” you nod. “well have fun with that.” you spoke, she smiles, “you know i always do.” you roll your eyes at her joke, she walks away grabbing her to go food before she disappears from the restaurant. “hey i’m gonna go take a sip of water.” you move back to the booth, jj refusing to move so you end up sitting on his lap. you sip water as you catch your breath from dancing.

john b heads straight to kiara. “how long have they been friends?” he asked abruptly. “her and sarah?” kie questions, pointing at you. he nods, “yeah.” kiara laughs, “they’ve been buddies for years. they didn’t get super close until a month or two ago.” he nods at her words. he was still shocked. he looked back at the booth, seeing you sat on jjs lap, his hands held firmly around your waist. you were speaking to pope, and he actually looked interested in what you were saying.

john b had just realized that he had the wrong idea of who you were. whether sarah made him realize that or not, he definitely didn’t want to hold a grudge with you, especially if sarah was your friend. john b walked back to the table, his attention on you. kiara had followed swiftly behind him. “let’s raise a toast.” the group was confused but they lifted their cups of water anyway. “to the newest member of our club.” his glass pointed in your way, his cup clashing with yours. you smile. john b was the only one you were worried about, and now he was saying he welcomes you.

the group cheers as you smile brightly. “thank you guys! i’m so excited for our future adventures.” you drink from your glass. the group waited for kiara’s shift to end before taking the hms pogue for a ride. you were sat by jj, pope to your left. kiara and john b talking as they directed the boat.

“well, welcome. you made it.” pope smiles, laughing slightly. “i did, isn’t that crazy. john b hated me like 6 hours ago.” jj laughs, “classic john b for you.” you nod at his words. pope, jj, john b, kiara, and you, talked all night, watching the stars as you guys got closer. it was so much fun, and today’s events allowed you to become a permanent group member.

<3

[nationalharryleague]

The Busy Bean

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Coworkers to lovers AU

Word count: 5.6K

A/N: Hi all! This is my entry for Sadie’s (@meetmeinfleetwood) To Lovers Fic Challenge!! As always, many thanks to Mia (@hardcandy-harry) and Lu (@meetmymouth​ even tho shes taking a little break lol) for being wonderful betas!! I really love it and I hope you enjoy it too! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think (or anything else lol) in my ask! 

***

The first day at a new job is a universally terrifying experience.

You can’t sleep the night before, head full of nightmare scenarios of evil customers and mean bosses, and a swirl of anxiety continues to bubble in the pit of your stomach, refusing to slow or calm. There's a part of you that prays they will call and tell you that they don’t need your help anymore, despite how bad you need the money. But the call never comes, and the next day you stand in front of the building, desperately trying to take deep breaths and slow your heart rate, bracing yourself for whatever is to come whenever you enter.

This is where Y/N was today, in a mess of shaky palms with slight blue bags under her eyes from a lack of sleep that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard her concealer tried. She stood in front of the large plate glass window of the cafe, sneaking glimpses and trying to prepare herself for whatever awaited before she actually reached to take the door handle. With a glance at her watch that signaled it was time for her to arrive, she took one last deep breath and entered the small but cozy space.

The cafe itself wasn’t open yet, devoid of customers with only a few lights behind the counter on, but it was full of the delightful and familiar smell of coffee that swirled around her head. The wall to her left was an exposed brick that had been painted white with a long table running along it with stools tucked underneath and a long cafe counter ran the length of the shop to her right. The far back wall of the shop was a giant book shelf with books stacked from the bottom of the top, arranged in a rainbow pattern along each shelf. The store was unbearably charming.

“Hello?” she felt herself call out softly into the empty space. Her voice came out slightly timid, her anxious mind not giving her lips full permission to speak.

She listened to a shuffling and a distant voice muttering “shit,” that seemed to be coming from a door that sat behind the counter where the few lights had been turned on. Before long, a man with curly hair popped his head out from the back hallway, giving her a wide dimpled smile. “Just give me a minute!” he said, holding up his pointer finger for a second, before disappearing back into the hall. After a few more moments of shuffling and muffled cursing, he reappeared. His face held the same dimpled grin as before.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, reaching out a hand for her to shake across the counter. “Boss man said you would be starting today.”

“That’s me,” she spoke gently, still apprehensive in the new surroundings. She placed her hand in his and he shook it with a friendliness she hadn’t expected from her first couple minutes in a new work space. His hand was warm and his nails were painted a bright and sunshiny yellow.

“I’m Harry. It’s great to meet you!” His voice was deep, but light and enthusiastic, far too excited for the early morning calm that she had been reveling in on her walk to the shop.

She decided quickly that he looked like a ‘Harry’ and that his name matched his cheerful disposition. His green eyes shined, even in the relatively dim early morning light that illuminated the room through the front window, and they held a disarming and calming quality that slowed her heart rate for the first time since she had woken up.

“You too.” She forced a smile onto her lips, hoping to conceal the first day jitters that ran through her system.

“Don’t worry about your first day,” he read her like a book. “Everyone here is very nice and you have the best trainer in the world.”

“I’m assuming that’s you?” she questioned, letting out a light chuckle.

“Well, of course it is.”

She was slightly taken aback by the peculiar, yet undeniably charming, man that stood across the counter from her. He was dressed in a loose fitting black sweater that looked cozy and soft, paired with wide-legged tan slacks, all covered with a dark green apron that had the cafe’s logo on the chest. The Busy Bean was embroidered in a light yellow sitting above a mug with a bumble bee on it; it was charming and cute, fitting in well with the plethora of plants and flowers that filled the cafe.

He must have noticed her staring at the logo. “You like the name?” he asked her, pointing at the logo that sat on his chest. She nodded softly, a smile finding its way on to her lips. “We’re going to be very busy beans in about,” he paused to check his watch, “thirty minutes when we open. So put this on,” he slid her very own apron across the counter, “and let's get ready.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said they were going to be busy.

While the shop had intentionally started her on a Saturday morning when it was usually a bit slower, the morning rush came in and threw her for a tizzy. She took orders and ran them to tables for what seemed like hours, kept far away from the coffee bar as she was unsure of how to make all of the drinks yet. But thankfully, she wasn’t alone.

Soon after opening, another woman arrived, wearing the same dark green apron that matched Y/N and Harry’s. She had long dark hair that fell to the small of her back and in gentle waves and glowing mocha skin with golden eyes. She introduced herself as Isla, with a warm and friendly smile, and stationed herself behind the counter, making drink after drink that smelled intoxicatingly delicious. Y/N thanked god, or whatever was out there, that she and Harry had someone else to help them out while customers flowed in and out of the shop.

Harry hung by her side for the entirety of the morning rush, carefully watching her every move, and gently redirecting her when she seemed to make a mistake. He was kind and she could tell that he genuinely wanted her to learn, not just to do a job well for efficiency’s sake. There was never a trace of frustration on his features, just patience and good will.

Around noon, the flood of patrons looking for their morning coffee began to slow, finally giving Y/N an opportunity to rest. She flopped herself down on a stool that sat behind the counter and released a long sigh, stretching her neck and slumping her shoulders. She was met by sympathetic giggles coming from her two new co-workers.

“Honey,” Isla began with a hint of pity in her voice, “that was nothing.”

“What did I get myself into?” Y/N chuckled through a groan, putting her face in her hands out of exhaustion.

“I promise it gets easier,” Harry chimed in, always one to calm someone’s anxieties. “You just need to get into the swing of things.”

“What I need to do is learn how to make all the fancy coffees that people keep asking me for,” she said, peeking through her fingers at her still amused coworkers.

A look was passed between the two of them, Isla eventually moving out of the way and motioning for Harry to take over the coffee bar. “Come on Baby Barista, lets teach you some of the basics.”

His nickname for her made her release a loud laugh, immediately stifling it to a few giggles when she realized she had caused a few patrons to look up and over at her. Her cheeks warmed instantly, embarrassed for disturbing them, and she added another item to the list of things she was learning never to do again with customers in the store.

He guided her over to the counter full of machinery including pots of coffee, hot water, an espresso machine, and more equipment she couldn’t even identify. He spoke to her gently and gave her all his attention, carefully talking her through how to make a few of the most ordered drinks. Other than almost burning herself a couple times, she was starting to get the hang of it. She had a very hard time wiping the smile off of her face after Harry taste tested each one and gave his seal of approval.

“Not bad, Baby Barista,” he complimented with a dimpled smile and a slight nod after she handed him what she believed was a caramel latte. She reveled in his praise, wanting to do her job well, but also loving his approval and the nickname he had now assigned to her.

They did this coffee lesson for a few more hours, as the shop slowed to almost a complete stop as they got closer to closing time. Isla had headed home and there were only a few stragglers left that had spent their days working or reading in the cafe as the sun began to set around 5pm, with closing at 6. Harry diligently continued to teach her as much as he could in one day as they began to close up the shop and get ready for the next day. He was easy to talk to and their conversation seemed to flow effortlessly as they swept and did dishes.

“So, what brought you to London?” he asked after a short lul, looking at her with an inquisitive look, the ever present dimple on his cheek and grin on his lips disarming her easily.

“Oh, you know,” she stumbled over her words slightly, “I just needed a fresh start.”

“No mysterious or heartbreaking backstory I need to know about?” he quipped, a questioning eyebrow perched on his forehead. She let out another loud laugh, deciding not to quiet herself this time as there was only one customer left in the store.

“No,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she swept. “I got dumped in a small town and needed to get away from them. It was like they were around every corner.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but he just had a way of pulling the truth from her. “I always dreamed of living here and the breakup was the kick in the ass I needed to actually do it.”

“I’m glad you made it here, but I’m sorry about the breakup.”

“Don’t be,” she smiled. “Definitely for the best.”

“Okay, then I won’t be.” His eyes had a mischievous glint behind them, but she couldn’t exactly place what he was getting at.

They worked together in a comfortable silence after that, making sure everything was ready for the morning to come and clean from the day that was leaving. Y/N covered a yawn as Harry told her that she was done for the day.

As she clocked out and gathered her things, she heard Harry’s voice as she moved towards the exit. “Do you live close by? I can give you a ride if you need. Don’t want you having to walk too far in the dark.” His offer was sweet and made her smile.

“I’m pretty close and I like the walk.” She grabbed onto the handle of the front door but couldn’t make herself leave just yet. “Thank you for being so patient with me today, Harry,” she said looking back towards him and connecting their eyes. She tried to convey her emotions to him on her face, something she wasn’t always very good at.

“No problem. We’re happy to have you here, Baby Barista.”

With a final nod and a light flush to her cheeks, she set off down the street towards her new flat. It wasn’t a long walk, just long enough to get a little chill in her bones from the cold winter air and to turn her nose into a small icicle.

She reflected on her first day as she walked. She liked Isla, and really liked Harry. And while she was very busy, it was good busy, not the type of busy that depletes your energy and makes you want to fall over at the end of the day. It was a kind of busy that kept her on her toes, ready to learn, and develop a skill.

Her thoughts were broken through when she noticed the old beat up red car that seemed to be following her down the road. It drove slowly, as if it didn’t want it to see her, and took extra long at intersections like it was hoping to stay behind her. She took a turn she didn’t need to at the next block, and another after that, and when the car continued to follow, her heart began to race.

She thought about running, or going up to a pedestrian and asking for help; she even considered calling her mum just to stay on the phone with her until she got home. It wasn’t until she recognized the green eyes and dimples behind the wheel that her heart began to slow. She turned around fully then, making eye contact with the man who had been following her, and crossing her arms in front of her and shooting a questioning eyebrow up at him.

He wore a look of shame as his car slowed to a stop in the street next to her.

“Excuse me sir,” she said sarcastically, bending over to look in the window and get a better look at his embarrassed rosey cheeks. “Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t being a creep, I promise,” he quickly defended. “This neighborhood gets a little dangerous at night and I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” He looked panicked and frazzled, clearly not planning on being caught. It was the first time she had seen him without a smile on his face all day.

“Harry, you were the thing that was making me feel unsafe,” she said, playfully scolding him through giggles. She watched as his face fell in a flood of relief that she wasn’t angry with him. “If you told me that you were going to follow me home anyway, I would have taken the ride.”

“I’m sorry.” He hung his head and ran a stressed hand through his curls.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she smiled softly. “I appreciate you caring enough to make sure I got home.” She rested a hand on the passenger side door handle. “And now you’re going to drive me the rest of the way home to make up for making me get off my normal route,” she laughed as she pulled on the handle and settled herself into the passenger seat.

The car was old, but clean and it smelled like the cologne he wore that she had picked up on a few times throughout the day. He was quiet, hanging his head like a child who had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar, as she directed him towards her flat. “I’m sorry, again,” was all he said when he pulled up in front of the building.

“Don’t be,” she smirked, using the same words she had earlier in the day when discussing her breakup. She exited the car, giving him a wave, and a call of “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before entering the building and shutting the door behind her.

***

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N became fast friends.

After about a week of begging, she finally broke down and allowed him to pick her up and drive her home from work every day. Their morning rides consisted of the perpetually peppy and excitable morning person in the driver's seat blabbering on about something he saw on the news while he was getting ready or going on about a new book he was reading, while she would settle her still sleepy head on the window and rest her eyes for just a few more minutes before their day was forced to begin. At the end of the day, Harry was the quiet one, letting her recount the day (usually complaining about unruly customers or people that would sit and steal their wifi all day without ordering anything), while he drove her at a painfully slow pace to her flat. He always waited until she got inside the building, even asking her to text him when she got inside her tiny flat.

“I just want to make sure you got inside safe,” he would argue when she teased him about it.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she would rebut.

“Then I’m not coming to help you anymore when you can’t figure out the milk steamer, Baby Barista.”

“Don’t threaten me with that stupid milk steamer. It has so many buttons you need to work for NASA to understand it,” she would groan, only to be met with a teasing glare from the curly man next to her. “Fine, I take it back,” she would always concede.

His protectiveness was not unwelcome to her. If she was being honest with herself, Harry was the only real friend she had made since she made the move to London and she was quickly becoming heart crushingly lonely. She took any care that anyone in the new and scary city was willing to give her with open arms.  

He was her only friend. They got on so well, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the extra few minutes she spent with him every morning and evening in the car. Maybe even a little too much.

At work, there was usually a chorus of laughter and giggles coming from their direction as Harry had taken her under his wing while she learned the ropes. There were days they would stay late after they had been off the clock making drinks over and over again; him patiently teaching, and her desperately trying to learn. There were definitely a few failures along the way, but they were always met with a teasing joke and then careful step-by-step directions on how she could fix it.

Technically Harry was her boss, store manager to be specific, but they worked alongside each other seamlessly, him never barking orders at her or using a harsh or authoritative tone.

Until today.

Y/N had been talking to one of their regulars, Robby, after she delivered an Americano to his table in the corner while it was particularly slow. Robby came in often, always shooting Y/N a bright smile and peppering compliments into their quick conversations. He was gorgeous, she couldn’t deny that; he had deep brown skin and an athletic build that she was sure was muscular under the thick sweater he was wearing to protect him from the cold. But he wasn’t her type, a little too arrogant and self-obsessed for her liking, always figuring out a way to turn their quick conversations back to himself. While it was fun to flirt with him, she knew it would never go any further than that.

“When do you get off?” Robby had asked suddenly, derailing their conversation away from the drink she had just delivered him. “I would love to take you out and see you in something other than that god awful apron.”

“Hey! I quite like my apron,” she playfully feigned offense, reaching to lightly swat him on the arm. “And while I appreciate your offer, I just got out of something pretty long term and I’m really not looking for anything right now. I’m sorry, Robby.” She forced a friendly pout onto her face, pretending like she was actually sorry for denying him.

Before he could respond, she heard an annoyed voice call her name from behind the counter. Whipping her head around to see who it was, she found Harry wearing an annoyed and frustrated face she had never seen him make before, especially not directed towards her. “We need some help back here. You have a job to do, remember?” he scolded, eyebrows furrowed and jaw steeled.

Her cheeks flushed white hot, embarrassed to be reprimanded like that in front of the whole shop. She hung her head in shame as she quickly walked back behind the counter. She was beyond embarrassed, suddenly uncomfortable in a place she had finally begun to come into her own in. She was learning and doing a good job, at least that was what she had been told, by both Isla and Harry; but the uneasy feeling in her stomach kept her from feeling comfortable for the rest of the day.

She carefully and quietly navigated behind the counter for the rest of her shift, sheepishly doing her best to stay out of her coworkers’ way and just do her job.

For the first time, she was slapped in the face with the reality that Harry wasn’t just her friend; he was her boss. He had an authority over her, and could probably get her in trouble with the owner, or even fired if he really wanted to. Navigating a business-like relationship was awkward and abnormal for them both, but Y/N decided she needed to learn how to quickly.

There was another reason his silent treatment seemed to hurt, one that Y/N had been trying her best to ignore. An undeniable crush had begun to build in her for the bright and bubbly man, despite however hard she had tried to fight it.

Harry made her feel safe, always keeping an eye out for her and trying to make sure she was alright. He made her laugh more than anyone she had ever known and their chemistry together felt electric. But what warmed her heart, and what now hurt the most, was that it felt like he cared about her just as much as she cared for him.

But now, it all felt like a fairytale she had built up in her head.

Their usual banter and giggles fell quiet for the rest of their day, reducing to curt directions from Harry and understanding hums from Y/N, following his orders without question or comment. Even Isla was quiet, not daring to breach the tension the pair had created between themselves.

The car ride home was quiet and strained that day.

But she still texted him when she was safe inside her flat.

***

While she had prayed that the next day would be like any other, their morning ride to work was filled with much of the same silence.

Harry fiddled with the heat and the radio in an effort to avoid her eyes or having to make conversation, eventually settling on a station that was playing old classic rock she didn’t recognize. He drove like she wasn’t even in the car, staring silently ahead at the road. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat fiddling with her fingers, not daring to get comfortable in a space that was all his.  

At work, they both held tight to the tension, only muttering at each other when absolutely necessary. She kept her head down and just did what she was told to do.

She was at the counter when a woman approached the coffee bar, seeming to bark her order for an extra hot cappuccino with extra foam at Y/N. Her face was twisted into an angry pout, like she had just smelled something bad, and spat her words out her words. Y/N just nodded and breathed a “yes, maam,” unable to fight with any nasty customers today while her head was so occupied with Harry. She was off her game.

The woman hovered at the counter, watching intensely and tapping her foot impatiently as Y/N fought with the dreaded milk steamer attachment to one of their large industrial machines. She would have sworn that she pressed the extra hot setting.

Passing the full mug to the woman at the register, Y/N watched as she took a long sip of the drink before paying, something that wasn’t really allowed, but Y/N just didn’t have the fight in her today to reprimand her.

“That will be £2,” Y/N spoke softly with as much sweetness as she could muster, afraid of what could come out of the woman’s mouth. She watched as her face turned even more sour than before after she finished the long drag from the cup.

“I’m not paying for this,” she declared, nose stuck high in the air.

“I’m sorry?” Y/N asked with confusion clear in her voice. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“It’s not extra hot and there is no extra foam.”

“Okay, I’m very sorry about that,” she said apologetically, even though she knew for a fact the drink had both of those things, and released an exhausted sigh. “I will make you another.”

The woman’s eyes flicked down the counter in Harry’s direction, rudely snapping her fingers at him to catch his attention. He was hunched over the back counter, somehow worsening his already terrible posture, trying to eat a sandwich as fast as he could before his break was over. “Are you her boss?” she shouted at him, even though he could have heard her without raising her voice at him.

Y/N’s eyes were already filled with anxiety when Harry connected his with her’s, seeming to wordlessly ask what was going on and Isla watched on in terror. She felt her body try to shrink away from the woman before her and Harry as he came closer.

“I’m the store manager. Is there something going on that I could help with?” His eyes kept flashing back and forth between Y/N and the woman, trying to decipher the situation without words.

“I want you to remake my drink.”

“I’m actually on a break-”

“No,” she cut him off mid-sentence. “If she makes my drink again, she is just going to fuck it up all over again. She’s obviously incompetent.”

Y/N eyes flew open at her words, a mix of shock and hurt running through her. With her heart beginning to race, never one for confrontation, she wanted to melt into the floor and disappear all together.

Harry’s face hardened at the woman as she hurled insults towards Y/N. Stepping in front of her, as if putting his body between her and the woman could protect her from her harsh words, he took a deep breath before he began to speak again. “First of all, you will not speak to anyone who works here like that,” he defended her. “Second, I’m sure she’s completely capable of making your drink again if you give her a moment.”

“I don’t want her to make it and I have places to be,” she continued to fight. “I don’t have time for some pathetic newbie to give it another try.”

Her comments hit Y/N hard in her existing feelings of inadequacy and before she knew it, her vision was beginning to blur. She felt like this woman was repeatedly kicking her while she was already down.

“You have to leave.”

Harry’s voice was angry. It wasn’t the frustration or annoyance she had heard the day before, and it was a far departure from the kind and patient tone she had grown to love since she began working at the shop. It was full of anger, something she had never heard from him and an emotion she hadn’t even been sure he could feel before this point.

“I’m not leaving until I get another drink that’s correct and free.”

“I will call the cops if you don’t leave right now.”

Y/N couldn’t stand to watch this unfold before her any longer. An anxious weight had settled on her chest and she had felt the tears begin to roll. She was gone from the counter, running towards the soundproof walk-in fridge in the back hall. She planned on shutting herself inside and sobbing until she froze.

She stood in the freezing chill, holding her arms tight to her frame, desperate to keep herself warm and shield herself from the wrath that was playing out in the cafe. The cold seemed to ground her and the distance she had put between herself and the woman eased her stress, but the tears continued to flow as her eyes ran over the stock of the fridge in an attempt to distract herself.

A knock came from outside the heavy metal door that startled her, a soft and patient voice that she knew so well called through. “Y/N, are you okay? Can I come in?”

After doing her best to wipe the tears off her raw and cold cheeks, she choked out a small “yes.”

The door carefully opened and she was met with a soft and empathetic gaze from the only person she wanted to comfort her. He breathed a soft “come here,” before he opened his arms wide. She bolted into them, letting his giant frame envelop her whole in the warmth that always radiated from him. Y/N let herself weep softly into his chest as the dizzying scent of his cologne took over her senses.

He held her close to him for a few moments, letting her get all her emotions out, before releasing her body and taking her face into his somehow still warm hands, using his thumbs to swipe away a few more tears that had managed to escape.

“I don’t think that I even messed her drink up,”she broke the silence, feeling pathetic as he held her in his hands.

“I know you didn’t. She won’t be coming back.”

“Thank you for defending me,” she said, hiccuping as she stared into his comforting eyes. “I feel so stupid. I’m sorry.” She went to pull away, but he continued to hold her close.

“No, this is all my fault,” he shook his head slightly, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “If I hadn’t been such a dick yesterday then none of this would have happened. I’m so sorry.” His eyes held honesty, determined to be granted absolution by the girl before him.

“I don’t like it when we don’t get along,” she squeaked. “I really don’t like it when you yell at me and make me feel like I’m not doing my job well.”

He sighed hard, his face looking like his brain was going a mile a minute. “I have to be honest with you,” he confessed. “I wasn’t acting like an asshole yesterday because you weren't doing your job; you were just doing fine. I was upset you were flirting with that guy.”

She felt her lips fall into a small ‘oh.’ While she hadn’t meant anything by what she thought was harmless flirting, Harry hadn’t known that. The frustration and annoyance she had heard was in actuality all jealousy.

“You were jealous?” she asked softly, bringing a hand up to hold over one of his own that were still holding her face.

“Well, yeah,” he said with an awkward shrug. “I just thought that there might be something between us.”

He looked so adorable like this, slightly uncomfortable and shy. She looked at him intensely as an excited bubble began to form in her stomach at the idea that this massive crush had been mutual the whole time.

“There is.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile any longer, a grin breaking out onto her face as she nodded at him. The cold of the fridge was no longer nipping at her skin, her whole body radiating a flattered and excited blush of heat. The screaming she had just endured felt long behind her although it had only been a few minutes.

He mirrored her giddy expression. She watched as all the tension in his face began to melt away in relief and it reminded her of the look on his face when she teased him after he followed her home that first day.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed. “I was so worried that you were going to friendzone me forever.”

“I thought you were going to employee-zone me,” she chuckled.

“Are you going to kiss me or keep staring?”

A wide cheeky smile stretched across his lips, before she reached up and connected hers to his. The kiss was caring and sweet, but it felt like it sealed something she had been feeling since the first day they had met.

Their lips moved smoothly against each other, interrupted occasionally by a smile one of them couldn’t contain or a giggle that slipped from one of their mouths. She wasn’t nervous or overwhelmed by his proximity. She was so comfortable in his embrace. He was her best friend, after all.

They broke apart after a few moments, giant grins plastered on their faces that neither of them could manage to wipe away. “I liked that a lot,” Harry beamed, a boyish flush to his cheeks.

“Me too,” she mirrored him.

They spent a few more minutes in the fridge, swirling in a daze of infatuation and affection. “Do you think anyone heard us?” he asked softly, looking over towards the large metal door that had been left open a crack, before it flung open and they were met with a thrilled Isla.

“Yes, I heard you!” she exclaimed. “It’s about time!”

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback/Reblogs mean the world!! 

[atlatus]

Disease

Character: Xiao

Pronouns: They/them

Post type: Angst

The green haired man opens his eyes to an unfamiliar scenery. He was on the ground, trees covering his surroundings, he can't seem to remember how he got here. Pushing himself up with his arms, he stands up, walking towards the crowd of trees.

While walking through the forest, he finally sees light. The adeptus runs towards it, arriving to see unusual contraptions¹ that he has never seen before. He furrows his eyebrows, 'Where am I? What is this place?' Due to his unusual appearance and clothing, a bystander unsurprisingly notices him. "Excuse me sir, are you perhaps lost?" He turns around, his eyes narrowing, "Who are you?" They're eyes widen, "Oh, sorry! I haven't introduced myself. My name's (F/N)." They smile.

He looks at them suspiciously, ". . . . My name is Xiao." (F/N)'s eyes widen a bit before smiling, "What a nice name! Won't you come with me? It's a bit cold out tonight." They propose. Though the adeptus is cautious, he nods. They giggle, holding out their hand, "Now, let's get you somewhere warm." 

_

After about 2 weeks with Xiao, you decided to try and convince your parents to get him into to your school. Even though you're quite calm most of the time, you were determined to convince them. Your parents sigh before nodding, beaming with excitement, you rush to the guest room. Knocking on the door frantically, Xiao opens it, clearly agitated. "What do you want?" You smile, "Hey hey! You're going to my school now!" 

He furrows his eyebrows, "I don't see the reason for me to go to school." Pushing the door the close it but you caught it with your foot, "C'mon~, it won't be that bad." You say. He rolls his eyes sighing before nodding. Your heart beats with excitement.

_

Xiao's first day in school has finally arrived, wearing different clothes made him itch a bit. He's isn't used to this type of attire.

Looking up at the school, surprised at the size of it. His face made you giggle a bit, "Alright, let's go." They both walk up to the entrance,  you open the door for him. He narrows his eyes a bit before continuing on through the hallway. Immediately, people started noticing him, some observing his face while others looked more shocked. 

'Hey doesn't that guy look like that character in Genshin?'

'Is he a cosplayer or something?'

'I have to take a picture with him!'

'Oh my god, he looks so cute!' 

The whispering got louder and louder, 'Why is everyone staring at me like that?'  Finally arriving to his classroom, you both enter. The sound of the door opening got the attention of everyone, the teacher looked over at the door, "Ah, you must be the new student! I'm Mr. Johnson, I'll be your teacher this school year!"

Xiao looked uneasy and uncomfortable, you quickly pat him on the back before sending him a reassuring smile, quietly telling him "It'll be alright."

"Now, would you mind introducing yourself?" The green haired man nods a bit before saying, "My name is Xiao, it's a pleasure to meet you." Some people in the classroom start whispering to their friends, "Oh my god, no way is it actually him?" "How did he even get here?" They were beaming with excitement.

"Well, nice to meet you Xiao! Why don't you sit next to your friend there. They sit at the corner seat over there." You smile before guiding him to where you're sitting. The teacher quickly quiets the class down before starting the lesson.

_

Xiao unsurprisingly got popular, many people would crowd around him to either talk to him, ask to hang out, or take pictures. He was quickly overwhelmed with the attention but got used to it after a few days. He started gaining friends fast and wasn't able to be with you anymore. Though you are glad he's happy, you can't brush off the feeling in the pit of your stomach. It feels like thorns poking in your chest and throat. You despised it. Not only did it hurt, but it made you feel like throwing up.

Everyday, you miss his conversations with you. Watching from afar with jealousy evident in your eyes. It's the same cycle everyday, people crowding him when you both arrive to the school. He

doesn't even look at you anymore. You feel like a ghost, no one acknowledging your existence, you're basically just. . . there. 

One day, the urge to throw up made you lurch forward, putting a hand on your lips. You stand up quickly before running to the restroom. Kneeling down in front of the toilet, you throw up the, coughing and gagging. You look in the toilet bowl, eyes suddenly going wide. 'Flowers? What the hell-'  Panic quickly flows through your body, 'What is this? Am I gonna die?'  You reach for your phone in your pocket, searching up 'throwing up flowers'. The first result is something called the Hanahaki Disease. The article states that, "Hanahaki disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated." Your eyes scan through the article again, 'Unrequited or one-sided love?'  You start to panic again, 'I won't be able to breath if this is untreated?'  Your breathing becomes uneven and shaky, your expression suddenly turns into one that's sad, 'Does this mean Xiao. . . doesn't like me back?. . .'

Looking at the article again, you see 'cures for the disease', "Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient's feelings for and memories of the enamoured. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings. These feelings cannot be feelings of friendship but must be feelings of genuine love."

'I can get them surgically removed, but, what's the point? I'll lose my feelings for him. I don't want to. I like it when my heart thumps whenever he smiles, or whenever he pouts in embarrassment due to a teasing comment from me. I don't.. I don't want these feelings to end.'

The ongoing thought of you losing your feelings for him made you cringe. '

Is it too late?'

_

Throughout a month, the condition only got worse. Throwing up these petals made you feel sick, it feels like God is planning to take your life right then and there. Xiao doesn't even talk to you anymore, you see him in the house sometimes but he's outside most of the time. The disease affected your mental and physical health, you were noticeably skinny and tired. The bags under your eyes proved it. Your parents have tried to talk to you about it but, you refuse to say anything.

The desire to keep feeling love made you like this. Your grades have dropped and now you lost all your friends, they're all too caught up with Xiao. At this point, you gave up on getting help. This whole situation will end when you die. You plan to talk to Xiao once more before you pass.

_

Two months. . .

It's been two months now. . .

The condition worsened greatly. Flower petals littered your room. You looked sickly, almost like a dead body. Well, that's what you're going to be in a couple days. . .

Using all your strength, you lift yourself up. "Need. . to go. . talk to. . Xiao." Right now, Xiao was with his friends. Luckily, you slipped a note in his locker the day before-

Meet me on top of hill tomorrow at 5:30 p.m.

- Sincerely, (F/N)

You had followed him when he opened his locker, he shrugged before stuffing the note into his backpack. You hoped that he would listen to it. If he doesn't show up today, you'll die happily knowing he is happy without you. His happiness is more important than your feelings or life.

You arrived at the hill. Looking at your watch, '5:15. Guess I'm early.'  You sit down on top of it, looking at the sun slowly setting.  

After a few minutes, you hear footsteps. Turning around, you see Xiao, his face neutral and calm. He then sat beside you, "So, what did you need?" He asks. You look back at the sun before smiling, "Have you enjoyed your time here?" Though your throat is aching, you still managed to say something.

He seems confused, "Of course I have. I've never been this

happy. ." Knowing he's happy made you feel relieved. To think that you found him in front of a forest, confused and cautious. It almost made you tear up.

"I'm happy that you are, Xiao."

You both stay silent, "Xiao, before I go, whatever happens after, promise me you'll be happy. I can't stand seeing you with a frown." You say with a raspy voice.

". . .Of course." 

 _

You find yourself laying on a hospital bed. You try to move but your body is too sore. Your ears perked up to muffled talking, "I'm sorry sir, ma'am but the kid is going to be gone soon. The Hanahaki disease already clogged up most of the patients lungs. We can either surgically remove it or-" The doctor was quickly cut off, "Surgically remove it! Please save them! Just remove the damn flowers, please!" You heard your mom scream.

"Ma'am, we have to get the patients consent. Removing the flowers will cause the patients enamored feelings for their-" The doctor was cut off once again, "I don't care anymore! Just please, save my kid!"

The argument was ongoing before you stored up all your strength and spoke, "M-mom. . . I don't want my. . . feelings to go. . . away." Your voice was barely audible, but they heard it. Your mom rushes over to your bed (despite the doctors warnings), "(F/N)! Don't be like that! Your life is more important!"

Tears start welling up your mom's eyes, "Please don't leave us. . ."

You stare at her before smiling, "It's okay mom, besides-" You cough, "It's already. . . too late." Despair was evident in your mothers face.

"Oh and. . . before I go. . . tell Xiao to stay happy. . . and that I love him."

The lights started to go dim, eyes slowly closing before your slow breathing stopped-

Permanently. 

_

Your funeral was held at a nearby cemetery. Your coffin was the color brown, a glass covering the top of it so they could see you. Xiao was there, staring at your face.  When he got the news that you died, his world fell apart. He thought this was just some sick joke, but the body in the coffin proved him wrong. He could faintly see flower petals near your mouth.

Your funeral and seeing your body is what made Xiao cry and scream out in agony and sadness. "No No NO! (F/N) don't leave me!! Please tell me this is a joke please! (F/N)! I love you please don't leave!"

He prayed and prayed that you would wake up. . .

But his prayers weren't heard.

_

One week after your funeral, Xiao's whole demeanor changed. He was a calm boy who would speak only when spoken to. But now, he doesn't speak. He ignores all his friends, he ignores your parents, he ignores everyone. He stays cooped up in your room. Sleeping on your bed and smelling your scent that lingers on it. Oh how he misses talking to you, your bright smile was what made him feel alive.

He was laying on your bed one day (as usual) and for some reason, he felt a bit sick. He brushed it off thinking it would go away in a few hours. But it only got worse.

He rushes to the bathroom then looks at the mirror. He looks terrible, bags under his eyes and skin looking a bit pale. He suddenly lurches forward, coughing and gagging.

He looks down and laughs a bit. Petals, beautiful petals covered in blood.

Looks like he's going to suffer with this disease as well. . .

Unusual contraptions¹ - cars

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Historic Blunder (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley shows up in the Bastille to rescue Aziraphale, but for some reason, when he snaps his fingers, it doesn't only release Aziraphale from his chains, it switches their places. Miffed at all of Crowley's mean comments about his beautiful suit, Aziraphale doesn't just opt to free Crowley, but forces him to earn his way out of his chains by putting his smart mouth and sharp tongue to better use. (1999 words)

Notes: Written for the @coldomenszine - nsfw digital-only edition. Warning for bondage and oral.

Read on AO3.

“What in the …?" Crowley glares at the shackles clamped around his wrists and Aziraphale's gold brocade suit miraculously tailored to his body. His eyes dart over to Aziraphale, clothed in the burgundy coat he arrived in. "Why am I wearing your clothes? And your chains? How the Heaven did this happen?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale says, massaging his wrists, rubbed raw by the shackles he'd been locked in. Indeed, how did this happen? Just moments ago, between pleasant banter and derisive remarks in regard to Aziraphale's unfortunate clothing choices, Crowley had snapped his fingers, performing a demonic miracle to set Aziraphale free. Which he did, so, of course, well done him. But now Crowley is the one in chains ...

... while Aziraphale is dressed like a peasant. 

"Are you losing your touch?"

"Very funny.” Crowley snaps his fingers again. And again. And again. But no matter what he does, he can’t break free. 

Most of what he'd intended when he snapped his fingers happened. Aziraphale is unbound, and the guard who had been sent to fetch him standing paralyzed in the corner. Other than that, nothing else worked the way it was supposed to. 

It's almost as if his spell backfired.

"Could this be a punishment from Hell for you rescuing me?" Aziraphale asks with genuine confusion. "You said your lot don't send rude notes. Could they have taken away your power instead?"

“Don’t know," Crowley says, examining his hands for answers. "Does seem like something they'd do.”

Aziraphale gasps. "Maybe they know you're here, and this was a test! Or maybe this isn't Hell's doing at all! Maybe this is Heaven's!" He looks up and around, trying to sense any Holy influence in their midst. If he finds any, he's going to be very put off, seeing as they made no move whatsoever to aid him.

"All interesting theories," Crowley agrees, giving the shackles a tug, checking their strength. "Theories I would love to discuss with you at length somewhere other than here. So why don't you get me out of this mess?"

Aziraphale tuts at Crowley's tone. He's every inch a demon of Hell, with demon manners, too. "What's the magic word?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. He considers not saying it out of spite, but what other option has he? "Please."

"Could you possibly say it nicer?"

Crowley fixes Aziraphale with the fire of his fierce, yellow eyes. "No."

"Fine." Aziraphale raises a hand to snap his fingers, but he hesitates. 

"Wot?" Crowley shakes the chains to remind Aziraphale what he should be doing. "Wot's the matter?"

“I don't know."

"Wot do you mean you don't know?"

"It was nice of you to sweep in here and help me, but you're being mean to me."

"I'm being mean to you?"

"You made fun of my clothes!”

Crowley sputters like a car struggling to start. “You’re ... you're ... you're going to let me get discorporated because I made a comment about your outfit?”

“It was rude! I'll have you know that suit was a gift from Marie Antoinette herself!”

"Pfft. Fitting you'd be wearing it here then."

Aziraphale tsks in disgust. "Was that really necessary?"

Footsteps overhead, coupled with the sounds of cells opening and shrill cries for mercy, draw Crowley's attention away, make him swallow hard. "Okay, look, none of that matters right now! I got you out of your chains, yes? Tit for tat, angel. Bust me out!"

"Quite right, quite right. I could do that. Bust you out, as you say. But what’s in it for me?”

"Aside from you not losing your head?"

"Yes. Obviously. Aside from that."

“I’ll take you to lunch," Crowley offers.

Aziraphale shrugs. “Alas, I’ve already eaten.”

Crowley pulls a face. “That’s never mattered before!”

“Yes ..." Aziraphale grins "... but today it does.” 

"Wot else could you possibly want?"

"What are you willing to give me?"

Crowley crosses his arms over his chest, fumbling with the cumbersome metal links so he can manage it. "I know you've got something on your mind, angel. So could you help me out? Give me a hint?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale rolls his eyes to the ceiling, stalling in the hopes Crowley might figure it out "... it's been terribly stressful here, locked up by myself, waiting to be executed ..." He busies himself picking nonexistent lint from Crowley's jacket, feigning nonchalance. He has no intention of letting Crowley lose his head. He's having a bit of fun with him. 

But maybe he can finagle a little something more. 

"So you're wanting something to relieve your stress, is that it?"

"Perhaps ..."

Crowley smirks. "The stress of being locked up or the stress of being an arsehole?"

Aziraphale huffs. “Remember, my dear, I can’t stop time the way you can so we don’t have a lot to play around with.”

“How much time are we talking about exactly?” Crowley asks, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale hides his triumphant grin behind a scowl when he sees the immaculate hem of his pants and the toes of his satin shoes come in contact with the grimy floor.

“There are guards strolling the halls, checking on prisoners several floors above us. There’s one a few floors down doing the same, coming up this way. So I’d say you have roughly twenty minutes.”

"Twenty minutes!?”

“Nineteen now.”

“Knowing the response time of your cock when faced with my tongue, I’d say that’s more time than I need.”

Aziraphale glowers. "Eighteen ..." 

"Alright, alright! Help me out! Undo your trousers!"

"You're already down there. I'd say you're in a better position to undo them, don't you?"

"Bastard!" Crowley growls. He snaps his fingers, quadruple checking that it won't work. Wouldn't it be the dog's bollocks if his magic came back in time to shove Aziraphale's snarky attitude right back in his face? 

But it doesn't.

Crowley unfastens the fall-front of Aziraphale's trousers, the rough metal of the shackles doing no favors for his wrists in this position, but that barely fazes him, focused on this particular task.

It's been ages since he's seen angel's cock.

He removes it from the confines of angel's trousers, holds it in his hand, and wonders - has it gotten bigger since? Has Aziraphale been putting extra effort into this part of his anatomy since the last time they were together?

Or is he doing this now for Crowley's benefit?

To make Crowley desire him?

Crowley opens wide, takes him in his mouth, but slowly. More slowly than usual. They might be pressed for time, but Crowley feels a need for vengeance. He's going to drag this out, use all of the eighteen - no, seventeen - minutes they have to frustrate the Hell out of Aziraphale.

Teach him a lesson he won't forget anytime soon.

Crowley's lips around Aziraphale's cock nearly discorporate Aziraphale in an instant. It's been too long since he's sampled this demon's pleasures - his warm mouth, his quick wit.

His exquisite company.

"That's is," Aziraphale moans as Crowley wraps his serpent tongue around him, then drags it down his length. "That definitely hits the spot."

Crowley pulls away. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. My knees are aching like Christ on the cross."

"Too soon, my dear," Aziraphale mutters, eyelids fluttering shut to block out sounds of clattering chains, guards coming ever closer, screams of prisoners dragged to their deaths, the ominous drop of the guillotine. "Too soon."

This is the way things have been between them for as long as Crowley can remember. These small indiscretions, stolen taboos, are all they're allowed. They never know when they will have time together, so they relish it whenever it comes along. As fun as it is riling angel up, Crowley can't help wishing he could do things up proper: in the quiet of his flat, on a bed of rose petals, with a bottle of champagne, a bowl of fresh cream, and all the time in the world to enjoy it.

“Crowley!" Aziraphale whines, hips bucking, desperation saturating every breath. "They're coming!"

"Are you?"

"This isn't the time for humor!"

"How much time do we have left?"

"We don't have any left!”

As if on cue, the guards Aziraphale has been sensing arrive, going on loudly about what could have happened to their companion (Marcel - the man stuck in the corner). They stop, do a double-take, then go bug-eyed when they spot Crowley, dressed like a member of the haut monde, on his knees in front of Aziraphale.

At first, they don't know what to make of it. They would chalk it up as a victory if not for the fact that, even dressed like one of them, they have no idea who Aziraphale is. And though they recognize the fancy suit Crowley is sporting, they have no clue how the man inside went from plump and pale to thin with flaming red hair and dark glasses.

They try to think up a practical explanation, but as former men of faith, they come to the conclusion that what's going on inside the cell is the work of the Devil. They hurry off, presumably to summon back-up, screaming about witchcraft and perversion. Aziraphale doesn't know for sure. They could be yelling about the weather. His grasp of conversational French isn't as good as it should be. He could ask Crowley to translate, but he wouldn't remove his mouth from his cock for anything.

Tragically, Crowley does so himself. "I think we've been spotted." 

"How did you guess?" 

"Are you even close?"

"Yes! Yes, I am! I ... oh, let me! May I?" Aziraphale grabs Crowley's head but waits for a consenting nod before he holds him still and fucks his mouth to the finish. And Crowley lets him. He may as well have some fun with his mouth before he and his head become strangers. Not that he thinks Aziraphale would leave him there to be beheaded.

But would he? 

"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh for Heaven's ...!" Aziraphale comes down Crowley's throat in a wash of Holy light enough to burn straight through to his stomach, but that's part of what he enjoys about letting angel use him.

That taste of Heaven that accompanies his orgasm.

"Oh my goodness!" Aziraphale pants. "That was exceptional, my dear. Bravo. You really know how to rise to a challenge."

"I'm glad you're satisfied." Crowley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then licks up every last drop. "But there's still the matter of you breaking me out."

"Yes ..." Aziraphale awkwardly clears his throat "... that."

"You are going to free me, right?"

Aziraphale shoots Crowley an offended look. "Of course, I am! I'm an angel of my word!"

"A-ha. And how do you intend on doing that when you didn't want to use a miracle to free yourself?" Crowley asks, kicking himself for not considering that at the beginning of all this.

"Oh! Well, you see, I nicked the key from that chap over there ..." Aziraphale pats down the pockets of Crowley's coat, then the pockets of his own, chirping a tiny, "A-ha!" when he finds it.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You didn't ask!"

"How did you get it off him without his noticing?"

"Nu-uh." Aziraphale sticks the key in the lock and gives it a twist. "A magician never reveals his secrets." 

"Wait! That means you could have gotten yourself ... and me ... out of those chains this entire time!?" Crowley hisses, shaking out the throbbing in his wrists as the chains fall to the ground. But Aziraphale sidesteps Crowley's question and helps him to his feet.

"Come come now! Let's get moving!" With a snap of Aziraphale's fingers, Crowley is re-dressed in his original clothes while Aziraphale reluctantly switches outfits with the still frozen guard. "We mustn't hang about!"

When the guards return, there's only one prisoner in the cell. 

The aristocrat on his knees and the revolutionary he was servicing are gone.

[nepenthendline]

Heyyy, could you do a headcannon post for tsukki, kenma, suga, Kageyama, and kurro, and how they would go about proposing to their s/o. I love your writing btw!!! 💜

proposal hcs make me so sOFT, and thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 It means a lot! I’m going to bury myself in these hcs to get rid of the stress my uni are giving me rn also kageyama’s is so long omg i got a little carried away

slight timeskip spoilers (kenma, sugawara, kageyama, kuroo)

Requests are open!

Proposal Headcanons - Tsukishima, Kenma, Sugawara, Kageyama and Kuroo

Tsukishima:

Tsukishima wasn’t one for extravagant publics displays of love and affection, so his proposal wouldn’t be either

he wanted it to be natural, not some crazy, over-the-top event that had everyone in the neighbourhood witnessing

it would be around 5-10 years (depending on how old you were when you started dating) of being together when Tsukishima decided he wanted to marry you, it’s not that he never thought about it, he just wanted to be sure this was the right decision for both of you

he had mentioned marriage to you one night a few months before proposing to test the waters and see your opinion so that he could gauge whether you would say yes or not

he took Yamaguchi with him to pick out a ring, he was great friends with you too so he knew your style and preferences well to help out Tsukishima

the proposal itself what somewhat planned, he knew the day he was going to do it but, other than that, he left it open to change

the two of you had gone for an evening walk across a pathway that overlooked the town, something you two do often to wind down

you two hadn’t spoke much, a comfortable, warm silence surrounding you besides pointing out the odd squirrel or brief check-ups on each others day

both of you had stopped at a railing on your walk, leaning against it to watch the sun set over the tall buildings

his hand was in yours, brushing his thumb over the back of it as he looked out to the view

“I love you (Y/N),” his voice was quiet but it seemed certain

he wasn’t the kind of man that told you he loved you multiple times a day, it was reserved for special moments and the times where he couldn’t get how lucky he was to have you out of his mind

“I love you too Kei,” you didn’t need to be loud, or shout your confession to the world to know that you both meant it deeply

“Marry me,” it sounded more like a instruction than a question and his gaze hadn’t left the sky

“W-what?” had you heard him wrong? was this a joke?

he turned his eyes to you, locking them with yours - this was the most serious and sincere you had ever seen him

“Marry me,” he repeated

you stood with your mouth slightly open, eyes wide as he pulled out a box from his pocket, opening it to display a simple, yet stunning ring

“I always thought that if you went for what you truly wanted, it would just end in pain and disappointment, that all the effort and sentiment would be for nothing, but with you it’s so easy. I might never be, but I want to become the best man for you, that you deserve, so marry me.”

Kenma:

gets married for tax purposes

marriage was not something Kenma had ever though about in his life growing up

he never thought he would get married or find someone he had a connection with and, honestly, he was fine with that

he didn’t really see the appeal of it in the first place

it wasn’t until many years down the line of being with you and his friends around him getting into relationships when he started to consider the possibility

the first time it came into his head was at Kuroo’s wedding

he spent most of the time wishing he could go home and get out of this uncomfortable suit, but there were times when he say Kuroo’s beaming smile that he was glad he came

some of the ex-nekoma team members had poked at him with questions of when he was going to get ‘hitched’, which he responded to with a sigh

he certainly wasn’t going to propose because others told him he needed to

the next time it crossed his mind was when he started a new game that his fans had recommended he play

it was a romance game which wasn’t his usual go-to genre, but it had incredible reviews and created a storm in the gaming world so he thought he might as well check it out

through the game he got to witness an endearing story of a couple that went at odds to be together

the story delved into their married life and all the little things they enjoyed together through the years

he didn’t really want to admit it, but it did make him feel a little emotional

he saw himself and you in the characters, as if he was watching his own life play out on his screen

every now and then you and Kenma played some games together so you could spend time with him and he could show you want had been interesting him lately, so he decided to show you this game

you thought it was adorable, so heartwarming yet a little sad at points, but you had always been a little more outwardly emotional then Kenma

“imagine if we got married haha, how cute would that be!” you gushed out in the moment without thinking as you played

“eh...I guess” it wasn’t really the answer you were hoping for, but at least he didn’t sound utterly disgusted by the thought

you continued to play with him for a while, tucked into his side and making comments every now and then

a particular endearing part was plating on the screen and your eyes shone as they fixated on the characters

he could tell by the glassy look that you were getting a little affected by the story, but you looked so cute

the way your lip pouted ever so slightly, and how you gripped at his hoodie, as if to steady yourself

he had a sudden rush of adoration for you, he really did love you and the last couple years of you living together had been wonderful, how he got to wake up beside you, do daily chores with you, how you supported him in his many careers

“Maybe we should get married,” he blurted out, you whipped your head towards him so fast you almost got whiplash

“Are you...proposing?” you questioned, with somewhat of a laugh in your voice

“huh...looks like I am.”

Sugawara:

Sugawara was sensible, mature, a little bit of a tease and sometimes chaotic if Daichi wasn’t watching but also traditional

he had often thought about what it would be like to grow up, get married and have a family

it wouldn’t take long before he knew he wanted to marry you, even throughout the 3 years you had already been together he had daydreamed about marrying you more times than he could count

from all the memories you had together, all the times you helped enough other in rough patches and the learning the two of you wanted to continue in the future had him certain that he wanted you beside him forever

so he set out his plan

he took his old teammates, Daichi and Asahi with him on a hunt to find the perfect ring

Daichi was there to keep him in check and calm his nerves, although Asahi was probably the most nervous and Asahi had a great eye for stylish, beautiful pieces due to his designing career

now it was time to plan

he didn’t want it to be crazy, but he wanted it to be something, a whole event in itself

so he scheduled a meal for the two of you and some of your friends

it was at quite a fancy restaurant in the evening and your group had its own secluded table at the back, surrounded with dividers from the rest of the restaurant

all of you spent the meal catching up and laughing, but Sugawara seemed a little quieter than usual

you had asked him if he was ok, but he just replied with an ‘of course!’ and a smile, so you let it be

Asahi was shaking but you put that off to general anxiety

you guys had ordered desserts and everyone had gotten theirs first

as the waiter brought yours over, the table went silent

the waiter came from your left, Sugawara on your right, so you had looked over as he came

as he set the plate down, you noticed the words spelled out in chocolate sauce 

“Will you marry me?” 

you gasped and turned towards Sugawara, who was now on one knee next to you, holding out an open ring box

“I have known for so long that I wanted to marry you. You’re beautiful, smart, courageous and so loving, and I want to have you by my side forever. I promise I will continue to grow as your partner and take care of you every step of the way, so, will you marry me?”

Kageyama:

the only thing in this boy’s brain is you and volleyball, its all his one braincell can cope with

that being said, he has never once thought about marriage

his whole life he has spend all his energy and focus on becoming a better player, the best setter he possibly can and standing on the court longer

but you were the first person to get him, to understand him and accept him as is while helping him improve and grow

you helped him to open up and communicate with people better

you helped him whenever he was frustrated with volleyball and a certain play he was working tirelessly on

you never once turned your back on him when he struggled or lost his temper

you were his partner, but it was different from a volleyball partner

he cared for you, every part of you, and always wanted to know if you were ok or spend time with you

you made him genuinely smile everyday and he knew that he wanted to be your partner for life

it came about when he was hanging out with Hinata on one of their rare days off to catch up

he had been talking about you constantly, expressing how much he loved you and adored you

“Why don’t you just marry them?” Hinata questioned with his held tilted, as if it was obvious

“w-what? Hinata boke!” he shouted as his face grew red and pushed Hinata aside

the two talked about it and Kageyama decided, very bashfully, that yeah, he should just marry you

but how does he ask you that?

he knew nothing about marriage or proposals, so he spend the next few weeks asking his friends, teammates, even his coach on how to propose to you

“Take them to an expensive restaurant!”

“Wouldn’t it be cute to propose in Disneyland??”

“Well, I proposed to my partner by sending them on a scavenger hunt”

he was bombarded with ideas, but none of them seemed right

none of them seemed like him

he was getting frustrated with the pressure of coming up with a good way to ask you to be his forever, it had to be perfect, it had to be special and it had to fit with your relationship

you noticed he was getting agitated a lot more recently, he was quieter and snapped more often, he stayed back later at the gym to train and he rarely ate dinner with you anymore

whenever you asked what the problem was, he replied with an ‘it’s nothing’ and stormed off

his teammates had noticed too and were less than pleased with his attitude as it affected their gameplay

one of his teammates had begged you to come to the gym and talk some sense into him when he started continuously overworking himself

it was 7pm when you set off from your house to the gym where he was still training

as you entered, you noticed that he was the only one here, hitting serve after serve that never seemed to land right

“Tobio,” you called out

“Baby,” you tried again but you couldn’t catch his attention from his deep focus on the ball

you walked over to him and lightly grabbed his arm, stopping him from serving the ball again

“Tobio, what’s wrong? Everyone is worried about you. Are you having trouble with a play? Because we can sort that out with your coach-”

he cut you off by mumbling something under his breath, much too quiet for you to hear

“What was that?” 

“I want to ask you to marry me and I don’t know how,” he said louder this time, his eyes staring at the ball in his hand as he gripped it tightly

“O-oh, right...” you were stunned, speechless, this wasn’t something you thought you would hear from him

“Everyone’s been telling me how to do it, but none of them seem right,” his voice was low and his gaze still hadn’t let the ball

you put a finger under his chin and lifted his face towards you

“It doesn’t need to be what everyone else tells you, we can do things our own way,” you tried to comfort him with a smile and he simply stared back at you

“So go on then,” you were beaming at him by now, yet his face got even tighter with confusion

“Go on, ask me to marry you.”

his jaw hung wide open, his eyes seemed to be staring into your skull like he had seen a ghost, this is certainly not what he expected

he tried to speak a couple times, stumbling on his words as they got caught in his throat

“It’s ok, take your time,” you brushed your thumb over the back of his hand as you held it, encouraging him to continue

“w-will you....will...willyoumarryme?”

BONUS: you two picked out a ring together afterwards, this boy has no sense of style, don’t trust him by himself

Kuroo:

Kuroo had jokingly asked you to marry time multiple times throughout your relationship

the first couple times ended with you being a blushing mess while he teased you

but by now you just tell him to shut up go off sis

marrying you had always been part of the plan for him, just a natural progression of your relationship

while Kuroo can be quite the tease, he was extremely serious of his relationship with you and your future

he started off his plan by asking your dad if he would like to spend the day together, you know, father-son-in-law bonding time

what your dad wasn’t prepared for was Kuroo to turn up in a shirt, suit trousers and confess how he wanted to marry you

he had a whole speech prepared about how he would be the best husband for you, how he would be sure to take good care of you and, possibly, be the best father in the future if you planned to have children

you dad had to eventually shut him up as Kuroo kept going, saying how he would be delighted to have you marry the man

step one: check

now he needed to find the right ring

he had a look around at multiple stores but he couldn’t find anything that was unique enough to be called yours and that captured you or your relationship

since Kuroo had quite the high-paying job plus a little backing from a certain famous youtuber so the cost wasn’t an issue and he wanted to spoil you

so he got one custom made

he sat with a designer for hours creating the most stunning, distinctive ring that he knew you would love

step two: check

over the next couple days he planned a meet-up evening with your family and his where he would pop the question

you both had spent the day cooking and preparing for the evening before they all come to your house

you had all finished dinner and moved over to the living room to chat

Amidst all the chatter, Kuroo stood up and cleared his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention

“I have something I’d like to say,” he said with confidence, then turning to you with a grin

“The last few years with you have been perfect. We’ve had some ups and downs, but we have made so many amazing memories together. You really are my other half and I think everyday about how truly lucky I am to call you mine. You know me better than anyone else. I know I’ve asked you this a couple times in the past when we’re laughing together, but this time I’m serious,”

he got down on one knee, holding one of your hands while presenting the custom ring in the other

“will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

and the crowd goes wild

Tagging @togasknifes so she can read Kageyama ty ly

[pretend-writer]

Still Into You (Diego Hargreeves x reader)

Requested

Summary: Y/N and Diego couldn’t hide their feelings as The Hargreeves reveal their love for each other. 

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

Title Reference: Still Into You x Paramore

Word Count: 2k words

Warning: swearing, mention of sex, fluffffff

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Y/N's pov;

I didn't even know when my feelings started to change. It was a surprise when I realized how I felt about Diego.

While growing up around the Hargreeves, I barely saw him as a friend. I don't even think we really hung out a lot as kids. He loved picking on me, spelling "k-i-s-s-i-n-g" whenever Klaus and I walked by, mainly because he knew my mini crush I had for his brother.

He was just someone that annoyed the hell out of me, even thought I knew it was a joke. I would tend to let him be and hang out with Klaus, Allison and Vanya instead.

But then of course my heart started saying otherwise. As we got into our early twenties, he wasn't the obnoxious Diego that he used to be. He was sweet, caring, even when out of his way to make sure I was doing okay.

All of that cute and selfless things he did made me change my mind about him.

And now that I visit the Hargreeves home so often, Diego was the first person I looked forward to seeing when I set foot at the door.

'Y/N, what-' I quickly turned around as I heard Klaus whispering from behind me. 'Are you staring at my brother?'

My eyes widened, grabbing Klaus' hand and rushing to the other side of the hallway. He continued to chuckle, 'Y/N! You were staring at him shirtless working out in his roo-'

'No, I fucking wasn't!' I denied, I've only told Vanya about how I felt about Diego. I did not trust anyone to keep my secret, I knew that somehow some way, they would all blurt it out.

'Well you're drooling right here.' He pointed at my chin as I immediately rolled my eyes and hit him on the chest.

Klaus smiled, 'You know it's obvious right?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Klaus knew me too well, I knew that. He has been my best friend for as long as I can remember but I was hoping that if I denied it, soon enough he'll start believing me.

'Okaaay but if you don't tell him how you feel, someone is going to take him away.'

'What makes you think that he'll even like me back.'

Klaus grinned widely, 'So you do like him!!'

'I never said that, Klaus.'

'You just said "like me back" that impl-'

'Sh! Just stop, stop!'

He laughed, watching me squirm and turning red from embarrassment. Vanya and I kept it a secret for so long, Klaus was going to spread it around like wild fire.

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Diego's pov;

My workout was distracted by random mumbling that I heard from outside my room. By the sound of their voices, I instantly knew it was Klaus and Y/N.

The first reaction was to roll my eyes; Her and Klaus have been close friends since we were kids, it didn't help that I was so jealous. I felt that I was in a competition for Y/N's attention with my brother my whole life, it was childish.

My focus shifted and I wasn't in the mood to workout anymore. Putting all my workout equipment away to the back of my room, I sat on my chair to check on my phone. Klaus and Y/N's voices slowly faded away downstairs as I was scrolling down my social media.

Sighing, I stared at the picture that was recently taken on my phone; Y/N and I took a selfie when we got drunk a few weeks ago. That night was when I genuinely felt happy in a long time, it was when I realized I really loved her.

Yeah, I had a crush on her since I've met her but I grew up thinking it was something I'll get over as I got older.

Turns out I was wrong.

The more I spent time with her, it made me realize that I needed her in my life. All my life she was the person that helped me push through, the one person I could count on despite our weird love-hate friendship we had as a child.

'Boo!' Allison yelled from my door, scaring me as I jumped off my chair a little. The phone nearly fell off my hand, I grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket.

'Damn Allison, you nearly gave me a heart attack.'

She laughed, opening the door wider and leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. 'You seemed really intense, you okay?'

'Ah, yeah. Yeah.' I took my phone out of my pocket, checked the screen and turned it back off. I was just glad I didn't drop my phone when she scared me, imagining Allison's reaction when she finds out about my feelings for Y/N terrified me.

Allison squinted, suspecting that something was up with me. 'You sound panicky.'

'Maybe because you tried to kill me.'

'You're such a drama queen.' She chuckled, 'What's on your phone that's making you squirm?'

'Nothing.' I huffed, knowing how pushy she can be. 'Mind your business.'

Allison walked over to me with her hands out, 'Come on, let me see. If it's nothing, it won't be a bother right?'

'You're always a bother.'

'So are you. So can I see?'

'No.'

She crossed her arms again, 'You know I can rumor you to show me right?'

'I would like to believe that you won't stoop so low just to get on my phone.'

'It's like you don't know me, Diego.'

I rolled my eyes, hopping into my bed with my back against her. 'Just leave me alone, geez.'

It got quiet all of the sudden but I knew Allison didn't leave the room. I still felt her presence behind me and I didn't hear the door shut either, not that my siblings cared enough to shut the door behind them.

Intrigued on what was keeping Allison so quiet, I turned around to find her on my phone. I must of dropped it when I got into bed.

Jumping out my bed, I quickly snatching my phone back. 'You're lucky you're my sister or I would've thrown a knife into your hand.'

'That's a really cute picture, Diego.' She ignored me, 'You know you can get pictures printed out.'

'Shut up.'

'I'll get a framed picture for your birthday.'

'And I guess I'll throw a knife at you in return for your birthday.'

Allison brows raised, I could tell she was holding in a laugh. At this point, I didn't know why she was still in my room. 'Diego, were you trying to hide the fact that you love Y/N? Because it's so obvious that you do.'

'I took a picture with her, what makes you think I love her?'

'Dude, you use to pick on her all the time when we were little. If that doesn't already prove it, you give her this adorable stare whenever she's around you.'

Biting my lip, I placed my hands on my hips. I could feel my cheeks feeling warm, hoping it wasn't turning red.

'Plus the angry glare you have whenever Klaus and Y/N are together is a dead giveaway too.'

'Okay, okay I get it.'

'And then whe-'

With my hands over my ears, I walked out my room to get away from Allison. 'Ahhh, I can't hear you!'

Of course she kept following me down the hall then to the staircase. Even when we were downstairs, she continued to bug me.

Five looked at us and laughed, 'What is it now that you two are blabbing about?'

I saw everyone sitting in the living room, including Y/N and I didn't want to deal with the embarrassment for today. 'Allison, you say anything I swear you'll see the knife flying across the room before you can say "sorry, Diego". I'm serious.'

'You don't have to worry, I'm not gonna say anything.'

Luther's eyes widened, pointing at Allison. 'It's about his crush for Y/N isn't it?'

My head immediately turned to Luther, I didn't know whether to tackle him or just throw a knife but I decided to calm down. Y/N was standing right there and I had to pretend that I didn't know what the fuck he was saying. If she found out, I was screwed.

‘You guys lost your damn minds.’ I commented, acting as if I didn’t know what they were talking about. But the biggest question was, how did Luther out everyone knew about this?

Klaus laughed out loud, to a point where he was clapping his hands and holding his stomach. ‘Diego. Oh Diego, you numbskull.’

‘What did you just call me?’

‘You’re a numbskull and so is Y/N.’ Klaus grinned widely, ‘You two realize the love you guys have for each other is so obvious that even dad can see you guys from the grave?’

My eyes didn’t leave Klaus, Y/N was sitting next to him but I didn’t have the guts to look her in her eyes. I felt like Klaus was fucking with me, trying to mock me and make fun of the “so obvious” crush I had for her since I was a kid.

‘So are you guys just going to stand there?’ Five said in a sarcastic tone, probably enjoying this weird and awkward moment.

‘You two need to get a move on, catch up with loss time.’ Klaus smiled, ‘I did the hard part for you two. Go upstairs and fu-’

Vanya shook her head, ‘Klaus. Wow, language.’

‘Exactly. Thank you for the graphic information.’ Y/N looked up me. ‘Can I talk to you in private, Diego?’

‘Ah, yeah.’ I replied, scratching my head as I felt a little shy.

As Y/N led me back to the staircase, I can hear Five and Klaus whispering loudly about us. Rolling my eyes, I continued to follow her up the stairs then into my room.

I closed the door behind me, biting my lip and staying quiet. I already knew that she was going to start blabbing about her feelings toward, Klaus; Even when he said that Y/N had loved me, I still didn’t believe it.

‘Was that all true? What Luther and Klaus had said?’ She broke the silence between us, I can feel her stare but I still couldn’t seem to make eye contact with her.

Slowly I nodded, knowing that I couldn’t hide it anymore. There was no point in trying to hide it since apparently, everyone had known about this and never tried to discuss it with me.

Still, I couldn’t look up at her as I felt my cheeks feeling warm. I was always nervous around her but I’ve never been this scared where I felt as though my heart was going to pop out of my chest.

Unexpectedly Y/N pulled me in, pressing her lips against mine. While I was confused since I believed that Klaus and Y/N had something going on between them, I felt like the happiest man in the whole planet. I guess that whatever they had just said was true.

“Thank you, Klaus” I thought to myself as I kissed her back. I’ve wanted to kiss her for so long, I wished that I had told her sooner.

‘So, you want to catch up?’ she said as she pulled away. This was another turn of event that I would of never expected. ‘Klaus’ words not mine.’

Licking my lips, I pulled her into my arms and hummed. Now that I knew that she loved me back, I didn’t know how to act. All I knew was I didn’t want her to leave my side, ever.

Grabbing her hand and leading her onto my bed, I chuckled. ‘I mean, they’re already expecting us to so why not? Pleasing the audience, if you will.’

She laughed as she sat on my stomach, ‘What happened to the shy Diego that was downstairs two minutes ago?’

‘He has a girlfriend now.’

Y/N leaned in, cupping my cheeks as she smirked. ‘I love the sound of that.’

[feverdreamfantasies]

The Birthday Gift

Pairing: Human!Hoseok x Human!Yoongi x Human!Reader, Snow Leopard Shifter!Jimin x Human!Reader

Featuring: German Shepherd Hybrid!Taehyung, Doberman Hybrid!Namjoon, Neighbor!Jungkook, (Jin to make an appearance later)

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Angst, Poly AU, eventual Smut, Producer!Yoongi, Scientist!Hoseok

Warnings: Brief mention of blood, Mention of Hybrid abuse, Some adult language, Mentions of a poly relationship between M x M x F

Summary:  “Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay.  I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

Author’s Notes:   This was an idea I’ve had in my head for a little while and I thought I would go ahead and start writing it. Also since this is the first chapter there’s a lot of background information in this one but moving forward there will be less filler and hopefully more story line progression. Hope you enjoy!

Next

Chapter One:  The ultimate Birthday gift             

Sometimes I wonder how I got here in my life. 

After nearly 5 years of being with Yoongi, I thought I was prepared for anything, but standing here in our neighbor Jungkook’s living room watching his sweet arctic fox hybrid, Sooyun, turn into the vicious predator she truly is; I began to question the choices I’d made that lead me here.

Let me backup a little bit to how I came to witness the scene before me. I was quietly having breakfast earlier this morning when Hoseok made his way loudly down the staircase that led into the kitchen. 

“Have you seen your boyfriend?” He asked with an emphasis on “your”, clearly perturbed with the man in question.

“What’s he done now that makes him ‘my’ boyfriend?” I say while taking a bite of my toast. 

For all the time I have been in a relationship with Yoongi, Hoseok has been with him longer.  The two met in their first year at university and began dating shortly there after.  I came along about four years later, back when I was a shy, young intern for the music company Yoongi was—and is still— a big time producer for.  

I had heard rumors when I first started there that he had a bit of a different romantic life than most. Everyone loved to whisper about the open relationship he and his boyfriend supposedly had. I tried not to listen to the rumors, but I couldn’t deny the big fat crush I had developed on Yoongi either.  I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest every time he walked into the same room as me.  And when he asked me out for drinks one day, all I could do was nod in response because I didn’t have the courage to give a verbal yes. 

I was nervous and apprehensive about possibly going on a date with an already taken man.  But my curiosity got the best of me and I showed up to the bar he had suggested.  He was sweet and kind to me. Being patient with my quietness until I warmed up enough to be able to contribute to our conversation.  

He was also very straightforward and honest with me.  

“I know there are rumors about my personal life in the office.” He stated matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his jack and coke before continuing. “So I’ll admit that I’m kind of surprised you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit of mine that brings me an artificial level of comfort.  “To be honest” I swallow “I’m not really sure I was even going to show up.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” He said with his adorable gummy smile.

“And to be upfront about everything, the rumors are true. I do have a boyfriend, and we are in a serious, committed relationship.”

I raise my eyebrows at this. 

“I know what you're thinking.  So then why would I ask a beautiful woman like you out on a date if I’m already spoken for?” 

My heart speeds up when I hear him use the word beautiful.  He leans across the high top table we are sat at, so he can speak lower and not have the other customers at the bar listen in.  

“Hobi and I have always been open to the concept of a polymorphic relationship. We’ve tried in the past with potential romantic partners; but they usually ended up ghosting on one of us, once they figured out what we were looking for.”

“So why do you think I’ll be different?” I question finding some confidence in my voice.  Afterall, it isn’t like Yoongi is talking about some small, trivial thing.  He’s openly discussing with me the potential of starting a romantic journey with him and his boyfriend.  Journey being the only way I can truly describe it because honestly what if this actually became something, what do I say to my parents then? “Mom. Dad.  Meet my boyfriend Yoongi and his boyfriend--slash my other boyfriend--Hoseok.” 

Yeah...this was most certainly going to be a journey.

“Honestly, I’m not sure you will be.  But I like you, Y/N. And from what I’ve told Hoseok so far, he’s interested too.”

I snort at this response.  What possibly could I have done to get Yoongi’s attention that he’d like me, let alone know anything about me enough to want to tell his boyfriend.

“Up until tonight, I’ve barely said anything to you.” I state to the dark haired man across from me.

Yoongi shrugs at this like it doesn’t matter.  “People speak louder with their actions than with their words.”

“Yeah?  And what do my actions say about me?” I ask genuinely.

He doesn’t miss a beat with his response.

 “You’re smart without being pretentious.  You have confidence without arrogance.  And most importantly you’re kind.”

“I’m kind?”

Yoongi nods. 

“A couple of weekends ago I saw you inside the hybrid rescue downtown.  I was going to go in and say hi, but thought that might intimidate you a little bit.” 

He says this last part with a laugh, as my cheeks turn red from the fact I know that would have been true.

“I asked one of your fellow interns, Ilsung, about it.  He said you volunteer there whenever you can.  That you have a real soft spot for hybrids and their rights. Not many people are as compassionate to their causes.  And as someone who has had the honor to adopt two myself, I’m really drawn to others who want to make a difference for them.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m making a difference.” I say sheepishly. “But when I was a kid we had a family cat hybrid named Wendy.  She and I did everything together until they came and took her away when we were both 12.  And let’s just say that made an impact on me.”

When my parents were kids, hybrids were just starting to be introduced to society.  But years prior to that, governments and militaries had been creating and breeding hybrids for years as an experiment to get a defensive edge when it came to warfare. It proved not to be as promising as they had hoped and what ended up happening is they sold their hybrids and hybrid secrets to the highest bidder, which turned out to be a large corporatation.  This corporation in turn introduced cat and dog hybrids to the rest of the world.  Claiming that they were a step above your average household pet and could provide a more fulfilling companion experience.  Hybrids quickly became a hot commodity.  And the black market was soon taking off with their own hybrid creations of more exotic and “dangerous” hybrid breeds.  Soon the hybrids were beginning to outnumber humans 2 to 1 and fear of who they are and what they can do began to take over.

Laws were passed as a means to protect humans. Rather than create laws that stopped the unethical treatment and breeding of hybrids, they were created to limit their rights.  Not completely human but also not completely an animal either, hybrids fell in a category with many blurbed lines.  The laws state all hybrids must have an owner and must either be accompanied by that owner at all times or have a microchip implanted within the back of their necks that can be scanned to indicate they belong to someone.  Any strays were in extreme cases euthanized and in less extreme cases placed in overcrowded shelters and rescue centers, where they would more than likely spend the rest of their lives.  

For those who did get adopted or were bought by breeders, their lives may not be as lucky as those who did not.  It isn’t uncommon for those hybrids adopted to end up in underground hybrid clubs.  These clubs offer humans all sorts of sick fantasies to play out with hybrids.  This can be anything from deadly hybrid fight rings to hybrid brothels where they can use and abuse any female and male hybrids of their choosing. In my time volunteering at the rescue center, I have listened to stories I wouldn’t even wish for my worst enemies to have to endure. 

“Wendy came into my life when on my 5th birthday.  My Mom and Dad had decided I needed a companion.  As an only child with parents who weren't able to have any more kids, my parents thought adopting a hybrid could be the next best thing.  But the year we both turned 12, is the year Wendy started to go through her changes.”

Yoongi listened to my story with great intensity.  

“Of course as humans we all go through puberty between the ages of 11 and 18.  This isn’t uncommon for hybrids either except their changes aren’t typically of the reproductive kind until later in their late teens and early twenties, but what they do change in is behavior.  Their animal instincts can have the potential to become more dominant, leading to aggressiveness and in some cases violence.

When Wendy and I were playing outside one day, a neighbor's hybrid wandered into our backyard where we were.  He looked to be some small wild cat hybrid, probably bought in some shady back room of an outdoor market.  He was around our age if not a little bit older.  He’s name was Yongho and he could hear our laughs from inside his house.  He asked if he could play with us, saying he was lonely being cooped up inside all day.  I was glad to have another person to play with so I said yes immediately without noticing that Wendy was apprehensive.  Her tail was flicking side to side and ears were slightly pinned back, but I thought that was only because she may be jealous of having some of my attention shared with another hybrid.  I chose to ignore her warning signs and suggested a game of tag.

It all seemed to be going fine.  At first I was ‘it’ and although they were both faster than me, Yongho decided to slow down so I could catch him.  But once he was ‘it’ that’s when everything would change to become one of the worst days of my life.”

I paused so I could take a sip of my drink to try and calm myself down.  I hadn’t thought of this day in a really long time and I was struck by the fact that I was so easily sharing it with Yoongi when not even most of my close friends knew what had happened.  Yoongi reached across the table and gently rubbed his thumb over my hand to encourage me to keep going.  

I cleared my throat.

“Because Yongho was a predator hybrid, a game of tag can quickly turn into a dangerous game of cat and mouse.  When Wendy and I ran off in opposite directions after getting a 10-second head start that’s when Yongho’s animal instincts kicked in.  As a slow and small human girl, I became easy prey to the hunter and Yongho began to come after me.  Naive to noticing that anything had changed, I giggled as I tried to dodge around the trees in our backyard to create obstacles between us.  And when I turned around to see how close he was that’s when I saw the predatory look in his eyes.  I gave a small but effective scream which in turn caught the attention of Wendy.  She halted in the direction she was going before quickly turning around.  I in the meantime froze out of fear.  Yongho slowed but didn’t stop moving toward me.  He staked his way closer in the same way you would see a lioness do through the brush on a nature show before she pounced on an antelope.  And unfortunately for me, I was that antelope.  Just as Yongho pounced with claws out, Wendy intercepted him and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling around and making animalistic noises I had never heard before.  

This got the attention of my mother.  Who once she came outside to see what was happening began yelling for my dad.  He ran out and grabbed me.  Easily picking me up and throwing me inside the house ordering me to lock the door and telling my mother to call HES (hybrid emergency services).  My dad tried to get Yongho off of Wendy when he had managed to pin her to the ground while I burst into tears once the adrenaline started to wear off.  HES showed up quickly, but not fast enough to stop Wendy from accidentally scratching my dad.  She was aiming for Yongho when my father’s arm got in the way and left a deep wound along his forearm which instantly began to bleed.  Because hybrid laws take all cases of violence toward a human seriously, HES not only took Yongho away but they also took Wendy.  My father spent the next several weeks in court trying to get her back saying she had scratched him with no ill intention but they wouldn’t listen.  The only thing they could offer was for us to send her off to a reform facility, where she would spend the next three years, in hopes that maybe once she had gone through the proper reform training then she would be able to come home.  My parents agreed to send her off, but 6 months after she arrived they claimed she had ran away, only to find out in the news a few years later that this reform facility was secretly selling desirable hybrids off to private sellers and the black market.  I haven’t seen her since.”

Things between us got really quiet after I told my story.  Yoongi continued to rub my hand before noticing that my eyes were watery.  Tears threatening to come cascading down.  He sprung into action and leapt off his stool scooping me up into a hug. 

“I’m so sorry” he whispered.  

I could hear the sincerity in his voice and felt overwhelmingly comforted within his embrace.  I thought right then and there that I never wanted him to let me go.  And I didn’t care if that meant I had to share him with someone else because at that moment it felt like I was always supposed to be his.

Shortly thereafter I met Hoseok face to face.  The three of us went on a date to a nice restaurant to see how we would all get along.  The date went exceptionally well, as did the next one, and the one after that.  After a couple months, the three of us went away for the weekend and discussed the next steps for our future.  It was decided that we would all move in together and start a relationship that would define my next five years. 

Looking over at Hobi now with his brows crossed and a mild look of exhaustion on his face.  I couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“He promised me he would come home last night so he could be here for your birthday this morning.”

“Yoongi is here.” I say. “Also nice of you to wish me a Happy Birthday.”

He rolled his eyes before walking over to me and kissing me on the forehead. “He didn’t come to bed last night.” He responds as he releases me.

“That’s because he came to my bed,” I say with a teasing grin.

Once we moved into this house, it was decided that Yoongi and Hoseok would share a room while I had my own.  I didn’t mind it much because Yoongi would often sneak into my bed once Hobi fell asleep.  Or if Yoongi was at the studio all night then one of our hybrids would cuddle up with me, especially Taehyung.

Speaking of which, the German Shepherd hybrid came bounding through the backdoor.  A smile on his face and a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand.

“Happy Birthday Y/N!”

“I got you these!” He thrust the wildflowers toward me.  Tail wagging rapidly behind him.

“Thank you Tae.” I take the flowers from him smelling them in the process. “These are beautiful.”

He’s smile grows wider.  Taehyung was one of the two hybrids Hoseok and Yoongi had adopted before I joined their family. Well adopted was not really the correct term to use.  Hoseok worked as a scientist for the government.  And though they had supposedly moved on from the hybrid world, the three of us knew that wasn’t true.  Hoseok started working there right out of college.  Initially he was told he was there for human medical purposes, specifically in terms of medicine and vaccine studies.  However, while that was mostly true, Hoseok discovered one day by accident that there were also medical experiments being done on hybrids in ways that they would never imagine doing to humans.

From that moment on, Hoseok took it upon himself to make changes but he’d have to climb his way to the top in order to make any real change.  Now being the second in command to the head of the medical research team, Hobi had more privileges to know what happened in the hybrid labs but still didn’t have full command of what went on in there.  But that didn’t stop him from managing to rescue a couple in the process.

I didn’t really know all that had happened to Taehyung and Namjoon--our Doberman hybrid--while they were in that lab, but I knew that it made them respond to things in opposite ways.  Taehyung was clingy and loveable.  Namjoon was a little standoffish at first but if I played my cards right he could be putty in my hands.

“Where do you want to eat tonight?” Hobi asked.

“You guys aren’t going to make me a homemade meal.” I whine.

“If you want food poisoning then I would be more than happy to make you whatever you would like.  Or if you don’t mind eating until almost 2 in the morning then I’ll ask Yoongi what he wants to make tonight.”

I stick my tongue out at him.  I hate his reasoning sometimes.

“In that case, I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“We all know that you’ll choose the same place you always do.” A sleepy Yoongi says with a yawn.  His hair slightly sticking up in the back indicating he had just climbed out of bed. 

He walks over to me, sliding into the booth of our breakfast nook and kisses me gently. 

“Happy Birthday Princess.” He says in his deep groggy voice.

“I’m surprised you're up already.” I state as I fed him some of my breakfast.  He takes a bite and swallows before responding.  

“Someone made a pretty severe threat of laundry duty if I didn’t show up this morning. And we all know if I’m on laundry duty for a full month, we will all be deeply sorry.”

We enjoy the rest of our morning with happy banter and cuddles on the couch.  With a momentary appearance from Namjoon with a quick Birthday greeting before he went on his jog.

As I flipped through the options on Netflix with Tae asleep with his head in my lap, Hoseok’s phone rang which he picked up and answered in his office down the hall.  Yoongi and I gave a brief glance at each other figuring it was probably from work before Hoseok quickly ran out of his office and out the front door as though the house was on fire.  

We look at each other again before quickly getting off the couch to follow him.  Taehyung whines in protest as he loses the warmth of my lap before climbing back onto the couch and quickly falling back asleep.  

Hoseok goes over to our neighbor’s house, lifting his arm up to knock on the door when Jungkook opens it with a “Thank God!”

“I thought you said he’d be fine here.” Hoseok says as he follows Jungkook into his living space noticing the low growls of Sooyun coming from within.  He hesitates a moment before seeing why Sooyun is making that noise.

He quickly gets his answer as he sees Sooyun with teeth bared at a cowering figure in the corner.  He realizes her aggression is toward his Birthday gift for Y/N.  While he knew that Y/N was easily loved by Taehyung and Namjoon, they weren’t necessarily her hybrids.  Tae belonged to Yoongi and Namjoon was Hoseok’s, who he adopted at the first chance after that fateful day he walked into the hybrid lab by accident.  So he figured Y/N needed her own companion and it gave him an excuse to bring home another rescue.

“Well aren’t you going to do something.” He says to Jungkook, calmer than he felt. 

“Me?  He’s your hybrid.” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Technically he isn’t a hybrid.” 

“Then what is he?”  Yoongi says behind Hobi, scaring his younger boyfriend in the process.  I stand beyond them watching Jungkook’s normally sweet hybrid looking like the true predator she is before moving my eyes to the other hybrid--or rather not hybrid--sitting in the corner with his knees up to his chest.  My heart instantly breaks at the sight in front of me and I feel the need to protect him.

“Hey! Enough.” 

My voice is loud and clear.  Commanding but not violent, just enough to get Sooyun’s attention.  A skill I learned at all my years volunteering at the rescue. She backs away and hides behind Jungkook as though she hadn’t done anything wrong to be treated this way.  Jungkook pats the hand she rests on his arm, clutching onto his shirt sleeve. White ears pinned back to her equally pure white hair.

I take that time to move to her victim. Taking slow movements making sure not to scare him even more. “Hello.” I say getting him to look up at me with his light grey eyes.  He has soft features but an intense gaze.  I reach my hand out to help him off the floor.  He hesitates before deciding to trust me and stands up into his full height.  He isn’t large but he is taller than me, about the same size as Yoongi. 

“Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay.  I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

It gets suddenly very quiet. I look back over at the shifter in question, his hand still in mine.  Yoongi is visibly getting angry, but still trying to remain somewhat calm.

“What the fuck is a shifter, Hobi?  Like a werewolf.  Did you bring home a werewolf?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Werewolves aren’t real.  He’s a snow leopard shifter.”

For the genius Hoseok actually was he could really do some dumb things, I think as Yoongi comes towards us and pulls me away but not with some resistance from the other person holding my hand. Yoongi drags me aways while also grabbing Hoseok by the shoulder to guide us outside.

Once we step into the front yard, Yoongi turns Hobi around to look at him but doesn’t let me go.

“You know you’ve done some stupid shit in the 9 years we’ve been together, but this might easily top the list.  I mean what the hell were you thinking!  Where do you even get a snow leopard shifter?”

“The same place I got Taehyung and Namjoon.  Just there was more paperwork involved and lots of background checks.  And possibly some surveillance on the house for a week or two.”  He throws the last part in quickly as though we won’t notice that he agreed to have us be watched by a government entity without getting our consent first.

“He’s going back.” 

“What?! No!”  This protest comes from me this time.  I don’t know what a shifter is, but I do know some of what happens in the labs and he isn’t going back if I have anything to say about it.

“Yes. He. Is.” Yoongi states, as though the decision is final and begins to walk back toward the house only to stop halfway when he realizes none of us are following.

“We can’t keep him.” He states again.

“But why not?” Hobi and I pout at the same time.

Usually if one of us goes against Yoongi we don’t stand a chance at winning, but if we team up together then things inevitably go our way.

“He’s probably dangerous. I mean I still don’t know what he really is.” He stares at Hoseok on this last point.

“Shifters are what the military attempted after the hybrid experiment failed.  Essentially, through their research they found that though hybrids are stronger than humans they still aren’t as strong as a real true animal.  But you can’t fully control or command an animal, especially not a predatory animal like a tiger or lion…”

“Or a snow leopard.” Yoongi offered.

“Right.  Anyways, there was a researcher about thirty years ago who thought what if you could create a breed of human that could, when needed, shift into full animal form.  Lots of people laughed at him for this, but that didn’t stop him from running experiments on his own before a top personnel in the government decided to back him on his research.  It didn’t take him long, about five years before he got his first successful generation of shifters. Listen, I know you don’t like it Yoongi and you probably think he’s dangerous.  But he’s been kept in that lab his whole life.  And I promise you that we have nothing to fear with him.  In fact, shifters are much safer than hybrids.”  Hoseok added as a last minute plea.

Yoongi  slowly let out a sigh.  “Fine. But…” he quickly adds before Hobi and I get too excited. “If anything happens to a member of our household because of him, then he has to go somewhere else.”

“You have my word that nothing will happen.”

I grab Yoongi and Hobi into a hug in my excitement.  “So what’s his name?”

“Jimin.”

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag Royalty Au

A few months passed by comfortably and Kagome felt settled into her new role. She felt so much happier than she’d been in a long time, enough to rarely think about what brought her there in first place. Being a Lady in Waiting came with responsibilities, but Rin never felt like work. If anything, Kagome treated her like her own daughter or thought of her as the little sister she never had. Maybe even a bit too comfortable... If she wasn’t with Rin, she was with Inuyasha. They talked a lot and a crush had developed. She could tell he liked her too, but they both knew it wouldn’t work because he believed she was just a servant, and he was already spoken for. So, Kagome did her best to push away those sadder feelings and focus on the positives. She was in a safe environment, happy, and living freer than ever. It wasn’t worth stressing over.

“Where’s Rin?” Inuyasha asked Kagome when he found her sitting in the garden alone at mid-morning.

“Oh, hello Inuyasha.” Kagome looked up from her book. “This morning Rin decided to go with her mother to the neighboring city for shopping. They told me I didn’t need to accompany them, kind of like a mother, daughter fun day, I assume.”

“So that means you’re free right now?”

“I guess you could say that,” she chuckled. “They’ll probably be back around dinner time.”

“In that case, would you like to join me for a horseback ride? You haven’t had a lot of chances to see the surrounding areas, right?”

“No, I haven’t. But I guess Buyo wouldn’t mind getting out of the stable either. He hasn’t been worked much lately since I’d arrived.”

“Then it’s settled.” Inuyasha held out a hand to help her to her feet. “We can grab some lunch from the market before heading out.”

Within the hour, the pair were on horseback trotting along the road that led away from the castle city. There were a few areas close by that Inuyasha thought Kagome would enjoy seeing. For him it was days like this when he could forget that he was a Prince and just enjoy life. The woman had truly brought out a new side of him and it wasn’t going unnoticed, but so far, the palaces gossip mill didn’t dare to make it publicly known. It had steadily grown harder and harder to remember life before Kagome’s arrival and Inuyasha didn’t want to think about the day he’d have to leave her behind for some Princess he didn’t even know. Ugh! Before Kagome, he’d accepted his fate subserviently to his fathers will, but now, the frustration grew like a weed in his heart. He’d rather die alone at home, in the castle with Kagome around then be married in an unfamiliar kingdom on a loveless throne.

“Where’s Miroku?” Kagome asked after some time. “Isn’t he supposed to be with you when you leave the castle?”

“Yeah…” Inuyasha smirked with a glint in his eye. “But I ditched him. He’s probably still looking for me,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t want a third wheel when I’m with you.”

The comment brought a blush to Kagome’s cheeks as the man’s tone hinted more than an innocent rambling. “Oh…” she ducked her head in embarrassment. “It is nicer without anyone else around. So, um, where are we going?”

“There’s a pond,” Inuyasha pointed in a general direction. “It’s not much farther, with a small waterfall where we can relax and eat our lunch.”

“That does sound really nice! I’ve never seen a waterfall before,” she sheepishly admitted.

“Wow… you really haven’t seen much, have you?”

“Let’s just say I was… sheltered for most of my life.”

“Because you’re a girl?”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t let me go anywhere by myself.”

“I see. So, after they passed away you decided to do the opposite?”

“I know it’s odd for a woman to travel alone, but I didn’t have anyone to turn to and I just… needed to get away.”

Inuyasha leaned back a little in his saddle using his legs to steady himself. “I can completely understand that. Everyone wondered why I used to be so irritable before Rin came along. She gave me a reason to stick around, but I really don’t enjoy being a prince.”

“You don’t?” Kagome spoke slowly to hide the tremble in her tone. It was nice to hear someone else unhappy with that kind of life.

He shook his head. “So many rules and traditions to follow. Everyone thinks our life is easy but the pressures… and being told what to do, being watched constantly— I hate it and then the whole arrangement—… never mind.” His ears folded back as he glanced skyward. “What I wouldn’t give to be free from all of it.” He turned to look at her. “Like you— oi, did I say something wrong?” Inuyasha questioned when he saw the moisture filling Kagome eyes.

“No, no,” she shook her head and smiled. “I get it. Freedom to choose how we’ll live our lives is just, such a wonderful thing.”

Ever have a sense of connection while time stood still? Just for moment as the pair trotted side by side, their eyes holding a gaze like the world could fall away at any moment, but it wouldn’t be noticed. Inuyasha didn’t know how, and despite coming from such different worlds this woman… he knew she spoke the truth. She was feeling the same longing emotions as he was, the same which had driven her to leave home. What a strength to possess in standing up to traditions! Inuyasha let out a held breath. Kagome truly was one of those once in a lifetime meeting, he’ll never find again. If only…

Inuyasha snapped out of the daydream when he realized they’d reached their destination. “F-follow me, it’s right through this tree line.”

He led them through a thicket of trees with the sounds of moving water guiding him towards the source. This hidden gem was easy to miss from the road, but it made for a perfect hideaway. Inuyasha would sometimes slip away from the castle and go there whenever he was upset. Not even Miroku knew about it and the prince wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. They tethered the horses near the water on a patch of grass, before finding a flat rock outcropping to sit down. Inuyasha then laid out a blanket he’d brought, and Kagome unpacked a travel basket of food.

“This really is a beautiful place,” Kagome commented. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad you like it.”

Kagome stretched out her legs and held herself up with her arms behind her relaxing and listening to the sounds around her. The pond was maybe four or five horse lengths from one side to the other, with a short waterfall that fed the pond, but it had no visible outlet. Perhaps it was connected to an underground stream that came out elsewhere. Not that she cared about such details. What mattered was the serenity of the area, so calming, soothing, the gentle rumbles of the waterfall, the birds in the trees, even the frogs croaking, or water bugs buzzing around in a strangely harmonious cacophony. As they ate their lunch amidst this entertainment, she couldn’t help but think about coming back here again.

“I bet Rin would love this place,” Kagome sighed in contentment.

“She probably would, if I was willing to share it with anyone else.”

She turned her head and was about to respond when she realized what Inuyasha was insinuating. “Oh… so no one else knows about this place?”

Inuyasha shook his head no. “Just me and you. Only special people allowed,” he smiled.

As she adjusted her body to sit up, Kagome’s voice quieted with hopeful undertones. “You think… I’m special?”

“Kagome, look at the effect you’ve had on my entire family. Rin loves you. My parents think you’re great, even Kagura likes you and that says a lot. It’s pretty clear that you’re a very special person.”

“Ah, I see,” Kagome breathed out a sigh mixed with relief as well as disappointment. “Everyone has been very nice to me, and I’m blessed to have been so accepted.”

Inuyasha didn’t respond immediately and when Kagome glanced up to look at him, she noticed he was staring at the water with a serious, almost pained expression. His brows were slightly furrowed, and jaw tightened. Should she say something? Maybe he was thinking and wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Minutes ticked by, but the prince kept his eyes trained on the water. So, Kagome pulled her knees up and rested her arms on them to wait, letting the scenery pull her back into a daydream.

It frustrated Inuyasha that he kept having to reign in his emotions like this. He wanted to just tell her the truth, not cover it up with truthful lies. His family did love her, just not in the way he was beginning to. She was special to him, but it would be wrong to lead her on when there was no hope of developing anything more. He’d do anything to make her happy and feel special every single day for the rest of her life. Finally, after several awkward minutes, he spoke up. “Someone like you deserves the world Kagome, and if I could give it to you, I would.”

The comment made Kagome’s heart melt, for she knew those words were coming from his own. Now she understood the turmoil lying just below the surface but appreciated Inuyasha trying to keep things platonic for both their sakes. She smiled softly as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I know you would, Inuyasha, and I’d do the same for you if I could. These past few months have made me happier than any other time in my life, but even if this is all I get, I’ll still cherish the memories.”

Inuyasha let out a drawn-out exhale, his head hung, and ears drooped. “And I still wish things could be different. Fate sucks sometimes.”

Kagome surprised him by reaching over and placing her hand over his. “Let’s focus on the good stuff while we can.” She genuinely smiled although behind it there was a hint of sadness to it. “At least we got to meet each other, and we get to enjoy moments like this one. That’s something no one can ever take away from us.”

He flipped his hand over and took hold of hers, giving it a small squeeze. “I don’t know how you do it,” Inuyasha chuckled quietly. “But I know you’re right. For you, I’ll hold out hope that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.” And he meant it. Anything to keep a smile on Kagome’s face.

Once Inuyasha noticed the sun had moved halfway towards the horizon, they decided it was time to head back to the palace. The pair trotted out of the tree line but pushed the horses into a light gallop after making it back to the main road. It was fun, albeit disruptive to Kagome’s hair as it came undone and flowed behind her. Inuyasha had to hold back his admiration because she simply looked breathtaking like that. They slowed down as they neared the castle gate and he instantly saw a very annoyed Miroku standing next to his horse waiting for them.

“Where the hell have you been!” Miroku flailed his hands at the prince. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?!”

Refusing to acknowledge the man’s tirade, Inuyasha just rolled his eyes. “What’s the big deal. Did my dad come looking for me or something?”

“No—”

Inuyasha cut him off. “Then where’s the fire? What’s got you so damn riled up?”

“Because it was only a matter of time. And what are you doing with Ms. Tanaka?” Miroku questioned with an accusatory tone.

“Look, she hasn’t seen much more than the castle, so I took her out riding. Nothing wrong with that, so don’t be projecting your sick perverted mind on me,” Inuyasha growled back. “Now are you done grilling me cause we’d like to be on our way.”

“One more thing.” Miroku moved closer so he could keep his voice low. “A visiting King from a small kingdom will be here by dinner time, so your father may call on you to greet the guest.”

“What king?”

“Naraku, from the Komorigumo kingdom.”

“The creepy one?”

“Yeah, that one. He’s supposedly just passing through for the night on his way to the coastal port city and stopped out of respect.”

“I never did trust that guy.”

“Neither does your father, so that’s why he’ll probably ask you to greet him and keep an eye on him.”

“Alright… thanks,” Inuyasha mumbled. “Now if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Miroku then winked at Kagome. “Ma’am.”

“Mr. Hoshii,” she nodded her head.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Inuyasha grumped and drove his horse forward. “We should get inside.”

“Okay,” Kagome responded and followed along.

After putting away their horses, the pair parted ways. Kagome went straight to her room to freshen up before Rin arrived home and Inuyasha went looking for his father. He wanted to find out if there was more to this visit than Miroku had known about, because King Naraku had a sullen and untrustworthy reputation. It was customary for visiting guests to stay in the palace, but Inuyasha wondered if they should increase the guards or put them on alert for mischief. He found the Inutaisho in his war room, but after several questions, Naraku’s visit appeared to be for a benign reason, just like Miroku stated. But he still didn’t trust the man.

“Fine,” Inutaisho acquiesced. “I’m not increasing the guards but have them instructed to watch for anything suspicious or unusual and to notify you immediately if they come across something.”

“Thanks, I’ll make sure it’s done. Oh, will Naraku be at dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure he’s on the opposite side of the table from Ms. Tanaka. Wouldn’t want him making her uncomfortable.”

“Inuyasha, I still think you’re being paranoid.”

“Better paranoid and be wrong, then miss something and bad things happen.”

Inutaisho laughed. “I guess I can’t fault that logic too much. See you at dinner son.”

With Miroku’s help, the palace guards and staff were put on notice under the guise of simply being on the alert with such a high-profile guest at the palace. When King Naraku arrived shortly before dinner, Inuyasha merely watched from the dining room doorway as his father and brother greeted the fellow king. His concern was intercepting Rin and Kagome as they arrived for dinner to make sure they avoided contact.

“Uncle Inu!” Rin bounced up and hugged him.

He picked her up, holding her with one arm. “Did you have fun shopping?”

“Yeah! I got some pretty new dresses!”

“That’s awesome,” Inuyasha smiled. “And good evening Ms. Tanaka.”

“Good evening, your highness.”

“Due to a guest, the normal seating has been slightly rearranged,” he gestured for her to follow him. “I’ll show you both to your seats.”

“That’s kind of you,” Kagome smiled and did as she was told.

As the trio walked through the dining room. Inuyasha kept his side gaze trained on Naraku to see how he would react to an unfamiliar face. The man was already seated next to his father and brother chatting, but clearly aware of their entrance. For just a brief second Inuyasha swore Naraku was staring hard at Kagome but caught himself quickly once he saw Inuyasha looking in his direction and pretended not to notice Kagome at all. ‘Weird,’ Inuyasha thought to himself. With human curiosity it’s normal to react to a new face, but not to ignore, especially a pretty one like Naraku had just done. He knew he couldn’t say anything out loud about it, so he just stayed observant.

The rest of dinner went without incident until the Inutaisho invited Naraku to join he and Sesshomaru in another room for more official business. Inuyasha watched carefully as the three men left the room, but just outside of the door and his hearing, he saw Naraku stop his personal guard and whisper something in the man’s ear. The guard then glanced back at the dining table where the rest of them were still seated, and yet again he could have sworn the men were looking at Kagome!

Inuyasha leaned over and whispered to Kagome. “Once you put Rin to bed, stay in your room and keep the door locked.”

“Is something wrong?” She whispered back. “Is it because of who you and Miroku was talking about earlier?”

“Yeah. I’m probably just being paranoid, but he just gives me really bad vibes.”

“O-Okay. Sure, I’ll just stay in my room reading.”

“Good.”

The following morning, Inuyasha woke up early to watch Naraku and his entourage leave. According to Miroku, no incidents were noticed, so he could breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps he had been a little paranoid… that is until his father mentioned something. Naraku had asked the Inutaisho about Kagome before leaving. Inuyasha’s father assured his son that it was just an innocent question since Rin had a different attendant the last time the foreign king had visited. Innocent or not, why would Naraku care about a servant? Inuyasha chalked it up to the fact Kagome was a beautiful woman, so it must have just gained that kings attention. But since nothing more came from it, he filed it away in the back of his mind for future reference.

[soshesighs]

Fic: Careful

Fandom: @mindblindbard

Pairing: Gray/Button

Word Count: ~6,200

Summary: Soulmate!AU in which when two fated people first touch, their names appear tattooed on the other person's wrist. In five years, Button and Gray have never come in contact with each other, until one day... they do.

Note: In this story, Nick and Sally are already in a relationship/are soulmates. Also, my (f!)Button goes by Stevie (her full name is Stella Verbena Wiseman, because I had to follow the flower middle name Nick got; she's not crazy about her full name, though, so she uses a portmanteau of her first and middle name together), though Sally has been known to shorten that even further to just V. There's a longer note at the end, explaining why one aspect of this might seem familiar, if you're so inclined to read it!

---

(11:48 am): STAY AWAY FROM 7TH AND ELM.

Stevie blinks down at her phone. It isn’t unusual to get random warning texts from Sally whenever the two are apart - eventually, after being away from the mental shielding that Stevie grants her, Sally’s visions always return with a vengeance - but usually there’s a bit more to go on, some follow up texts that explain a bit more about whatever it is that Sally has seen. But not today, apparently.

Cocking her head to the side, Stevie types her reply.

(11:54 am): I thought your dads said no phones on vacation. Did you get it back?

As she sits there waiting for a reply, Nick plops down on the couch next to her with a groan, dropping his head into her lap and following it up with an (overly-dramatic, if Stevie has any say on it) hacking cough. “Button, I’m dying.”

Stevie almost manages to avoid rolling her eyes. Almost. But she still starts stroking her hand through his hair in what she hopes is a comforting way anyway. Her brother may be an absolute dork, but he’s her dork. “You’re not dying, Saint Nick,” she says fondly. “You have a cold, which I tried to warn you was going to happen after your last mission left you drenched, but did you listen to me? Of course not.”

Her phone buzzes where it sits on her thigh. She swipes to unlock it, glancing down to quickly read Sally’s latest text.

(11:56 am): NO, I STOLE IT BACK. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Her brow furrows, and she stops petting Nick long enough to grab her phone and reply once more.

(11:58 am): Okay, okay, I’m listening. Any more you can give me to go on?

(12:01 pm): NO DETAILS, JUST STAY OUT OF THE STREETS. BE CAREFUL, V.

(12:01 pm): P.S. IS NICHOLAS OKAY?

Nick’s heard the last bit of their conversation in her mind as she thinks over the texts, and he looks up at her with trademark puppy dog eyes. Tell her to stop worrying, I’m fine. Or, alternatively, let me talk to her and I’ll tell her myself?

She frowns, hating to be the bearer of bad news. She technically can’t have her phone yet, sorry. She snuck it from her dads to give me a head’s up on something.

Nick’s sighing really becomes dramatic then. Apparently a week away from his girlfriend, even with his sister and best friend there to keep him occupied, is too much for him to handle. Stevie decides to answer quickly so that she can go back to giving him her full attention.

(12:05 pm): He’s a bit worse today, but nothing awful. A bit of a temperature and a cough that doesn’t want to go away. Gray and I are keeping an eye on him. And by that I mean that Gray forced him to take some PTO, and I’m keeping him fed and hydrated.

(12:06 pm): He, however, claims he’s dying, so if you have any last words…

Sally’s replies arrive almost instantaneously, and Stevie can’t help but chuckle to herself.

(12:08 pm): TELL HIM TO SHUT UP AND TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF

(12:09 pm): ...ALSO TELL HIM I MISS HIM

Nick cranes his neck over to see what his sister seems to find so funny that it steals her attention from his complaining. “Tell Salome that I-” he begins, only to end up with a face full of throw pillow.

“Tell her yourself later, you nerd. I’m your sister, not your secretary!” Stevie quips, following it up by sticking her tongue out at him. (Nick responds immediately in kind.)

One final text comes in from Sally, letting them know that her dads found her and took her phone back. Stevie hopes she doesn’t end up in too much trouble for texting her; after all, she was only trying to help her and keep her safe.

Before she can decide if she should call Sally’s dads to explain and plead on her behalf, a voice drifts in from the living room doorway, making both her and Nick sit up straighter to turn around and see.

"Is Nick being demanding again?"

Nick flops back into her lap as Gray walks over, putting his hands on the arm of the couch and leaning in as he talks to them. He makes sure to still stay a safe foot or so away from Stevie so as not to invade her personal mental space - so careful, always so careful. (She wishes he weren’t, has tried to tell him so, but he always smiles his careful smile and stays a few steps away.)

His presence interrupts and breaks apart the ridiculous fight between the siblings, and he knows it. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for a reply. Stevie says, "Always" at the exact same time that Nick chimes in with a faux offended, "Never! And aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

He tries not to smile at their lovable bickering, but Gray’s affection for them both wins out. He shakes his head fondly at their antics, a common expression for him; the movement jostles a strand of his hair free, and he reaches up to attempt to push it into place, off his forehead and behind his ear. (It’s short enough that it won’t really stay, though, almost immediately falling back down. He tries twice more in vain to fix it before eventually accepting his fate. Stevie tries not to notice. Nick’s quiet snickering, complete with projected cartoon eye roll, in her mind tells her she fails.)

"Sorry, not this time, Nick,” he begins. “Stevie's only trying to help you get well, you know. You should be thanking her.”

Nick mumbles out something that sounds very distinctly like ‘Of course you take her side.’

“What was that?” Stevie asks, poking him in the side. Gray, meanwhile, has taken another step backwards, hands off the couch, which makes her prod Nick even harder in frustration.

Don’t say things like that! You make him even more distant.

Her brother looks up at her, genuine apology written clear across his features. Sorry, Button. There’s only so much pining a man can take in silence before getting lost in the woods! If you’d just tell him-

I tried that, remember? He very gracefully turned me down.

Because you were a kid, and he was in his 20s! You’re on an even playing field now! Wait, I lost the forest metaphor somewhere along the way...

With a sigh, Stevie tries to push the memories away before a flush can creep onto her cheeks. And I’ve told you a million times before, it’s not worth messing up what we have now. I’m glad he and I are good friends. Besides, Gray keeps his wrists covered for a reason, Nick. There’s probably already a name there that he’s trying to keep safe.

Nick begins to make a mental noise of protest, but Stevie quickly cuts him off by blasting the first song that comes to mind in her head, effectively screaming ‘We’re not talking about this anymore!’

Gray clears his throat, nervously shifting his weight ever so slightly on his feet as he realizes the siblings had been talking telepathically, and tries to make a graceful exit. “Well, I should start getting ready to go. I have to report in for a meeting at 2.”

“Sorry,” Nick says, between more coughing fits. Stevie hands him her bottle of water from the coffee table, which he drinks from gratefully. “You know how it is; it’s just faster sometimes.”

His partner nods, but still takes another step backwards as he makes to leave, one hand idly twirling the cuff on the opposite arm. Nick’s eyes dart down, clocking the action, and he frowns.

“Grayson,” he starts, his full name use and serious tone somewhat belittled by the fact that he’s still lying down with his head in Stevie’s lap. “I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to wear those here. Nobody in this house - and nobody who Button and I would let in this house - would betray you.”

Gray sags a bit, exhaling a small frustrated sound. “And I’ve told you a million times that it isn’t either of you or any of our friends that I don’t trust, it’s myself. The second I start taking them off is the second I forget to put them back on.”

Stevie swats at Nick’s chest, scowling at him a bit when he looks up at her in mock anger. “Leave him be, Nick. You of all people should understand why he doesn’t want to risk it, what with both of you having some... slightly overzealous fans.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Nick says with a groan. “But Salome and I have managed fine! Sure, it was breaking news for a while when we decided to stop hiding our marks, but people got over it.” He rubs a hand over his chest, pretending to massage away the ache of his sister’s (very light, she thinks pointedly at him) slap, then grabs her arm and gestures at it. “Look, Stevie doesn’t cover her arms!”

“I’m not in the public eye anywhere near as much as you two are,” she protests, snatching her arm free. “Besides, it’s... different for me. People have other things to try to use against me besides my bare wrists.” Stevie taps the side of her head with a wry, sad smile.

“And you think people wouldn’t focus on other things about Gray? His devilishly good looks? The oh-so-charming accent? The way his-...”

Holding up a hand, Gray cuts off the conversation there. “We’ve talked this over in circles, Nick. I’m afraid you won’t change my mind. Public marks are dangerous in our line of work.”

It feels like a punch to the gut to Stevie, like someone reached their hand straight into her chest and squeezed her heart tight in their first, like someone stole the breath straight from her lungs. So he does have a mark, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut tight. I should’ve known.

Nick blindly grabs her hand, giving it a squeeze that one might even generously consider a death grip, though his eyes are locked with Gray in a silent (intense, from her observation of their expressions) conversation. She has no idea what they’re discussing, but it clearly doesn’t involve her. She returns Nick’s squeeze, but then carefully begins to pry her hand free and shift out from underneath him, needing to extract herself from the situation. She needs air, fresh air - maybe someplace far away where she can let out the pained scream wanting to burst out of her; she needs out.

Her movement seems to break into their conversation, and Gray shifts his regard to her. “Heading out? I thought one of us was staying with Nick.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” the aforementioned sick man protests. “I’ll be a good patient, I swear.”

“He’ll be fine,” Stevie says, voice wobbling. She pulls herself up straighter, as if her posture could hold her together entirely. “I’m just going to go for a walk, get some fresh air. We’ve all been cooped up in here for the last few days.”

She can actually see the moment that a lightbulb goes off in Nick’s head, making him sit up quickly from the couch. But the sudden change in equilibrium seems to leave him dizzy; he brings a hand up to his forehead with wide eyes, causing both Stevie and Gray to reach out towards him should he start to fall. Nick shakes his head after a second, though, and rights himself. He tries to reassure them that he’s fine, but his sister and Gray both wear twin expressions of concern. At least now her focus is back on Nick and not on her own crushed heart.

Stevie sets her hand on his shoulder once he seems to finally be steady. “You should lay down. You need to rest, Saint Nick - and really rest, not stay up all day and night playing video games. You’re sick, not on a vacation.” She bites her lip before quietly confessing, “I’m worried about you. Do it for me, okay?”

Nick looks over at her and moans. “You know I can’t resist that face, Button.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, an uneven, tilted smile. It’s a small thing, her own feelings and worry still winning out, but it’s there. “I know. So what do you say?”

“I say… if you’re already going out, can you guys do me a favor?”

---

Within a few minutes, Stevie and Gray are on their way to go pick up a takeout order for Nick - some soup that, hopefully, will both fill him up and bring him some comfort. But Nick, being as particular as he is about foods and flavors, wants them to pick it up from a specific deli on the other side of town. Stevie hasn’t been there before, but she’s grateful that she at least won’t have to find it alone.

The fresh air does wonders to calm her down as well. She takes in big gulps of it, arms spread wide to feel the sun and wind on her skin, and gives a small twirling hop step as they start heading out. Sure, her heart feels like it’s been shattered into tiny pieces and is rattling around freely in her chest, but at least now she doesn’t feel trapped and contained. Besides, if Stevie Wiseman has gotten good at anything over the years, it’s burying her emotions and putting on a brave face - and she knows if she wants to retain her friendship with Gray, she needs to act like she’s fine around him.

Gray, on the other hand, looks outwardly uncomfortable. He keeps tugging on the brim of his hat, pulling it further and further down over his eyes (which seem to be darting around constantly to keep an eye on their surroundings, if his ever-moving head is any indication). He’s also making sure to stay on the far opposite edge of the sidewalk, giving her most of the pathway to herself. She can’t help but wonder if it’s lingering discomfort from whatever that last conversation with Nick had been.

“You didn’t have to come,” Stevie finally says, breaking their mutual silence. “That is - I mean… not that I don't want you here! I just mean, well... I know you have a meeting soon, so if you don’t have the time, I understand.”

Smooth, Wiseman. Real smooth, she thinks. He’ll never notice a thing.

He freezes mid-step and looks over at her, and she wonders exactly what expression he’s making under that cap and sunglasses, what’s going on in his head - one of the many times she’d kill for Nick’s abilities. “I wanted to,” Gray replies, voice barely audible over the busy sounds of the surrounding Chicago streets.

She turns away before (she hopes) he can see her blush. He doesn’t mean it like that, she tries to remind herself.

“Well, thank you for the company, then,” she settles on saying, trying to remember how to convince her feet to start walking again. Hopefully her voice sounds more calm and collected than she feels. “And thanks for the help keeping Nick contained this week. I know it’s hard for him to step away from work and rest, and I also know enough to recognize that he wouldn’t listen to just me about it.”

"For a man who constantly proclaims you the smartest person he knows, he doesn't listen well, does he?" Gray teases.

Stevie can’t help but groan. “You’re telling me. It’s not like I know him better than anyone else or anything,” she says sarcastically, then immediately shooting a glance at him and wincing a bit. “Sorry, I didn't mean-"

He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “No offense taken. I’m sure you do. I can’t compete with a sibling bond, or certainly not like the one you two have, at least.”

They pause at a light, waiting for the sign to give them the okay to cross. Stevie can feel Gray’s eyes on her back, and it leaves her itching to turn around. If the world were slightly less cruel, if the physical space between them weren’t a constant upkeep and if fate had consented to match them together, she might dig deep within herself and find the bravery to reach out and finally grab his hand, thread their fingers together, tug him out onto the crosswalk with a teasing smile and a playful “Let’s go, cookie monster, we’re running out of time.”

But that’s not them. He has someone, she has to remember that. And the two of them? They’re a constant mindful dance around each other, a deliberate six inches at least (usually a foot, if not more), always careful.

(She hates that word.)

Stevie glances back for a split second. “Fidgeting,” comes the mumble, and she doesn’t even fully realize that she’s spoken aloud.

Gray makes a questioning noise, immediately bringing his gaze to meet hers.

The light changes, so she steps out to continue their journey and tries to keep her voice even. “When you’re nervous, you fidget, especially if you’re all… incognito. When you're uncomfortable, I should say. You tend to readjust your hat, push up your glasses, fix your hair. ” She clears her throat, suddenly nervous. “Rebuckle your cuffs, whether that’s these separate ones or your shirt sleeves. Twist them around, like earlier."

The deli that they’re heading to is at most only a couple of blocks down now; Stevie can see the sign from here, a bright neon thing blinking in perfect rhythm. She times her breathing to it in an attempt to quiet her pounding heart.

He tries to smile, but Stevie knows by now what a real smile from Gray looks like and what his plastered-on media smile does, and this is most definitely the latter. She took it too far, she knew the moment the topic changed to even skirt the edges of his mysterious marks that she’d said too much, but something about being around him makes her lose her filter.

“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat around that fake expression, “You’re quite observant. But unfortunately, not all of us are as brave as you are, Stella.”

Her head whips around then, because Gray never uses her full first name - nobody around her does really, aside from her parents - and she finds herself frozen right in front of the door they should be entering.

“You called me Stella.”

He rebends the brim of his hat. “Apologies, Stevie." Shifts his feet. "I know you don’t prefer it.”

"It's okay," she hears herself saying, so soft even to her own ears that she thinks the words may have been lost to the wind. "From you, I don't mind."

Stevie winces internally; it’s going to take a while to build up a better filter around him. She tries to meet his eyes, but only sees her own (bright red) face in his mirrored lenses; she dimly hopes that he might not notice, or perhaps chalk it up to the day's warmer weather. After a moment, she shakes her head, breaking free of whatever spell hearing Grayson Black quietly say her full first name had put her under. "Anyway, this is the place. Shall we?"

---

Gray follows behind her, having held the door open to let her enter first, and it closes behind them both with a soft tinkling of bells. The first thing Stevie notices is that it isn’t an incredibly busy place; there’s only two tables occupied out of the entire restaurant floor, both up against the windows on the other side of the room and seemingly taken up by one big group. The second thing is that it smells amazing. Her stomach growls in agreement almost immediately, and she throws her hands over it as if that could make it quiet down.

She chuckles, trying to downplay her own embarrassment. “I think I’ll grab something while we’re here to take home for myself as well.” Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she asks, “What about you? Going to grab anything to-go before your meeting, or did you already eat?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead seems to quickly glance past her, a frown forming. Stevie’s about to ask what’s got him so upset when someone slams into her with a shoulder check, making her stumble backwards - almost right into Gray, but not quite, as he manages to bounce back a step in time.

“Out of the way, freak,” the person mutters at her, before shoving past her again and immediately out the door.

Gray acts like he’s going to follow, pivoting on the spot, but Stevie tosses a hand out towards him. “Don’t,” she pleads. “They’re not worth it. It’s fine, Gray. I’m used to it.”

He turns back toward her, and his anger softens in a second, seeming to fade off his features the moment he looks at her. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

Stevie swallows hard, fingering the strap of her crossbody bag, readjusting it very deliberately and meticulously to avoid meeting his eyes again. “I know. But it’s how it’s always been. Can we just… get the food and go?”

It takes him a second to answer, and Stevie knows he’s still considering going out after the guy and - and what? He wouldn’t ever retaliate against him; Gray’s too good a guy for that. Maybe give him a stern talking to? But that would give him away entirely, ruining his already flimsy disguise. He’d be surrounded in minutes; Stevie’s seen it happen enough times to know it’s true. They both know that no good could or would come from it.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “But I’m walking back with you. I’ll leave for the meeting after.”

She won’t admit it outloud, but the relief that floods through her knowing that she won’t have to make the walk alone is palpable for Stevie. What she said is true: she’s fairly used to people making comments under their breath at her, but it doesn’t often escalate into anything physical. And while Nick, Gray, and all their friends had made sure that she knew how to defend herself if push comes to literal shove, she’d always rather not fight. Admitting that the (fairly innocuous, she realizes) interaction has shaken her up a bit (she blames her already fragile emotional state) isn’t something she’s keen to do. So she just nods in reply, grateful, before turning to walk up to the deli counter.

“Picking up an order for Nicholas, please? I have the order number and confirmation right here on my phone. And I’d like to get a second entrée while I’m here as well.”

---

Stevie leaves the restaurant before Gray. While he’s still waiting for his order, she grabs the bag with her food and Nick’s and says she’s going to wait outside, that she needs the air. She can tell that Gray is uneasy about it, but he relents and nods, saying he should be out in a minute or so. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile, and pushes out the door.

But the moment she steps outside, she knows something is wrong.

A shadow blocks her path, despite it being midday, and a pair of shoes is suddenly right in her line of sight. Recognizable, perfectly shined, name-brand dress shoes.

Shoes she’d just seen as her classmate shoved into her and left the restaurant in a huff. Shoes that had just as often tried to trip her up in the halls of Aeon.

“Going somewhere?”

She snaps her head up, and - in the most deadly calm voice she can manage - says, “Move out of my way, please.”

The guy pretends to think, tapping his fingers on his chin, before a wolfish grin starts to spread on his face. “You know, I don’t think I will.”

“What’s your problem with me?” Stevie snaps, rolling her eyes. “If I bother you that much, then leave.”

“Like your little boyfriend did? Not here now, I see. Who is he?” he asks, taking another step closer to Stevie. She knows she can’t let him box her in, so she fakes to his left before pivoting around his right, trying to get around and away from him. Her momentum, however, is slowed due to the weight of the bags of food in her arms. Before she knows it, he has her backed against a streetlamp. “Obviously no one important, since he didn’t stick around. He sick of your noise already?”

His eyes glance down at her full hands, noting her empty wrists. “Or maybe he got tired of playing pretend? I notice his wrists were covered. He kick you to the curb to go after his real soulmate?”

Stevie grits her teeth, turning her head away; she doesn’t want to rise to this asshole’s provocation, doesn’t want to give away how painfully close to the truth he might be.

“Even fate doesn’t think anyone could put up with you forever, Wiseman.” He reaches out then, making to wrap his hand around her wrist, and on instinct she kicks her knee up - and she knows instantly that she’s accurately found her target as the guy stumbles back and doubles over.

“You’ll pay for that,” he pushes out past a groan.

Four things happen then in quick succession:

The first being that the door to the restaurant pushes open with a light chiming of bells, a sound far too cheery for Stevie’s current situation. She snaps her head up, meeting the fixed, shocked stare of one Grayson Black, just as he tucks his sunglasses onto the neck of his shirt.

The second thing is that the guy - who also glanced behind him quickly to see whether the newcomer to their situation was one of his friends or someone to worry about - mumbles a shocked, “Oh shit,” before turning back around towards Stevie with wide eyes, realizing that Gray is indeed ‘someone to worry about.’

The third is that he shoves at Stevie as hard as he can before making a beeline out of the situation, running off down some side alley and disappearing almost as quickly as he’d slid into Stevie’s line of sight earlier.

And the fourth and final thing is that she goes tumbling back - arms still full and totally unable to stop her fall - causing her heel to slip off the curb and sending Stevie sprawling into the intersection at the corner of 7th and Elm Street.

---

Stevie’s heart drops.

Her arms pinwheel as she tries to regain her balance, the takeout bags flying somewhere off to her sides, and after a second she squeezes her eyes shut tight, resigned to whatever serious injury is about to befall her. Somewhere in the distance, she hears someone laying on their horn, blaring down Elm towards her.

But the impact never comes.

Before she stumbles completely, before she can fall flat onto her back, before the oncoming traffic can slam into her flailing body, Gray crosses the concrete path between them, grabs her arm, and pulls. Her center of gravity flips on a dime, sending her instead tumbling forward to crash hard into his chest; the impact knocks them both backwards, but he immediately wraps his arms around her and spins them around on the spot, baring his back to the busy street to take whatever blow might come in her stead and placing her once again on the relative safety of the sidewalk.

Both their eyes are still clenched tight, breath coming in ragged, choking gasps, as some random pedestrian comes up yelling, asking if they’re okay.

She manages to nod, but she’s not sure it’s very convincing, given that she’s still attempting to stave off the panic threatening to overtake her and sucking in huge gulps of air.

“Careful! Breathe, Stevie,” a calming voice says. She’s fairly certain she recognizes the voice, but right now the only thing she registers is the slamming of her own heartbeat in her own ears. “Try to match me. You’re okay, look at me - look at me, okay? You’re alright. It’s okay.”

Someone lowers her to the ground, the two of them falling into a graceless heap of tangled, trembling limbs. Gentle hands smooth down her hair, pulling it back from her neck and helping her lean forward as she continues to hyperventilate. She vaguely registers someone asking if they should call for paramedics, another quiet voice saying no, disclosing that she doesn’t like doctors.

She covers her eyes with her shaking hands, trying to block out the chaos around her so that she can focus on calming down. Usually by now, Nick would’ve interrupted her panic attack with a series of unimportant, unrelated questions, but he must have finally fallen asleep.

Good, some tiny part of her mind chimes, but her focus can’t remain on her sick brother for long before another tidal wave of adrenaline crashes over her, taking any and all external thoughts with it out to sea.

A hand rubs up and down her spine, silently reassuring her that she’s not alone. Somewhere, a voice - the same person? - is counting softly into her ear. It takes her a moment, but in time she realizes they’re counting breaths.

She struggles to fall in line with their tempo, but little by little she does. The edges of her vision start to clear, the gripping sensation around her chest starts to loosen, and her limbs become stiff and heavy as she slowly, so slowly, stops shaking like a leaf.

“Are you with me?” the kind voice asks, and her mind finally reconnects that it’s Gray - that he’s the one that pulled her back, that he’s sat with her in the middle of a busy sidewalk for the last five minutes as she comes back down, that somehow he’s gotten the tiny crowd they’d gathered to disperse and give her air.

Her forehead comes to rest on her knees, but eventually she nods. She mumbles out a continuous stream of thank yous, seeming to be the only words she can form at first.

At long last, she croaks out, “You saved my life.”

Gray’s hand still massages up and down her back, trying to help her stay grounded. “It is kind of my job,” he jokes, though his voice is strained with the attempt to turn their afternoon into something lighthearted.

Stevie leans back, resting her head against his chest with a soft chuckle. “That it is, superhero.”

It takes a moment for his words to fully sink in. A couple of deep breaths later, though, and she springs back from his hold, eyes wide. “Your job! The meeting, you were supposed to-” she starts.

He holds his hands out towards her, like one might in an attempt to comfort a startled animal, obviously hoping she doesn’t work herself up into a frenzy again. When it appears she’s not going to run at his touch, he sets his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, Stevie, don’t worry about it. Unity will have already heard what happened by now. I’d be surprised if someone hasn’t contacted Nick as well.”

She groans at that, dropping her head into her hands again. “Great, now he’ll never let me out of his sight again.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Gray asks around a deep laugh, sounding utterly disbelieving. “Nevermind that you only narrowly avoided falling victim to a pedestrian accident, of course.”

“You know how overprotective Nick is. Of course that’s what I’m wor- ahh!” she cuts herself off with a hiss of pain, pulling her arms close to her chest with a wince.

Gray’s hands tighten on her shoulders as his eyes dart over her entire form. “What is it?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

But Stevie doesn’t answer, she just stares down, eyes growing wider by the second. Gray pleads for her to answer him, asking again if she’s okay, but she can’t find her voice to respond. Her breath feels caught in her throat - not dissimilar to how she was previously feeling, but for an entirely different reason.

This can’t be happening, she thinks, mind racing at what feels like a million miles a minute. It’s not possible. There’s no way.

“What’s not possible, Stevie?” he finally asks, voice desperate, neither of them acknowledging that he reads her mind before the question.

Slowly - and looking back, she’d genuinely say it feels like the tiny movement takes her a lifetime, as if the moment stretched itself to encompass its enormity - she lowers her arms from her chest, holding them out in the space between them. His hands wrap around her forearms, desperately trying to find the source of her injury, before he freezes; she feels his heart skip a beat through the tight grip he has on her.

Staring back up at him is his own name, written plainly across both her wrists, raw as a new tattoo.

He blinks. Blinks again. At first, he doesn’t manage to say anything, just rips the cuffs off his own arms, right there in the middle of the sidewalk - and sure enough. Her name is there in the same small writing as his own was, bright red, inflamed skin around it. As if in a trance, he brings his fingertips to the writing, mouth silently forming her name.

“It’s you,” he whispers reverently, looking up to once more meet her gaze. The look on his face is pure adoration and… relief? A shaky hand comes up to rest on her cheek, as if he can’t quite believe she’s really sitting there in front of him still.

Stevie swallows hard, leaning slightly into his touch. “I - I thought… I always assumed you already had a name,” she confesses. “You made it sound like you did. In interviews. At home even.”

“I wanted the questions to stop. To have more of a sense of privacy, to stop answering the same question over and over again,” he says, shaking his head. “I eventually realized that if I was vague enough, people would make their own assumptions and run with them.”

“Well, it worked,” she jokes weakly. “I had no idea.”

The light behind them turns green, and someone honks at another car in annoyance when they don’t start moving fast enough. As if whatever spell they were under breaks at the sound, Gray looks around and seems to finally realize they’re still just… sitting in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the deli. He stands, dusting off his jeans, and offers a hand out to her.

Stevie starts to bring her hand to his, but stops halfway, hand halting in mid-air. “Are you sure?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds. He’d been casually touching her ever since the almost-accident, yes, but emotions had been running so high that neither of them had really noticed in the moment. Doing it on purpose would be - should be - different. “You’ve always kept your distance, for as long as we’ve known each other. It’ll be… loud.”

He nods - a subtle, gentle thing - but he brings his hand no closer, leaving the ultimate decision up to her. It’s her mental privacy that’s in question, after all.

Who knew your whole world could change in one afternoon, she thinks.

And then, she takes a deep breath and slides her hand into his: a leap of faith.

---

They arrive back at the house right as Nick is flinging the door open, shoving his arms into a jacket, keys dangling from where they’re stuck between his teeth.

“Excuse me, I have to - Button!” The keys clatter to the ground, and he barely manages to stop his down-stair momentum before slamming into her. As it is, Nick’s hands fly up to cup her face, wide worried eyes looking into hers.

It’s okay, Nick, I’m okay. She thinks rather than says the words out loud, not trusting her voice. Tears pool in her eyes, and she gives him a watery smile. I almost wasn’t, but I’m okay.

Nick looks her over, as if he needs to see for himself that she’s in one piece and whole to believe her, but freezes suddenly in his mother-henning when he spots it.

Stevie and Gray’s hands are clasped between them still, Gray standing a step down behind her, no wrist cuffs in sight.

And Nick? Nick just rolls his eyes, falling into an exhausted slump on the stairs.

“Well it’s about damn time!”

---

Later that afternoon, Stevie takes a picture of her hand intertwined with Gray’s, both of their marks fully on display, and sends it off in a text to Sally.

(4:43 pm): Thanks for the warning, but everything turned out better than expected.

(4:47 pm): (p.s. I’m sure it goes without saying, but please don’t tell anyone else yet!)

Two days later, when Sally apparently gets her phone back, Stevie receives six straight texts in a row full of exclamation marks, the messages only seeming to stop when her phone begins to ring.

---

End Author's Note: Fun fact! This was supposed to be around 1,500 words, and that's it. Turns out, Stevie's an anxious worrier like me and had a lot of emotions to work through in a short period of time. Anyway, speaking of being a worrier, part of this might seem vaguely familiar. I fully recognize that Gray's route in the Cupid Calamity side story involves a "moment" between Button and Gray in which one of them keeps the other from being hit by a moving vehicle. (If we're counting a Segway as a vehicle, that is.)

I in no way intended to copy anything from Jo's story or step on any toes or anything. I've had this story in the works for over a month now - in fact, it's just been sitting there untouched for the last week or so because I was considering scrapping the whole thing, because all I could think about was if using a similar plot device was too similar. I hope it isn't and that this was enjoyable all the same. My sincerest apologies if it comes across as anything other than me attempting to express my pure love and adoration for Jo's story and characters!

(Also, apologies for the sheer amount of italics in this fic, haha. Between texts and telepathic communication and emphasis, it feels ridiculous even to me.)

[asthmark]

❝ let’s dance ❞ s.jh

synopsis → “i’m gonna marry you.”

request → “How about Johnny fluff partying time and the concept theme is the 80s” — @heart-bleeding-autism-angel​

word count → 2.5k

a/n → the amount of googling i did for this is scary .. and i still know literally nothing abt the 80’s LOL anyway the title is my fav david bowie song that happened to be released in ‘83 and it kind of fits the the fic so,,, cool :-)

the moonlight shines through your window, casting it’s heavenly glow on your face. despite the late hour, it illuminates your entire room enough that you can read the time off the clock hanging on your wall.

11:55 p.m.

if they decide to be on time, your friends should be arriving in five minutes.

you retreat from your windowsill to prepare yourself. you stop in front of your closet, staring at the array of clothing. it takes you a couple moments to pick something you liked. you, of course, wanted to impress johnny, the self proclaimed fashion evaluator, but there was no better feeling than knowing you looked good.

you settle on a cozy turtleneck and your favorite mini skirt. then you pull on a pair of tube socks and slip on your prized white sneakers. for the final touch, you slide on a thin buckle belt through the loops of your skirt to tie it all together.

you smile satisfactorily at your reflection in the mirror and what was sure to be your best outfit yet. besides being well-put together, it felt comfortable enough to move around in and you knew you would surely be doing much moving that night.

once the clock strikes midnight, you notice  light flash into your room. since it’s brighter than that of the moon, you know exactly who must be behind it. even if you didn’t, the hushed chatter and giggling from outside your window gives it away. you peer down into your backyard to find sicheng and jaehyun standing there, flashlights in hand and aimed directly into your bedroom.

you hastily wave your hands at them, your face twisted with worry. they wave back at you with goofy smiles on their faces, oblivious to your concern.

“cut the lights!” you hiss as silently as you can.

they finally seem to get the hint and click them off. jaehyun shouts back, “sorry!” accompanied by a laugh sicheng has failed to contain. you wince at their volume. there was no keeping them quiet so you decide your only option is to move as fast as you possibly can.

you carefully push one leg out of your window. it dangles above the roof of the front porch and you slowly lower it onto the tile. once you’ve successfully planted half of yourself on the roof, you bring your other leg down. this action is followed by a slight creek but you don’t even bother hesitating. you crouch down to the edge of the house and repeat the previous steps, this time landing on the front steps of your porch.

“that was smooth!” jaehyun exclaims in awe.

you bring a finger to your lips but still can’t help but smile at the praise.

“you’re like a ninja,” adds sicheng. “or a cat.” he pauses, deep in thought, before concluding, “you’re a ninja cat.”

you raise a brow. “you’ve both been drinking, haven't you?”

“no.”

“yes.”

“i’m gonna have to believe jae on this one,” you say, observing the way sicheng’s eyelids droop and he slurs his words. “you couldn’t have waited ‘til we got to the club?”

he whines like a child. “i was thirsty!”

you clamp your hand over his mouth and scold him. “why do you feel the need to be so loud? do you want me to get caught?”

jaehyun hiccups. “aren’t you glad i’m an introvert? i’ll never get you in trouble.”

you laugh dryly. “sure, you’re all introverted until you find some random chick to grind on.”

he pouts. “let me have fun.”

“it’s fun until you spill your drink on her and i have to help clean—oh come on, sicheng, did you just lick me?” you remove your hand from his mouth only to find a big smile on his lips.

“perhaps.”

“god, let’s just go. where’s johnny parked?”  

“end of the street.”

you go in said direction with your two friends trailing behind you, messing around all the while. the three of you only stop when you catch sight of johnny’s shiny black convertible. you approach the vehicle and when he notices you, he smiles and shoots you a wink.

“you’re such a flirt,” you comment, opening the door to the passenger's seat.  

he shrugs. “but you still fell in love with me so i’d say it’s worked out pretty well up until this point.”

you’re about to respond when jaehyun interrupts. “hey, i wanted to ride shotgun!”

“me too!” agrees sicheng. “y/n always gets it!”

johnny glares at the pair through the rear view mirror. “and that’s how i like it so get in the backseat or you’re walking.”

they mumble what you assume are complaints yet still get in the car.

johnny revs up the engine but before you go anywhere he makes an announcement. “and if either of you are going to vomit again, all i ask is that you don’t do it in here. my dad just bought me this bad boy.”

a chuckle escapes your lips.

“what are you laughing about over there?”

you lean back against the headrest, smile still present. “we literally have two kids.”

“basically. but hey, there’s no one else i’d rather babysit two grown men with than you.”

“stop, i’m blushing,” you deadpan.

johnny’s shoulders shake with laughter at your sarcasm. “seriously, though! you really know how to take care of someone. one day, if i’m lucky enough, i’ll be able to see that up close.”

you know exactly what he means by that last statement—he was thinking of a future with you. the last thing you want to do is burst his bubble but you knew how your parents felt about your relationship. they thought you could do better than ‘some football player from your school’. they had friends with young, stuck up sons who, according to them, were more fit for you. despite being told countless times how happy johnny made you, they paid you no mind.

you nod, sincerely. “i hope so.”

he places his hand on your thigh, rubbing reassuring circles into your skin. you stay like that for the entire drive.

once you finally reach your destination, you leave all doubt and anxiety surrounding your relationship with johnny in the car along with any other negativity. the flashing lights and loud music you could hear even from outside the club excites you and you’re left with no choice but to discard all of your worries. you never got tired of seeing the glowing, neon sign letting you know that you had arrived at the hottest hang out spot there was—the neo zone.

as soon as you step inside, sicheng’s face contorts in displeasure. “i’m, uh, going to the bathroom.” he carelessly pushes past strangers, clutching his stomach.

you notice jaehyun has disappeared as well. before you can ask, you spot him on the dance floor, inserting himself in some line dance he obviously isn’t familiar with. his limbs move awkwardly and completely out of sync with the rest of the group. he recieves multiple strange looks and you can’t help but cringe.

“where did we go wrong with them?”

johnny’s laugh can hardly be heard over the booming bass of a song. “couldn’t tell you that, sugar. let’s just hope the next ones come out better.”

there he goes again, talking about your oh-so-promising future. you were still unsure if you would be able to grant johnny the picture perfect life he constantly spoke about. whenever he referenced it, you felt slightly guilty.

instead of acknowledging his comment, you glance around, looking anywhere but him. “want to get a drink?”

he simply nods, placing his hand in the small of your back as you weave your way through the crowd to the bar.

he leans on the counter and orders, “one long island iced tea, please.”

“you know my order?” you ask, pleasantly surprised.

“sweetheart, you get it everytime we come here. and that’s often.”

you still beam at him. “it’s still nice. you know, that you notice those things.”

“everything about you is worth noticing. besides, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t?”

you press a quick kiss to his cheek to show him how grateful you are.

“you really have to work on your aim because you completely missed your target that time.” he teasingly taps his lips.

you roll your eyes with a giggle. “never satisfied, are you, suh?”

“you owe me, just sayin’.”

“oh yeah?”

“totally! i let you sit shotgun!”

“i was the only thing standing in the way of sicheng throwing up all over your dashboard, you should be thanking me!”

johnny presses a kiss to your lips. it’s so unexpected yet enjoyable that you can’t stop your eyes from fluttering shut in bliss. he only pulls away to take a breath of air.

he licks his lips. “how was that?”

you brush imaginary dust off your skirt. “probably the best ‘thank you’ i’ve ever received.”

“says you. i can't get enough of those lips of yours.”

you fiddle with your belt. “nobody's stopping you from getting your fill.”

“you’re going to be the death of me, young lady.”

seconds later, the bartender slides you your drink. “here’s your drink, young lady.” he gives johnny a knowing smile and not-so-subtle thumbs up. “what a pretty little thing you got there.”

you know his words aren’t meant for your ears so you avert your eyes and take small sips of your drink.

“thank you, sir. i couldn’t agree more.”

“you know, me and my wife met in this club. just like you two.”

“we’ve actually known each other for a couple years.”

the man’s eyes widen in surprise. “well, look at you. already ahead of the game. you love her?”

johnny doesn’t hesitate to nod. “very much. the only issue is her folks don’t seem to be too crazy about me. they have a long list of suitors, myself excluded.”

you frown and trace the rim of your glass. that never got any easier for you to hear.  

the man nods, understandingly. “i see. well, in that case, you might have to wait. you said you love her and until you get to be together—which you will—keep loving her. that’ll make the time you spend waiting go by like this.” he snaps his fingers to prove his point.

johnny nods, a genuine smile appearing on his face. “i appreciate the advice. thank you.”

the bartender gives him a curt nod and goes back to tending to the other demanding customers.

before johnny gets a chance to say anything, you ask, “do you wanna dance with me?”

his grin widens. “always.”

you take his hand in yours and lead him to the dance floor. it’s full, as always, multiple bodies pressed up against each other. you waste no time joining in.

your hands end up on his broad shoulders, fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck and his grip ends up on your hips. the songs played at club neo zone always had a strong bass and energetic vibe so you both match that rhythm, moving to the intense heartbeat of the music. you gaze up at johnny, admiring his good looks even under the glow of the disco lights that colored him shades of bright pink, blue and green.

“what are you looking at, pretty girl?”

“just your face. i like it.”

he hums. “mm, i’m glad. i do too.”

“like my face?”

“no, mine.”

you shove his shoulder, playfully.

he chuckles. “you know i’m joking. you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

you suddenly find your shoes to be very interesting and stare down at them, smiling sheepishly.

“c’mon, don’t get all shy on me now.”

you giggle. “quit it.”

he glides his hands up and down your sides. “i’m serious, darling. it must’ve taken all my luck to get you.”

“i could say the same thing. there’s no one i’d rather be with than you, john.”

his dimples appear at the compliment and he goes in for a bear-like hug. he cradles your shoulders and rests his chin on top of your head as both you sway.

“i’m gonna marry you.”

you’re not sure what about this statement catches you most off guard. maybe it’s the way that there’s no teasing tone in his voice or perhaps the fact that he has decided to say this in the middle of the dance floor, of all places.

you catch your lower lip in between your teeth. “i’m sorry we have to wait.”

“i’ll wait forever, babygirl, if that’s what it takes. and so what if your parents don’t want that. if one day you’ll let me wake up next to you and have a family with you, i’ll be happy.”

you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach at his sweet words. “i can't wait.”

with the hope of a future together, you and johnny happily dance the rest of the night away. once the party dies down and the crowd shrinks with every song that passes, your bodies are left sweaty and tired. you agree it’s time to go home.

you spot jaehyun in the back of the club and it takes a lot of effort to drag him off his latest girl interest. he blows her kisses as you yank him away, promising her a phone call in the morning. you’re pretty sure he’s lying.

sicheng is found passed out in the restroom, snoring heavily.

“has he been here this whole time?” you ask with a grunt as you attempt to hoist him up.

johnny shrugs as he helps you lift. “i find it's better to not ask questions.”

you nod in agreement. “fair.”

the car ride is silent mostly thanks to sicheng being knocked out. jaehyun sits quietly as well, staring out the window. johnny decides to drop them off first. you stop in front of the jung residence. as you watch the brunette struggle to open the door with one hand and hold sicheng’s unconscious figure in the other, you can’t help but wonder, “is it really a good idea to leave him with jae? i mean, that’s like telling a toddler to look after an infant.”

“if i left him at his house i’m pretty sure his old man would ground him for the rest of his life. jae’s folks are always out of town.”

with that reassurance, you drive off, your next destination being your house. johnny parks exactly where he did at the beginning of the night, just to be safe.

he rests his hands on the steering wheel. “want me to walk you?”

you shake your head. “that’s alright. if i get caught, i’d rather it not be with you. i’d never hear the end of it.”

“yeah, i get it. one day, though, we won’t have to worry about it.” as if to promise you his words are true, he hands you his letterman jacket. it was his prized possession and he was never seen without it. “here, take this. wear it when i can't be with you.”

you nod, clutching the clothing item close to your chest. “i will.”

he leans over as far as his seatbelt allows him to give you the last kiss of the night. it ends too fast for the both of you. you exit his car and walk down the sidewalk towards your house.

johnny watches you through his rear view mirror and smiles to himself when he catches you pull on his jacket.

[sienna-writes]

On the Border of Blinking | update 2

more poems ! yay :)

Writing poetry is so comparatively stress free than my other projects right now - so I can confirm that this anthology continues to be a joy to write! I am absolutely loving how it is coming along and it feels more naturalistic than my previous collection. There are hints of weirdness here and there because I’m Weird, nice to meet you - but overall it feels a lot more grounded and I love it! I think I hid, to a certain extent, my personal experiences behind a lot of nonsensical images previously so this feels more honest, a bit more scary... and also braver :)) [Having said that, nothing against my old poems I still really love some of them but I was definitely still finding my footing and experimenting so some were pretty messy. and that’s okay !! without the mess, the ‘mistakes’, etc, i wouldn’t have gotten to this current collection :) ].

One thing I'm noticing is that for an anthology i wanted to be about living presently, moment to moment, blink to blink — it's incredibly ?? nostalgic ? :")

it's definitely becoming a trend that i cannot stick to the concept i commit to but i'm honestly not too concerned about it at this point. I'm very proud of how it's shaping up to be and so glad that I'm still able to write poetry while my unfinished short stories and novel collect dust. [will get around to them ... am just ... so tired ......]

cw: abuse (only for the first one and not in depth)

the poems;

witness, weary

I wrote this the morning after a particularly ... heated night in my family and it explores the fatigue of living in an environment that can be violent at times, where you are gaslit, terrified and caught in the midst of it all, feeling trapped. It explores, in a paradoxically ~quiet~ (muted maybe ?? i am a writer but can't words) tone, the denial that follows afterward. How it is played down if you have the courage to bring it up again, or more realistically, ignored entirely and left un-talked about. How it hurts less if you pretend it didn't happen. It is gentle to mirror a house becoming still after its storm and people occupying less space when they are hurting, so as not to cause a bigger scene.

these are the moments i held my breath

this one is relatively self explanatory ! the most memorable moments I have held my breath in my life lmao :”) and then i cheated and added another in where I probably should have been holding my breath but was young and stupid and panicking and Did Not. 

infinite

i love this poem so, so much. It is honestly just a bunch of "maybes" that developed into something that just indescribably ✨aches✨ whenever i revisit it. I doubt anyone would feel that same ache, but it's cathartic for me at least. I don't think I had a plan going into this, it just spiralled out of me and then with editing it has become a new fav of the anthology. The lines all rely on each other, so above is the first line :) ^

I sat in the park and imagined

So this poem is about standing on the moon and imagining, clearly. :D

lol

i was sitting. in a park. imagining: hey what if a bomb exploded right now? and then started to write a poem about that situation. I kind of like it! It is unlike anything I've written before, and I'm learning to accept that kind of scenario as a positive. It was more comedic than i thought it would be, but then again my humour is often incredibly unfunny to everyone but myself and close friends so idK man. it's an amusing read to me. :")

unholdable

an incredibly short poem ! for me anyway ! I never thought I'd be able to write a poem under 500 words in the last anthology. (there were some big bois). then when writing this collection I was like huh ok my poems are pretty varied yay, and then b o o m this one was a mere 97 words and the lowest until then that i had written was 233. I think it's a good sign - I'm becoming a more economical writer and saying what I crucially want to say without diluting the meaning. also, it shows I'm experimenting more with structure and form and im ✨always✨ down for that.

measurements

human insignificance through the lens of blue whale facts !! no I'm not kidding :) yes that is genuinely this poem :)) pls end me :D <3

i jest, yet unironically love this concept even if im not ✨fully✨ comfortable with the execution yet. It's almost there it just needs some final tweaking I think.

snatched

a haiku about a deer eating grass in a graveyard in the snow :) cus that's a thing i witnessed and it was eerily beautiful :) and haiku's are a beautiful form :)

conclusion;

it's going ! good ! I could share lines this time because i am not yet submitting these poems. i plan to with some but again, I've only recently written them so haven't gotten around to it yet :"D not looking forward to it ahah submitting is painful and takes me way longer than it should.

tag list (ask to be added/removed!):

@alicewestwater @elaz-ivero @coffeeandcalligraphy @hanwatchingmovies @chloeswords @nev-953 @justahufflepuffnerd @writerschronicles @august-iswriting @jennawritesstories @jaydewritesfiction @avakrahn @chewingthescenery

[evening-starlight]

Chances {Chapter Eleven}

I lied, this is the longest chapter. They just keep getting longer ya’ll

Master List

Comfortable, Not Easy

Word Count: 2010

    I spent the next two weeks avoiding everyone and everything thing, especially after I slipped and invited Jared over. Not my proudest moment. Robbie dropped by a couple of times to coax me out of bed, but it didn't work. I felt dirty, used, and stupid. I called Jared after he assaulted me in front of my house like a whore and let him stay over for nine days.

    It wasn't necessarily comfortable being with Jared for nine days, but it was familiar. I knew what to expect from waking up to going to bed. Tom was texting to check in as well, and I ignored every sweet text he sent me. I couldn't face the fact that he was there, waiting for me to recoup while I was living with my ex again.

    Robbie finally kicked Jared out on day ten for me. I told him about the kisses and how horrible I felt letting Jared stay on day nine. Jared was gone before I woke up, and Robbie was trying to pull me out of bed. Literally.

    Robbie pulls on my ankle repeatedly, trying to loosen my hold on the headboard. "Come," pull. "On." He pulls again. "You can't stay locked in your room because you've made a mistake, Stella." He scolds, sitting next to my feet. I grunt in response. "I swear to all things LA, I will make Stevie do a house call." I moan louder, pulling a pillow over my head. The space next to me dips down, and Robbie throws an arm over me.

    Whenever I'm in a lousy mood, Robbie's first response is forceful eviction of my room followed by snuggles. If either won't work, he calls Stevie. In our ten years of friendship, he's gotten to know me inside and out. He's my closest friend and my most relied-on confidant. He knows more about me than anyone else in the world. He knows the darkest places in my head and knows how to help me navigate them better than myself. He was the only one who was there during my entire marriage and divorce. Hell, he was my bro of honor.

    I turn to lay on his chest, curling in to feel his warmth and wrapping my arms around him so tight I thought he'd turn purple. I never, ever, want to lose him. "I hate seeing you like this, Stell." He mumbles. "You're so hard on yourself. I know it's easy with Jared; you guys have a routine. He's easy, and Tom is hard. I understand why you did what you did." The sobs rip out of me in violent bursts. I hate how well he knows me some days, especially when he says things I know I need to hear.

    He remains quiet as I sob, rubbing my head and holding me tight. He's the rock in my twisted life, and I'd be lost without him. Robbie makes me feel seen, heard, and appreciated even after my undesirable days.

    When the sobs turn into small whimpers, Robbie continues, "I think you need to talk to Tom; he's genuinely worried for you. He's dropped by the studio to ask about you. God, you should have seen him, Stella. He's a fucking god. Don't even get me started on those eyes dude, they're so blue." I can't help but laugh at Robbie's fanboying. "They hold so many emotions I didn't know they could do that. He looked so worried and concerned. He really cares about you."

    "I know he does." I manage. "I just don't want to bring him into this fucked up life I've created for myself. He deserves so much better." Robbie sits up quickly, grabbing my face to look at him. His eyebrows are pulled together, and his face is set in a stern look. His father look.

    "You deserve better, Stella Thompson. You deserve a man like Tom. You deserve Jesus himself for all I care. You need someone who will treat you ten times better than Jared ever could. Someone who loves and cherishes you as you are, broken, sharp pieces and all." Robbie runs a thumb over the new tears leaking. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, Stella. You care so deeply about people that you let them continue to be in your life even after they've fucked you over a dozen times. Stella, you deserve to start over with someone like Tom."

    I swear to God, the universe was listening to us because, as if divine intervention stepped in, my phone begins to buzz on the nightstand. Robbie reaches to hang up before going over the name again. "Here. Talk to him. I'll make you some food." With that, Robbie leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

    With a grounding breath, I answer the phone with a meek hello. "Oh, thank heavens you're okay." Tom breaths out a sigh of relief on the other side of the phone. "I was beginning to worry. More. Worry more than I already was."

    "I'm sorry I scared you," I mumble. "And I'm sorry I've been MIA for so long. It's been a really rough two weeks after everything happened, and I tend to shut down when things get hard." I admit, brushing my mangled hair out of my face.

    "I understand, Love. We all have bad habits. I was worried I had pushed too hard, and you were ghosting me. I was actually going to call and tell you I would give you some space if you hadn't picked up. I can still give you space if that's what you'd like?"

    "No," I answer quickly. "No, please. I really like having you in my life, and I love the way you make me feel. But I have to tell you that Jared spent the week with me. It doesn't mean anything. He's just..." I pause, trying to find the right words to make my asshole move sound less assholey.

    "Easy. You're used to him. I understand that, Love." I take in a shaky breath. "I appreciate you telling me. Is there anything I can do to help with your rut?"

    "Can you come over sometime today? I could kinda use a hug from you." Fucking crying making my defenses turn to mush. It always makes me a ball of emotions and fussy needs.

    "I'd be delighted to. Would you like me to bring some lunch?"

    "No, Robbie is here making me some. You called at the perfect time, actually. We were talking about you. Everything good, though. Nothing bad." I reiterate quickly. Tom chuckles on the other end.

    "Well, I was just thinking about you and hoping you were at least alive."

    "The heart's still ticking, so the body is alive," I joke. "Brain could use a jumpstart, though."

    "I'll be over in about ten if that's alright with you?" I confirm with him and hang up. Pulling myself out of bed for the first time in fourteen days, I make my way to the kitchen.

    Robbie stands over the stove, cursing and shaking his left hand. "Burned yourself again?" I ask. If you'd lose a year off your life every time you got burnt, Robbie would have died at age five.

    "Fuck off." He mumbles, going back to the grilled cheese he's making. "How'd the call go? It seemed pretty short." I nod as I sit on a barstool.

    "Fine, he's coming over in a few minutes." It hits me. Tom Hiddleston is coming over to my depression pit of a house after I've had two weeks of nonstop crying and zero hygiene. "Fuck, I need to shower." I curse, rushing to the bathroom. A quick shower will help everything. Hopefully.

    Robbie pokes his head into the bathroom as I wrap my towel around me. "Tom's here. I'm going to keep him company while you  get changed." He states before winking and shutting the door again. I don't feel like I have the energy to put on any form of makeup to cover up how deathly ill I look, nor the power to care what I look like besides the clean part. The shower did seem to wash away the residual guilt and shame I felt about everything. Though it didn't clean off everything.

    After changing into some comfortable clothes, I make my way into the living room, where Robbie is watching Tom talk with nothing less than homosexual love in his face. "Robbie, out," I demand, catching both boys' attention. He leaves after a quick goodbye and non-discrete wink.

    Tom walks over to meet me behind the couch, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're doing better," He mumbles into my hair. "I've been worried." We stand like that for a few minutes before my stomach growls loud enough for him to hear. "Here, Robbie left your food on the table." Tom leads me to the couch and sits next to me, our legs touching.

    "Thank you for being so understanding, Tom. I know I'm pretty fucked, and I really appreciate you being understanding of it all." He smiles as I take a bite of the grilled cheese. Robbie should be made grilled cheese God the way it melts in my mouth.

    "Of course, Love. We are all pretty fucked when we think about it. I haven't felt this way in quite some time. I know I can be a bit pushy, but I really enjoy your company," Tom says, sending those all-too-familiar shivers down my spine. "We can take things as slowly as you'd like. We can stay friends if that's what you need to heal as well." I shake my head while finishing a bite.

    "I don't want just friends, Tom. You make me feel like a better version of me. Less dark and gloomy." The anxiety of actually communicating and talking about feelings causes my knee to bounce. Jared never let me talk so candidly, and I'm afraid I might overstep. "Can I be honest?" Tom nods quickly. "I have absolutely no idea how to communicate in a not toxic way.

    "My whole life, it's been demonstrated that yelling and cursing is the only way to get across what I'm feeling. What I do know is that I like who I am when I'm around you, and I don't want that feeling to ever stop." Tom presses a kiss on my forehead.

    "Then let us work it out together. I like who I am when I'm with you as well." The absolute zoo that took residence in my stomach could wipe out the entire human population. Tom motherfucking Hiddleston likes being with me. "Bloody hell, I fancy you, Stella."

    Tom chuckles as I start to choke on my own breath. He reaches for the Caprisun set out and hands it to me. Tom likes me. He like likes me. Tom Hiddleston. Who would have guessed my damaged ass would land someone like him.

    For years after my breakup with Jared, I thought all I deserved was heartbreak and pieces of shit men. Maybe I could really turn my life around here. Turn it into something wonderful and perfect. Something made just for me.

    "I, uh, I fancy you too, Tom," I admit after controlling my breathing. His smile in this exact moment will stay with me forever. No ill-meaning behind it, wide and bright, and absolutely dazzling. Tom was as close to perfect as one man could get.

    The kiss. The kiss that followed behind our confessions was just as magical, if not more magical, than the first. Only this time, there was no Jared to ruin it. It was just Tom, me, and the ugly off-white sofa I stole from Jared when I moved out.

    How do you even end a chapter after that? Like, I impressed myself with that shit. We still own that couch too. It's where our little love story started, truly. I mean, no, we didn't go exclusive at that moment, but it's where it began.

[degenerate-yandere]

Yandere Tomura Shigaraki x Nurse!Reader - Trust

A/N: So this is based on a request I recieved asking for Kai, Aizawa or Toga with a nurse reader. I liked the concept, but I couldn’t really inspire myself to write it for those characters, so here we are. Enjoy! It has come to my attention after rereading this, that it is complete garbage. I apologize in advance.

TW: Stalking, yandere, mild descriptions of violence, implied kidnapping, slight NSFW

“Please, just trust me.” Your hands gently pushed against his shoulders, the muscles within tense and stiff. You couldn’t bear to meet those crimson eyes, so intense in their disdain as they bore into your skull.

“I just-” You gulped, hands moving to your lap, fingers nervously fiddling with one another. You wished for nothing more than to be consumed by the mattress you were perched on, the one now occupied by the disheveled stranger.

“I couldn’t just leave you there.”

-

You’d found him lying in a pool of his own blood in the alley beside your apartment complex. His breathing, heavy and slow, a product apparent of anger rather than agony. You raced to his side, trying your damnedest to compose yourself and assess the grotesque scene before you. Deep lacerations littered his body, oozing with a vile red. He growled a raspy ‘fuck off’. You shook your head in response, refusing to compromise your integrity as a health professional by leaving someone to die so indignantly. Skeletal fingers inched closer to your exposed wrist, before a wave of pain left it limp against the reddened concrete. You began pulling your phone, digits trembling as they tapped the screen. 

“It’s okay - everything will be okay.” It was a reassurance to you as it was as much to him. “I’ll make sure you get an ambulance -”

“No!” He growled, violently jolting toward you. His nails bent against the cold floor. The snarl of his voice was quiet, but the reverberations it sent through your body was indicative of its presence. Suddenly, his eyes lost their terrifying conviction, his head collapsing to the ground.

The next hour or so was a complete blur. A frantic application of every medical precaution you knew was employed. Each cut was carefully tended with concise professionalism. You were somewhat relieved by his lanky stature as you precariously dragged him to your apartment, although you could only chalk up your newfound strength as a result of your adrenaline-induced frenzy. By the time you gently laid him against your bed, you were completely exhausted.

-

“So... please.” You finally worked up the courage to meet his glare, a decision you almost immediately regretted. His scarred face was rigid in its expression of contempt, his gaze unblinkingly accusatory.”Please just stay a little while, just until I know you’re okay.” His face softened slightly at your pleas. He scratched at his neck, pangs of pain from his stomach sporadically eliciting flinches.

The man’s voice was gravelly, Its sudden sound almost making you jump.

“Fine.”

-

The next few days were surprisingly pleasant. Sure, Tomura was a little rough around the edges, but you were certain he warmed up to you. You’d serve him soup which he never failed to completely devour. Every day you would tend and redress his wounds, a process of which you swore made his cheeks redden as your fingers brushed against his bare abdomen. You had offered him free reign to entertain himself with your collection of video games, which somehow ended up in an in-depth conversation about the state of the contemporary industry which ran well into the night. It was charming, seeing a man so gruff and cold have such normal interests. 

Tomura showed a genuine effort in getting to know about your life. Whether or not he actually cared was uncertain, his face always etched with a slight frown. He seemed less than enthusiastic to receive your reciprocated interest in him, however. He’d grunt, giving one word responses to questions that required more complex answers. Your inquiry into what he did for a living was met with an apathetic shrug of his shoulders, any questions about his family warranted a dreadful glare before he continued with whatever he was doing. When you inevitably asked about what got him into such a dire situation in the first place, he only responded with a rumbled hiss;

“Just taking care of some pests.”

You’d once made the mistake of complaining about how the constant villain attacks were leaving you completely overworked, wishing those heroes would help you catch a break. The comment itself was lighthearted in intention, but garnered an evening of tense silence from Tomura.

You shuffled into your apartment after a particularly exasperating day. To your surprise, the lights were off, and stillness permeated the air. Tomura was gone. All he’d left behind was a ripped piece of paper, reading ‘Thanks’, accompanied by a hastily written phone number.

-

You made an effort to keep in touch with Tomura. The two of you added each other on the various online games you frequented, regularly finding time to play together. You did find it odd that now and then he’d give you a different phone number to contact him with, but you were sure he had his reasons. Tomura was surprisingly more eloquent and out-spoken through messaging. You supposed that the lack of face-to-face contact really helped an introvert like him to open-up. Despite his enigmatic short-comings, it felt like you were getting to know him, the real him. He would send you cute in-game gifts or messages, and regularly shot you texts asking how you were.

Your relationship to Tomura was unfortunately sidelined, however, when you came home one day to find your door unlocked. Your belongings were haphazardly strewn about on the floor, cupboards left open with their contents thrown aside. Whoever left your home in such a state had no concern with hiding their presence. You were completely shaking, nearly on the verge of tears. The final straw, the detail that made you crawl into the fetal position and sob, was the evident absence of many of your clothes, including your more intimate garments. Whoever this person was, this sick fuck, could come back at any time. You shuddered to think what they’d do if you were here when they did. So you booked it, walking as fast as you could to the nearest police station.

The ordeal left you terrified for weeks. The few days following the incident, you stayed at a motel out of dread from the persecutor returning. Your restrictive income, however, was a factor in your inevitable return. What followed was sleepless nights filled with paranoia, anticipating an intruder at any moment. You loathed the idea that some creep was getting off to your clothes like a pervert. The cops were frustratingly useless as well, giving you no hope of ever finding the culprit.

Your fear was made tangible in every facet of your life. You swore you felt a presence, a burning gaze assessing every movement, as you made your way to and from work. Things always seemed out of place around your home, but you could never quite trust your own suspicions. This suffocating fear was completely fucking with you.

The dark circles under your eyes and the tired complexion of your face didn’t go unnoticed. You were sitting alone at one of the cafeteria tables, nursing a coffee between your hands. Your appetite wasn’t what it used to be.

“You good, buddy?” An enthusiastic voice snapped you from your tired daze. One of the doctors, a younger man, shot you a charming smile, and you offered a weak one in response. He sat beside you, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay? You’re not lookin’ too good, (y/n).” You scratched the back of your neck, a forced, exasperated laugh slipping from your throat.

“I’m okay, really.” You assured him. The young man’s hand gently gripped your shoulder, his smile softening.

“(Y/n) it’s okay, you can tell me. I promise, I’ll do what I can to help.”

Tears threatened to prick your eyes as you averted your gaze.

“I-it’s just.... I feel like someone’s following me whenever I walk home and I’m-” Your hands clenched the fabric of your uniform tightly, and subtle tears dripped down your face. “ - I’m really scared.” You felt awful dumping your problems on the young physician. But his warm smile and sincere eyes betrayed his utmost compassion.

“What about I walk you home? I don’t think my place is too far from yours.”

You nodded weakly, barely holding back the sobs of relief that threatened to pour fourth. 

The man made well on his promise, meeting you outside the hospitable after your shift. For once in what felt like an eternity, you felt at ease. The trip was filled with unsubstantial small talk, primarily on the man’s behalf, but it was a comfort against the usual crippling silence. The night was warm, streets abuzz with soft blankets of light. You were lost in your appreciation of the urban beauty, a privilege you had long forgotten. A reassuring squeeze against your hand pulled you back to reality, your face flushed as the doctor held your fingers between his. He let out a lighthearted chuckle.

“Feel better?” 

Your lips quirked in response. 

“I do. Thank you.” You stopped abruptly at your complex, hesitantly drawing your hand from his. He beamed a toothy grin.

“Well, I think we should do this again sometime. I’m glad I could help you feel a little safer.” 

You nodded in agreement. “We should. Thank you again, your my hero.” Your compliment was met with a light chuckle. He nodded toward you.

“Well, your hero will be around whenever you need them.”

-

Your eyelids dipped as the television blurred in your vision. You were emboldened after today. There was hope that you’d get through this whole ordeal, you only needed the right people to help you. For once, you felt like you could let your guard down. You’d indulged in a hot bath, and cocooned yourself in a shell of blankets, content to fall asleep in front of the television, as you had done so many times before.

A fierce pounding on the door stole your attention however, forcing yourself to squirm out of your makeshift nest. The knocking only increased in intensity as you lazily walked toward it. You hesitated, fingers lingering on the doorknob. Whatever brought about such ferocity surely can’t be good. Against your better judgement, you carefully pulled it open.

Tomura was standing in the hallway, his face contorted into a visage of pure loathing. His eyes were bloodshot, twitching with spilling rage. His left hand was clenching and unclenching repeatedly, straining every bone in each finger. The other hand held a clear plastic bag, filled with what you could only guess was ash.

“Tomura?” You were taken aback. He looked so unhinged, contempt radiating from every pore of his body.

Without warning, he stepped in and pushed you aside. He swiftly slammed the door shut, and you heard the tell-tale click of the lock mechanism. You were completely stunned by the absolute speed and decisiveness of his actions. He stomped toward you, his breathing reminiscent of the first time you met.

“(Y/n)...” He spat, clearly trying to restrain himself from screaming at you. He was hovering directly above your form, his hot breath dusting your face. You couldn’t move, every muscle tensed and immobile with complete dread.

“Why...” A rumble resonated within his chest.

“...Have you been ignoring me?”

For the past few weeks, you were so preoccupied that you’d never even thought about playing video games. You seldom used your phone, and you hardly wanted to drag Tomura into this mess.

“I-I’m sorry Tomura I’ve just been going through a lot right now.” Your voice was quiet, losing any authority in the presence of Tomura’s insurmountable rage. Before you could react, four fingers were placed around your neck. The sheer pressure of each tip displayed a strength you didn’t know he possessed. His fifth finger was hovering just above the base of your neck.

“LIAR!” Tomura yelled, shots of spit coating your face. Your breath was erratic and irregular, your throat choking on the deafening sound of your rapidly beating heart.

“You’re a little slut, you know that?” His voiced seethed with toxicity. Your eyes frantically darted across that chapped face, trying to convey the utter confusion you felt.

“You lead me on, and then go jump on the dick of some fucking NPC?” Tomura brought the bag up to your terrified face. “Can you guess who this is, huh? Don’t you recognize that little piece of shit?” 

Your head shook violently. You had no idea what was going on, no idea what he was insinuating and no idea who this monster was before you. It couldn't be your Tomura, you refused to believe it.

He scoffed in response, bringing all five fingers in contact with the bag. Your terror amplified ten-fold as the plastic crumbled into dust and scattered across the floor. It was starting to all click now.

“T-Tomura, di-did you-” His fingers pressed deeper into the flesh of your throat.

“You’re lucky I like you so much, (y/n).” His now free hand began to play with your hair. To your dismay, he leaned in, pressing his nose against your scalp. The smell of your shampoo - the smell of you - was utterly intoxicating. His body physically relaxed, his breathing grew measured and subtle. 

Tomura’s gaze turned to the television, a wide smirk growing on his face. You rarely ever saw Tomura smile, and in hindsight, you were glad. He looked demented, terrifyingly jovial. A small, resonant chuckle erupted from his chest.

“Well, look at that ~” He moved his four digits to grip your chin, turning your head to watch the broadcast. The news anchor recounted a massacre of heroes at the hands of ‘the league of villains’, their leader of which was presented on the screen: It was unmistakable, that mop of light-blue hair.

You felt like the world around you was crumbling away into ash. You’d helped save a criminal - a murderer. And now, you were at his mercy. You felt tears torrent down your cheeks, chocked sobs escaping that dry throat.

You turned to face him, his smirk widening at the sight of your precious misery. His tongue made quick work of your tears, reveling in the taste of the salty liquid.

“Don’t cry. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now, don’t you think?” Tomura’s hands snaked around your back, making sure to keep one finger raised above your shirt. He didn’t want to see you exposed for him just yet.

His chapped lips met your forehead in a chaste kiss, making sure to inhale as much of your scent as he could.

“Don’t worry, (y/n). All you have to do ~” His breath assaulted the shell of your ear, his voice becoming a mocking whisper.

“Is trust me.”

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Four (The Great Arranged Marriage AU mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: swearing, food, dogs, marriage, and mentions of sex and some steamier parts

Summary: When Emperor Peter visited your family, his behavior threatened the peaceful alliance between them and Russia. Now in order to fix it, you are betrothed to marry his best friend, the handsome and heartbroken Grigor. 

Part One --- Part Two -- Part Three

The morning after the wedding there was a sealed letter placed on your mother’s table. She nearly dropped it in nervousness.

Something had happened. Something had already happened. The alliance may even be in danger and so was she. Everything was too new now. The blue bed that you slept on in the other room was now empty. Even little Sonya’s trotting and barking was gone as well. She had to face the morning alone. And you, her daughter, her dear child, was now a married woman.

She ripped it open to read the contents with wide eyes.

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

Emperor Peter was about to take his morning as usual- sleeping in late. As was typical for a hangover. Peter laid out on his belly like a starfish, still in his clothes. Georgiana smirked as she entered the chambers. She heard him groaning even in his dreams. Already in her dark robes and nothing else on, she knew he would be groaning for different reasons in perhaps an hour. She knew that after a night of celebration Peter would call on her one way or another to cure the headache he had with her kisses. She might as well be ready. There were worse ways to start the day.

Her eyes trailed down to a sealed letter on the table on the other end.  

It was Grigor’s seal.

Before she could stop herself, Georgiana grabbed a small letter opener and cut it open. She read its contents.

It was short. But enough. She put it down, sitting on the chair and taking in a deep breath. Her lovely ivory face turning red. Tears blurring her eyes as she breathed in the message it contained. As she sat down, she let the waves of grief flow out of her, glad that the emperor was too deep asleep to see it.

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

Your brother and his wife were late risers. So, they were confused by the excited knocking on the doors of their salon while the sky was still pink.

The lodgings given to them were surprisingly beautiful. Large, plush beds that were the color of cream, vases full of roses, and purple canopies over their heads as they slept. And all expenses covered. Your brother gently padded his wife’s shoulder as she groaned at the sound.

“I’ll get it…”

“Thank god for this bed…” she nestled into the pillow to fall back asleep. 

Your brother yawned and crawled out.  He smiled and kissed his wife and she smiled before she returned to dreaming. His eyes were crusted with sleep as the door cracked open but shot awake at the sight of your father.

“Wha…what is it?” he asked.

“I have a letter…it’s from Grigor, Y/N’s husband.”

He tilted his head in astonishment.

“Already? Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know yet…I thought we both should find out…” he commented nervously. “’Sides, my eyes are bad. Can’t read a thing on it.”

Your father handed it to him, and your brother read it out loud.

              “To the Y/L/N Family,

Last night under the sight of God, Y/F/N and I consummated our marriage.

The alliance is now completely secure and may nothing hinder it with our union. You may rest assured everything is now safe. Madame Y/L/N and the Emperor know of this as well.

            Your Son-in-law, as of yesterday,

              Grigor Dymov.”

Your father and brother let out a deep breath. Yet there was a knowing look between them. Your brother looked again at the letter.

“And…she’s his! I can hardly believe it…I barely even know the man myself!” your brother said.

“Well, it’s secure…it’s completely secure…our alliance with Russia is safe.”

As your brother returned to bed, worried thoughts entered his head. Grigor had a bit of vodka and was putting you on his lap and kissing you a lot. You looked so so timid with him. Not to mention Peter. If this man was close friends with Peter then that said enough. Your voice was trembling when you said your vows. You would only speak softly. And you only knew Grigor for so long. The moments before you were led to Grigor’s chambers you looked like a lamb led to the slaughter. And he could do nothing about it.

This alliance came at the price of your torture.

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

As you put the envelope into the pocked of you gown, you heard a familiar yap.

Sonya trotted over. With her ears down, she wagged her tail and reached up for you on the skirt of your robe as far up as she could.

“Hello love…do you like the place?” you asked.

She placed her paws on your skirt as you gentle petted her head.

“Shhhh, be quiet. Please don’t wake pa…him…” you whispered.

Was Grigor now her papa? It felt odd to call him that yet.

Who knew when he would awaken, so you wandered through your new apartment. It was large- three rooms, all with large red walls. You especially liked the outer receiving room with a large, dark fireplace and a nice little brown table with two chairs. There was a tea set properly placed there. Sunlight was pouring in and you heard the chirps of a few robins. The redness looked less frightening. The bathtub gleamed when there was sunlight against it.

Quietly you placed Sonya into your arms and scratched her fur as you admired a few portraits on the wall of the guest room. Eventually she wiggled hard and freed herself onto the floor, shaking in a flurry and then prancing to sniff the place more.

You scurried back into the bedroom. It felt bad to leave Grigor alone once he awoke the morning after your wedding. Especially when you recalled what he said last night.

I used to wake up in the mornings and hate it…because I would be alone…

You poured yourself a cup of the coffee, relieved that it was still steaming hot. This Liza or Beth or whoever timed her gift right. You sipped on it and let Sonya wander by your feet. Whenever she trotted over to the bed, you would shoo her away. You would scold her for yapping, placing a gentle hand over her mouth and saying firmly “no bark…no bark…”

After a few minutes passed, his eyes opened. He groaned as he woke up. His hand began searching your side of the bed.  

Breathing in quickly, you walked forward on cue.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry…I…” you mumbled.

“Nothing, nothing…did you sleep in? You’re not tired, are you?” he asked groggily.

“I…I woke up a little bit ago…” you answered. “I managed to fall back asleep. I think it’s late morning.”

“That’s good.” He said.

Placing yourself on the edge of the bed, you weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss his forehead or take his hand.  You weren’t sure what quite to do at this stage.

“We have a…a gift for us…someone sent us a tray…”

He got up. You were still unused to the sight of his body now in only a simple shift. You looked at the floor. You saw his breeches were still on the floor abandoned. Noticing a black robe over one of the chairs, you went over and got it.

“Is…is this yours?”

“Yes, it is.”

Fetching it, you returned to his side of the bed. Standing on your toes to reach his tall height, you placed it over his shoulders and he slipped his arms through.

“Th-thank you, you’re very kind, Y/N. What are the pastries like?” he asked.

“I…I haven’t tried any of them yet…” you confessed.

“How come?”

“I…I wanted to wait for you…so we could eat them together…” you admitted.

He grinned as he joined you to try the tray. Pulling up the card, he let out a huff of laughter.

“Huh, already she calls us our aunt.”

“Is she your aunt?”

“No, Peters.”

“Oh.”

He smiled. You smiled back. As he sat down and began to eat a strawberry flavored one you noticed a slightly wicked gleam. You looked back and picked a chocolate pastry, biting into it with embarrassment.

You wondered if the intimate moment you had last night would be brought up. Or rather, how to bring it up. What did lovers, much less married couples say after these things? The thing that was unsaid between the two of you now.

“Oh your cock is pretty large.”

“Thanks for cleaning up the mess between my legs!”

“I thought I would kick your head off by accident last night-sorry! I’ll be on top next time!”

There were people who thought men weren’t men, women weren’t women, and children would stay children until they were bedded. You looked at your bare feet poking out from below. It was still your feet. Your hands were still your hands. And even the face in the mirror on the wall across from you was still your face. You were supposed to be a woman now. But you didn’t feel any different than yesterday.

“Th…thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you waiting for me for the food,” he said.

You nodded. “Of…of course…and…about last night…I…”

The words froze in your throat. You were always raised as more of a proper lady. You were able to control any urges you had for other men. Besides, you didn’t want to risk getting pregnant and the difficulties that would bring. Or die in an attempted abortion. Or get a disease. The world of sex had things you heard about. Whispers or a page or two from books that you would secretly read when your parents backs were turned. But actually, experiencing them was something new. Exciting. Frightening. Unknown.

“I…it was…it was nice…” you said. “You were very nice to me…you are very nice to me…and I…I don’t know anything…”

He smiled genuinely and said “I’m…I’m glad. I’m glad it was nice for you…damn, these are good.” He said, chewing on his bite.

You finished your pastry. Little Sonya raced around the room and perking her head at any new sound she heard of footsteps. It was silent between the two of you as Grigor finished his breakfast. His shift was still open to show a bit of the hairs on his chest and his eyes had the slightly dark quality of an hour too much of sleep than one was used to.

“I was so scared about yesterday, I didn’t sleep much the night before,” you commented.

“Y/N…yesterday was very long. Take it easy today, please. You don’t have to do anything today. You can stay in bed all day even, if you’d like….”

“That…that would be nice. My mother is still here, can she come over and visit?” you asked.

“Yes! And…Can I invite your family over…just on a small hunt in the woods. The Emperor won’t be there because that’s his required hours with Catherine…ah, attempting for an heir.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of him. So we can all be together. We’re all a family now.”

“Yes, that…that sounds nice.”

It was a quiet mid-morning after breakfast was cleared. You were grateful for screens to dress behind and as soon as you were ready, there was a serf saying Grigor was asked for.

“Velementov needs your insight on a statue raised for Peter the Great, at once.”

It was a little lonely after he left. You read the fairy tales by the fire, the palace was large enough and you lacked the energy from yesterday to explore it anymore. And interacting with the other ladies of court scared you from what Catherine warned. You decided you would deal with court on a day you were not tired and aching from preparing a long-awaited wedding. Enjoying the silence and nothingness than fitting for your dress or seeing millions of well-wishers or trying not to let your crown fall off your head.

Looking further at your lodgings, the walls and furniture had matching, co-coordinating fabrics. There was a small throw pillow in a chair right by your bed that was the same color and pattern of the walls. You stroked the little pillow and then the walls, feeling the smoothness and bumps of the decorative flowers.

You rang up for hot water and some soaps. The bath was too intriguing to not try. Besides you felt grimy.

It was large. It took several steaming buckets before it was filled and you were left alone to step into it. The soaps smelled like honey and vanilla. There was steam building up in the room from the warmth of the bath. You noticed a mirror on a vanity was fogging up, as well as an oval shaped area mark on the wall catching some condensation. It was odd. Lightly colored. But there were faint dark marks as if a portrait had been on there for a while.

Shrugging off the observation, you peeked over to the side to see a few jars. Opening the porcelain lids, you saw bath salts and poured them in on an indulgent whim to add more flowery scents. Exhaling deep, your aching feet and limbs thanked you.

The perks of being friends with the Emperor of Russia…

You took the sponge placed next to the salts, giggling as you rubbed the soap on it. The sponge seemed about the size of your head. It covered your arms and legs. You were scrubbing on your body, standing up on in the tub to do so, when Grigor entered suddenly.

With a slight scream, you dipped down into the water quickly.

Splash!

You backed into the corner, your arms covering your breasts and your knees together, pulling away. Retreating into a near corner of the bath, you turned your head towards him. He even looked a little pink himself and could not resist a smug smile. He was not in his wig but was in the dark green court dress perhaps for whatever business he had to take care of.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” he asked, half-meaning it.

Though he turned away after the quip and covered his eyes with his hand dutifully.

“N-no thank you! I…I’m sorry…I’m just not used…please don’t gape at me!” you begged.

“Y/N! It’s fine.”

He peeked over and you made sure to duck low enough in the tub. Sure enough, it was safe. The edge of the tub, the soapy water and your limbs could cover anything too private. Only your head, with your wet hair clinging to you was visible.

You placed your hands on your face in shame.

“It’s so silly- we’ve already made love, Grigor…but it’s you…and it’s my body I…and I still feel….” You mumbled out timidly.

“Y/N…it’s alright. I’m not used to having a wife bathing in my room! I should have knocked….”

A jealous image jolted in your brain. Maybe Georgiana bathed in this very place. Maybe that was why he said “wife” and not “woman.” Maybe he was out with her. But…he couldn’t. He just couldn’t…would he? You didn’t love him. You liked him. And he was your husband and you were his wife. That was enough.

He keeled to the floor, seeing you at eye level with the bathtub covering what needed to be hidden. Though when you turned your head around. Only your head, with wet hair clinging to your face, and your neck and shoulders were visible.

“I…I’ve visited your mother. She will be staying here for a week and so will the rest of your family. You aren’t a prisoner in here, Y/N. You can have her up or visit her apartments. Even today if you aren’t too tired…we can host a tea or dinner for her if I’m not busy. Whatever you would like to do today.”

A smile crept up on you that matched his. You noticed his ears sticking out childishly like a mouse’s ears.

“That does sound nice…I’d like it if she came over this afternoon,” you replied. “And…your-er-our apartments are very pretty. Comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m in prison at all…”

He placed his hand in the warm water and tested it, his fingers stroking it. You noticed how long and graceful his hands looked, swirling the soap as if it was some magic concoction.

“Did you know I have a couple manors…and more than one vineyard?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Gifts from Peter to me. If I could perhaps talk to him for a bit…. we would go there. Have a real honeymoon. There’s one near my vineyard in the country in the west. The sunsets are stunning. And the wine’s not bad either. We could watch the sun over a bottle and get away from court for a little while…wouldn’t that be nice?” he offered.

You nodded, “yes, I would love to go there with you.”

“Wonderful. I’ll leave you be.”

He stepped and turned to the next room so you could finish bathing and dress in privacy. Part of you prayed maybe the emperor would listen to sense. If possible. Even one day away in the country drinking wine would be nice. And you could have worse company than Grigor.

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

That afternoon, right as you were dressed for company in a simple burgundy dress and invited your mother to have afternoon tea with her in your new home. She was walked in. Running from Grigor’s side, you embraced her as if you had not seen her in a year. In front of the fire there was a third chair and tea and a few sandwiches. Sonya even barked on her arrival and wagged her tail.

It was just like it was two days ago. Almost.

Until a serf brought in Orlo in a bit of a hurry, his wig disheveled, a slab of some sauce possibly thrown across his jacket. His glasses even looked a little dirty and his hair disheveled.

“The emperor requests your presence immediately,” he parroted, looking at Grigor.

He sighed lightly, but bowed to your mother, gave you a kiss on your hand, patted Sonya’s head, and left.

“Y/N…you seem…you seem to like him,” she said.

“If I was going to be sold for everyone’s sake, at least it’s to a decent man,” you commented. “So many others aren’t as lucky.”

She took a sip of her tea. Sonya kept trying to stick her snout into the sandwiches and you shooed her away. Your mother laughed a little at the puppy’s antics. She even hopped up and tried to eye her for a bit of biscuit.

“Y/N, I received word this morning concerning the…you know…” she began.

Your grip on your teacup went cold.

“That the alliance is secured.” You said firmly. “Totally.”

Your stomach squirmed.

“Yes.”

“I did what I had to for all of us. I knew if I didn’t sleep with him soon, then everyone I love would be in danger. Grigor told me. Besides, it was my duty as his wife…it is my duty,” you said.

She leaned over closer, glancing to make sure no one was listening. She then placed two hands on your shoulders.

“Did he…did he force himself on you, as you feared? We’re alone, you can be honest.”

“No, he waited until I said yes.”

Your mother released a breath.

“Thank heavens!”

Setting down your cup, the emotions came pouring out.

“But Mama…that’s just one night! And were bound until death! There’s going to be so many more! It’s all so new and I just…right before it happens, I get so nervous!”

Looking down, you glanced at your stayed-up stomach beneath your dress. It looked normal. But who knows? You could be pregnant this very minute. Were you even ready to be a mother yourself?

“What can you…tell me about it?” she asked.

“I was…I was relaxed after it was over and I…I don’t even know what to think. I get nervous whenever he looks at me. I was bathing when he walked in and it scared me that he could gaze all over me. It just…it unnerves me!” you confessed. “And I already did it! How can that be?”

“Well, now you’re married, we can be more candid about it. I can finally talk about it. I understand being nervous. The first few times your father and I made love…”

“Mama, please!”

“It’s thrilling and scary. You’re just new. Y/N, I’ll have to go back home, so we better make use of this time but… but…you have no reason to be ashamed of it. Or too emboldened yet. It can be a beautiful act. And it can also be an awkward one…. just tell me what it is that tortures you and what you like and let’s see if I can help…”

You smiled and spoke with deep honesty to her. She advised you. Discussing everything. Far more details than the bits and pieces after your betrothal was announced. Although your ears burned with details of your parents you never wanted to think about, you found yourself learning more and more about your body and a bit of his and what happens and what to do.

The discussion was had even long after the sandwiches were finished in crumbs for Sonya to sneak licks of.

“I will be here for a little bit, we can discuss plenty more…you can also write, my dear.”

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

It was getting dark. Grigor was still not back yet since tea. You were thankful for the long talk with your mother, but she had been long gone and now you were awaiting his return.

The old man serf walked into the room with a tray of food.

“Monsieur Dymov sends his apologies. The emperor is keeping him long. He asked me to send you this,” he croaked kindly.

Thanking him, you accepted the tray. Dining alone as the night sky sparkled out of your window and the red walls grew from scarlet to garnet with the light’s dimming.

The clock from the hallway ticked with the hour as you wiped your mouth and ate the last bite of potato. Opening a cabinet in your bedroom, you found a familiar nightgown was pressed in there and changed into it.

You were knitting away on your bed as the fire crackled. Sonya sat up with you a while and tried to chew on the yarn and then contented herself with sitting at the edge of the bed sleepily. That scarf you were working on still wasn’t complete. You started the project not long before the Emperor called on your home and now…well, things were different now. It was halfway through though. It would take hours of work, but it was still there. Your fingers were still a little sore from being at the task for a while. It still helped you with your nerves of what your husband would be expecting of you.

The blankets over you were a dark green this time, changed so the dark ones could be cleaned. Sonya curled into a ball like a little brown decoration on the bed.

You reached for the brush on top of the chest next to you, placed away the scarf, and began to work on brushing your own hair when you heard footsteps and a few grunts. And it was none of the servants.

Part of you fretted it would be Peter. If you were alone with him who knew what would happen. But you saw Grigor walk inside. He had a white shirt that was open and darker pants with boots.

“I’m here! It too forever-we played tennis for hours! You can’t believe how many noses we could hit on the portraits!” he reported cheerily.

Taking off his boots. Sonya got up and greeted him. He bent down and began stroking her fur. It seemed comical to see such a large man with a squeaking puppy the size of his neck.

“Tennis? No meetings of state?” you asked.

“Not when he wants to complain! He was completely hungover, too. It was almost pitiful.” He added with a spark in his eye. Grinning, you recalled why he was hungover.

“Any vomiting with the tennis?”

“Had a bucket on the corner- poor fellow!”

You laughed a little bit at the image.

Though to your mixed delight and horror, he took off his shirt, pants, and breeches, climbing naked into bed. As beautiful and toned he was, you never slept next to any naked person. Much less a man. Keeping your eyes on only his face, you froze. Then you ducked to look at your hands. On one hand, this was your husband. Your anxieties wondered if any…part of him would awkwardly brush against you in the midst of sleep.

The bed shifted as he lifted the blanket and sat next to you.

“Yes, none at all, Y/N! Why I…oh…oh I….I’m sorry,” he apologized noticing your embarrassed face.

“It’s…it’s fine. I remembered you liked sleeping naked I’lll….I’ll just try to get used to it…”

“Let me…let me put on my breeches.”

He rushed out to shimmy it back on and then hopped back. Exhaling deep, you continued brushing a stubborn tangle in your hair. It till hadn’t recovered from the thousands of pins of yesterday. He paused, looking at you. You had sat up, holding your comb now with both hands and clutching it on your lap.

As you returned to brushing, he laid down on the pillow, watching you gently.

“What is it?”

He took a strand in his hand gently, playing with a wisp of your hair.

“Your hair is lovely. That’s a sight I could get used to- to see you just sit there and brush it.”

You bit your lip.

“Th-thank you, Grigor.”

As soon as you did, you pulled a strand away, revealing part of your neck. He went over to lean closer. You couldn’t help but stare at how attractive the hair on his chest made him. But your palms got sweaty and your heart was racing.

“Do…do you want to…I…” you felt yourself mumbling over as the sensation took over.

“Want to what?” he asked. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

“It’s just….I’m…nothing’s wrong!” you insisted. 

You looked up at him with a little sigh.

“You must think I’m a nun, Grigor. I just…I know it’s my duty to…to please you…” you confessed, looking down at your shift, fingers clutched as if ready to pull it up and have it over with.

Besides, wasn’t it true that men were always rabbits in heat? And their wives were bound to lie down and let them at it?

“I…it doesn’t matter what I want, what do you want?” he said.

“You mean…I don’t have to make love to you tonight if I don’t want to?” you questioned, blinking.

“It’s simple as that…” he said with a shrug.

He took both of your hands, gently rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Remember yesterday? I promised you that you have my protection. You’ll always be safe with me, Y/N. Not just with last night. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.”

“Well, I…I’m really tired after yesterday and I…I just want to sleep…”

“May I at least kiss you goodnight?”

“Yes…”

You placed your hands on his face to guide yours and he kissed you sweetly. You could taste his dinner, but you didn’t mind. Though once you let go, he trailed a kiss down to your neck and you felt yourself let out a sound at it. It tickled a little and your stomach was churning again at the feeling of his lips there.

“Grigor…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…thank you for the tray…I was hungry.”

“Thank you for being patient. He is my ruler, but you are my wife. We can have dinner tomorrow.”

“Alright, I command it,” you joked.

He leaned forward and kissed you chastely with a smile, cupping your face. You smiled into it and when you pulled away, you found you had held your breath during it.

“Alright, Y/N…good night.”

Blowing out the candles, your room was submerged in darkness.

But you fell asleep lying across from each other. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. And without being very aware of it, your hand wandered to his and held it right as you drifted away. But it was nice to feel him next to you and feel him nuzzle at you. Soon your exhaustion won, and you were asleep.

At one point when you woke up in the middle of the night and saw the outline of his bare chest rising and falling slowly.  You nestled closer and placed your head on it, not minding the feeling of his body. His arm reached around for you. Accepting it, you fell back asleep.

The next afternoon was cool and the trees were orange and autumnal. You recognized the rest of your family in a party outside the palace. Everyone had their warmest coats and cornered hats. A couple of wigged serfs carried small brown bags right by their heels.

Grigor and you walked out to the start of the woods in outdoor coats and hats topped on your heads. You rushed over to embrace them at once. They called “Y/N! Hello,” and gave multiple hugs of greeting as Grigor stood aside to let you have a moment.

Though you noticed your brother frowned when he saw your husband. Giving him only a bob of his head.

As your family headed off where the palace ended and the woods began, you felt Grigor brush by you. You shook off a few leaves that fell on your dark blue skirt.

“Is it…is it safe?” you ask.

“I know every pathway. There are gardens and little buildings here and there. I’ve played here since I was a child-It’s more than safe.”

“I must confess I haven’t explored much on my own. The gardens are still confusing to me.  I can’t imagine what the forest will be like…”

An idea struck you and you paused. In the distance you heard a few doves cooing in a tree in front of you.

“Do you think…” you began.

“Think what?”

“Maybe in the mornings, or the late afternoon, when Peter hasn’t called you, we can see more of the gardens and the palace. Even the woods. I’ll bring Sonya on a leash. We can all walk. Together,” you suggested.

He gave you a crinkled smile. Leaning forward so that his grey wig shifted to the side from his head.

“That…that’s a grand idea Y/N,” he replied. “So help me, you aren’t getting lost.”

Picking up your pace, you both caught up with the party. There were bits of conversation to catch up that felt like older times. And you were grateful for the lack of a certain brash emperor to stir feathers. The only feathers that would be stirring were that of the birds spotted in trees. Easy targets. The men reached for the guns near their thighs and began shooting.

Your father was surprisingly excited about it. He managed to get a small robin, and everyone clapped. Grigor was impressive but was better at brighter colored birds than something duller. The servants ran after the birds and stuffed them into the bags.

After some time of fetching, walking beneath crunching leaves, and some relaxed, light conversation concerning your friends back home, there was a yelp from your brother.

“Look there! A big one!” he cried.

You turned your head to look for this mighty bird. It was a crow, cawing in mockery above. Your father reaching up to aim.

“Arh! My blasted eyes! I can hardly see it!” he cursed, moving slowly as the bird hopped between trees.

You followed with your mother and sister-in-law, chin up to where the large back bird was headed. And then you heard a gruff sound behind you.

Urf!

Two figures were missing from the others chasing after the bird. Turning around, you could make out some angry whispers. Walking closer, you looked and saw where. Your brother had somehow grabbed Grigor by the collar and pinned him against a tree with his pistol. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes almost red with rage as he spat onto his face.

“I know you did, you bastard! Secured alliance my arse-you deserve to have your head chopped off!”

“What do you mean?” Grigor insisted, eyes large and his face white.

“You deranged pervert! My sister is one of the best women I know, and you torture her like that!”

“I’ve done nothing!”

“You’re a scoundrel among men! And I don’t know what is stopping me from the pleasure of blowing your brains out!” your brother hissed.

Heart leaping, you did not doubt he would pull the trigger on him.

“I know how you Russians are- And everyone knows how happy Catherine is with her husband, how will you be any better with Y/N! Much less, what you did to her!”

You cry out your brother’s name and he turned to see you. Picking up your skirts, you run in between them, placing yourself in front of Grigor. Your arms reach out to shield him. You feel his breath huffing quickly in nervousness and so does yours.

“Stop it! What did you think happened?”

“Y/N, we got a letter bragging about how he forced himself on you and expects us to congratulate him! I won’t stand for any man who treats you-“

“He did not rape me the other night, I consented!” you interrupted.

A few hairs flew free from your hat. You felt your hands ball into fists. Again your own privacy concerning your body was being tossed around and displayed publicly.

“What?”

“I consented to consummate the marriage. Grigor never forced himself on me. And he promised he would. I know you’re protecting me, but I won’t you let hurt him- stop being ridiculous!”

Glancing back, Grigor’s eyes were the size of robin’s eggs. His jaw was slack and he was frozen in place, but his posture softened from your protection.

“Sir…may I add, is this the way you thank your patron?” he asked.

Your brother blinked. His hand holding the gun relaxed in mid-air.

“P-patron?” he asked.

“Do you know who covered the fees for your travels? The bill for the hotel?”

“It…it was a gift. Anonymous. I thought it was from our tenets or from the Russian court so we could…” your brother responded.

“It was from the Russian court. Because I fucking sent it. I begged Peter to let you come to the wedding and be with Y/N the day we departed for Russia. I had to nag him every day for weeks and weeks. Can you imagine nagging your damn sovereign?! But he finally agreed. I paid every penny just to have you be taken here and have a roof over your head the whole time! It’s because of me you aren’t away at your home wondering if you’d even see her again!” he said in frustration.

It was your turn to drop your jaw and turn your head around.

“You…you did that? But…why anonymous!” he asked

“It was in case Peter fucking disagreed! And he would have if I didn’t spend out of my own damn pocket! If it were that, I would have sent Y/N to the hotel to see all of you.” Grigor explained.

Your brother was aghast, and you blinked in surprise.

“Why? Why all this…for me? For us?” you blurted.

“I didn’t want bad blood with my in-laws! And Y/N your face- the look you had when our carriage was pulling away after the contract was signed…it haunted me. How scared, and miserable you seemed…I had to do something about it. I was practically stealing you away from everyone you’ve loved and known…I thought it would at least make you happy. It would make everyone happy. So, I did it.”

He nodded, looking down at you with his anger flushed out and his features softening.

Ears burning, you nearly clutched his hand as you processed what he did. Your brother sheathed his pistol. 

“Forgive me…. she’s my sister and I…I was scared that I failed to protect her…” he apologized.

You soon heard footsteps and the others following suit. You felt Grigor’s gloved hand clutching yours as you both walked up, your brother in front of them.

“Why, what is it?” your sister in law asked, arms akimbo as she reached him. “We’ve been looking for you for a while!”

“I…uh, saw a rabbit and we raced to catch it, honey…” your brother answered with a quiver in his lip.

She rolled her eyes but got his arm anyway.

“Well, at least you’re safe. I thought we heard a bit of fighting,” she added, kissing his forehead.

Looking up, you felt Grigor walk forward, suggesting.

“Sir… join me after dinner, I have a bottle from Kiev. Let’s crack it open and enjoy a little mano e mano chat…we only need to know each other better. Is that good?”

“Yes that…that’s good,” your brother nodded, allowing his wife to loop her arm around his and lead him away.

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

There must have been a little magic stored in that bottle. You sensed that after dinner you should leave them alone for them to drink and talk it out, especially since guns would not be involved. Though you could not help but place your ear outside the door that led to your apartment.

Though as you sat outside the hall, listening through as Sonya panted in your arms, you heard a clearing of a throat. Turning, you saw Mariol holding a book.

“The Empress asked wanted me to know, have you ever read Rousseau?” she asked sharply.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then she wanted to give you this as a late wedding present. And for me to say that you’re free to visit her to talk about it. Count yourself lucky she likes you,” she added honestly.

Biting your lip, you thanked Mariol and accepted the thin book bound in red. Sonya sniffed at it in your other arm.

As much as you wanted to glance through the pages, you heard ridiculous laughs from your brother. Chuckling as Grigor chatted about a whistle that could summon an army of ducks from the back yard. But it was your brother’s silly, relaxed, happy laughter. The one of the happy boy you grew up with and not the man who almost killed your husband hours ago.

Poking in your head at the crack of the door shyly, you saw that they were enjoying a roasting fire next to them. Heads turned to acknowledge you. You shied away at first, but Grigor gestured you over.

“Ah! My darling Y/N…. come join us, please!”

“Isn’t this a man conversation?” you asked teasingly.

“I can make an exception!” he said, sipping his vodka.

Grinning you obliged, setting down the dog to be at your side and putting the book away. You allowed your husband to lean against you and clutch your hand. The sensation made you nearly feel a little dizzy. Even greeting him with a kiss on the cheek as a thanks for your cup of Kiev vodka. And your brother’s eyes didn’t redden this time. In fact, he gave you a toothy grin like the kind you shared when you ate sweets as children. When he fell asleep that night, you found yourself happy to see him smiling but secretly a touch disappointed. And you knew why.

That next night you waited for him to return from Peter’s request to dine and play who knows what games. Your heart was beating fast as you gave your hair a quick brush through, just as he liked it. Admiring the green laid on the walls in contrast to the red, you heard him mutter something to his servant. But you kept thinking of him- how he kept you safe on that night, how he shared the vodka with you, and the personal sacrifices he made to bring your family to you for the wedding. That and the image of his bare chest rising and falling in the middle of the night made you suddenly burn and ache for him when he left. And you wanted to do something about it.

There was the orange glow of the candles and the rest was taken care of by the night sky.

“Y/N? Y/N, where are…”

You wore your green robe and sat down on the bed at the end. Grigor walked into the room and then froze. Beneath your robe there was nothing else and he noticed.

“Hello, I’m here…”

“Hello…” he greeted. His pupils growing wide.

“I…I want to be yours tonight…if you’ll have me…And I’m just as nervous, but I want you too much for that…”

You walked up in front of him and touched his face gently.

“You…you want me? Do you want me?” he asked, almost in confusion.

“I want you. Now take me, husband,” you said.

He was on you in a heartbeat, his hands undid the knot holding your robe together. And though a jolt of nerves shot through you, you buried yourself in kissing him back too much to focus on it.

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

There was a peaceful week following. Dinners, teas, and visits. Drinks between you, your brother, and Grigor as the alcohol burned your throat and the fire toasted your sides. Numerous visits and talks. And nights where you slowly got more comfortable with yourself and Grigor and connecting through your bodies and not being ashamed of it.

In a blink of an eye, it was a week done. And your mother’s apartment was filled with her luggage.

The other three met you and Grigor in front of the palace as their carriage together trotted up. You embraced your father and mother constantly. You felt yourself cry when at the sound of the hoofbeats. Your father kissed your forehead, “my darling girl, I’ll miss you so much.”

Your mother gave you an extra hug and said “your father and I will always love you, no matter what.”

Your sister-in-law made promises to write and you swore to include details of whatever mischief little Sonya got into with an attempted sketch.

While Grigor shook the hands of each of them he paused before your brother. Hesitantly.

“I didn’t know you well…I hope you will forgive me,” your brother confessed. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did…I love my sister and I was worried for her safety, her happiness.”

“I promise you- your sister will want for nothing under my care.”

“Even if the Emperor…?”

Both of you froze. You seemed to have overlooked it. But your brother’s gaze was serious.

“He’s my friend, she’ll be safe even with him,” he answered. Although a sad glimmer in his eye told you that there was a memory in his head that was saying otherwise.

Now you were truly alone, you thought. And with a ruler who was both a great help but could also be a great threat to you. You recalled the way he oogled you and suggested you come to his bedchamber that first night as a compliment to the royal guest and you felt yourself shrink once the carriage door closed.

Before you knew it, you were trembling, and you started to sob. Grigor took your shoulder and shushed you. He opened his mouth but stopped himself. What was there to even say?

There that coachmen and those horses were, taking your family further and further away. No more reading with your mother. No more eating with your father. No more discussing plays with your brother and his wife or anything. A part of your life. Your childhood. Your adolescence. Your youth. All you had known. All you had been raised with was leaving. That a part of you was dead and a new life with new, wild, frightening people was beginning. This time your mother wasn’t there to squeeze your hand and talk about anything. Your sister-in-law couldn’t make you laugh. Your father couldn’t put an arm around you when you cried. And your brother couldn’t rush a man into the woods with a loaded gun to protect you.

Grigor looked down at you and placed an arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him into a half embrace as the carriage holding your family disappeared in the distance like melting snow.

 Taglist: @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee​ (thank you for your insight when I couldn’t decide the ending!)  @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf

[vorta-whore]

Transition of Power, ch. 3

The two of you go for a stroll.

Weyoun 5 x female reader

Chapter 1: An Introduction | Chapter 2: A First Date | Chapter 3: A Walk Together | Chapter 4: A Night on Bajor

---

You don’t consider yourself a particularly religious woman. You have always had faith in the Prophets, of course, and you attend weekly services whenever you can afford the time. But in all your years aboard the station, you can’t recall ever stepping foot in the temple outside of service hours simply to pray.

You’ve done so three times this week.

The silence and stillness of the shrine seems to help, for a moment. As you kneel onto an empty pillow and bow your head, your chaotic thoughts begin to subside, replaced by a single, focused prayer.

Prophets, you think, though you sometimes sense you’re talking to yourself more than to them. Please, guide me. I didn’t think I had a choice, at first, with this man. He wanted me and I could not deny him, for fear of what would happen to me. But the more we talk, the clearer it is that he isn’t forcing me into anything. I’m continuing it of my own free will.

You lace your fingers together and squeeze your eyes shut in concentration.

I know he’s a dangerous man. An evil one. He represents the empire that could tear the Alpha Quadrant apart. And I know he must have committed atrocities of his own as well. I shouldn’t want to be with him – I should be repulsed. But I can’t help it. When he leaves, I miss his presence. I think about him as I lie awake at night. I wonder what kind of a man he is, under that diplomatic persona. I want to get to know him. And I...I like how I feel around him. He makes me feel interesting. And wanted. Desirable, but respected. He treats me kindly, with a gentleness I never thought him capable of, that I’ve never experienced from another lover. And I know the right course of action is to end this before it begins, to reject his advances before they can go any further...but I feel in my heart that I would regret it forever.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips.

You gifted us with the ability to love so we could appreciate being bathed in your holy light. It is the purest, most powerful force in the world. So how could it ever be wrong? Would I...be a collaborator if I continued this? Is the only moral course of action to forget this affair? Or is this part of my fate – to capture the heart of a powerful enemy and help save his soul, and maybe some lives in the process?

You pause, your heart laid bare, and wait for a response. But you don’t really expect one. The Prophets have never spoken to you – not directly, at least – and you don’t expect them to start now. Even if you are in terrible need of guidance. For a moment you consider asking the vedek for advice, but you suspect he won’t give you an entirely unbiased answer when he realizes the object of your affections is none other than the station’s Vorta oppressor.

The musky scent of incense swirls in the air around you. Quieted but still frustrated by your own uncertainty, you take a moment to breathe and center yourself as best you can before heading back out to the Promenade.

The serenity you found inside the temple begins to fade away as soon as you leave it. You pause to survey the station inhabitants shuffling to and fro, their heads bowed, their faces weary. As much weighs on their minds as on yours. 

A sudden call snaps you out of your reverie.

“Y/N!” comes the excited, familiar voice, and you turn with surprise to see Weyoun flanked by his Jem’Hadar guards. Caught off-guard, you gape for a moment as he approaches.

“Hi,” you manage. He beams at you in response.

“Will you walk with me for a moment?”

Your answer follows before you can give it even a moment’s thought: “Of course.”

The Vorta turns and you fall in tow as the four of you cross the Promenade. You’re not entirely pleased to be seen in public with Weyoun – you keep glancing about as though fearful of the judgmental glares you’re bound to receive – but the majority of people you pass seem entirely uninterested in your little rendezvous. Beyond, of course, the usual uneasy glances they direct at Weyoun.

“I really did enjoy our dinner last week,” he says with a hum. “I apologize for not contacting you sooner.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

“Oh, you have no idea the extent of it. I’ve rarely a moment to myself, let alone time to enjoy the company of others. Which brings me to my point.”

He pauses in front of a window and turns to gaze out at the stars. You do the same, and a faint wistfulness tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the space where the wormhole hasn’t opened in months.

“I’d like to see more of you,” Weyoun says softly.

You look over at him with such a panicked haste that he quickly adds an addendum: “If that’s alright.”

“I – you – yes, of course it’s alright,” you stutter, and feeling sheepish, you avert your eyes and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears.

You can hear the smile (and notes of what sound like genuine relief) in Weyoun’s voice as he replies. “I’m glad to hear it. As it happens, my meeting with Gul Dukat later this evening has been fortuitously postponed – and I can think of no greater way to spend my suddenly free time than in the pleasure of your company.”

You glance up to see he’s turned from the window to face you, and his wide eyes glimmer with anticipation as he awaits your response.

You hesitate. Something within you is begging to say no, to run away – but you can’t fathom the possibility of extinguishing the spark of excitement in those amethyst eyes...

“Unless...you have a prior engagement?” he prompts at your hesitation, and the way his eyebrows raise and his lips tug into a frown has you scrambling to comfort him.

“No! No, I’m free. I’d love to join you,” you assure, quite earnestly in fact, you realize, and Weyoun’s expression melts back into a pleased smile.

“Excellent. I was thinking perhaps a change of scenery this time; I’ve already taken the liberty of securing a holosuite reservation. I think you’re going to like the program I’ve selected.”

Before you can inquire, Weyoun reaches for your hands, and the feeling of his soft skin brushing against yours steals the words right out of your mouth. You find yourself helpless under his gaze once more as he strokes his thumbs over the back of your hands, and in that simple, paralyzing touch you completely forget the two of you are in the public eye.

“I’ll pick you up from your quarters at eighteen hundred hours. Dress for warm weather.”

He presses a quick kiss to one of your hands and then is gone, leaving you breathless by the window.

No one had been paying you much attention before. But after that public display of affection, you notice several pairs of eyes quickly dart away as you turn back toward the Promenade.

You suppose you’d better go find a dress.

---

The door-chime rings at eighteen-hundred hours exactly, and you wonder if Weyoun had perhaps been standing there waiting for the precise moment to strike. With one last glance in the mirror to straighten your hair, you answer the door, and the sight momentarily stuns you.

You hadn’t seen Weyoun in any outfit other than his typical – was it a uniform? That strange, asymmetrical garb he always wore. But as an ambassador, it made sense that he would have a variety of clothing suitable for multiple climates, and he had donned one such outfit here for the occasion. It resembled his usual attire, in all its intricately-patterned, multi-textured glory, but revealed much more skin than you were used to seeing on the Vorta. Lapels of thin leather stretched out to just barely cover his shoulders, leaving his arms completely bare. The pleated mauve undershirt (though you doubted it was its own garment entirely, more likely just a piece of fabric sewn into the vest for modesty) dipped down low to reveal both collarbones, and the asymmetrical hem of the garment jutted out just above his hips. His trousers – a shade more form-fitting than usual – were cuffed at the shin, revealing a sliver of calves between the hem and the ankle-high boots he wore.

You had worried about feeling a little too dressed-down, in your flowing sundress and delicate sandals, next to the stiff and regal Vorta. But the casual outfit assuages your fears and you both grin – you a little giddily – to see the other in a new light.

“You look stunning as always, my dear,” Weyoun notes, “but especially so tonight.”

You hesitate as he offers you his arm, but the reality is that after this morning, the whole station likely knows about the two of you; there’s no point hiding this courtship anymore. You take his arm.

“I could say the same of you,” you tease, a little emboldened by the feeling of walking on the station commander’s arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show quite so much skin.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Weyoun’s lips, and you sense he’s debating saying something, but quickly decides against it. He simply chuckles. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

A thought occurs to you and you voice it tentatively as the two of you (followed, as always, by the Jem’Hadar guards) make your way down the corridors.

“Weyoun – is it true your people don’t have a sense of aesthetics?”

“Yes. The Founders did not deem it necessary for our purposes.”

You think you detect a hint of bitterness. But he continues on cheerfully: “Personally, as a diplomat, I do see the advantages; every culture has its own unique sense of style and taste, and if I had my own personal preferences among them, I might find it more difficult to establish relations with races whose appearances or architecture I disliked.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you mutter, not really agreeing. “I just wondered – you always compliment my appearance…”

“Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. I assure you those are genuine.”

At your look of confusion, he furrows his brow, trying to find the easiest way to explain. 

“...Allow me to illustrate it for you with an example. If you showed me two dresses – one horribly tacky, the other beautiful and elegant – and asked me to label which one was which, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. To me, they’re both slips of fabric in various colors and patterns woven together to make a garment. I cannot detect whether certain colors clash with one another, or if certain shapes are unflattering on one’s body. But what I can appreciate is the woman wearing the dress. Her whole demeanor often changes when she slips into a garment as beautiful as she is; she becomes more comfortable, more open, more in tune with her inner light. When I compliment her, I’m voicing my appreciation for things like...the way her smile lights up the room. The tinge of color on her cheeks and the spark in her eyes. The grace with which she carries herself. Her confidence in flaunting such a flawless appearance.”

He pauses to drive his point home by setting his free hand gently over the one you’ve laid on his arm and meeting your eyes with a suave smile. Your foundation does nothing to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks, and you to your horror a giggle bubbles up from your lips.

“Regardless,” Weyoun sighs, pleased at the response he’s elicited, “I can certainly appreciate the effort you’ve expended going out of your way to gild yourself for my enjoyment.”

Heads turn as you enter Quark’s, and for a moment you avert your eyes and stare to the ground in embarrassment – but Weyoun doesn’t falter an instant, and the sheer confidence with which he carries himself bolsters you. You lift your head with some effort, clinging just a bit more tightly onto his arm. 

Quark has the data rod with your holosuite program in his hand as you approach the bar; his expression is unreadable. Weyoun thanks him and takes it, and you continue upstairs.

“I do hope you like it,” he says, a little more loudly over the noise of the bar, as he slots the data rod into the panel. “Having never been to Bajor myself, I can only hope it is a faithful reproduction.”

You turn to fix him with a questioning look, but he only bows and gestures for you to head inside.

“After you.”

The doors part and you immediately feel a blast of warm air, a welcome feeling on your bare, goosebump-prickled skin. You step inside – followed closely by Weyoun – and the Jem’Hadar take up post outside the holosuite just before the doors slide shut.

The program, to your wonder and delight, is a perfect re-creation of one of Bajor’s most famous forests. Your home planet is well-known for its natural splendor – sprawling mountains, rolling hillsides, breathtaking falls – and this woodland is a shining example. Impossibly high, purple-barked trees stretch toward the endless sky, their leaves casting a shimmering dappled shadow upon the needle- and moss-covered ground. A brook winds and weaves through the web of tree trunks and their gnarled roots, its water crystal clear, its shores adorned by smooth pebbles and stones. Small woodland creatures dart to and fro throughout the underbrush, and you watch with quiet fascination as one of them – a long-eared, round-eyed lagomorph – pauses to nibble at the bud of a crimson sunset-lily.

You’re sufficiently awed.

“I take it,” Weyoun says softly from behind you, and you startle a bit, having all but forgotten he was there, “the program passes muster?”

“More than,” you reply, and turning to face him, you offer a genuine smile of gratitude. “I feel like I’m home again.”

A warm smile touches his lips, creases the corners of his eyes.

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

As the two of you approach the trailhead, Weyoun slides a graceful arm around your shoulders. He holds you firmly, but not tightly, and his embrace – the tingling sensation of his soft skin on your bare shoulders, the feeling of safety under his grasp – transforms you into a blushing maiden, clinging onto your shining knight. You wrap a reciprocating arm around his lower back as you both begin down the dirt path.

“I’m glad to be able to see some of your homeworld,” he muses after a few moments of contented silence, interrupting the cheerful sounds of birdsong. “Even if it is only a facsimile. My occupation, unfortunately, does not allow me much vacation time.”

He says this with a chuckle, intending the comment to be light-hearted, but you can hear an undercurrent of bitterness – the same subtle tone you noticed in your earlier conversation. The polite thing to do would be to move on; talk about the places in Bajor he should visit if he ever gets the chance. But you know it would be an empty gesture. There’s an opportunity here, and you’d be remiss to let it pass you by.

“...Weyoun,” you start carefully, and he glances over to you, attentive at your sudden tone of concern. “Do you ever…wish things were different?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he fires back, a little too quickly. His eyes slide back to the path in front of you.

“Yes, you do.”

Silence stretches out between you as Weyoun contemplates his answer. His arm around your shoulders has slackened a little and you aren’t sure if this risk is paying off the way you intended it to. After several long moments, he heaves a sigh, laden with a burden you sense he’s reluctant to acknowledge.

“Sometimes…”

He stops himself. You try to decipher the expressions crossing his face but they’re entirely unreadable. He glances back to you – looks down – sighs again. When he speaks, his words are deliberate, chosen with laborious care.

“Sometimes, I do harbor thoughts of what life might be like if circumstances were...different. There are many pleasures in this world unknowable to me; the taste of a home-cooked meal, for instance. Art in any capacity. Music, especially, I wish I could appreciate.”

“You can’t even enjoy music?”

“When I listen to a song, it’s as if I’m…” – his hand dances about in the air, searching for an apt comparison – “...looking at a sheet of mathematical equations. I can pick out the individual instruments, note the changes in their pitch, recognize patterns and motifs. But the whole of the song, the heart of it, escapes me.”

You both ponder this sad reality.

“I do think it would be nice to be able to carry a tune,” he laments after a long moment. “Or to dance. I’m a truly terrible dancer.”

The image of lovely, graceful Weyoun stumbling around a dancefloor elicits a burst of laughter from you, despite the heavy subject matter; Weyoun laughs along, relieved his attempt at cutting the tension was successful.

“That’s a shame. I don’t know how the Vorta usually woo their women, but on Bajor, dinner and dancing is usually part of the package at some point.”

“Well, I’ve managed to woo you without having to resort to dancing just yet.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you retort, grinning.

Weyoun agrees with a hearty chuckle.

“Let’s hope not.”

---

The two of you make your way down the winding trail, enjoying the sights and sounds of the woodland as you go. Weyoun, ever the gentleman, leads you by a hand over the fallen logs and stepping-stones that serve as bridges across the stream, his grip a comforting assurance. He waits ever so patiently when you pause to beckon to the furry little creatures eyeing you from the underbrush, and he is adequately fascinated by your explanations of the various flora and fauna, even humoring you when you pick the occasional flower and offer it for him to smell.

“Do you even have a sense of smell?” you question him at one point, twirling the stem of a flower between your fingertips; those of your other hand are laced comfortably with his.

“I do,” he assures, a little amused by the question but understanding of its necessity. “Scent plays a pivotal role in making good first impressions; it’s one of the first things a person notices. I find it helpful, actually, to tailor my own scent to match the preferences of those with whom I wish to establish good relations. It’s a subtle enough gesture, but effective.”

“Is that why you always smell so sweet?” You give him a light jab to the ribs.

He grins at your playful tone, shoots you a look of mirthful defeat.

“You caught me.”

“How did you know I’d like that scent in particular?”

“Well…”

Weyoun trails off, and in the span of that one word the tone of the conversation has shifted to something decidedly less lighthearted. Your attention is drawn to him as he withdraws his hand from your own and clasps it with his other; you wonder if that might be a nervous habit.

“Being station commander has its...advantages. There is very little that goes on here without my knowing, and likewise very little information inaccessible to me. If I wish to know...say...a particular occupant’s work schedule...or shopping habits...”

“You stalked me!” you accuse, and although the offense rings clear in your voice, you can’t honestly say it runs all that deep. Either way, you aren’t surprised.

“Stalk is a strong word!” Weyoun insists, the pitch of his voice rising as he hurries to defend himself. “I merely – gathered some basic information – to give myself the best possible chance of ensuring the outcome I wanted.”

“Which was?”

He looks at you a little strangely. The answer is obvious, of course, but you want to hear him say it.

“To win your affection. Which, it seems, I have. Or am I mistaken?”

His turn to ask the obvious question. You smile and lower your gaze to the ground.

“You have.”

“Then the ends justified the means.”

The trail opens up into a clearing, and you come upon the shore of a vast lake. There’s a stretch of fence close to the shoreline and you lean against it as you take in the sight: the rippling surface of the water glimmers like so many gemstones, reflecting the deep orange and violet hues of the Bajoran sunset.

It occurs to you that your Vorta friend may not be able to enjoy this painterly scene to the same extent you can. You glance over to him – and startle to see his gaze is fixed intently on you. It doesn’t waver as you meet it, and the unabashed eye contact brings a sudden warmth to your cheeks.

“What?” you finally ask, a little sheepish.

Weyoun’s smile grows just a shade deeper as he answers.

“You enjoy looking at the sunset. I enjoy looking at you.”

The simplicity of the statement only excites the butterflies in your stomach. You smile nervously, self-conscious, as Weyoun studies your face with a sudden, urgent interest; his smile fades and his brow creases with concentration. He’s searching for something – and whatever it is, he’s desperate to find it.

You’re just about to ask what’s wrong when his hand lifts to your face, and the gentle hold he takes of your cheek steals your thoughts away completely. His palm is soothingly cool; his touch, comforting and still. You notice his eyes slide down to your lips and you realize with paralyzing clarity what it is, exactly, he wants.

The next few moments happen in slow motion.

You allow the hand cupping your cheek to guide your face upwards, and Weyoun’s head tilts to the side, making room for you. You spare a glance down to his lips, then back up to his eyes, tender and heavy-lidded; your lips part and you suck in a small, quiet gasp of air, the last you’ll get for the next several seconds. As Weyoun leans down to close the last inch of space between you, your eyelids flutter shut – and an infinite, breathless moment passes before you feel his soft lips press, tender and sweet, into yours.

He lingers there motionless for several moments, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek, before beginning to pull away – but you don’t let him. The instant his lips leave yours, your hands shoot up to grasp the sides of his face and pull him back down for more, and he obliges, gladly; you press up into him with more force, mashing your lips together in a hungry bid for intimacy, and he exhales heavily into the kiss, returning every ounce of passion. His hand slips from your face and you feel his arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling your body into his, and for several long minutes the only sounds around you are the distant calls of the waterfowl and the lapping of gentle waves at the shore.

Neither of you wants to end this perfect moment. But, inevitably, one of you must break for air, and of course it happens to be you. You pull back just enough to breathe; your eyes blink open to meet Weyoun’s, and as you relocate your hands from his face to rest upon his shoulders, you notice with some amusement the faintest tinge of purple in his cheeks.

“Wow,” you exhale, lightheaded.

“Wow,” he agrees.

His grip on your waist loosens and, self-consciousness returning, you turn back toward the lake and allow the cool breeze to soothe your burning face. Weyoun releases you to instead rest a hand on the small of your back, and you lean into him, heart aflutter.

A few minutes of silence – of perfect, serendipitous peace – draw to a reluctant close as the automated voice of the computer informs you your holosuite reservation is at an end. You release the fence posts just as they disappear from beneath your hands and frown as the beautiful expanse of forest before you gives way to the cramped and machinery-cluttered interior of the holosuite.

“A pity,” sighs Weyoun, turning to you and taking your hands in his own. “I was hoping that hour might break the rules of spacetime and stretch out just a bit longer.”

It’s a little cheesy, but you giggle anyway, and he grins to have gotten to you. Lifting a hand to his lips, he presses one of his signature kisses to the back of it, and you sigh, squeeze his hand in return.

Emerging from the holosuite on Weyoun’s arm once more, you cringe at the din of the bar, so cacophonous compared to the quiet of the forest. But nothing can shake the absolute serenity now instilled within you. You practically float down the walkway, and though pairs of eyes follow your progress as they did before, this time you find it quite easy to pay them no mind.

Weyoun notes your confidence with an approving hum. “Not so self-conscious now, I see.”

You grin a little, shrug your shoulders. He responds with a chuckle and teases you in that lilting, singsong voice of his: “I wonder why.”

The walk back to your quarters is shorter than you’d like it to be, and before you know it you’re standing at the entrance to your quarters. Frowning, you turn to face Weyoun, not quite ready to part ways.

“It was a pretty short hour,” you say.

“Indeed it was.”

“It doesn’t...have to be over so soon. You could come inside…”

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he sighs, and there’s genuine disappointment in his voice as he cradles your hands in his own. “I’m due elsewhere on the station in five minutes’ time.”

He soothes away your dejection with another quick couple of kisses to the back of your knuckles – and then, with a coy smile, one to the very corner of your lips. You turn your head to try to catch it full-on, but he dodges you deftly – ever the tease. You understand the purpose behind this tactic of leaving you wanting at the end of each of your encounters, but it frustrates you all the same, and Weyoun grins infuriatingly at your pouting.

“Try not to fret too much. I promise I’ll be in touch again very soon.”

You can only swallow, nod, and linger on his gaze as long as politely possible before allowing your hands to slip from his and turning with great reluctance to enter your quarters.

Sleep hasn’t been coming easily to you these past few weeks. But tonight, it greets you kindly, and you drift into an easy slumber with a smile on your lips.