#but neither you nor i have the time to sit down and let me trot out the 20 page google doc

[salthien]

tonight i flee to you, to breathe and in the hush of our together, all my trouble flees

i don’t think i need to state that this silly little number simulator meant a lot to me. i’d wanted to maybe do something a little more grand - and maybe eventually i will - but one of my favorite artists put out a new EP the same day the game’s end was announced, and it served as a kind of bittersweet musical backdrop to the whole thing for me.

there are going to be a million different interpretations of the end of Blaseball, as there rightly should be, but i like to think there are some where everyone gets to be happy. the teletwins deserve that as much as anyone, i think.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

this is kinda random but could you maybe do a fic abiut Tom falling in love with mondales dog sitter? It’s so cliche but adorable. Thanks if you do 💕

Squeaky Toy

Tom Wambsgans x Reader

Oneshot

Summary: Mondale is who you’re here for. You think.

Ahhh happy Golden Globes night!! Matthew Macfadyn, Kieran Culkin, Sarah Snook, and Succession Globes today 🥹

I hope you enjoy x

Word Count: 2.899k

“Mondale, hi!” You laugh as the dog spins around, elated to see you. More specifically, elated to see the leash in your hands.

He barks playfully, getting your attention. He sits, his tail wagging aggressively. You step over his enclosure, clip his leash to his harness, and open the gate to let yourselves out.

Mondale’s practically skipping, if a dog could do that, as you walk through the massive neighborhood. You know you’re the only one who takes him out, or even plays with him during the day. His owners were both in very high places; you recognized both their names when you’d been messaged to hire. They both were never home- neither Tom nor Shiv. You’re worried Mondale might get depressed if this keeps going, but you’ve been dog sitting him for a while now, and he’s just happy to spend time with you.

On your way back to the house, he picks up some scent that triggers him into a jog, and even though you can’t keep up, he’s all but galloping up the driveway. The garage is already open, and you chide yourself. You thought you’d closed it, but apparently not. Your ass was on the line if someone broke in, or if anything got stolen. This job grossly overpaid you, and you weren’t trying to lose it.

Mondale drags you inside, tail wagging. He barks, and you realize you had closed the garage- someone else had just opened it.

Tom turns at Mondale’s sniffing at his ankles. A smile graces his weary features, and you have to admit he looks a little ragged. He stoops over to pet his dog, cooing quietly at him.

“Hi, Y/N. Sorry, I’m not supposed to be here. I just have to find… find some papers,” Tom says, voice raspy. He gets back to his feet and gives you a weak smile. His blazer’s draped on one of the barstools to the kitchen counter, and you find you quite like the way his arms and torso fill out his dress shirt.

“Everything okay?” you ask, in clipping Mondale from his leash. Tom waves you off when you try bringing the dog back to his pen.

“That’s just bullshit Shiv insists on. Let him be, he’s a good dog.”

You do, making sure to give Mondale a good scratch between the ears. Instead of leaving to roam, he plops right down on your feet, rendering you immobile. He rolls over, exposing his belly and demanding you pet him.

“I feel bad I’m never around for him,” Tom murmurs, watching with a faded smile as you give Mondale a belly rub. “Thank you, though. You’re very good at your job.” Mondale barks, as if in agreement, tail still wagging as he looks up at you. “Can we… can we talk, though?”

Your heart sinks in your chest. You know what’s coming. “Of course. What’s up?”

Tom turns to face you, sitting down on a barstool. “It’s still difficult for me to talk about, but Shiv and I are getting a divorce.”

You blink, Mondale having gotten up and weaving between your legs. “Oh, Tom…”

He sighs, a hand coming up to his face to press to his eyes. “It’s nothing. I saw it coming.” He looks back up at you, his gaze flickering from your eyes to track down your body before quickly recovering and looking straight at you. “I don’t want to dump it all on you.”

“I mean, you can, if you like. I’d like to think we’re friends, and I’d be a shitty friend if I wasn’t there for you.”

He sighs. “It’s… I can’t even say it.” He drops his head into his hands, pulling himself together. Mondale trots up to him, straightening out on his hind legs to get closer to Tom, poking his snout in between Tom’s hands, trying to give him a kiss. Reluctantly, Tom brings his hands down to gently stroke his dog’s head, Mondale taking it as a cue to lick all over Tom’s face. He laughs a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “She cheated,” he says quietly. “Multiple times. She framed it differently, so I just took it for a while… but I just can’t keep fucking doing it.”

You go over to him, putting a hand to his arm and giving him an affectionate rub. You don’t know what to say. You’d not know what you can say.

“And I guess she was ahead of me, because she’s already taken all of her stuff out the house and fucked off.” He uses his hand to take yours and gives it a squeeze. “And I’m really sorry to do this, because you’re a great person and Mondale loves you, but you’re not going to be needed here anymore. I’ll have a lot more time on my hands now that I don’t have to run after Siobhan.”

You keep your expression neutral. “Yeah. Okay. I understand.”

Tom lets go of your hand, getting to his feet. He rummages around for something on the cluttered kitchen counter, finding and envelope and turning back to you. “Here’s the money for the rest of the month. And the next two.”

He presses it into your hands, forcing a smile. “Thank you, really,” you say softly. Awkwardly, he gives your shoulder a squeeze before pushing past you to go upstairs.

Mondale goes to follow his owner, but you think he can sense something’s wrong. He hops back down the stairs, padding up to you. You squat down to meet him, his tail still, as always, wagging.

“Oh, buddy…” Despite what you might say to other people, you were physically and emotionally attached to this dog. He’s been your only company for ages, pulling you out of your lonely spiral that you’ve been suffering through for a majority of your life. He has to hear the pain in your voice, he has to, because now you’re both sat on the floor, him licking at your face, quietly whimpering the entire time. “I have to go, okay? I’ll miss you.”

You know he probably doesn’t understand you. It doesn’t matter, though. It hurts leaving Mondale behind, but what can you do?

Glancing over your shoulder before climbing into your car, you can see him sat at the window facing the driveway. You drive off, and the minute your face hits your pillow in bed, you’re asleep.

You decide to do nothing for the next few days. Tom was more than generous, and you’re pretty sure he’d stuffed way more money than he said he did into the envelope. Mondale hadn’t been your only job, even though if it was, you’d be perfectly fine financially. You work remotely, an easy job that pays well, so dog sitting was a perfect add on. You’d lounge around in this massive house that wasn’t yours, doing your work and taking care of Mondale when he wasn’t napping or running laps as if he was on steroids in the enormous backyard.

The days go by easily enough, and even though you aren’t too butt hurt about being let go, the age-old feeling of loneliness re acquaintances itself with you. It happens slowly, but all of a sudden, you’re an eight year old playing by yourself on the playground again.

You just can’t escape it, can you?

You’re making breakfast for yourself one day when your phone begins ringing. Confused, you move the carton of eggs away from the edge of the counter to go pick up. It’s Tom.

“Hello?” you ask tentatively.

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Tom Wambsgans. Mondale's... dog dad. I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s just… Mondale’s so sad,” he says. “I think he misses you.”

“Aw, really?”

He hums his confirmation. “He won’t eat, won’t walk far, doesn’t want to play. I thought he was sick, but I went to the vet and all I was told is that he’s depressed. And I think you’re the missing piece.” He pauses. “I know it’s weird, but could you come over? It’d do him good to see you, and with the house empty… nobody’s going to complain.”

“No, it’s not weird at all. Of course I’ll come,” you reply, perhaps a bit too eager. “I just, ah, haven’t eaten yet, so maybe I’ll be there in an hour?”

“I’ll make breakfast. I haven’t eaten, either… I haven’t eaten for a while, really, so I think I’m just asking you to come eat to make sure I actually eat instead of staring into the fridge.”

You take a moment to turn it over in your head, but you’re already putting the carton of eggs back into the fridge. “Yeah. Okay. That’d be nice.”

You find yourself back at his home. What once was his and Shiv’s home. You know the garage code, and you still have your spare key, but you didn’t really want to just let yourself in, so you ring the doorbell.

Almost immediately, Tom’s opening the door for you, ushering you in. He’s dressed casually, and the bags under his eyes are dark and they jump out at you. “It’s good to see you. You look nice.” You feel yourself flush, and thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to respond. He’s already shuffled away, into the kitchen. “I have pancakes on the stove,” he says over his shoulder. You follow him inside after kicking off your shoes at the door.

“This is all very kind of you,” you tell him, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching him as he slowly goes through the motions of breakfast.

Tom glances back at you, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Yeah. You’re more than kind to me, to Mondale, so it’s the least I can do.” He turns back to the stove, and you can barely hear him when he speaks next. “God knows I could use the company.”

With Tom, it had never felt like he was really your boss, like Shiv had carried herself around you. It had just felt like you were a friend over to help with his dog, and that carried over into your relationship now. He never looked down on you because you were ‘help’, he always treated you with respect, and he was quite frankly a gentleman, which was much, much more than you could say about other men of his stature.

You move closer to him, now only an arm’s length away. You gently nudge him with your elbow, successfully bringing his attention to you. “You alright?”

Before he can answer, you’re interrupted by the patter of Mondale’s paws as he enters the kitchen, having realized who the visitor is. He barks happily, trotting over to you, elated when you bend to give him a good scratch. You press a kiss to his head before standing back up, Tom gazing at you both, emotion clouding his eyes. You open your mouth to ask again, but Mondale’s squeezed himself through between your legs, causing you to lose your footing and fall forward.

Tom catches you before anything embarrassing happens, his hands going to your sides to steady you, your hands braced on his chest. “Mondale’s a bit too excited, huh?” he murmurs, looking away, cheeks pink. You’re right-side-up, and his hands linger for much longer than they should. Yours do, too.

And you find that neither of you really mind.

You awkwardly pull away, a dumb smile on your lips. His fingers drag over your hip as you move, reluctantly letting you go. Mondale has doubled back, like Tom said, extremely excited to see you. He can’t stop moving, so happy to see you. Absentmindedly, you reach for the drawer you keep the treats in taking one into your palm. “Sit.” Tongue lolling out of his mouth, Mondale does. “Good boy.” You let him take the treat from your hand, his tail wagging.

“So that’s where they were,” Tom mutters, gone back to the pancakes. “I felt too bad to ask.”

“You’re welcome to ask whatever you like. I want to help, Tom.” Mondale trots off, satisfied, so you go back to Tom’s side. “You never answered my question, by the way. Are you sure you’re alright?”

He pretends to be focused on flipping the pancake he was currently on. “Just… lonely.”

You give his back a rub. “Well, I’m here.”

“Thank you for that. I’ve been going insane, I think.” The pancake finishes frying, and he offers you a plate already stacked with pancakes. “Enough about me. I shan’t bore you,” he says, melting back into a little bit more of himself.

You smile. “Nobody says that. We’re not small Victorian children,” you tease.

He’s smiling back. “There’s maple syrup in the fridge.” He assembles his own plate, carrying it over along with yours to the dinner table. You get it, then follow him, Mondale galloping around after one of his squeaky toys. He sets your plates across from each other, pulling out your chair for you.

“Tom, you don’t have to do all this.”

“But I am.” He takes the syrup from you, drizzling a bit over his pancakes. He glances at you, holding the syrup over your own plate. When you nod, he tops your own food without another word. Mondale trots over, squeaky toy in his mouth, then drops it at your feet before nudging your leg.

“Hold on, buddy, I have to eat,” you say, laughing, flicking the toy away with your foot for him to run after.

“He doesn’t do anything like that with me,” Tom admits quietly.

“You just need some time,” you reassure him.

“Could you… could you give me some pointers?”

When Mondale returns with his squeaky toy, you push it towards Tom with your foot. He can’t help his smile when he sends the toy flying, Mondale falling over himself running after it.

You both eat in a comfortable silence, every so often glancing up at each other before quickly looking back down, heat rushing to both your faces.

Time passes, and you find yourself at Tom’s more and more often. You help Mondale get comfortable around Tom, and eventually, Tom tells you weeks later Mondale’s quit his constant crying and whining for you.

“But I still want you coming over,” he tells you, voice shaky.

“I want that, too.”

Time keeps slipping away from you, and you and Tom are slowly but steadily getting closer and closer. You’re at his place half the time for no real reason, not that he minds, and he finds more excuses for him to ask you over.

The two of you sit on the couch, just barely touching. His thigh is inches away from yours. Mondale sits on the rug in front of you both, relaxing as you watch some movie. Tom leans back, draping his arm over the back of the sofa. Slowly, you also lean back, and he takes the hint, looping his arm around your shoulders instead. He pulls you together, and now you’re sitting with your sides flush together. You’re smiling to yourself, eyes still trained on the TV.

“I think you’re pretty,” he states bluntly. “And I’m so desperate to see you all the time.” His fingers find your chin, tipping your head back so you’re staring up at him.

“Don’t you think this is a little too soon for you?” you ask, his thumb brushing over your chin.

“Honestly,” he begins, “Siobhan and I started having issues the minute we got married. She stuck me into an open marriage, even though I never really wanted it. I don’t think I’ve been actually into her for a long, long time. I’ve just been… so alone, even though she was right there.”

You feel a pang of relation. He was just like you, wasn’t he?

“Then why’d you stay?”

He shrugs. “My job. I was scared. It’s all bullshit, really.” His hand smooths down your neck, back down to your shoulder, which he squeezes affectionately. “She was the only one who ever… utilized the open marriage thing. It just felt so wrong to me.”

“You’re a good person,” you murmur.

“Am I? This fat crush I have on you started way before I’d gotten divorced.”

You feel the heat rush to your face. “Okay, maybe don’t tell me that.”

Tom chuckles. “You know what? You’re going in the right direction. Why are we talking about my ex-wife? I want to be talking about you.”

“What about me?”

“I just professed my feelings to the most beautiful person in the world. My stomach’s in knots.”

You laugh. “What, do I profess my feelings right back?”

“If Your Royal Highness so desires.”

“Weirdo.” You shift so that your head is tucked away in the crook of his neck. “My weirdo?”

“Come on, I confessed. I need more than that. For the sake of my ego, you confess too.”

“Your ego doesn’t need more inflating,” you say playfully.

“You wound me.”

“Oh, shut up.” You pull back, taking his jaw in your hand, and pull him in for a soft, tender, kiss. “I have a big ol’ crush on you, too.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, and you can feel his smile.

A little while later, he dozes off, head on your shoulder. You eventually do, too, head on his, the quiet squeaking of Mondale ripping his toy to shreds filling the room.

[oh-gh0st]

OKKKK since peoplez wanted to read it.... here it is :3 SHINUSHI FIC YEAAAHHH (its under the cut lawl)

A cool breeze drifted about in the summer air as small speckles and cloudy blobs of white were littered across the blue sky. It was neither too hot nor humid to do any activities, resulting in many people out and about today. Families at the parks, couples on afternoon dates… it was a perfect day outside! “1136! 1137! I can still keep going!!” Loud counting sounded throughout the area, followed by the swishing of a baseball bat being swung repeatedly. Jyushimatsu was outside today, adoring his baseball uniform and practicing his batting with his baseball bat at the park in Akatsuka. He had gone out for exercise initially, but as he progressed further, he decided today was nice enough to enjoy it as is. And so, with his 1148th swing, he dropped his bat and leaned back, stretching his body out. He could feel the adrenaline and excitement pumping in him, riling him up with so much energy. “Haaa!! Hustle Hustle! Muscle Muscle!!” He chanted as he stretched, pumping his arms up and down. After finishing stretching and grabbing his bat from off the ground, he strutted back over to the metal bleachers and to his bag, taking a seat on the empty bench. He popped open a water bottle and proceeded to chug it, albeit slowly so as to not make himself throw up. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Jyushimatsu felt prideful in how much he worked today. Well, at least so far. There were still plenty of hours left in the day, and so much left to do… As he stared up into the sky and watched the clouds drift along, he was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a distant sound. Blinking himself out of his mind, he whipped his head back and forth to find the source of the sound. It sounded like… meowing? He stood up and began to take a step until he felt something brush up against his leg. He finally realized where the sound was coming from… Below him! “Ahh, didn’t see you down there! I almost stepped on you, hehe!” As he looked down to his feet, a black and white longhaired cat had padded up to him. It sniffed his legs and the general area around him before gently rubbing against his calf, purring loudly. Jyushimatsu bent down and let the cat sniff his fingers before allowing him to pet itself. He scratched and stroked the cat’s back, giving it, particularly much attention at the back of its ears. As he squatted and took in the appearance of the cat, he realized it reminded him a lot of someone he knew. It reminded him of his friend, Shinrei. It only dawned upon him further as he looked at the cat’s eyes, identical to Shinrei’s. Blue and black. When Jyushi stood up and went to sit on the bleachers, the cat jumped up and sat next to him, waiting as he fully sat down before climbing into his lap. He smiled down at the kitty in his lap, petting it as it purred loudly in his lap. Mom is going to have a lot of fun with the cat hair later when washing his uniform…

“You remind me of my friend, Shin-chan! You look just like her, as if she was a cat!” He pointed out loud, talking to the cat as if it was a real person. It mewed back in reply. “She likes cats a lot. She has one, too! Her name is Eve… she’s a really nice kitty!!” As he began to ramble on about Shinrei and all things related to her, he could feel himself getting lost in his rambles, the time passing much quicker than he had anticipated. When he realized it, it was almost sunset. “Ah… it’s almost time.” He noted as he looked up to the sky, the sky blue now replaced with gradients of violet, red, magenta, orange, and yellow as the sun began to set. More clouds started to roll in, possibly for a light shower tonight. He took in the atmosphere while the cat from his lap sat up and stretched, yawning as it was stirred from its relaxation in Jyushi’s lap. Padding off of him and down onto the ground, the cat mewled back at him, likely as thanks, and trotted off. “See you later, Mrs. Kitty!” He waved lightly, smiling and bubbly with happiness. Oddly enough, it felt nice to ramble to someone, even if it was a cat. Ichimatsu always told him that cats are smarter than people think, though. So maybe it did want to listen to him… Shinrei did like listening to him talk about his day, too. That’s another thing the cat and Shinrei had in common. Huh… As he got up from the bleachers and stretched, he took mental notes of what else might need to be done. “Hmm… I did baseball, running, exercise… Now onto Shinrei-chan’s place!!” Jyushi clapped his hands together, smiling as he decided his next plans for the day, or rather night. He dusted himself off, removing any cat hair that might be a nuisance, grabbed his bag, and walked to his next destination.

“Aaahhh, Jyushimatsu! You’re covered in cat hair!” Shinrei shouted as she opened her door, seeing Jyushi standing outside of her house. His shirt and pants were littered with little strands of black and white cat hair. She told him to take off his uniform as soon as he got inside, throwing it into the wash to save his mother the trouble of dealing with cat hair all over their place. Throwing on a fresh pair of clothes that he had accidentally left at Shinrei’s before, he relaxed onto her couch with her cat Eve at his side, scratching her head and ears gently. Shinrei was seated next to him, working on an instrumental track for her music. Humming out loud in surprise, Jyushi almost whacked Shinrei in the face with his hands as he remembered the events of today. “Ah! Shinrei-chan! Guess what I saw today!” “Hmm? What'd you see?” “A kitty!! A cat! A cat that looked just like you! It was black and white, had long hair, and even the same colored eyes as you! On the same eyes, too!”

She paused her typing and mouse clicking, looking up at him with a surprised smile. “Really? That’s surprising… are you sure it wasn’t me checking in on you?” Jyushi chuckled to himself at the joke, feeling his cheeks flood with waves of heat as he blushed. “I don’t think so! Was it you, Shin-chan?” She hummed, “No… I was busy with my music today.” “Ah…” Jyushi sighed, looking back at the TV in front of them for a few moments. “Mrs. Kitty was really nice.” “…was she?”

“Yeah! She listened as I talked for hours and hours… she stayed in my lap the whole time!” Jyushimatsu glanced over to Shinrei, locking eyes with her as she looked up from her sewing. “She must’ve been a really nice kitty, then. I’m sure she loved listening to you talk.” As she said this, Jyushi wrapped an arm around Shinrei, pressing them close together, shoulder to shoulder as he rubbed his cheek against hers affectionately. He paused, pressing a light kiss to Shinrei’s cheek before looking at her again, smiling wide. “Yes… she was.”

[softquietsteadylove]

Ice queen / tyrant king au. Thena being a little bit jealous ^^

"Good!"

A little too good. Thena shifted in her seat, watching over Gil's physiotherapy appointment, although she'd been told a few times that she didn't have to. She had responded that she wouldn't be told what she did and did not have to do, thank you very much.

The Ice Queen took no orders, especially not from a handsy physiotherapist.

She was just doing her job, Thena reminded herself as Gil tried a tentative bicep curl. The therapist's hands her on his chest and back, monitoring the movement of his muscles as the surrounding and connecting musculature was put to the test.

Thena still didn't see why he had to be shirtless for it, but she wasn't the authority here. If she were, she would have thrown this woman out already.

"Feel that, in there?" the therapist asked with a grin, jiggling Gil's pectoral muscle before giving it a friendly pat, "that tightness? That's a good sign, but just don't go too hard too fast. From the looks of it, I'm guessing your usual workout routine is pretty intense."

Thena rolled her eyes.

Gil shrugged once he was freed of the relatively light weight he had been given for this particular exercise. "I don't work out as much as I used to, I guess."

"Could'a fooled me!" she laughed.

Thena mumbled under her breath, although neither Gil nor the other woman caught it. She shifted in the chair again, leaning her jaw into her palm.

"I'm going to go update your file, and then I'll give you some plans for what to do once you're released!"

"Thanks," Gil nodded to her as she trotted out past Thena and out of the room. He peeked at her, reaching for his shirt. "How's business?"

"Hm?" Thena blinked, still staring at where the physiotherapist and her bouncy blonde hair had floated out. She turned back to him, "sorry?"

"You seem off," Gil stood, walking over to her and leaning down to kiss her cheek. The fact that she allowed it was indicator enough. "Something up?"

"No," she denied blatantly, standing and pushing Gil to sit down in her place. "Just thinking."

Gil kept his eyes on her. "You sure nothing's bothering you?"

"I'm sure," she growled, and there was his Ice Queen--his Thena.

Gil looked over to where the therapist had left and back up to her. "It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"What are you talking about, Gil?" Thena sighed, her irritation increasing the closer he got to the problem. She tugged at the sleeves of her sweaterdress. "Physiotherapy is a very important part of your recovery. You should be-"

"I meant her."

Thena bristled, and they both knew it was plain to see. She shrugged, "what would bother me about her?"

Gil's grin, which he had been doing his damnedest to keep under wraps, grew wider. "I dunno, just...I know you can be a little jealous sometimes."

Thena glared down at him, "you're speaking awfully brazenly for a man with a hole in his chest, Tyrant."

"Hm, yes, but it's recovering well," he smiled at her, pulling her hand to hold it over his heart. "Beating just for you, baby."

Thena rolled her eyes at him, but he didn't release her hand, and she didn't snatch it back from him either. "She seems awfully eager to paw at you."

"It's her job to paw at me, Princess," Gil chuckled, much to Thena's annoyance. "But for what it's worth, she really enjoys listening to me talk about my wife."

"Okay," Thena sighed anew, now pulling her hand away from him, although Gil let go of it reluctantly, sliding it out of his hand until the very last second. "Very funny."

"I do tell her you're very funny," he proclaimed with a proud little grin on his face. He thought he was so cute. "And pretty, and you smell like lilies, and your skin is soft as silk, and-"

"Okay, here we go," the physiotherapist bounced back into the room.

Thena blinked as she bounded right up to her, smiling at her with all the eagerness of a dog wagging its tail. She took the papers from the younger woman silently. "Thank you."

"He kept telling me his wife would be joining him for his session one of these days." Oh, he really had talked about her. "And wow!--you're just as beautiful as he said you'd be!"

Thena looked at Gil, who was smirking at her--smirking! He thought he was so fucking charming. She looked at the taller woman again, "thank...you?"

"These are all the recommended stretches and treatments for the next few weeks while he's still getting back to full strength. Ajak will go over everything too, I'm sure. But he's doing so well, I'd say a few bags of groceries here or there wouldn't hurt."

Yes, groceries--that was definitely what he moved around on a daily basis, and not people's limp, unmoving bodies.

"He already asked if he could carry you through the threshold when you got home but I told him to wait on that one."

"Gil!" Thena huffed at him, feeling her cheeks warm at the utterly embarrassing question he had asked.

He just shrugged at her, "I wanted to know!"

"You both take care," the physiotherapist waved at them as she headed out of the room again. "You behave, Mister--no more worrying your beautiful wife!"

Gil just waved at her as she left them alone again. He turned back to Thena, looking far too amused by it all. "I told you."

Thena huffed, gripping the collar of his t-shirt to haul him up and pull him back to his hospital room again. "Let's go, you."

Gil sighed dramatically, draping himself over her shoulders as he walked behind her, "my darling wife has so little faith in me. What did I do to deserve this?"

"That's enough, Gil," Thena grumbled, not entirely prepared to walk all the way back to his room with him attached to her like this.

"Have I not been faithful and dutiful and loving?"

"Stop it!"

[pangolinheart]

Rhiki & Cid

[[WWWW I thought this one would be one of the easier ones but it was actually one of the most difficult. But congrats on suggesting the single biggest non-villain NPC anyone has ever submitted to me through this ask game.]]

CId Garland | M'zhet Tia | Lahabrea

145… 146.

There were exactly 146 rivets holding the ceiling in place. Though, perhaps she had miscounted? Maybe she should count them a third time, just to be sure…

“I’m bored,” Rhiki complained, swinging her legs back and forth against the side of one of the wooden crates she lay sprawled upon. She turned her head to look at Cid, who sat crouched in front of a tall magitek pylon of some sort. It had been nice to watch him work, at first – the endearing crease that formed in his brow when he concentrated, the tension in his biceps as he tightened a bolt. It was cute, how engrossed he got in his projects. But that had been several hours ago, and the charm had slowly worn off.

“If you have more pressing engagements, my dear, I won’t keep you.” Cid didn’t look up from his tinkering, which annoyed her, but she could see the small smile on his face.

“In fact, I don’t think I remember asking you to come.”

Rhiki did her best to sulk – not that he could see. “Well, you weren’t paying enough attention to me, so I decided to come here and make you. I don’t get that much time off these days, you know?”

His eyebrows lifted in a way that told her he was about to say something, though he remained focused on his work. She continued before he could open his mouth. “But no, you’re right. That was silly of me. After all, how could I, the Warrior of Light – and your girlfriend! – possibly expect to compare to the majesty of… whatever that is.” She waved her hand in the general direction of the device.

Cid sat back on his heels, finally glancing up at her. “It’s a prototype for an improved airship-mounted forcefield generator,” he pointed out. His tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Obviously,”

He sighed, setting down the screwdriver he had been holding and fully relaxing into a sitting position. “I’m sorry, Rhiki. I do want to spend time with you, but we’re on a tight deadline for this project.”

“I know,” she mumbled. She shouldn’t complain, really. She was being petulant. They were both busy people, and neither could afford to drop everything whenever the other became available. His work was important, both to him and to the wider world, just as hers was. She knew she wasn’t actually competing with his creations for his affection. She knew that, but sometimes knowing it was different from feeling it.

Cid sat quietly for a few seconds, watching her through soft blue eyes. Then, his smile returned, as if he had finally thought of a way to make all of the pieces of his latest contraption fit together.

“Here,” He beckoned, “Why don’t I show you how to do this part, and you can help me?”

Rhiki sat up so fast it made her dizzy. “Really? You never let me play with your magitek stuff!”

He laughed at her enthusiasm, “Why not? The hardest part’s already done. All that’s left is the finishing touches.”

Excitedly, she pushed herself off of the pallet of crates and trotted over to join him at the base of the forcefield generator. He scooted back a few inches to allow her to sit in front of him and share his view of the open panel. He placed an arm over her shoulder and began pointing to some of the incomprehensible components in front of her. “See this wire? It’s carrying a current that needs to go here,” he angled his wrist to point at another element slightly above and to the left, “So that a rotor deeper inside can turn. So, to do that we need to – Here, let me show you,”

He lowered the hand he had been pointing with to grasp her own and gently guided it to the section he had indicated. She couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin nor the callouses on his fingers through his thick work gloves, but the gentle yet firm grip was familiar and comforting. His broad chest pressed against her back as he leaned forward. The not-quite-embrace was so soothing it made it difficult to concentrate, but she tried her hardest to focus. For once, she wanted to be a good student. It wasn’t every day he made an effort to include her in the minutiae of his work, and she didn’t want to disappoint.

“You’ll want to hold it like this. Be careful not to touch the exposed bits,” He adjusted the position of her fingers with his own. “There, just like that. Now, move it just an ilm or so until it connects right here and then we’ll…."

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

“OW!” Rhiki hissed, yanking her hand back and shaking it vigorously to alleviate the burning sensation prickling along her thumb and forefinger. Over the course of the past hour or so of Cid’s instruction she’d become more confident in connecting and arranging the machine’s various innards. A little too confident, perhaps; as she reached to grab the last wire for Cid to connect her fingers had grasped too close to the end of the rubber casing and touched bare metal.

“Really? That hurt you? I’ve seen you take blows from primals without even flinching!” Cid teased.

“I just wasn’t expecting it!” She insisted, defensively.

She could feel his chuckle against her back and he patted her on the shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. I knew I should have gotten you a pair of gloves. Here, all finished,” He twisted the final two wires together with practiced ease. “I’m sure I can entrust you with the task of putting the front panel back on?”

“Fine, fine,” She pawed through the pile of bolts at her side with one hand until she found one that looked to be the right size and grasped along the floor next to her blindly with her other, searching for the discarded panel. Cid plucked it from just out of her reach and handed it to her before disentangling himself from her and climbing to his feet. He stretched, and she heard some of his joints pop. She snickered.

“I hear you laughing at me.” He winced a little.

“What? Oh, I was just thinking about something funny,” She lied, not even trying to sound convincing. She lined the panel up and braced it with one hand. The other hand placed the bolt and reached for the wrench. “Anyways, I did a good job, right? You should take me to dinner, as a treat. Or I could take you. Payment. I’m sure a personal lesson from the head of Garlond Ironworks doesn’t come cheap~”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him wince again, though this time not because of the sore muscles in his back. “I’m sorry, Rhiki. I still need to power this thing up and record the preliminary readings. Then I’ve got to file all the paperwork.”

“Seriously?” She fumbled the wrench, almost dropping it.

“I know, I know. I’d love to take you to dinner. You know I would. But if I don’t get this report finished Jesse will weld me in here permanently.”

She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping as she continued tightening bolts. “Fine.”

“But,” he continued, “Once I’m done I’ll tell her that I’m taking the next few days off. The Warrior of Light has requested my presence and you can’t just say ‘no’ to the savior of Eorzea, can you? Plus, my girlfriend is in town.”

Rhiki took a moment to consider this. She moved on to the last bolt. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said with a smile. It was that soft, fond smile that made crinkles appear around his eyes and always made her heart melt. She couldn’t help but give in. Unfair.

“Alright, I believe you.” She gave the wrench a last twist before setting it back on the floor with the rest of the project’s leftovers. She stood, mimicked his stretch from earlier (without the cracking, she noted smugly,) and strode over to him. He was shorter than most Garleans, but she still had to stand on her tiptoes to solicit a kiss from him. He graciously leaned down and acquiesced, before walking her to the door.

“Come and find me when you’re done? If it’s not too late I might be in a good enough mood to whip us up a midnight snack,”

He opened the door for her, “The Warrior of Light really is as benevolent as the stories say.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She smacked him lightly on the shoulder with the back of her hand as she passed. Rather than heading down the path that led to the exit, however, she veered right.

“Where are you going?” She heard him ask after her.

“To make problems for Nero!” She called back gleefully with a wave.

The warm, full sound of his laughter followed her down the corridor. “And that, my dear, is one of the many reasons why I love you.”

So, I think the reason this one was so difficult is because it would go... fine, probably? Like with Riol from before, it doesn't seem like it would be a romance for the ages, but it also doesn't seem like it would be a total debacle, either They're both good natured, well-meaning people who would probably have a mostly-healthy, middle of the road relationship. There would be some problems, for sure - they both spend most of their time working, for one. They also both have struggles that the other might have trouble empathizing with. But, if they really put their minds to it, I think they could make it work.

I think the hardest part would be getting them into a relationship to begin with. It seems like there's not really anything to act as a spark. They already get along pretty well, but they don't necessarily have a ton in common. Rhiki thinks magitek seems interesting, but she's not an engineer or a scientist or a scholar, so she's not that into it. Most of the technical stuff goes way over her head. So they probably couldn't bond over, like, hours talking about magitek or the Allagan technology or anything like that. I also don't know that Rhiki is really Cid's type. He seems pretty focused on her work, so I don't know to what extent he's really looking for a relationship, anyway. He's also at least 10 years older than Rhiki, and while that's not a deal-breaker she might not consider him as a romantic option initially. So this ship is more of a "If for some reason they had to get married...." scenario lol.

If it were to develop organically, I think it would probably be during the Weapons storyline. The events in and around Werlyt really shook Rhiki, so she would probably in need of some support. And I'm sure that Cid had some feelings about 1) working with Gaius again after everything and 2) seeing a bunch of Gaius' other adopted kids get fused physically and mentally into magitek weaponry.

What Cid does have going for him is that he's very reliable, which Rhiki would really appreciate about him. He's always there when the WoL needs him and when something that's within his purview needs doing he'll work around the clock to make it happen. He's also friendly and open, and has a pretty consistent temperament, which I think Rhiki would benefit from. And, while their struggles aren't the same, they are, like, second cousins. which could allow them to understand and support each other better. Rhiki has a really hard time living up to her reputation as a hero, and Cid grew up a child prodigy, so I imagine he has some frame of reference for what that pressure is like. Rhiki sometimes worries that her attempts to "save the world" do more harm than good, and Cid clearly grapples with magitek, including things he or his father hard a hand in creating, being misused to hurt or oppress others. So, they both have probably asked themselves, "Am I doing the right thing?" I think these are things that could bring them together.

The other big wrench in the works (no pun intended) though... is that it seems like if Rhiki and Cid got married Nero would live in their spare bedroom which would really put a damper on the romance but would also be extremely funny.

[[Send me a character and I'll tell you how a ship with them and Rhiki would go.]]

[percontaion-points]

Court chapters 104-107

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 104

“I am the respected leader, and Delilah—my ruthless, rabid queen—is the dog who does what needs to be done while I hold her rope.”

Chapter 104 summary: Grace expected to be trapped in a “mind palace” with Cyrus, and is surprised that he can neither see nor hear her. Instead, she appears to be in some sort of memory of his. 

He goes into a war room and starts talking with some advisor, named Miles. They talk about Cyrus’s affair with a witch briefly, but Cyrus says that he “got what he needed from her”, so that’s over now. 

They then start trash talking Delilah, and compare her to a rabid dog. Grace is sickened by the metaphor, but her sympathy only goes so far. After all, she abused Hudson quite a lot, and then sat back and let her husband abuse both Isadora and Jaxon. MIles doesn’t know how Cyrus can possibly let such a person into the court, let alone to marry her. Cyrus insists that even wild dogs have their uses. 

Chapter 105

“It’s a sound plan, except the humans in Rome are getting restless.”

If only there was some word that could encompass “humans who live in Rome”. What’s the word that I’m looking for? Romans??? Nah, can’t possibly be it. 

The only problem? In the time I was gone, the real world has turned completely upside down.

Chapter 105 summary: Cyrus and Miles continue to plot some war. Which I’m pretty sure is the one that poisoned all of the gargoyles. Miles eventually asks, despite Delilah’s powers as a demi-god, why Cyrus would tie himself with her. And not an actual god instead. Cyrus says that if Delilah can become powerful, he can also do the same. 

Finally, the present Cyrus shows up and threatens Grace. The entire thing takes up way too much time as Grace tries to figure out how much time has passed in the real world. Although why is beyond me. Especially when a vampire is literally threatening her. 

Chapter 106

Then I sit back and wait for the explosion. It doesn’t take long.

Chapter 106 summary: Grace unfreezes herself and Cyrus. And… well. It’s the scene from Community. Everybody is fighting, somebody has probably been killed. It doesn’t take long for Cyrus to take control of the situation and starts trying to bite Grace. But then he realises that the others know that they’ve been beaten, so he orders the guards to throw them back into the cell. 

Delilah is ordered to stay and “keep an eye on them”. As soon as Cyrus and his guards are gone, Grace turns to the vampire queen and demands to know why Delilah is such a goddamned doormat. 

Chapter 107

“Aren’t you tired of being his lapdog, trotted out to kill shit whenever he needs you, being at his beck and call? He thinks you’re his property, and he can use you however he wants. Don’t you want to make that stop? Don’t you want to be free?”

Chapter 107 summary: Grace tells Delilah about the conversation she heard. However, since Delilah wasn’t there to overhear this herself, she doesn’t believe Grace. (Also, Isadora is the love-child between Cyrus and that witch. Delilah and Cyrus were already married.) But then Grace starts to tell her about another part of the conversation that the readers didn’t hear: about how Delilah slaughtered an entire village of humans, and it was only thanks to her father and Cyrus that they wiped the memories of the humans. But word got out among the vampires… 

Grace asks Delilah if she’s tired of being treated like this. 

[shaynawrites23]

Hugs with Remus Lupin

inspired by how badly i want hugs, especially from remus. hope you all enjoy these hc's about our fave wolf boy :)

okay so i imagine remus gives very warm hugs

like you can just melt into his embrace and let the world fall away

probably also too easy to fall asleep in his arms but never mind that

he knows all this

and as a physically affectionate person he will give you hugs whenever you want them

his mates tease him about it regularly but that's only because they enjoy poking fun at each other

"Godric, Moony, you really are whipped," Sirius grins, leaning with his arm on Remus' shoulder as the boys watch you trot off to class after seeking your boyfriend out just for a hug. "The girl has you wrapped around her pinky finger."

"Sod off, Pads." He shoved his friend off of him, ducking his head to hide his wide grin when you turned and blew him a kiss from the other side of the courtyard, ignoring Sirius 'ooh-ing' in the background.

 he doesn't admit it, but remus loves hugging you as much as you love hugging him

and the fact that you actively seek out hugs from him? it fills his heart until he feels like it will burst

especially when you actually doze off on him

he will not move whatever part of him you're sleeping on. at all. not even if his limbs get stiff or fall asleep

he will shush whoever is in sight

even if they're not making noise in the first place

"Shhh!" Remus held a finger to his lips, glaring at his friends who dashed into the common room, laughing loudly about their latest prank. "(y/n)'s asleep, you elephants!"

"How long have you been sitting there, Moony?" James flopped down on the couch opposite him, chuckling. "That doesn't look very comfortable."

"Shut up, you twat." Remus threw a pillow at James' head. "Why don't you do something useful and hand me that blanket?"

"It's literally within arms reach. Just stretch, Moony."

"I can't! I'll wake (y/n) up."

James huffed, standing up and tossing the blanket at his friend. "She's not the princess from the Princess and the Pea, mate."

"Well, she's my princess," he murmured, smiling softly as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the top of your head.

literally the whole school has gotten used to seeing you two together

you're practically attached at the hip

and everyone thinks you're Hogwarts' cutest couple 

...where was i going with that

i forgot

well anyway

whenever you're feeling sad or down in general

remus is the person to find

he'll drop whatever he's doing just so he can pay you his full attention

"Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" His book forgotten, Remus shifts so you can join him on his bed. You immediately crawl into his arms, shaking your head.

"Don't know," you mumble, the sound muffled in his chest. "Just… feeling stuff."

"You okay, love?" he asks. Your answering hum neither sounds affirmative nor negative, but he decides to leave that be. "Anything I can do to make it better?"

"Read to me?" You nod at the book lying at his feet. "Or just talk. Anything. Wanna hear your voice."

"Anything for you, baby." He presses a kiss to your forehead as he reaches for the book, opening it to chapter one. "Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall…"

whenever you're together, he'll be touching you somehow

95% of the time it's with an arm slung over your shoulders, pulling you close

or if he physically can't do that

he will settle for holding your hand

naturally he respects your space whenever you don't want to be touched

but he very much likes having you close

holding you just reminds him that you love and trust him

and that you chose him over all the other boys you could have

you make him happier than he ever thought he could be

and all he wants is to make you equally happy

the boy is head over heels in love he'll do anything for you

you want hugs? any hour of the day, remus' arms are open

and… just hugging remus lupin, people

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?  Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, @hoebii​ and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.”  As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[talesofbirbal]

Diet Daddy

"Mr Lascelles will see you now," announced the petite twink in a girly voice, twirling to flaunt his skimpy French maid's costume.

Brett, the 31 year old out-of-shape muscle bear, sporting a ginger beard and long curly ginger hair, who had been waiting in a hallway of this grand house for the last half an hour, got his ever-growing fat ass off the small hard wooden chair and entered the room as the twink opened the door.

"Come in," said Mr Lascelles, a 6'4", a compact 68 year old with powerful shoulders and arms, silver hair and a faint grey moustache, in his deep, aristocratic English voice.

This room, like this whole house, is amazing, thought Brett. He had never seen anything quite like it. The place had the feel of a country house belonging to the nobility, bookcases, paintings and antiques everywhere, wallpaper and carpets of the most elegant tastes, heads of stags, lions, tigers and other such animals hanging from the walls.

"Sit down," said Mr Lascelles.

Brett sat. This chair was bigger and more comfortable than the one in the hallway was. 

"And tell me, what appears to be the problem...?"

"Well sir," said Brett, blushing and spluttering, self-conscious of his American accent. "I seem to have gotten a little fat". 

"So I can see," said Mr Lascelles. "Antoine" he called in a loud voice, and the twink from the hallway came scuttling in through the door.

"Antoine, fetch the scales and tape measure," he ordered.

The twink dashed out and returned, moments later, with the required implements.

"Measure this gentleman's height", he said, adding "Shoes off!" to Brett.

Brett shook off his shoes and stood up straight, whilst Antoine measured him

"Five foot ten, sir," reported Antoine.

"Hmm," mumbled Mr Lascelles, "you told me five foot eleven, that means your BMI will be a little higher."

"Sorry, sir," said Brett.

"Now the scales," barked Mr Lascelles.

Antoine placed the scales on the floor, and Brett walked towards them.

"Naked," ordered Mr Lascelles.

Brett blushed red, looked at Mr Lascelles then looked at Antoine. From Antoine he saw an expression of sympathy, but Mr Lascelles' visage was hard and cold as rock.

"Now, please, my time for this appointment is limited," demanded Mr Lascelles.

Brett nervously slipped off his suit jacket, then undid his tie, then his shirt, then his trousers, then his socks and then lastly his briefs. He then walked again towards the scales, but Mr Lascelles interrupted.

"Antoine, first trot him round the ring, I want to see his gait and how he moves."

Brett felt confused, but Antoine looked at him kindly, held his hand, whispered to him to follow, held him affectionately by the hand, then walked him slowly around the room in a big circle. Mr. Lascelles' cold, scrutinising stare followed him the whole time.

"Hmm," muttered Mr Lascelles neutrally, sounding neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. "Scales", he snapped.

Brett stood on the scales.

"101.605 kilograms," announced Antoine.

"Not that continental claptrap you're always picking up from your mother," snarled Mr Lascelles.

Antoine cowered backwards, then picked up the scales, adjusted the settings, put them back down again and gestured to Brett to get on them again.

"16 stones", announced Antoine.

"Or 224 pounds, as the Americans would put it," grumbled Mr Lascelles. "Change the setting just to pounds next time, so this young yank here can understand what we're talking about." 

He turned to Brett. "Your profile claimed you were only 209 pounds."

He took out a small calculator and performed some calculations.

"BMI 32," he stated, "obese".

Brett felt so embarrassed. He could not hide it, standing up here, all naked. He used to be so muscular, without an ounce of fat on him. All the twinks, who he adores, used to fawn on him and beg to suck his cock and be his slave, which he loved. For the last year, though, he had let himself go. In front of him was a big fat belly, behind him a soft blubbery ass, and to his disgust, he was even beginning to sprout tits. The twinks were less keen now. Some of them even laughed at him. The last one he went with taunted him about how his fatpad was making his dick smaller, and that battered his confidence so much, he could not even get himself hard enough to perform. After that humiliation, he resolved, he had to get something done. That was when he came across a user called "Diet Doctor" on the kink website, who promised to help him lose weight and regain his physique again. This was why he was here.

"What have you to say for yourself?" said Mr Lascelles, allowing his eyes to run all over Brett's body.

"I am here for your help, sir," said Brett.

Mr Lascelles clasped his hands in a triangle, considering.

"I propose to proceed as follows," he drawled. "You will meet me here every two weeks, and I will weigh you. If you lose weight, I will generously share with you my professional advice about diet and maintaining fitness. As you can see, I am a fine specimen of a man, even at my current age, and my physique puts men half my age to shame."

He was right, thought Brett, melting at the sight of the fit sexy daddy in front of him. What he would give for a night with that...

"Especially," he added, "fatboys like you."

Brett blushed.

"However," he continued, "if you do not lose weight, then I will punish you, and if you gain weight," and at this a cruel leer appeared on his face, "Let's say I have some funny ways I could punish you even more."

"Yes sir," said Brett. He was falling for this daddy really bad.

"But first," said Mr Lascelles, "I need to know if there are any psychological blockages we need to address."

There was a pause.

"I am not sure what you mean, sir," said Brett.

"Psychological blockages of a physical or sexual nature, in particular."

There was a pause.

"Antoine," said Mr. Lascelles, "remind me what we had in the file about him".

"He doesn't like to suck cock, sir," said Antoine.

Brett felt his heart sinking to the ground. He had no idea how they had found this out, but it was true. He could not abide sucking dick. Ever. That was something other guys did to him. It was never something he did to anyone else. Ever. The thought of it was so degrading.

"In my experienced opinion," said Mr Lascelles slowly,  "before this young man can overcome his laziness and his greed, this particular blockage in his psyche will need to be eliminated."

"But please, sir..." pleaded Brett, "it is not natural to me, I can't do it, it's too much..."

"If this is too much," said Mr Lascelles, "then how do you hope to summon the discipline you will need to regain your physique?"

"I do not know sir."

"On your knees, boy!"

Brett got on his knees.

"Antoine," ordered Mr Lascelles. 

Antoine walked towards Brett, hovering over him, then lifted his short black skirt, exposing a knickerless, pubeless crotch, alongside an obscenely sized pair of balls and a humongous sausage of manhood, far thicker and wider than he could ever have imagined on such a small guy. Brett stared forward, in shock, speechless, mesmerised and horrified at the same time.

Mr. Lascelles rapped his desk with his knuckles. "It is time for you to do as other fatboys who have visited us have done," he growled.

Brett began to tremble. He could not face the humiliation.

Antoine placed his hands tenderly around Brett's face, stroking his double chin and beard. "It will be okay, I'll look after you, I promise," he said, and guided Brett's lips slowly to his cock head. Brett looked up at Antoine, and Antoine looked down. He has a kind face, thought Brett. He disdained men who dressed in female clothing, but something about Antoine was different and alluring. It felt wrong, he thought. Antoine should be going down on me. But, well... for Antoine, I would do anything for now to please him. He'd just better not damned fucking well tell anyone, that's all.

Within a few minutes, Brett was devouring Antoine's big, hard cock, and he did not like to admit it, but he was loving it, and wanting it more and more.

Mr Lascelles was chortling in the background. "Fatboys always make such good cocksuckers," he laughed, watching the outlandish sight of a fat hairy muscle bear sucking off a twink in a maid's outfit.

It came as a complete surprise when Antoine's cum shot like a fountain into his mouth. He should have known this would happen, of course, but perhaps the fact he had never sucked cock before meant he somehow overlooked the inevitability of such an outcome. 

"Uugghhhhhhh!" he spluttered.

Mr. Lascelles laughed uproariously at what he was seeing.

Antoine, seeing Brett's discomfort, pulled his dick out of Brett's mouth, and shot the rest of his load on the carpet. Mr Lascelles was not pleased.

"Not on the carpet!" he shouted. Brett and Antoine looked at him, downtrodden.

"Lick it up!" he ordered.

Brett and Antoine exchanged glances. Antoine, sparing Brett from further humiliation, got down on his knees and licked up his own semen himself, as though this was something he did every day.

A bell in the corner of the room started ringing. Mr Lascelles stirred to action. He had other business to attend to.

"Back here again, two week's time," he said.

Antoine escorted Brett from the room, then set up the date and time for the next appointment. He walked Brett, who was still trembling, to the front door, then before leaving, embraced him tenderly, pecked him quickly on the lips and said "I do hope you will return, I like you so much, and he's not as bad as he sometimes seems, you know."

*

Two weeks later, Brett arrived again at the grand old house. No waiting around this time. The servant ushered him straight in.

"You know the routine," said Mr Lascelles, who was on his feet and faced towards the window, admiring the garden, not even acknowledging Brett. 

A pair of scales stood on the floor. Brett stripped off his clothes. Gosh, this was embarrassing. He had been planning to stick strictly to his diet and work out every day, but none of that ended up going to plan. Eating and drinking and snacking was just too good to give up, and exercise was too much hard work. And if he was completely honest, a part of him was titillated by fantasies of how Diet Daddy might punish him if he dared to gain weight when he was supposed to be dieting.

"Well?" demanded Mr Lascelles.

"232 pounds, sir," said Brett.

"Antoine," called Mr. Lascelles.

Antoine entered through a door from an adjoining room, dressed like a tart in a pink and black latex dress and bunny rabbit ears, and eyeing up Brett lasciviously. He produced a small notepad with a pink cardboard cover from his pocket and started to study it.

"224 pounds last time," stated Antoine in his sensual voice, "so an increase of 8 pounds".

Mr Lascelles turned around from the window and faced Brett, eyes coldly taking in his body. 

"This is not good at all, not good at all," he muttered.

"I've been finding things difficult," said Brett, feeling very self-conscious of his enlarged furry belly.

Mr Lascelles drew his chair back a distance from his desk, then sat on it. 

"Over my knee, boy," he demanded.

Brett's face went scarlet red. He had never done anything remotely like this before.

"A psychological corrective will be required," continued Mr Lascelles, "and it involves you getting your slovenly fat hairy ass over my knee".

Antoine smirked and almost giggled, but somehow managed to hide this from Brett, and instead took him by the hand gently, and led him, like a nervous little boy, to Mr Lascelles. "Don't worry, it won't be so bad and I'm here for you," he whispered to Brett.

Mr Lascelles slowly stroked Brett's plump rump with his fingers, a look of glee flickering briefly in his face, then he straightened out his fingers, closed them together, drew back his hand, then spanked the helpless fat bear across the rear, softly and slowly at first, then faster and faster.

"Ow! Ow! Owww! Owwwww!"

Brett felt so humiliated and turned on like he had never been humiliated and turned on in his life, and he felt his cock growing bigger and harder.

"This is what we have to do with fat, greedy, lazy boys who don't control what they eat and can't be bothered to exercise," scolded Mr Lascelles, as he parted Brett's blubberous buttocks and poked his finger suddenly into his hole.

"OOWWWWWW!" shrieked Brett, grimacing in pain and startled by this gross invasion of his manhood, the likes of which he had never experienced before.

Mr Lascelles laughed loudly, but withdrew his finger and continued spanking Brett's ass. 

Antoine's cock stiffened at the sight before him, Brett completely bare assed naked, cock throbbing away, getting his fat bright red ass mercilessly spanked.

Mr Lascelles squeezed Brett's big hairy balls gently, but enough to elicit a squeal of pain, then laughed cruelly again. "If it doesn't hurt it won't work," he said, delivering an especially powerful swipe to Brett's left butt cheek.

"OWWWWWW!" shrieked Brett.

"Get up," barked Mr Lascelles.

Brett rolled off Mr Lascelles' knees, but feeling dizzy, found himself crawling on to the floor.

"Now undo my zip and suck me off," he ordered.

Brett could not believe it. He wanted this so, so much, but this was not something he would usually do at all. This was beneath him. And yet he wanted it. So he crawled forwards to Mr Lascelles, still seated in his chair, undid his zip, pulled out his big cock, and began sucking it, just like he had done Antoine's two weeks previously.

"Mmmm," groaned Mr Lascelles softly, taking hold of Brett's fat face by the fat rolls and guiding his mouth up and down his cock.

After the session with Mr Lascelles was finished, Antoine put his arms around his waist, briefly squeezing his side-belly, then invited him to have tea with him in another room. Brett's dick had been straining like anything back there but been given no relief, Antoine knew, and he could not resist the opportunity to have a little fun with the handsome chubby bear himself.

Before barely a few drops of tea had been drunk, Antoine was all over Brett, undoing his clothes, stroking his long hair, kissing and licking his big hairy body.

"I can't get enough of you," rasped Antoine. "You are so big and sexy and hairy. And do you know what, I know you are supposed to be here to lose weight, but your beer belly turns me on more than I can tell you, it is so masculine, and it makes me want to strip you naked and worship and suck you off and do every little thing you want me to do. Can I tell you a naughty secret? Nothing would turn me on that to see you grow this belly fatter and fatter and fatter for me. I want you to be my big fat daddy bear!"

Brett gloried in the attentions of young Antoine, finding him impossible to resist. He did not usually go in for girly twinks, particularly ones dressed in girly slutty clothes, but Antoine was different. And whilst the emasculation he had experienced with Mr Lascelles had awakened erotic impulses in him he never knew he had, deep down, he was finding Antoine's validation of his masculinity comforting, and a massive turn on. Before he knew it, he was laying down on the floor, naked, and Antoine was shovelling small pieces of delicious chocolate cake in to his mouth, and his cock, which had been aroused beyond endurance already, was clasped between Antoine's pert, muscular and supremely experienced buttocks, which he manoeuvred powerfully and skilfully to bring Brett to a jiggling, sweating, grunting, moaning, howling climax.

I've still got the magic touch with the twinks, Brett grinned to himself, catching an utterly voluptuous look of satisfaction on Antoine's sweet face. He left the grand house with a swagger in his step, his sense of proud masculinity restored.

*

Two weeks later, the familiar ritual repeated itself.

"245 pounds," announced Antoine, "a gain of 13 pounds".

Mr Lascelles glowered sternly across his desk at the fat hairy porker bear standing naked on the scales in the centre of the room.

"Shave him," he snarled quietly.

Brett's face turned crestfallen.

"Please, not that," whimpered Antoine in his effeminate voice, putting his arm protectively around Brett.

"Every psychological blockage to weight loss must be removed," Mr Lascelles rasped meanly. "This fat ass bear thinks being fat and hairy makes him manly and sexy. Well, we'll see about that. Shave off all his hair and leave him as smooth and pink and soft as a porky piglet."

Then he chortled cruelly. "We'll see what all the silly bear-besotted twinks think of him after that."

Antoine morosely pulled out a high portable bed with wheels from a corner in the room, and tapped on Brett's ass playfully to signal him to lay down on it, which he did. Then he went to a drawer, and returned with an electric razor.

"Zzzzzzzzz!"

Mr Lascelles began giggling as the razor glided over Brett's chest, then in circular motion over his big round belly, shorning him of the prideful emblem of manhood he set such store by.

"Zzzzzzz!"

Oh fuck, thought Brett. This was so humiliating. He would never live this down.

"Zzzzzz!"

The shaving went on and and on and on, with Mr Lascelles taking the closest interest in the proceedings, cautioning Antoine not to miss bits.

"Zzzzz!"

"And his beard and the hair on his head too," demanded Mr Lascelles. That all went too. Brett's proud beard and long curly ginger hair all went.

"Zzzzz!"

"And his pubes."

They went too. 

"Zzzz!"

Everything was going. Even the hair on his thighs and legs.

"Turn him around". 

Brett reluctantly turned around. His back was shaved, and his back legs, and his blubbery hairy ass, everything.

"Now stand up."

Brett stood up.

"And walk around the circumference of the room for me."

Brett did as he was told, as Mr Lascelles laughed lasciviously at what he had achieved. Antoine stood quietly, holding a clipboard next to his groin to conceal his massive hard-on.

"You know what comes next," Mr Lascelles said.

And Brett did. Being spanked over Mr Lascelles' knees, and then getting down on his knees and sucking Mr Lascelles cock. 

The hottest and most humiliating thing about it all for him was this: he loved it even more than the time before.

*

The morning of his next session, two weeks later, Brett weighed himself on his scales at home. 261 pounds. Fuck, he thought. But it was no surprise. Getting fatter was turning him on so much. There was no way he would stop it now.

When he arrived outside the grand house, however, he was greeted by a different scene to normal. A limousine was pulled up in the drive, along with several burly looking security men on motorbikes. He heard one of them talking on his mobile phone. "The traffic is so blocked up we'll never get her back to London now," he said. "We could have done a private flight but the optics would not be good right, y'know, with the press and everything."

I wonder what is going on, thought Brett.

Another sight now greeted Brett, this one even more surprising. It was Antoine, but looking completely different, dressed in the suavest suit he had ever seen, and a top hat. He marched elegantly to the limousine door, and opened it. 

He looks so changed, thought Brett, but so damn smoking hot as well. This is the first time I have seen him not looking like a female prostitute.

Out from the limousine stepped a smartly dressed little old lady, with a small walking stick and handbag. Antoine bowed, and kissed her hand, then they promenaded together towards the main door, with lots of onlookers crowding round to watch.

Brett looked on, feeling awkward.

One of the security men came up to Brett, and began to interrogate him. "Good morning, sir, and you are...?"

Brett felt so shy, but another smartly dressed lady, a much younger one this time, emerged from the limousine, with 3 dog leads and 3 corgis, and approached Brett and the security man with a charming smile.

"You must be one of Lord Beale's special friends, I can always tell," she said, poking Brett playfully in the tummy. "Come in with me, it will probably be easier."

Brett, grateful for the assistance amidst this growing throng of people, did as he was told, and was recognised by the doorman, who helpfully provided him with a shortcut to Mr Lascelles' study which would avoid the busy main corridor, where more and more people were gathering.

Brett knocked on the study door.

"Come in!" barked Mr Lascelles.

Brett entered. 

Mr Lascelles leaned back in his chair, taking a good, long look at Brett.

"You are letting your facial hair grow back."

"You did not tell me I couldn't, sir."

"But you should have known, you should have known. This is most insubordinate of you, and you will be punished."

"Yes sir," said Brett.

"And I can see without even weighing you that you have gained weight again. Do you deny this?"

"No sir," said Brett. "I have been trying my best but it is not working," he added lamely and somewhat deceitfully.

"Hmmm," grumbled Mr Lascelles. "There is only one thing for it. A short, sharp shock which will make you terrified of coming here again having gained yet more weight. Something that will remove the last psychological blockage that we have somehow failed so far to identify and erase."

Brett looked at his shoes.

Mr Lascelles got up off his feet.

"Bend over my desk," he ordered.

Brett looked askance.

"I said bend over my desk."

Brett did as he was told.

Mr Lascelles walked round to the other side of the desk, and stood behind Brett.

"Lower your trousers and pants."

Brett obeyed, listening to the sound behind him of Mr Lascelles removing his belt.

Thwack! The leather belt smacked against his big fat smooth ass.

"OOWWWW!" shrieked Brett.

"Shut up, fatboy, there are important guests in the house."

Thwack!

"OWWW!"

"Be quiet!"

That last voice, that "Be quiet", sounded so like the voice of Mr Lascelles, and yet not quite like it.

Thwack!

"Be quiet!"

Where is that voice coming from, thought Brett.

Thwack!

"OOWWWW!

"Be quiet!"

Brett looked straight ahead of him. Sited against the wall at the far end was a parrot cage with a macaw parrot inside. It was shrieking "Be quiet!" whenever he yelped.

"That's the Duchess," said Mr Lascelles. "Only in this room today because she doesn't like women and tried to attack our VIP the last time she visited."

Thwack!

"OWWW!"

"Be quiet!"

"I can't believe how fucking fat you are", Mr Lascelles continued, groping Brett's belly. "Such a fucking fat hog".

Thwack!

"OWW!"

"Be quiet!"

Mr Lascelles inserted his belt into Brett's mouth. "Chew on this, boy," he whispered, "there are important people outside and I don't want them to hear your pathetic little squeals.

Brett grimaced with pain and chewed on the belt as he felt Mr Lascelles' thick long cock slowly and humiliatingly invading his boyhole. Oh fuck, he thought. He had never had this done to him before. This was something he always did to other people.

Antoine's voice floated in from the hallway outside, sounding deeper and richer than previously: "We hold fitness and dieting classes in this wing of the house. My head gardener, Mr Lascelles, is taking the lead at the moment. He is a retired nutritional psychologist, but helps us out here, and is in charge of the garden and the classes."

"How fascinating," came another voice, a posh, perfect female voice, a voice he could swear he had heard on television but could not pin down.

Brett grunted as a particularly vigorous thrust of Mr Lascelles' cock sent vibrations racing through his body.

"Keep shush, lard ass," Mr Lascelles hissed, "I can't have you setting the parrot off again."

"It's just one of the many activities we have here," said Antoine's voice.

"Oh, I am sure," said the female voice. "Do you know, my sister tried dieting so many times, and she always told me it was the most tedious, the most boring thing in the world. Which is why I marvel that, from what you told me earlier, that you can make it so exciting and interesting for people."

"Well it is not only diet advice we give," came Antoine's voice. "We have a billiards room, tennis, a swimming pool. And the estate grounds are bigger than you might think here, so we do horse riding, clay pigeon shooting, archery, marathons, all sorts. The other day my wife was organising a dog show for the Bedlington Terrier Club, and Lady Margate's little Saffy won Best in Show."

Brett chewed teeth marks into the belt, pressing his hungry fat rump greedily into Mr Lascelles' groin and stifling an uncontrollable moan as Mr Lascelles grabbed him by the neck and pumped his cum into his ass with a series of fast and powerful thrusts.

"There is just so much to do here, isn't there?" came the female voice. "So much, so much I am hardly sure it is the dieting your visitors all keep coming back for."

[archived-kin]

three names

note from kin: apparently that domestic diluc piece really did wonders for my writers block because i managed to churn this entire thing out within one night

anyway i know little to nothing about childe’s backstory so do be warned that i am only very loosely following the information we get from his story quest/voice lines/etc!

(also as a heads up childe is referred to as ajax throughout this piece! for those who don't know, ajax is his birth name)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, childe, zhongli

pairing(s): childe/reader

warning(s): death (brief and not descriptive), mentions of blood

genre: angst i guess?? it isn’t SUPER heavy but this is very much Not A Happy Piece

You’ve known Ajax for what feels like forever.

The two of you grow up together on the streets of Morepesok, spending the short hours of daylight chasing each other down icy streets and pelting each other with snowballs until your fingers are frozen solid under their mittens and you’re both lying exhausted under the trees. He’s still a somewhat skittish and shy young boy, always hiding behind you while you ask the local farmers for permission to play in their fields and leaving all of the decisions to you when it comes to your childish games.

You know exactly how to get those blue eyes of his to light up like no other, though. Ever since the two of you were tiny tots, Ajax has always been enchanted by stories of adventures, of heroes who journey far from home to conquer evils beyond his childish comprehension, fighting with both sword and mind to quell any hardships or troubles that come their way. He listens to his father tell him these stories with a sparkle in his eye like no other, and begs for a new chapter as soon as one is finished.

You take advantage of this love of adventure to coax him into playing with you - him, the hero and you, his trusty sidekick, braving fight after fight together until the great sea monster is defeated, or until the brainwashed former friend was released - until the world bows down at your feet. You stand beside him and smile as he cackles, foot set atop a stone and brandishing a stick to the sky like a sword.

While Ajax longs for battle and glory, however, you secretly prefer the stories about the fisherman who wins the favour of the sea gods by saving a seal from a net, about the fae who collects the treasures of the land in an attempt to preserve the remains of a race she has loved and lost, about the dragon who follows the rainbow far into the east to find a companion who has fallen under the control of an evil sorcerer. Where he finds interest in tales of clashing blades and rumbling cannons, you find interest in the warmth of a campfire, surrounded by laughing companions that have shared a long journey together. You don’t love these games for the fights and the victories like he does - you love the games because it means you can be with him.

You suppose that this difference of interests is the reason you stay behind when he leaves on his own ‘heroic journey’.

The two of you are only fourteen - still children, for Archons’ sake - and Ajax has long since lost interest in the mundanity of his daily life.

“All we do is eat and play,” He mutters with a pout, poking at the snow with a stick. “It’s boring.”

You tilt your head in confusion and trot up to stand beside him, face half-hidden behind a scarf wrapped like a vice around your neck. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs a little then, and offers you a boyish grin. “Don’t worry, [Name]. You’re an exception.”

You still don’t understand what he means, not exactly, but it still sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The next day, he knocks on your door, dressed in an over-large coat and his favourite hat, a backpack strapped firmly to his back and a rusty shortsword in his hand. He beams at you as you open the door, and announces that he’s running away to find an adventure, and that he was wondering if you wanted to come with him.

You ask if this is another game he wants to play. He shakes his head and tells you that this is for real - that he’s going to explore far and wide, to seek out the quests that he’s heard so many stories about. He’s going to be a hero, and he wants you to be his sidekick, just like always.

But you have always been a little too timid, too afraid of going so far out into the snow, too aware of the dangers of a reckless jaunt like this. And so, bowing your head in shame, you answer that you can’t

He freezes for a moment then, disappointment clear on his face, but he replaces it with a a grin almost immediately. You don’t know it at the time, but this is the last time you’ll ever see him smile like this again.

“Don’t worry about it!” He reassures you. “I’ll bring back lots of souvenirs for you when I come back! Like a dragon head!”

“I don’t like heads.” You mumble. “Too much blood.”

He doesn’t falter. “A dragon claw, then!”

The two of you exchange brief goodbyes, neither of you aware of the magnitude of what Ajax is choosing to do, nor the consequences it will bring, and then he leaves. And you let him, watching his little figure disappear and melt into the blinding white of the snow.

It’s a mistake that continues to haunt you for the rest of your life.

He turns up again, two days later, lying unconscious on the outskirts of the forest by the village. A mere two days - but somehow, you’ve always felt as if he’d been away for much, much longer.

Ajax is never the same after that. He’s more distracted, more absent - he never wants to go out for walks in the fields with you anymore, nor does he have any interest in playing games or hearing stories. He still lets you follow him around and sit beside him, but he speaks less and less, and spends more and more time thinking.

You don’t give up on him, though. It doesn’t matter how much his blank gaze scares you sometimes, nor how unsettling the look on his face is after he shreds yet another hay training dummy to pieces. You hang around him anyway, talking about every little thing that comes to mind, and sometimes, he replies with the same silliness that he did when the two of you were younger.

It bothers you, the way that he swings so abruptly between the old him and the new him. Sometimes he’s just the boy you’d spent your childhood playing with, chasing you down the street only to stuff snow down the back of your jacket, then making you a hot drink afterwards as an apology when you declare that you hate him. But sometimes he isn’t.

His face stills, and his eyes go cold. He stares emptily at the snow beneath his feet, not responding when you call his name, and he returns to his garden sooner or later, to slaughter another line of training dummies. The way he gazes down at the wreckage, the way his hand clenches around the shaft of an arrow or the hilt of a blade, the way that he seems to hunger for more - it scares you.

Perhaps it is unsurprising that he joins the Fatui as soon as he turns seventeen.

He doesn’t tell you - he doesn’t tell anyone, not at first. He simply slips away and leaves, sometimes for days on end, and returns without a word as to his absence. You believe him when he tells you that it’s a series of job interviews in a different town, even congratulate him on the opportunity. You believe a lot of the lies he tells you.

It isn’t until you come upon him in the middle of one of his assignments that the wool is finally pulled away from your eyes.

You’re out in the city on a shopping trip by your mother’s request, carrying several baskets of fresh produce that just don’t grow quickly enough in your little seaside town, when you spot his auburn hair disappearing into a secluded alleyway. You follow quickly, opening your mouth to call out to him, only to snap it shut when you see what he’s doing.

A woman is lying beneath his foot, and he is crushing the breath out of her with the heel of his boot. There is a blade in his hand, glinting softly in the darkness of the alleyway.

The woman sobs breathlessly, begs for her life to be spared, her face contorted with fear and despair. But Ajax doesn’t flinch. In one, smooth movement, he points the blade to her neck and slashes.

You don’t know if the scream that echoes around the alleyway is yours or hers.

It’s only then that he finally turns around and sees you, and the mask covering the upper half of his face is all too familiar.

Your eyes fall upon the dead woman, her mouth still open in her final plea for mercy.

“Ajax,” You whisper, your voice trembling. “What have you done?”

The bloodstained blade in his hand clatters to the ground. “[Name]... what are you doing here?”

You don’t answer him. Your entire body feels numb. “You’re… you’re one of the Fatui.”

It isn’t a question.

He’s silent for a long time. Finally, he lets out a frustrated sigh, tearing the mask from his face and throwing it to the ground carelessly, and approaches you, hands held out as if comforting a frightened child.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” He says quietly.

“Were you ever going to let me find out?” You ask. Your eyes move back to the woman’s corpse despite everything in your brain screaming at you to look away, and your hands start shaking.

Ajax notices. He steps in front of the body, as if trying to shield it from your view. “Of course. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you, that’s all.”

“Why… why would you…?”

He meets your gaze. He shrugs. “I wanted to fight.”

There is blood staining the left side of his face. Your eyes are drawn to it in the same way they were to the corpse, and you feel a sudden burst of anger on her behalf. “How was this a fight? You trapped her in an alleyway - you didn’t even give her a chance to struggle!”

“This is different.” He states, as if it’s obvious, and his eyes go cold. “The woman was defying the will of the Tsaritsa. She needed to be disposed of.”

“Is that all you are now? A puppet of the Tsaritsa?!” You’re practically shouting now, tears threatening to start streaming down your face. You want to punch him, slap him, anything to make him realise what path he’s rapidly beginning to go down, but there isn’t any strength left in you. Not after what you just saw. “What happened to you?!”

“I changed,” He says simply, and his sea-blue eyes are frozen over completely. This isn’t the boy that you grew up and loved - and it occurs to you that he might not have been for a long, long time. “I grew up and I changed.”

“Ajax—” You begin, but he places a finger to your lips.

“It’s Tartaglia now.”

Perhaps if you look close enough, hope hard enough, you’ll be able to fool yourself into thinking there was some kind of emotion on his face - something, anything that proves that he still cares - but there is nothing but emptiness in his gaze.

You don’t sleep that night. You don’t sleep for a long, long time, unable to put a stop to the unrelenting march of thoughts streaming through your head like a gushing river, like the endless depths of the ocean, like the deep blue of his eyes...

You distract yourself as best you can. You move out of town while he’s out on another mission and take your parents with you, settling down in a small village at the base of a mountain. There, you busy yourself every hour of the day, taking solace in the ache of your muscles and the fatigue that weighs heavily on your limbs. The people of the village come to know you as the helping hand, the eager assistant, always raring to go when asked for a favour.

And yet, even as you sit around a table in the local bar, surrounded by warmth and chatter and familiar faces, you can’t help but feel an emptiness opening in your chest. Old Dmitri, manning the bar as usual, slides a tankard over to you with a sympathetic smile, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

You ask yourself that question more times than you can count, digging it deep into your skin, carving it into your mind, unable to help wondering, and yet... you never find an answer. What is wrong with you? Why does Ajax’s absence cut into you like a knife, keeping you awake deep into the night, plagued by dreams of cold, dead eyes and red blood pooling in the white snow? Why is it that, no matter how many times you remind yourself of the man in that alleyway and the body of the woman he’d just slaughtered, of the man that was not Ajax, of Tartaglia - you can only remember the grinning boy of your childhood?

Your parents don’t know why your eyes are always red-rimmed when you come down for breakfast in the morning, nor why you refuse to look at your surroundings when you go out into town, keeping your eyes focused determinedly on your dragging feet.  They don’t know how many hours you spend staring out into the deep sky, wondering if Ajax is watching the same stars as you are, whether he even thinks of you at all.

Everything around you seems to taunt you, and you realise something.

You have to leave. You have to run away, to find a home in a place where the streets don’t stir up memories of days long gone, where the crunch of the snow beneath your feet doesn’t remind you of the sound of tearing flesh, where you can just be without Ajax haunting you around every corner you turn.

And so you set off for Liyue. You journey to the land amidst monoliths, seeking golden soil warmed by the sun to escape the cold snow and icy rain. You do not stop moving until you reach the land where the mountains stretch high and the streets of the harbour are painted with red and yellow, where the people are unfamiliar, the buildings are unfamiliar - where everything is unfamiliar. You’re tired of dwelling on past memories, tired of putting yourself through the same pain.

You settle in quickly, taking up a job at Wanmin Restaurant and eventually saving up enough to afford more than the little hotel box room you first are resigned to stay in. You move in with a new friend of yours, an apparently refined gentleman who seems to have no shortage of money but still always forgets to bring it when he needs it, and you start to remember what living in peace feels like again.

You take a deep breath as you watch the bustle of the city from the open window of your bedroom. The cool evening breeze in Liyue Harbour is soothing, unlike the biting nightly winds of Snezhnaya. Perhaps you can finally let go of Ajax now, you think.

Somewhere in the heavens, Fate mocks your hopefulness.

Two years later, your friend, who has only become even worse at managing his money despite your constant nagging, invites you to a dinner with him and a new acquaintance he’d like to introduce you to. You agree, unsuspecting of the true identity of his so-called ‘friend’.

You take one step into the private room that Zhongli had booked and realise what a terrible mistake you’ve made when you see a familiar figure sitting at the table.

He doesn’t turn around at first, too occupied with trying to take a sip of his tea without burning his mouth. Zhongli smiles at you, painfully unaware of the amount of old trauma he’s inadvertently stirred up.

“I’m glad that you made it,” He says pleasantly, and gestures to the man sitting across from him. “This is the acquaintance I was telling you about. His name is Childe.”

There is a long silence. The initial shock of the moment wears off, only to be replaced by something resembling anger.

“So it’s Childe now, is it?” Ajax stiffens as he hears your voice come from behind him. “How many names does one man need?”

He turns around agonisingly slowly, failing to register the dangerous tilt of the teacup in his hands as it comes close to tipping its contents all over the table. You stare blankly back at him from the doorway.

How long has it been since he last saw you? He doesn’t know. Ever since the two of you had parted ways in that alleyway, you’d all but disappeared. The window to your bedroom had always been dark and empty when he stopped by your home, and neither you nor your parents were anywhere to be seen, no matter how thoroughly he’d searched the town. It had only been when Tonia had mentioned your absence in one of his letters that he’d realised that you weren’t just avoiding him. You’d left. Left the town where the two of you had grown up, left the home you’d lived in for so long, left behind all the friends you’d made over the years - just to run away from him.

There are new scars on your face, a new poise in the way you hold yourself. A sheathed dagger glitters at your belt, and even now you toy with its hilt in a way that tells him that you are familiar with it. You’ve changed so much, and he aches to think that he had been unable to see any of it.

He hadn’t wanted you to go, he never had. You’d always been his best friend, someone he looked up to, someone he enjoyed the company of, someone he cherished - someone he loved. But he’d had a duty to attend to, a new mistress to serve, a new title, a new responsibility. He couldn’t keep fooling himself into thinking he could keep the relationship he had with you forever.

That day in the alleyway - he’s never been able to forget the look on your face when you realised who he had become. It’s been burnt into his memory ever since then, flashing before his eyes just before he strikes, and even now, five years later, he still gets reprimanded by his fellow Harbingers for faltering just before he makes the kill. They always ask - how can Tartaglia, who takes pleasure in watching the life drain out of his opponent’s eyes after a battle well fought, hesitate like that?

He never has an answer for them.

Zhongli looks back and forth between the two of you, his brows knitting together slightly. “Do the two of you know each other already?”

“You could say that,” You reply, though your eyes don’t move even an inch from your old friend’s face. His expression is crumpled, almost vulnerable, a far cry from the stone-cold indifference he wore the last time you saw him.

“[Name],” He says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “What… what are you doing here?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I’ve lived in Liyue Harbour for two years. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Several seconds pass by with no response.

“It seems the two of you have much to talk about,” Zhongli observes, and gets to his feet. “I’ll leave you for now.”

He’s out of the room before either of you can object. Damn him and his perception.

You don’t sit down at the table. Instead, you move to the window, looking out over the city that you have come to love.

Ajax joins you. He hesitates as he approaches, as if debating whether or not to settle right beside you as he would have in the past. Eventually, though, he decides to keep his distance.

“Liyue is beautiful at night.” He says quietly. “Language is a nightmare to learn, though.”

That earns him a short laugh from you, and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat as he hears it. “You can say that again. I don’t think I even have a proper grasp of it now.”

“You’re speaking pretty fluently,” He replies. “I’d say that’s a proper enough grasp.”

“It’s all just conversational, really.” You don’t look at him, instead choosing to look down at Xiangling, Xingqiu and Chongyun as they walk through the street below you together, exchanging jokes and nudges. “What about you?”

“I’d like to think I know it pretty well. I had to learn for—”

He cuts himself off, but you already know what he’d been about to say.

“For your Fatui duties here,” You finish for him, and though you don’t move, somehow he feels as if the gap between you has widened. “There’s no need for pretences, Childe.”

He freezes at the way you address him. It’s become familiar to him after using it as an alias for so long, but it sounds so wrong coming from you. It feels as if you’re distancing yourself from him, from the childhood you shared together. As if Ajax, your childhood friend, never existed - only Childe, the Fatui Harbinger.

“Don’t…” His voice breaks, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before continuing. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” You sound so detached, so distant - and he hates it. “Would you prefer Tartaglia? That’s what you told me to call you last time we met.”

He feels as if you’ve stabbed him in the chest. It probably would’ve hurt less if you did, actually, but he knows he deserves it. “...no. I don’t want you to call me Tartaglia, either.”

You don’t respond, but he continues anyway. “I want… I want you to call me Ajax.”

Silence.

You finally turn to look at him, surprise painted on your features. “...what?”

Your eyes are just as he remembers them. He never wants to see them as they were on that day five years ago, filled with despair and tears that threatened to brim over.

He takes a deep breath and repeats, “I want you to call me Ajax.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Your face shifts, as if you can’t decide whether you want to be angry or sad or something else entirely. You open your mouth to say something, but at that moment the door opens again, and Zhongli pokes his head in.

“My apologies,” He says a little sheepishly, “But the attendant informed me that we should start ordering our dishes now if we don’t want to accidentally go over our time slot. That is - if you two are alright with having dinner with each other?”

You don’t respond immediately. Your eyes stay on the man gazing almost wistfully at you, your expression becoming thoughtful.

It’s been five years since you’ve last seen him. Five years of sleepless, tormented nights spent tossing and turning, of days spend exhausting yourself just so that you don’t think of him, of a journey filled with obstacles and monsters just to find a place to be at peace in, and just as you finally think you might be moving on, he shows up again.

Maybe you should be angry. Maybe you should be drawing your dagger and threatening him to stay the fuck away from your city and to take his Fatui agents with him. Maybe you should punch him right where it hurts most for all the pain he’s caused you.

But… you’re tired. You’re tired of hurting, tired of remembering. And maybe there’s a little part of you that hopes - a little part of you that still clings to the boy you played with on the streets of Morepesok, the boy that you lost the moment you let him leave on that journey.

And so you come to a conclusion.

“I’ll stay for dinner. What about you, Ajax?”

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Four

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: This here is a warning that uploads will slow down after this! But I’ll keep popping in to share teasers and writing updates and so forth. I have a month until my dissertation deadline and I simply can’t keep writing fanfiction instead of my uni work... lmao. Hope you enjoy this, though! The ending is... a lot more than we’ve had, as of yet.

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.9k

Chapter Four

“A storm summoner?” Inej questioned, shocked. “Like the Sun Summoner?” Her eyes lit up tenfold as the name slipped from her lips. You saw the faith in her eyes, the want for something bigger to be out there; a protector; a god; a Sankta.

“I’m no Sankta, Inej,” You replied, furrowing your brows at the way her face dropped. Kaz was looking at her deeply, as if he often did this when she wasn’t looking at him—his face was deep in thought, his sunken and sad eyes swimming with something that you’d seen before—

Longing. A feeling.

“I think he just called me that to make me believe I was part of something bigger,” You continued. Kaz scoffed abruptly, causing you and Inej to jut your gazes onto him.

“He sounds like every powerful man out there. A devil in disguise,” He said it as if he’d dealt with similar people, but the hint of patronisation in his tone is what made you scowl.

“You said it yourself, Brekker—a devil in disguise. I had nothing, no one. No matter how cautious I was, I was looking for something to cling onto—,”

“So, you clung onto the Darkling himself,” He interrupted you, his eyes turning nasty. “And you thought it would go to plan?”

You stood suddenly, your chair clattering to the floor as your hands trembled relentlessly. Kaz’s face dropped, his head tilting upwards to hit your eye. Your face was stern, your jaw stiff, your eyes shooting fire at the Bastard of the Barrel.

Inej rose after you, placing a reassuring hand on your forearm. “Ignore him,” She said softly. “When Kaz doesn’t understand something, he resorts to rudeness, as if that’ll somehow make him understand,” She glanced back at Dirtyhands, shooting him a red stare. He swallowed as his eyes traversed Inej’s face, slowly, intentionally, landing upon every crevice of her smooth skin—skin that had seen so much, done so much for him.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Sit,” He said, softer this time. Inej picked up your chair, and you followed her lead in sitting back down. Her hand never left your arm. Her fingers were delicately laid upon you, so faint that sometimes it felt as if she wasn’t touching you at all. “Please. Continue,” Kaz said. You could hear the change in his voice after Inej’s piercing stare.

You felt that this was more important to Inej than to Kaz. You felt that Kaz only wanted to know how he could somehow profit from this tale, but Inej—she ate up your words as if they were air to her. Trapped in a place as Ketterdam, maybe she simply wanted to know of fights that didn’t happen on her doorstep; that weren’t caused by the knives that littered her body.

You didn’t doubt that she could cause destruction, but you thought you already knew why she did it—

To survive. To live. Not because she wanted to. Not for herself. But for her Dirtyhands, sat right in front of her, tracing the outline of her silken hair wisps and swearing that he didn’t believe in her gods.

You exhaled shakily, dispelling the sudden burst of anger that Kaz had caused you. And then you began again.

The Little Palace, 1 Year Ago

“No Kefta?” Kirigan questioned, as you approached him outside in the courtyard. He stood beside two stallions—one a deep and shining black, the other a gentle brunette. You raised your hand to the brunette stallion, swiping your palm over its soft coat.

He regarded your clothes, the absence of a Kefta, before looking back to your eye. You darted your gaze away from his, not wanting him to divulge your true reasoning.

“It was the blue. Washes me out,” You lied, picking up from the joke he’d made earlier. He didn’t scoff or chuckle this time, however.

“Kefta’s are bulletproof, you know,” He spoke coarsely. “They’re not just for appearance,”

You nodded to yourself, rounding your horse slowly, before slipping one foot into the stirrup and hoisting yourself onto the saddle. You shuffled yourself once, getting comfortable.

“Good thing I have the Darkling escorting me today,” You said, almost bluntly. You didn’t want to bring up the matter of Kefta’s anymore; not just because you felt like an imposter in the Little Palace whenever Grisha walked past you wearing them, but also because of other reasons; the King of Ravka had done nothing for you, or your family.

You didn’t ever wish to don clothes that belonged to him, that were a staple of this place. But you couldn’t say that to Kirigan, not yet. Not until you had a better handle on how he’d react to your harsh words. This was his home, his life—he might take offence to you so publicly rejecting a Grisha tradition.

Kirigan looked to the ground then, a small frown on his face, before quickly hoisting himself onto his black stallion. The two of you left the Little Palace, trotting in silence as an uneasy tension floated between you both.

You ignored his frown, adopting your own involuntarily. As much as you’d thought it would get easier to be here, day by day, it was proving difficult when everyone looked at you like a piece of coal amongst diamonds—apart from Kirigan himself. He looked at you like you were the diamond, worn and tough and strong; indestructible.

You almost didn’t want him looking at you at all, but when you caught yourself slipping, enjoying his company, his chats, his stares; you were just lying to yourself. Kirigan was the only person in the Little Palace that you understood, no matter how small that understanding was. It was the only thing you had to grasp onto.

When the two of you rounded the courtyard, heading out to the vast acres of land surrounding the palace, you couldn’t help but perk up. You were riding moderately, keeping in toe with Kirigan and his horse, but Saints—you wanted to run.

You glanced at Kirigan then, traversing your eyes over his tight jaw, his dark eyes, his blunt lips; and then you clipped your stallion with your boot. It surged forward, neighing loudly, feet galloping faster and faster as Kirigan was soon left behind.

He yelled for you, calling you back, full of worry, but you were travelling too fast to take your eyes off of the field in front of you. You rocketed forward, feeling the strength of the stallion beneath you, the air through your hair, your clothes, the vibrations of the ground below your feet—

Saints, it felt good. You felt free; freer than you’d felt since living a stable life in Kerch with your family, before everything went wrong.

The thud of Kirigan’s horse sounded behind you, approaching quickly as the General came into view at the side of you. You both galloped sternly, neither one faltering. You dared to look at his face, just for a second—his expression had softened, overcome with something that you’d never seen from him before; fear, a worry, a scare.

When before he’d scared you, you now scared him.

You softened your expression upon seeing his face, but you didn’t slow. The silence was no longer tense, but it still weighed on you both. You wanted to say something, you wanted him to speak, but neither did—

Until you finally faced forward once more, guiding your horse onwards and onwards through acres of untouched, green and luscious grass; yours for the fucking taking. That’s when you yelled to the sky, lifting your arms from the reins and allowing your horse to propel you forward, balancing on its back as you indulged in the way the air flowed all over you.

Truly free. Truly felt.

You stayed like that for some time, shutting your eyes for a moment, just to feel everything. When you opened them, Kirigan was still beside you, staring at you unwaveringly—a smile on his lips.

You dismounted in the forest, following Kirigan’s course after your much needed gallop. It was peaceful here, serene, untouched. Since you were young, you’d loved the outdoors. The sounds that surrounded a clearing, coming as if from nowhere. The subtle breeze that flowed through trees, clattering their branches and lifting leaves from the floor. If you could settle anywhere, it would be on a piece of untouched, unclaimed, unruined land.

You were still waiting for him to speak, as the two of you strolled together through the woods. The more you were silent, the more you were afraid of what would leave your mouth if you opened it. You wanted him to break the tension, after such a blunt chat that morning and your abrupt running off.

He cleared his throat once, but you didn’t dare to look at him. “I thought you were running,” He spoke plainly. You let out a huff, feeling relief from the silence being broken.

“I’m not idiotic enough to run when you’re around,” You replied. It was the truth—you would have managed fleeing if Kirigan hadn’t been there to direct Ivan. With each day that passed, it was getting easier to be here, but Kirigan’s deal was already in the back of your mind.

He chuckled slightly. “And if I’m not around?’ He questioned. You looked to him then, meeting his gaze.

“That depends on whether or not you trust me,” You said softly. He regarded you, flicking his eyes over your face, as if looking for any sign of you joking or lying. He couldn’t find anything—because you weren’t.

The corners of his mouth turned up. “If I’m to trust you, then will you trust me in return?”

You grimaced slightly, as his words hit your ears. There was no easy way to say what was the truth. “I have a feeling you already know my answer, General,” You replied. His face didn’t drop, nor did he look away from you. He kept up his small smile, flicking his eyes over you gently.

“No, you wouldn’t trust me,” He said, all-knowing. “But already, I trust you more. Because you didn’t lie,” You glance back at him, ignoring the way his words made your heart pound. Did the General know that you clutched onto his every word? Did he know that, despite your reluctance to trust him, that you wished you would?

“I’m not sure trusting me would be wise for you either, General,” You began, as anxiety bubbled within your gut. “My mother trusted me to keep my sister safe, after they had to leave Kerch. My sister trusted me to get her across the Fjerdan border, and I failed her. You trusted me to stay in the Little Palace, but instead I broke your window,”

He was silent for a moment, pondering his thoughts while your heartbeat was eating you alive.

“It was an impressive jump,” He said. “And an even more impressive landing,”

It was shocking how two sentences stopped the anxiety within you, as if it had never been there in the first place. You sucked in deep breaths and filled your lungs with fresh air, feeling mor invigorated and free than you had in years.

“Why are we here, General?” You asked finally, looking around the forest that surrounded you both. It was quiet and deserted; you were alone with Kirigan once again, this time much further away from others at the Little Palace.

He strode forward, standing before you suddenly. “The first lesson of control is letting go,” He said sternly. “If you want to master your power, then you must first divulge its unpredictability,”

You furrowed your brows, looking down at your hands. They were trembling slightly. “You want me to... intentionally summon a storm that I can’t control?”

“We need to access exactly how much power you possess,” Kirigan confirmed. You shook your head suddenly, feeling far too exposed. You’d summoned storms to protect yourself, to fight against others, to prove your power—but you’d never summoned one outside of immediate danger.

“This is how Morozova created the Fold,” You whispered. “I know a Squaller isn’t the same as a Shadow Summoner, but—,” You continued quickly, glancing up to meet Kirigan’s eyes, swallowing down sudden nerves. “I’ve told you that I don’t know how to use my abilities properly—,”

Kirigan strode forward suddenly, sensing your mass uneasiness. He placed his hands on your shoulders gently, as you allowed his touch to ground you. He furrowed his brows at you softly, flicking his eyes to each of yours.

“I’m here if you can’t hold on,” He said strongly. You sent him a quizzical look, wondering what he meant. “Trust me just this once, even if you don’t trust me afterward,”

You wanted to tell him that this was what happened once, back in Novyi Zem. That you were messing about with your abilities, that you were curious to see how large a storm you could summon. What you’d created had been nothing you’d ever expected or imagined—it had scared you. It had scared your sister, and Nana.

And you never summoned a storm that size again, not even against those druskelle, not even to prove your point against Zoya, or break out of the Little Palace the week before.

You clutched onto Kirigan’s words as he took a few strong steps backwards, his eyes plastered on you all the same. “Just look at me, don’t be afraid of your own strength,” He said lowly. You bit back the anxiety propelling itself up your throat as you brought your hands together, slowly, trembling, before mustering all of your strength—

And summoned the greatest storm that was possible.

It came thick and fast, whipping through the pristine and untouched trees and bushes of the forest. Leaves were stolen from their comfort on the ground, joining the huge circular winds that you’d wrapped around yourself and the General. His eyes danced over your winds as they continued to get stronger and faster, threatening to rip his feet from the ground.

But he stayed solid, he stayed stood, always a few feet in front of you, acting as a reminder that all would be okay. You started to panic when a tree snapped abruptly, its trunk filing into the ravenous winds you’d created. You faltered slightly, your eyes darting around your storm.

“I can’t!” You yelled out, and Kirigan’s gaze whipped back to you. You were breathing heavily, encased in fear at your own doing.

“Control it!” He shouted back. “Feel it in your gut, your entire body—,”

“I can’t!” You screeched, clamping your eyes shut as the eye of the storm began to waver. If you continued this way, the winds would soon whip both you and the General into its path, along with most of the surrounding forest.

You were screaming at yourself to focus, to breathe, but the overwhelming thoughts of destruction and the unknown were too strong, cutting through your mind. Your power was eating you alive—

Until his body pressed into your back, his fingers curling around your slim forearms, helping to steady your wavering and trembling hands. You opened your eyes, immediately flicking your gaze down to the intricate patterns of his black Kefta sleeves.

“Feel it in your gut, feel it here,” Kirigan spoke into your ear, loud and clear. Slowly, he moved one of his hands to your waist, slipping his palm over to land upon your lower torso, over your gut. With every second his hand was pressed upon you, you felt stability; you felt safer. “Think of your sister, think of your family, your life, your wants and desires. Focus your mind,”

Kirigan moved his hand up to your chest then, pressing down sternly over your heart. “Slow your heartrate, feel your power, but do not fear it—you can control it. It sits within you and only you,”

You closed your eyes as he spoke, focusing your mind. You thought of your mother and father and what they did to protect you; you thought of your sister, of Nana, of everyone who you loved so dearly; you thought of Kirigan and his promise—

Your fingers moved instinctively as you imagined the way you wanted the winds to move. The storm began to lessen, as a more focused tunnel of air cascaded around you and the General. Your heartbeat raged in your ears; erratic, anxiety stricken, but decreasing steadily as your fingers commanded the very air, inhaling and exhaling deep and stable breaths.

“Drop the tree trunk to the floor,” He whispered once more. Even with your eyes closed, you could sense where the tree was within your circling storm. You swiped your hand through the air, feeling the weight of the trunk as you commanded the air surrounding it to hover it across the clearing.

With a thud, it dropped to the ground. You separated your hands, and the storm dissipated as fast as you’d summoned it.

A silence flooded through the forest as the winds disappeared, as leaves fluttered back down to the earth from where they came. It was almost beautiful, witnessing the branches of trees reverting back to their original positions. Birds flew overhead, disturbed from the storm, but they were returning to their trees and nests.

In that moment, you felt the air. You felt the power within your veins, your blood, as the fear from your mind had all but left you. When you became aware of Kirigan, arms wrapped around you, hand pressed over your heart, you didn’t shrug him off—you raised your own hand to his, overlaying it atop your heart.

“Can you feel it?” You asked breathily. “My steady heartbeat?” You were riding the adrenaline rush, the happiness from feeling like you now had more of a handle upon what you could create to perceive his closeness as awkward or unnecessary.

He’d stuck to his word. He was there when you felt you couldn’t hold on. He was there for when you faltered, and he’d brought you back.

“Yes,” He replied, still whispering into your ear. His voice made you shiver, his presence never being this strong to you before. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel safer, stronger, more in control. Having him near was something you had to get used to, but this near? Unthinkable; until his arms had wrapped around you and his chest was pressed into your back. “You have huge strength, strength that I’ve never seen a Squaller possess before,”

When you felt your cheeks blushing at his lips to your ear, you finally removed yourself from his grasp. You strode forward, eyes landing upon the snaped tree trunk. It was sat at the edge of the clearing on its side, as if it was placed there intentionally; a bench amongst the wildlife.

“You’ve always thought your powers to be destructive,” Kirigan said, strolling to stand beside you. He looked down at the fallen log with a small smile curled upon his lips. “But look at the good they can create,” He strode past you towards the log, squatting down until he sat atop it.

You didn’t move from where you stood, fighting against the urge to sit beside him. He stared at you, his eyes beaming brightly, but you looked down to his hands—hands that he’d placed upon you. Hands that could control the darkness and manipulate shadows to his will.

“You haven’t shown me your power,” You said abruptly. Kirigan took in a deep breath, clasping his hands together in his lap.

“Not many people wish to see it,” He replied, his smile dropping into a frown. “Curious, aren’t you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling exposed as he regarded you. “Everyone knows of those few strong Grisha. Shadow and Sun summoners, the dark and the light. Rare, yet one is sat right before me,”

He stood slowly, his hands still clasped together. “Are you sure? It’s been known to... haunt people,”

You swallowed, balling your fists, as if punching your way through shadows was possible. “I will trust you again, just this once, not to haunt me for the rest of my days,” You said steadily, hoping that he couldn’t detect the slight hitch in your tone. Saints, you were afraid, but you also trusted the General, sat before you, not to harm you.

It was enough.

He nodded once, before gently unclasping his hands. The darkness came slower than you expected it would, but when it eventually surrounded the forest and the air turned cold, it was all-encompassing—

A black so deep and never-ending that looking into it was like staring at the end of the World. Kirigan disappeared from view as the forest darkened into oblivion, as shadows of a smoke like substance blocked out any hope of light, life, anything.

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, your blood pumping through your body, your organs keeping you alive. It was you, only you, and the pitch black.

Cold, alone, encased in a shadow—

“Kirigan?” You spoke timidly. It felt like your voice should have echoed, but instead the dark absorbed all noise. It ate up your very words.

“Aleksander,” His voice cut through the black suddenly, as a hand reached out to clutch your own. When before there had just been black, Kirigan now stood before you, as if he’d been there the entire time. He raised your hand to his chest, laying your palm over his heart and placing his hand over yours. “Call me Aleksander,” He said, and you heard his voice loud and clear now, encased in this dark abyss.

His eyes were swimming with shadows; so black that you couldn’t stop looking at them.

“Feel my heartbeat,” He spoke once more. You furrowed your brows.

“It’s hardly beating,” You whispered, as a wave of cold descended over your body. Aleksander nodded.

“Death state. All I’m focused on is my power, now,” He replied. You were struck then with the realisation that this man harboured more strength than you’d ever imagined. He could control his power to do whatever bidding he pleased; he could slow his heartrate until he was hovering above literal death, until his focus was so inherent that it was like second nature.

He removed his hand from yours, and as he did the shadows vanished from around you both, scuttling back into whatever corner of Hell they came from. You were too focused on the darkness leaving that you didn’t realise your hand still lay over Aleksander’s heart, until you looked back at him.

You flinched, removing your hand from his chest.

“Scared?” He asked, his voice rough. He swallowed afterwards, his Adam’s apple bobbing uncomfortably within his throat.

“No,” You replied, and you knew it was the truth. It was more beautiful than you’d expected, but you were sure that would change if you ever saw the General use his powers in defence. But for now—the shadows were beautiful—his shadows were beautiful. They were strong. He was strong. “Aleksander,” You finished, letting his name roll over your tongue.

The corners of his mouth tugged up at the sound of his name from your lips.

“Good,” Aleksander said, as the two of you settled once more, feeling the pleasantness of the breeze through the trees and the birds chirping high above your heads.

And as you both relaxed in each other’s presence, without the need for Ravkan rum, you were thinking of the future; you were thinking of the other training sessions where you’d get to be alone with General Aleksander Kirigan of the Second Army.

Tag list: @callitdreamland @bxnnywxtts @elleatrixlestrange @stargirl76 @tartiflvtte @musicconversedance @eprilin @luminous-99 @brynthebulldozer @katedrexel @blackbirddaredevil23 @auggie2000 @not-so-quite-human @notawritergettingtherethough @thinkingth0ts @gabbien @tarkanelima-blog @hxgreeves @super-nannai @epistrofh-twn-ypogeiwn-poihtwn @sonnensplitter @fire-in-her-veinz @capt-brns @lunamyangel @kaqua @amortentiaaaa @little124​

Once again, sorry if your tag doesn’t work!

[neonponders]

Head canon time:

Okay okay okay okayokayokay so this post has super cute art, but the reblog comment on it aligned with something that’s been percolating in my brain for a ~while~ now:

Eleven as Steve’s sister.

Obviously neither Steve nor Eleven have any idea. From the time El escapes the lab, they don’t interact much. Even if they’re in the same room, they kind of bounce around each other, because...why else would they? Steve’s at least five years older and she’s still building her social skills/confidence, especially around men.

But then Steve gets his hair cut short, and the back likes to curl very similarly to how El’s did when hers was short. Their hair needs its own weight to pull it straight.

And it’s dark brown. Followed by clear brown eyes.

It’s not enough for anyone to connect the dots, of course, but then El’s “mother” dies. Her mind had been a flickering light for a long time, eventually her heart began to match. But when a heart stops, it stops.

Her sister calls Hopper, in case El wants to know, and they show up, at the very least, to attend the funeral and to help the sister go through dusty boxes. Maybe there’s a picture of El’s mother that she wants...

Instead they find surrogacy papers.

Old bank statements.

Apparently at the time of her involvement with government conspiracy, she had been very down on her luck. She made the mistake of doubling up on volunteering to be a surrogate mother, as well as whatever the hell the Hawkins Library did to her.

But the names on the papers are John and Eliza Harrington.

“Like...Steve?” El asks when he finally has gaped at the papers for too long.

Hopper inhales because he isn’t sure when he did that last and scratches his face. “Yeah...like Steve.”

He has mixed emotions: the empathetic devastation at losing a kid, but also the relief that this involves someone already in the know.

They go over to Steve’s house.

The guy answers the door with a slice of pizza in his hand, still chewing. “Hi, Hop. Ellie.”

She offers a small smile. “Steve.”

“Are your parents home, kid?”

He shook his head and swallowed. “Just left this morning. They have a time-share condo in Mexico.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

Steve scoffs while turning around back into the house. “My idea of a good time isn’t with my parents. What d’you need?”

“Well,” Hopper sighs, feeling too big in the foyer. Eleven stabs his hip with a finger and he begins the tedious process of unlacing his boots. “I need to go through your parents’ papers. You got an attic, a cellar, an office?”

Steve, bless him, looks genuinely clueless. “Uh. Yeah...are we in trouble for something?”

“Not in trouble, no. I just wanna cross reference something.”

Bless him twice, because he actually lets Hopper into his attic. His father’s office. Then his mother’s.

He finds it in his mother’s bedroom. It was just a shot in the dark to try the safe in the closet, but so many people actually keep their safes unlocked for easy access.

Hospital documents. Even ultrasound photos.

“Jane Elizabeth...Harrington?” Steve chirps over his shoulder.

He looks up at the chief, who’s rubbing his beard again. Their heads turn to Eleven sitting on Mrs. Harrington’s bed. “My name’s Jane.”

Those big brown eyes blink between her and Hopper. “How do you know that? I thought you came from a lab?”

Hopper intercepted, “She used her,” he gestured vaguely to his own head, “to find her mother. Or...the surrogate your parents paid for.”

“And where’s she?”

“Dead,” said Eleven.

Hopper reiterated, “She passed about two weeks ago. We found your parents’ names in her paperwork.”

“But - what happened? How does a baby just go missing? Better question: why don’t I have super powers?”

Hopper had already read the hospital’s apology and refund of the Harrington’s funds, insurance, the works. “I think that asshole...Brenner...claimed the baby for his work, early enough that it could be written off as a miscarriage. Whatever they did to El’s mother, whatever went on in that lab, landed her with her abilities. It’s nothing to covet, all right.”

Steve looked winded. He crossed his arms and let himself collapse against the wall. “So...what do we do?”

“Uh...” Hopper fanned his face with the ultrasound pictures. “There isn’t a lot we can do. Telling your parents would open up a lot of closed doors that we can’t really afford to open. Dr. Owens, being the swell guy he is, provided me paperwork that grants El as my kid.

“But.

“You already know each other. You already contributed to saving the world together. So...I think that’s up to the two of you.”

Both of them, for all they’d been through, just looked like kids. They were kids, even if Steve now stood in his twenties. And he stood off the wall, now, to approach his sister.

“Can I, uhm...can I hug you?”

El slid off the high bed, easily falling against his body for arms to wrap tightly around her. They stayed like that for a long moment, then Hopper joined them to rub between their shoulder blades.

“Oh god. You’re dating Mike Wheeler.” El hummed a curious sound and he elaborated, “Am I gonna have to pound on him if he pisses you off?”

“I wish you would,” Hopper confirmed.

Fast forward to Mike being extremely confused at his girlfriend suddenly spending a lot of time with Steve Harrington, of all people.

“Maybe she’s gotten a taste for older men?” Lucas teased, and got punched in the shoulder for it.

Max’s eyes rolled but she didn’t grace that with an answer.

Mike fumed, “She was supposed to be with me today! Then she called and said she had other plans - ”

Max chimed, “Are you sure you had plans? Or that you had a plan but she beat you to it?”

“It doesn’t matter! I see her walking around with Steve Harrington all the time and it’s weird!”

Will said for nobody in particular, “We’re not the ones to judge weird anymore.”

Lucas countered, “Or we’re the experts on weird. Speaking of, where the hell is Dustin?”

“With Steve,” Max grinned right at Mike, and stood up. “Speaking of, my ride’s probably here.”

“Where are you going?” Lucas asked.

“Over to Steve’s.”

The boys looked at each other and ran for their shoes. Sure enough, they left the Wheelers’ basement, circled around the house, and found the blue Camaro waiting in the cul-de-sac. 

“Woah woah woah, what the hell is this?” Billy said hoarsely. He peered over his sunglasses at the teenagers filing into his backseat.

Max shoved a bottle of water towards him. “You’re not drinking enough, again.”

“Don’t bitch at me. Tell your friends to scram.”

“Are you really going over to Steve’s?” Will began.

“What do you know about Steve hanging out with my girlfriend?” Mike joined.

“Steve’s got a pool, right?” Lucas directed at Max.

Billy revved his engine with a sharp right turn, throwing all of them to one side of the car. Max held her head from where it had hit the window. “Cool it, you shouldn’t even be driving in the first place.”

“My blood did not turn black for this bullshit.”

The kids in the back stared out of the windows like Loch Nora was a safari tour. At the sound of the Camaro’s engine, Steve trotted down the slope of the lawn in swimming trunks with a towel around his shoulders, waving them through the gate.

Will and Lucas sprinted after him. Mike followed at a skeptical pace while Max lingered for Billy’s sake. No one noticed that Billy wore pink and turquoise swimming trunks that fit more to Steve’s taste.

Mike sure as hell noticed the red and purple, woven friendship bracelets that El and Steve wore, though. The pale, skinny nerd just stared, dumbfounded between Hopper floating contently over the pool, El laughing in a one-piece covered in hibiscus flowers, and Steve sitting at the foot of Billy’s lounge chair.

Then Robin strolled through the gate with a stack of pizza and chicken wing boxes. “All right, we ready? What are you doing, dweeb? It’s a 101 degrees out. Get wet.”

And shoved Mike Wheeler right into the pool.

[wakaoujisenhime]

Hi, I just happened to stumble across you and now I’m addicted!😅❤️ anyway, I was hoping you could write some headcanons for a crack head rakuzan manager.

A/N: Hi there you two! Since your requests were for the same trope and the more or less same scenario, I decided to mash these two together, hope that’s ok with you guys! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Luckily, I grew up around some people that fit in that description, nevertheless this was a pretty new experience for me, so I hope I managed to deal with this successfully (I’m sorry in case that I didn’t ;-;)! Anyways, please enjoy and heed the warnings! ヽ(´ー｀)❤️

Tags/Warnings: Rakuzan x reader ✅ tw.drug mention/use ✅ tw.mention of bullying ✅ fluff ✅ friendship ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Rakuzan is known as an elite school, harboring only the crème-de-la-crème of students and yet you still couldn’t comprehend why you were a part of it

everyone was driven by either perfectionism or greed, the teachers only cared for themselves and their salary, and the expectations society put on every student that wore this school’s logo were downright inhuman

so could someone really blame or shun you for being into drugs? —No, they couldn’t...and yet some still tried

every time you skipped a class to go on either the rooftop or that one dark alley in the very back of the luxurious building to roll a joint, someone random would always come looking for you

they’d try to push their ideals onto you and pretend that they are some kind of Samaritan who only wants the best for you and your future

Yeah sure...you don’t even know my name, do you?

the first few times really annoyed the hell out of you and their hypocrisy almost made you lose yourself once, but as these scenarios started repeating themselves you grew used to it and learned how to completely ignore them

depending on your mood and the amount of dopamine you’re releasing there were even times when you’d get sassy with them or downright challenge them to a fight, knowing fully well that as the goody-two-shoes they were they’d never accept it

the teachers were also aware of your addiction, but were too scared for their own reputation and decided that it’d be easier if they just left you to your own devices and wait until you either failed their classes or graduated

and just like that, you lead a rather peaceful school life, until a certain someone decided to disturb it...

when you skipped classes for the umpteeth time you waited patiently for today’s candidate who’d drag you over the coals for your ‘unsightly behavior’

after you’d taken the third pull on your joint you finally heard light steps which were just around the corner

without moving your head too much, you simply glanced towards the figure that had appeared and chuckled to yourself

“Woow, the teachers must be quite desperate to send their star pupil in order to get me” you sneered after blowing some of the smoke right into his direction

the red-haired young man who’d arrived was none other than Akashi Seijirou, a student whose school record was full of nothing but perfect grades and perfect remarks from everyone who had entered this school

you didn’t know much about him except the typical gossips and the fact that he was the complete opposite of yourself

for a while none of you said anything so you continued to smoke shamelessly in front of him, hoping that you could provoke some kind of reaction from him...though in vain

if words weren’t provocative enough you decided to see how far he’d allow you to go until he had to open his mouth

“You want a pull?”

much to your surprise he actually extended his hand towards you, so with wide eyes you carefully handed him your joint

So even flawless students like him need to let go sometimes, huh?

he eyed it for a while and the next thing you saw was how he let it drop and stomped on it

“Was that really necessary? You could’ve just refused it, you know?”

“I want you to join the basketball team as a manager” he then said in a calm and pretty serious tone

....

....

...What?

you began laughing as if he had said some kind of hilarious joke, but much to your disappointment he simply raised his eyebrow

“W-Wait...are you being serious right now? You want me to take care of the basketball team?”

seeing him simply nod with the same stoic expression he’d arrived with made you realize that he wasn’t one to joke around

Akashi took out a handkerchief and wiped his hand, without bothering to hide his disgust and then simply turned his back to you

“I’ll be waiting for you at the gym after school and I hope you’ll be there...for your sake.”

and with that threat, he left you by yourself, confused and utterly speechless

you soon began giggling to yourself and you wanted to blame it on the drugs but deep down you knew the truth ...

.

as the school bell rang for the last time today you lazily packed your stuff and without paying any attention to neither your teacher nor your classmates you trotted out of the classroom

you hated admitting it but the red-haired young man’s words had haunted you for the entire day, but you weren’t one to simply obey whatever others told you

just as you were about to walk down the stairs someone muscular bumped into you, almost knocking you off your feet

as you looked up to see who it was you saw a dark-skinned and bulky man towering above you with a grim look on his face

“(Y/N)?”

you hesitated to answer for a moment, but his challenging expression downright forced you to respond, though it was merely with a small nod

“Excellent, follow me” he ordered after turning around and you did

while he was walking in front, you noticed that most of the students were intimidated or scared by his towering frame and now that you were behind him you realized how truly lonely he must be

“We’re here,” he began, “Akashi! I brought her!”

at the mention of that name you immediately wanted to just turn around and leave, but with that broad man next to you any type of escape was shut down

a pair of heterochromatic eyes looked in your direction and a proud smile adorned the rather emotionless expression of the red-haired young man who signalized the other club’s members to take a short break while he strolled towards the two of you

“(Y/N), I’m glad to see that you picked the right choice to come here. Now...follow me.”

you simply glanced up at the broader man next to you with a pleading expression, but he simply grinned and gave you a thumbs up

Akashi led you to a bench where an older man had already taken a seat, reading through some papers

he was so into it that he didn’t even bother to look up at you two

“Alright your task is simple, I want you to learn the basic rules of basketball and everything else that surrounds it. You have a week and then I’d like to test your knowledge during a practice match. There are also several other things I want you to fulfill, but this will be enough for now” he took a short breath and looked at his team players with a slightly annoyed gaze before he continued “I also provided you with one of those ‘how to’ books so I hope you won’t need long. Any further questions?”

Where do I even start?

“Listen up, I never said that I was going to be your team’s manager or anything like that, you literally forced me to come here by sending that giant after me! And you can’t be serious with all of this right? You guys are a pro team and you want me - a mere amateur - to manage you? Starting next week? I don’t even th-“

“I don’t remember giving you a choice in this matter and yes, you’ll learn it all until next week. You being a student at this elite school speaks for itself, so learning the basic rules of a mere sports game isn’t going to cost you much. Now sit down and start reading.”

his condescending and overall rude tone made you more than just mad, but before you could utter any kind of comment, he had already turned his back to you and was heading for the court

“If I were you, I’d just agree with whatever he says” commented the older man whose gaze was still on the papers before him

you clicked your tongue and put both of your hands on your hips as you stared at him and asked whether that was how he usually dealt with him

“That’s how I learned to deal with him. A genius like him is only getting held back by simple-minded people...or those,” he paused and finally looked up, eyeing you judgingly before he finished his sentence, “that can’t read the mood.”

you were absolutely speechless and enraged, so before you completely lost your wits you grabbed that stupid book Akashi had gotten for you and purposely stomped towards the gym’s entrance doors to roll yourself another joint

.

you spent the entire duration of their training outside and even though you didn’t intend to really read the booklet, you eventually started and got into it, until you heard a loud whistle and Akashi’s voice announcing the end of today’s practice

“I’m expecting you at tomorrow’s practice as well, (Y/N)” said the red-haired captain as soon as you re-entered the gym to take your bag and go home

you answered with a simple nod and left, figuring that you’d just go along with him for a while but secretly do whatever you wanted

or at least that was supposed to be your plan, but something quite unexpected happened

while you had set your mind to obey whatever the captain wanted from you, you caught yourself actually having fun during the guys’ practice

you did know a little about basketball even without the book’s help, but as you gradually read chapter after chapter and actually witnessed the real thing before you every single day, you came to truly enjoy it

there were always some rumors that Rakuzan’s basketball team was on an entirely different level and you finally saw why

the four players that always accompanied Akashi on the court were some kind of prodigies the others referred to as the “Uncrowned Kings” or the new and improved version of “The phantom sixth man”

during your first days of hearing those rather over the top nicknames, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud

These four having such titles? Don’t mess with me, that’s just hilarious!

and even if you were the only one laughing at it while the others simply looked away, your laughs were shut down pretty quickly as soon as you saw how they played

seeing just how powerful and overall perfect they seemed to be made you even more pissed off than you already were

luckily you were standing right next to the gym’s door so you cracked it open, leaned yourself on its frame, and began smoking one of your self-rolled joints

“Wow (Y/N), I didn’t know you smoked! You look really cool!”

the sudden compliment from the cheerful blond with the sharp canine caught you off guard, not to mention that he was the first one besides Akashi to even attempt some sort of conversation...and it made you unexpectedly happy

“Thanks, I guess?...would you like to have a pull?”

you couldn’t help but smirk at how his eyes lit up after nodding multiple times and just as he was about to take the softly smoking joint from your hand, someone snatched it and threw it out, closing the door in the process

that someone was Reo, whose eyes looked down on you with a rather hurt and sad expression

out of nowhere, he took a gentle hold of your cheeks and softly tilted your head up so that you could look him directly into his mesmerizing eyes

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but smoking is bad for you (Y/N)-chan. You’re such a beautiful young lady and being a crackhead just doesn’t suit you, you know?”

thanks to the soft tone with which he’d complimented and lectured you, you just couldn’t be mad at him

but before you could even say anything you felt a big and strong hand slap your back with so much force that you almost fell right into Kotaro’s arms

“Geez, Nebuya you brute, how many times do I have to tell you to be more careful!”

completely ignoring the tall man’s protest the more muscular man simply laughed and took a tight hold of your upper arm saying: “All she needs are more muscles and meat on her and she’ll make a great opponent!”

the way the three of them had surrounded you while laughing at each other’s comments and even making you part of their discussion warmed your heart, and you caught yourself thinking that being the manager of this team might not be such a bad idea after all...

.

the day of the practice match came along and you were a bundle of nerves

who would’ve thought that you’d actually prefer going to the gym to check up on the players instead of straight-up heading back home

much to your surprise, it didn’t even take you three days to get almost every club member to respect you, sure there were obstacles along the way, but you managed to deal with them rather quickly

not too long ago, you had actually helped out Mayuzumi, who usually avoided you and barely ever talked to you

you had been on your way to your usual spot to light up a joint and just before you cut the corner you heard some loud voices

“Just ‘cause you’re in the basketball club, doesn’t make you special!”

“What’s with those dead-looking fish eyes of yours anyway?”

“C’mon guys, don’t you see that we’re wasting his precious reading time here? Let’s hurry up and scram so that he can continue reading his novel!”

you had no idea just what the hell was going on, but it sounded a lot like someone was getting bullied and you weren’t in the mood to let it slide

“Ok guys, I need you to wrap whatever this is up. I’m in a rather bad mood right now and I really need a smoke, so get going” you said in a rather dark tone

the students who had encircled someone you couldn’t quite identify yet jumped a little at your sudden intervention and turned their attention to you

all remarks they had prepared for you were gone the moment they realized just who was standing in front of them

nevertheless, the group remained stubborn and tried to chase you away by asking you to wait for a little

while you were dealing with the group, the person they had ganged up on stood up from the ground and that’s when you finally recognized who they were bullying

Isn’t that...Mayuzumi?

and at that moment something inside of you clicked

with confident steps, you made your way to the tall young man and placed a hand on his shoulder

“There you are and here I was thinking you’d bailed on me” you began as you gently squeezed his shoulder, giving him a signal to make him play along before you continued, “I got your stuff, you got the money?”

thanks to his constant poker face and slight nod the group of bullies was instantly on their guard

in order to give them their last push you pulled out a small and transparent bag with white powder out of your pocket

“You guys are still here? Sorry, but if you wanted a package you should’ve told me beforehand. Just so you know, it isn’t going to be cheap.”

seconds later the group finally gave up and stormed off, murmuring something about it not being worth the trouble

as soon as they were gone you let out a loud sigh of relief and crouched down, exclaiming how relieved you were that it was finally over

your sudden reaction caught the young man off guard and at first, he was stomped at what to do but he eventually crouched down next to you

“If you were that scared you shouldn’t have helped me in such an...unorthodox way. They might snitch on you, you know?”

you couldn’t help but giggle at the rather clumsy way he tried to thank and reassure you

“It’s fine even if they do, the teachers wouldn’t be surprised anyway and besides...that bag contains nothing more but some makeup powder I got from Reo to...to hide the bags under my eyes.”

even though you whispered the last part Mayuzumi still heard it and then chuckled

since then he actually began listening to you and even talked to you whenever no one was around

the other three were fond of you since day one so you had no trouble dealing with them whatsoever, or protecting them for that matter

someone was making rude remarks about Nebuya while he ate his daily portion of meat (which equaled five of yours)?

you’d tap them on the shoulder, lean on them and say that they were lucky enough he didn’t hear them, or else he might actually devour them instead

hearing how people made fun of Reo’s way of talking and even shun him for his behavior behind his back?

you’d directly go up to them and intentionally talk in a loud voice for everyone to hear how cowardly they were and how their behavior would drag their beloved school’s reputation down if you decided on making it public

witnessing how naive and warm-hearted Kotaro got roped into some even shadier business than what you were up to with sugarcoated words?

you’d do something similar to how you saved Mayuzumi back then: threats and bluffs and luckily all of them worked out in your favor

the only one who needed more time to warm up to you was Akashi

it was obvious that he hadn’t approved of you despite your (in your eyes) good performance during the first practice match

he’d simply nodded in the end and coldly stated that he’d accept this rather poor performance, warning you that there would be consequences if you don’t improve yourself

back then the others had joined you on the bench and were trying to cheer you up by saying that the red-haired young man was usually that demanding, but only towards people he knew had the potential...in a way he was trying to bring forth your hidden talent

with these sweet words and your own ambition to prove yourself to the seemingly perfect emperor, you finally started taking the club more serious than you’d originally intended

.

..

What did he just say..?

“Sei-chan, y-you....you can’t be serious”

“Akashi...”

said man turned towards you guys with a warm but twisted smile as he stretched his hand out towards you

“I swear to you, that if we lose this match, I will leave the club and...gouge both of my eyes out, and give them to you.”

after that proclamation each of the players gave it more than just their all, even you who could do nothing but cheer them on from the bench began analyzing everything you could from your team’s opponents

during that very emotional match, you found yourself praying multiple times that your team wins and not only because of Akashi’s oath but because you knew just how much they had trained for this

additionally, Kotaro and the others told you that this match was of utmost importance to the captain and his former teammates, all the more reason for you to worry

.

sadly in the end you guys lost and you were too overwhelmed with everything that had transpired in the last quarters

Zone? What the hell is that?

Another Akashi? How is something like that even possible?

the entire Rakuzan team walked back to the locker room in complete silence and that silence remained until all of them had changed their clothes

“(Y/N)-chan, let’s go,” said Reo in a gentle and silent tone as he gently squeezed your shoulder

“Y-You guys can go on ahead, I still have to check something” you answered with an apologetic smile

you were thankful that the young man could read the mood and agreed, so you re-entered the locker room, looking around searching for something

the moment you wanted to take a step forward, your legs gave out and you fell to your knees

H-Huh..? What’s w-wrong with me, I-I need to get up...

no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t muster the strength to stand up, and before you knew it, tears had started rolling down your cheeks without stopping

frustration, despair, anger, and sadness overcame you and at some point you caught your thoughts drifting off in a direction you had never taken before

with trembling hands, you took a small package full of some kind of powder out of your jacket and looked at it

you weren’t the type to resort to real hardcore drugs and as of late you had been so busy with the team that even your usual smoke breaks became less and less, but now...

just as you were about to open the small bag in your hands the door to the changing room slowly opened

“A-Akashi...?”

the young man looked at you with a worried expression and as soon as he saw what you held in your hands he grew even sadder

without saying anything he simply walked towards you, kneeled down, and embraced you

you were quite shocked at first, but too emotionally tired to resist at this point so you simply let him comfort you

he told you that these overwhelming emotions you were going through right now were normal and absolutely understandable in this situation, and even without you saying how guilty you felt for the boys’ loss he calmed you down by stating that one person alone could not be at fault for an entire team’s failure

.

that day engraved itself in your brain and you promised yourself that you’d give it your all and even go further beyond it, just so you wouldn’t have to see the sad faces of the people who had given you a chance and loved you for who you are, including all of your “flaws”

unbeknownst to you, they had also found the same resolution as you

the day on which they had lost their match against Seirin made them realize that there was indeed something lacking in their way of playing basketball, and in order to improve that they had to start with a rather peculiar mission, namely to make you, their manager, proud and make sure that you never cried ever again...

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 12)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Masterlist

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

- 

Honestly, after seeing Mrs Choi for the first time, I had no idea she would be one of those eccentric client who asks for a ridiculously edgy concept for her home.

It's always the most normal-looking ones...

I look away from the blueprints spread across my desk when I hear my phone buzzing. When I check I see it's a text message from Sidney.

Squidney : Wanna come home for your lunch break? I made lasagna

Her text makes me smile a little. We haven't been talking much ever since that fight after the inauguration party.

She made me feel like I was the unstable kid no one in the family trusts to take care of themselves. And honestly it's probably true that no one trusts me, but I feel like my words are not going to prove anything so I just have been focusing on work and not talking to her very much.

This text is definitely a truce appeal. And I don't like not talking to Sidney, but at the same time I don't know how to feel about the fact that every time I will tell her anything about Mr.Jeon or any other man she will probably disapprove, but not tell me so we don't fight. 

I’m scared of the hypocrisy.

“A windmill house?”

When I look up from my phone, I see Joon who had been brainstorming with me this morning, flipping through my folder.

“Focus.” I tell him, snatching it from his hands before he can find the contract I just printed out for Mr.Jeon.

I don't know how to make a contract so I just used one of our standard ones and put my name on it.

“In London?” He inquiries, sounding excited. I know right?! But I can’t be talking about this with you.

“Namjoon.” I admonish.

“Okay.” He gives up, sliding off my desk and looking back at the blueprints.

“I can give you an alcove, but not windows.” He says, pointing at the kitchen area. Wait what?

“I thought that was doable.” I retort.

“It is, but we’d need to restucture the entiere building. We don’t have the budget nor permission for it.” He explains. Well, he could just have said no when I asked him!

“Okay.” I murmur. So without concave windows. we're going to have to create the roundness inside the apartment.

“Don’t sulk.” I hear Joon coo next to me. 

“I’m not, I’m thinking.” I reply, retracting my pout and releasing my frown.

“Move the pantry here.” I propose, pointing at the space between two windows. One's in the kitchen, the other in the living-room.

“Here?” He doesn't sound convinced.

“We can use the gap between the old and new partitions as storage. And put the alcove here. It’ll be the limit between the kitchen and the living room." I explain. At this point I don't see any other option.

“That I can do. That’s actually a great idea.” Joon nods. Cool!

“Good Job.” He compliments, fist bumping me before exiting my office. Once I'm alone, I quickly text Sidney back.

Me: Lasagna sounds great, syl

I’m back home by 12:30, and when I open the door the delicious smell of cooking meat invades my nostrils. Just as I close the door, Juno trots up to me with her tail wagging happily. 

"Hi Juno!" I beam at her, kneeling to scratch her head. She looks so cute with her little blue bandana around her neck. She barks hello, and I drop a kiss on between her eyes.

When I walk further in, I find Sydney tying her hair up in a bun with a chopstick behind the kitchen counter.  The table is set for two.

"Hi." She smiles at me.

"Mmmmmh... lasagna!" I sing, tossing my bag on the couch. I join her in the kitchen and kneel in front of the oven. "Smells amazing." I observe. The lasgna is almost ready, I can see the meat juices bubbling under the cheese. She really makes the best lasagna.

"Thank you for the food, Sidney." I thank her, standing up and pecking her cheek.

"You're welcome." She hums, and even though we still haven’t talked about our fight, I know I can’t stay mad at her. 

Since everything is set and all that’s missing is the lasagna, we both sit down at the table and open a beer.

"We haven't been hanging out much so this is great." I say after we clink our bottles.

"I know, I wanted to say I'm sorry." She replies, looking at me with sad eyes.

"It's fine, really. I know you're just looking out for me." I counter. It was a silly argument. Ultimately, I understand her. I wish she didn’t think this way, but I understand where this is coming from, and I can’t be expecting anything else from her. Or anyone from my family.

"No, I'm sorry for making you think I don't trust you." She argues. "I'm just scared."

"Listen, I know how similar these two men are. Trust me, it's been weird for me too." I say reassuringly. "But somehow he hasn't made me feel how I'd be feeling before." I add. "Quite the opposite actually."

I frown as the words leave my mouth. It’s only hitting me now that in a way, Mr.Jeon is nothing like the type of man he looks like. I have all these preconceptions about him, and while he still hasn’t proved me wrong, I can’t say I feel like I’m right about him yet.

"And I don't know what to do about it." I mutter to myself, drowning half of my sentence in the neck of my bottle. There’s a moment of silence, where Syd seems to be hesitating to speak.

"I just don't want to lose you again." She admits after a beat. I know everything comes down to that. I reach across the table and grab both of her hands.

"I know. And whatever happens I'm not letting him or anyone pull me away from my family." I affirm, looking straight into her eyes. "It's not happening again." I promise. She smiles and nods, seemingly reassured.

"You know," She trails off, rmoving her hands from mine and resting her chin on her palm. After all this time you've been part of my family, I still didn't think you liked Asians."

"What the hell?” I laugh out loud. This girl!

"I don't know, I just never thought of it." She giggle with me. I shake my head at her as our laughter fades.

"Promise me you're being careful." She demands quietly.

"I am being careful, Sidney." I promise.  "You know, what made me really mad the other day was…”I pause, looking for the right words. "That somehow you think I didn't learn my lesson?"

"No, that's not what I think." She shakes her head vigorously. "I just-" She pauses and thinks for a second. "I trust you, but I worry still." She says.

I’m not expecting any less from her.

"I think..." She trails off, but chokes on her words, and her eyes become shiny with fresh tears. Oh, no!

"Sidney, come on." I scold as she blinks her tears away.

"Shut up, let me talk." She snaps, aborting the waterworks. She sighs deeply, her eyes still very wet. I hate seeing her like this.

"I think seeing you with a man brings back a lot of memories." She explains, her voice still shaking. "Your therapist said your first relationship after B-"

"Woah woah woah, who talked about a relationship?" I stop her dead in her tracks. I understand her worry, but I’m not trying to date anyone. Yes, Mr.Jeon and I are flirting, but we both know what to expect.

"Even a quick shag, she said it's bound to bring back memories." She argues.

"I told you, he still hasn't made me feel like that." I retort.

"I know, and that's great." She says. "But we also had our own trauma that me and your parents and everyone else went through." She argues.

"And obviously it's not as dramatic as it sounds but,” She says, shaking her head. "Knowing that you're potentially seeing someone, it kinda feels like PTSD." She says to me.

"I understand." I reply. I guess, neither me nor my family is prepared for me seeing someone again. After all, it’s something that I hadn’t thought of in a while, not even once.

“And if I feel unprepared for you being out there again, imagine how your parents will react.” Sydney adds.

“I’d rather not.” I reply. Honestly I’d rather stay single.

“It’s going to feel so sudden for them, because they’re not even witnessing the talking stages-“

“I’m not dating this man.” I remind her. I won’t have to introduce anyone to my parents for still a very long time!

“Still.” She retorts. “It’s going to be difficult for them. And they’re probably going to make you feel worse than I did.” She says as a warning. She’s right. My parents will probably reject anyone I bring home out of pure protectiveness, without even trying to get to know them.

“But always out of love for you.” She adds. My mind is reeling. Me getting a boyfriend will be such a headache.

“Let’s postpone the moment as much as possible then.” I sigh, grabbing my beer. “Shagging only.” I toast, and it’s like a promise at this pont. Sydney laughs at me, but still mimics me.

“Shagging only.” She repeats after me.

- 

After a rather calm day at work, I drive down to Mr.Jeon's office in the City. It's a place I've never been to in the 2 years I've been living here in London, because why would I? I earn half of what the worst paid people here make.

My red mini doesn't fit between this tall grey skyscrapers, Mercedes and Audi's around me.

Mr.Jeon told me to park in the underground parking lot after announcing myself to the guard, before going to the first floor to announce myself again. The building is almost empty as it is past working hours.

After getting clearance, I'm escorted by a pretty brunette up to the 17th and last floor. I pass countless empty offices, until my guide stops in front of the sole lit up room. The wall is glass, so I can see about a dozen people inside.

"Mr.Jeon is in a meeting right now." The woman informs me. "You can wait for him right here."

She points at two chairs in the hallway placed by a closed office, right across from the meeting room.

"Thank you." I smile politely at her before taking a seat. The chair happens to be placed near the back of the meeting room, where I finally spot Mr.Jeon, sat down at the end of the table.

The motion of me sitting down catches his attention. He looks outside and spots me. I give him a smile and a slight nod to say hello. He smiles back to me, before reaching in his pocket and pulling his phone out. He starts typing, and I receive a text seconds later.

Mr.Jeon : You're early.

No, he’s late.

Me : I didn't want you to fire me again. 

I type back, press send and look up to dee his reaction. He smirks, looked amused as he types his answer.

Mr.Jeon : I would never. He writes back, followed by:

Mr.Jeon : You look very pretty today.

I purse my lips to stifle the unwanted smile creeping on my face. He's probably looking at me to watch me swoon and melt at his comment, but I won't give him this satisfaction.

When I look up, his eyes aren't on me. He's back into his meeting, looking straight ahead at the different numbers on  screen across the table.

Me : Texting during a meeting? I reply, deciding not to acknowledge the compliment. When he gets the notifications, he makes a quick matter of his response.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment. 

Oh this feels like an order. This man would love to boss me around.

Me : I don't like your tone. I retort.

When he sees my text, his head immediately turns to me, his eyebrows raised and his eyes challenging.

I shrug a shoulder, indicating I don't care if he doesn't like what he just read.

The corner of his mouth jerks a little, and he rolls his tongue against his cheek to refrain a smile, before looking back at his phone. I receive a text shortly after.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment, please. 

Me: No.

When he gets the text, his eyes shoot up at me, and he slowly shakes his head, seemingly amused.

But he doesn't reply. He instead focuses on the words being said inside the room. I watch as he suddenly frowns, and then start flipping through a pile of paper he has in front of him.

I don't hear what he's saying but he looks confused and slightly annoyed. He tells something to the man presenting, clearly reproachful.

Me: What's the meeting about? I ask out of curiousness. He doesn't look at my text until the issue is settled and his employee gives him a satisfying answer.

I'm already scrolling through my Instagram timeline when I get his response. Three texts in a row.

Mr.Jeon : Boring stuff 

Mr.Jeon : And finances

Mr.Jeon : What are you doing tonight?

Of course he'd ask. I smile at my phone.

Me: I don't think it's any of your business.

Mr.Jeon : Why do you assume I'm asking for unprofessional purposes?

Me: Because you probably are

Mr.Jeon : I wish Maya

Me: It’s Miss Fair for you

Mr.Jeon : Are you staying for dinner, Miss Fair?

Me: I'll have to decline...

I'm only declining to play hard to get. I would love to have dinner with him. Heck, I know I would want to take it even further. But I should be careful. I just promised Sid.

Mr.Jeon sits up first, buttoning his dark blue suit and signaling the end of the meeting. It is now 7:15. Everyone in the meeting follows, gets up and packs up, while Mr.Jeon exits the room first. I rise from my seat.

"Miss Fair." He greets me once he’s at my level.

"Hello, Mr. Jeon." I smile it him, extending my hand.

"Sorry for making you wait." He says to me, taking my hand shanking it.

"No worries." I reply, very well aware of the female employee taking her sweet time exiting the meeting room so she can stare at me. Does everyone in his company want to fuck him? Probably honestly.

“Long day?” I ask him. I can’t imagine having meetings until seven.

“Indeed. And you’ve already made it better.” He replies, successfully earning a chuckle from me.

"I have that effect on people sometimes." I shoot back.

"It's not the only one you have." He concurs. Oh, please. 

“Let me show you to my office.” He invites, before guiding me down the hall to the door at the very end of the corridor.

After tying a code, Mr.Jeon opens the door that leads into his office. 

It's a big, almost empty room. The back wall is entirely glass, making for a sweet landscape painting of downtown London. He has a rather small desk, with a leather ergonomic chair and two other ones placed across from him. As I walk further in, I notice a black leather sofa against the wall near the door, a chest of drawers and storage spaces and a sad single tall plant.

"This place is so sad." The words are out before I can understand how rude they are. I spin around to face Mr.Jeon, who is closing the door behind us. He's frowning at me.

"I'm sorry." I stutter, feeling my cheeks heat up. 

"I mean empty." I correct myself. He pauses for a second, and I believe the quick exhale of air he does after that is a quiet chuckle.

"I don't spend that much time here." He says in a way of explaining. "But I'll be happy to have you work on my office as well." He adds. This man always has his goal in mind.

"I'll think about it." I reply evasively.

“Have a seat.” He invites. I sit my butt on on the chair and watch him walk over to the left side of the room. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He proposes. Thats when I realize the storage spaces I saw where built-in furniture.

“You have a fridge in your office?” I don't know why I'm so amazed.

“I also have a bathroom with a shower and the sofa’s convertible.” He replies. A bathroom?

“You spend nights here?” I ask him.

“Sometimes." He answers simply. Woah. "Wine?” He offers. 

This man is always trying to get me drunk! Or maybe he's just trying to make me stay.

“I just need a quick signature.” I decline politely.

“Where’s the rush? Aren’t you off work?” He retorts.

“I am, but I'm not drinking tonight Mr.Jeon."

"Okay." He doesn't push, and instead closes the fridge and walks back to me. He takes place in his seat while I fish into my bag looking for my folder.

“This is the contract I prepared for you.” I announce once I've found it. I pull it out and place it on the table.

“This is just a standard contract from Union, I just put my name on it.” I explain, flipping through the first four page until I find the one where my payment is mentioned. I flip the document around and slide it across the table to he can read, but he doesn't even look at it, just watches me with intent. I tap down on the page.

“Fifteen percent.” I point out, since it’s the percentage we’ve agreed on. He doesn’t even look down at where I’m pointing at, just keeps staring at me with this cheeky smile of his.

“Where do I sign?” He asks me. This man, I swear. 

I sigh in order to try and hide my amusement.

“I thought you needed to read it through.” I remind him.

“I changed my mind.” He retorts. Oh, I’m sure he hadn’t planned on reading anything in the first place… It’s so annoying that his cheesy tactics still make my stomach feel funny.

I break the eye contact first, looking at the contract while I flip all the pages. “You can sign here, and here.” I indicate him. I watch him as he clicks his pen and scribbles onto the paper. 

“Thank you very much.” I say, grabbing the papers and putting them back in the folder.

“Anything else I can do for you?” He asks as I put back in my purse.

“I think I have everything I need.” I smile at him.

“Can I make a request, then?” He enquires, joining his hands on the table.

“Are you going to ask me to have dinner with you?”

“Will you say yes?”

“No.”

“Then no, that’s not my request.” He brushes off, shrugging. Oh?

“What can I do for you?” I ask him, resting my chin onto my fist.

“Can you answer my question as honestly as possible?” He asks, leaning a little bit closer to me.

“Sure.” I reply, hoping he's not going to be too indiscreet.

"That time when you called me after the inauguration of the Manor." He trails off. Oh, lord.

"What would have happened had I said yes?" He asks me. I take a second to remember the mindset I was in that night.

I was definitely very tipsy, but I also was very horny.

"I think we would've set a date." I reply."And after sobering up I would've chickened out probably." I say, because let's be realistic.

"Mmh..." He nods, still trying to read something in my eyes. Why is he asking me that anyways?

"Do you regret not accepting the offer?" I ask him. He's probably getting impatient. After all the farthest he's ever gone with me is touching my neck.

"I'm wondering what was different that night." He replies. "You were a lot more...open."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"Part of it was because of the alcohol." I argue.

"I figured." He says to me. "I was hoping it wasn't only that." He murmurs a little more quietly.

I stare at him for a second. Why does this small, unused part of my brain think he's actually trying with me?

"Can you answer my question?" I counter, mimicking him and joining my hands.

"Sure." 

"Promise to be honest?"

He smiles a little when I say that, and his gaze grows warm.

"I promise." He murmurs softly.

"How many women are you sleeping with?"

"Zero." He replies immediately. OH SURE!

He doesn't even try to come up with a credible number. Why did I think he would actually tell me the truth in the first place.

I roll my eyes to the heavens, leaning back against my seat in disappointment.

"Maya." He chuckles, pushing himself off of his desk.

"I have been working since seven in the morning. I've had five meetings, no lunch break, and I have a flight tomorrow morning for Dubai where I'll have to meet 13 potential clients in less than four days," He says to me, slowly circling his desk so he's closer to me.

"All while attending boring society functions and pretending I care about how many cars my investors have." He says, leaning against his desk when he's right next to me.

"I don't have time for more than one woman, but most importantly I don't have time for lies." He reassures me. I don't know if I believe that, but that does sound like a busy schedule. I don't see how he could fit multiple women in there. 

"Why waste your precious time on me then?" I sass, because why not? I cross my arms over my chest and lift a challenging eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't do it if I considered it a waste of my time." He mimics me.

"Then why?" I ask, and he pauses for a second.

"I'm not sure." He says, shrugging. Oh.

There is a knock on the door that interrupts our discussion. Mr.Jeon slips off his desk and goes over to open it. I turn around out of curiosity, to see who’s behind the door. It’s his assistant Jimin.

"Yes, Jimin?" Mr.Jeon says to him. His assistant's eyes quickly scan the background and land on me. He then looks back at Mr.Jeon.

"Am I bothering?" He asks him.

"Be quick." Mr.Jeon replies. I might as well get ready to leave. I was just supposed to get a signature tonight. Chatting and flirting is fun, but it's getting late.

"Paul confirmed eight thirty tonight. Here are your keys." I hear Jimin explain to him while I look away.

"Thank you, Jimin." 

"You're welcome. Goodnight." He says, and just like that he's gone. I get up from my seat and swing my bag over my shoulder.

When I turn around Mr.Jeon is is standing by the open door.

"You're leaving?" He asks me.

"Don't you have a date at eight thirty?" I remind him, joining him at the door. "With Paul?" I tease, making him chuckle.

"A date with Paul?" He laughs, opening the door for me. "He's not really my type." He says as I step out.

"And he's my personal trainer if you're wondering." I hear him add as he closes the door behind us.

"And you were ready to go have dinner with me?" I challenge as we walk down the corridor towards the elevators. 

 "I'll trade a workout with Paul for dinner with you anytime." He says smoothly, looking down at me. I huff out a laugh, shaking my head.

Once we get to the elevators, I press the call button.

"Why are you asking? Have you changed your mind about dinner?" He asks me. 

"Not yet." I reply, turning to face him. He's standing closer to me than I expected.

He lets out a long sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. I'm feeling playful.

"You could convince me." I tease, shrugging a shoulder. Just as I say these words, the doors to the elevator open.

"Convince you?" He repeats, his interest peaked. We step inside the elevator.

"How long do I have?" He asks me as I lean against the wall, grabbing the railing behind me. He goes to the opposite side to press the basement floor button.

"Just an elevator ride." I challenge just as the doors close on the both of us and the elevator starts moving down. An incredibly sexy smirk creeps across his face when I say that.

"What game are you playing right now, Maya?" He asks, eyes playful, taking a slow step towards me.

"I'm giving you a chance." I shrug, as he slowly approches me. I feel like he's going to jump me any second.

I should get him off his high horses.

"But you have to convince me..." I trail off, catching him trying to pull his hands out of his pockets.

"Without touching me." I murmur, when he's inches away from me. I swallow, all my confidence slowly leaving me. My eyes travel between his eyes and his lips.

Even though I just told him not to touch me, if he kisses me right now, I don't know what I'd do with myself.

"Without touching you." He repeats, looking both confused and amused. I nod, because I don't trust my voice to be steady enough. 

I feel the elevator slow down prematurely, indicating an impromptu stop. Mr.Jeon steps back, and that's when I realize I kind of had stopped breathing.

I straighten my back and turn away from him as the elevator comes to a full stop. The door open onto a man pushing a cleaning cart. A janitor.

After stiff greetings, the employee pushes his cart in, taking place right between me and Mr.Jeon.

Well, there goes whatever was going to happen there.

The ride down is silent, and it seems like the storage room is on the basement floor as well because that's where we all get off.

Mr.Jeon and I let him walk off while we linger in front of the elevators. My mini also happens to be parked right in front of us.

When our eyes finally meet after he's gone, we're both tempted to laugh.

"You failed." I observe, facing him.

"Well, there wasn't much I could do, was there?" He chuckles. True, true. I wish I could know he was going to say... or do to me.

"Maybe next time?" I say, well aware of the inviting tone of my voice.

"Maybe." He nods.

"Have a safe trip." I add over my shoulder, walking over to my car.

"Thank you, Maya. Get home safe." He replies, watching me get in and drive off.

[kuroos-moon]

『Hate’s Twin Called Love』

— request by anon whose initial ask i could no longer find 😫

❥ pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

❥ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, denial  

❥ warning/s: language

❥ wc: 2.4k 

“I got here first,” you frown, narrowing your eyes as you placed a hand on the chair nearest to the window. 

“I placed my bag here, which means I got here earlier,” he casually replies, wondering why you won’t back down despite your height difference and his intimidating facade. 

Your frown deepens, and he does the same when neither of you give in. “I don’t care, I wanna sit here,” you say, your inner brat surfacing just because the way he glared at you ticked you off, so you stubbornly sit on the desk. 

“What a nuisance,” he grunts, sitting down on his chair as he rightfully should. 

Ever since then, you never passed up the opportunity to piss him off or give him even the slightest inconvenience of the day, devilish, you’re well aware. He’s the devil himself though, and only you could point that out. With him showing a sly grin your way when you lose a pen, only for him to proudly use it for you to see. 

“Hajime you asshole, give me back my pen,” you give him a death glare, and he innocently looks at you, acting confused. “I don’t have it, y/n.”

“Cut the bullshit, that’s my only one,” you grimace, irritated at the fact that of all the numerous pranks he could do on your never-ending war ever since highschool, he just had to steal your pen right before a test. 

“Don’t blame me when you’re the one who lost it,” he blinks, perfecting the art of acting clueless. “Give it back I don’t have another one!” You raise your voice, and he stops scribbling, looking at you in amusement. 

“What?” You huff, and he only chuckles under his breath, momentarily biting your pen to further irritate you. “I’ll fucking kick your ass after this,” you bite your tongue, wanting to scream at him if it weren’t for the many other students and a strict teacher here with you. 

And that’s just one of many encounters with the sly seemingly-mature ace who knew just how to annoy you like it were his second nature, but deep down, your day’s never complete without the usual sarcastic banters or the subtle mouthing of ‘fuck you’ or ‘whatcha looking at’ between classes, that’s why you sit bored in class for a few days when they’re excused for practice. 

Your happiness literally comes from seeing him so mad that he’s speechless as he sees you’ve uploaded an embarrassing baby picture source: oikawa or as he realizes you’re the one who’s been giving away his number. 

For him, you’re the exact same, you’re the devil’s spawn. Trotting along so casually as if you were an angel, only for the disguise to fall off the moment you open your mouth, profanity after profanity especially when you were talking to him. It wasn’t long before your string of curses was music to his ears and the highlight of his day, taking pleasure in having you yell at him, or in especially irritating occurrences, you’re throwing things at him. 

It just so happens when you’re casually sitting in the corner of the room, minding your own business as you listen to music. “Y/N-CHAAN!” You look up to see Toru, out of breath as he leant on the doorway of your classroom . “Iwa-chan’s talking with some girl, come look,” he grins, and just like that, your eyes twinkle with excitement. 

Time to to get back at him for that ruined test, you smirk to yourself, the clueless Iwaizumi standing at the end of the stairwell as he flirts with the poor girl who didn’t know at all how much of an asshole he was. 

“Babe!” You exclaim, the fakest and widest smile on your lips as you throw yourself at him, loving how he cringed away from you the moment you wrap your arms around his torso. “What the fu-

“I missed you, shall I come over tonight?” You gush at him, locking your hold on him with intertwined fingers as he tried to push you off without actually using too much force to hurt you. “Cut it out, you little shit,” he mumbles to your ear as he stills, waiting for you to unwrap yourself from him. 

“Who’s this Iwa-chan? Is she a friend?” You say enthusiastically, the deadly aura he gave off only making you want to piss him off more. “Iwaizumi is she your girlfriend? I thought you hated each other,” she raises a brow and you smile, looking up at Iwa. 

“That’s just our love language though, isn’t it babe?” 

He has had enough. It’s been days since you’ve bantered, the only interaction the past few days were the failed attempts to trip each other in the halls, but he wasn’t in class the whole week. Some part of him thought that he was relieved in your absence, but lately he’s been feeling empty. 

“Iwaizumi?” The blonde girls huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“Iwa-chan, doesn’t she know how much you love me?” You pout, squeezing his bicep which you really hadn’t realize was this rock hard until now. It was the look of annoyance and pure hatred that made you smirk for only him to see, but you thought wrong. 

He wasn’t mad because you interrupted his romantic stairwell rendezvous, nor was he mad that you literally show up out of nowhere, being this close to him. He was irritated because you thought you were winning, you thought you were pissing him off; but joke’s on you, he actually found himself amused by this whole ordeal. 

“Babe let’s just go, you’re not cheating on me are you?” You add fuel to what you thought was a burning flame, thinking you had succeeded on ruining his day. 

“How ridiculous, you know I only have eyes for you,” he leans down, a teasing and excruciating mere inch between your faces, the side of his lips curving upwards so subtly you’re not sure it’s really there. Your eyes widen, and his grin grows as he could practically feel you stop breathing. 

He watches you storm off, knowing fully well he was victorious for this round. 

Iwaizumi - 1 

Y/n - 0 (Loser) 

The game against Seijoh and some other school was over, and like every other game, you got first-row seats, it was the one and only time wherein you actually admire Hajime (admittedly). You stood outside, waiting for your friends to finish gushing over Oikawa and you look up questioningly when you see pairs of shoes on the ground. 

“Uhm, do you guys want something?” You ask, confused, somehow feeling ganged up on with three girls surrounding you. 

“We’ll cut to the chase, stay away from Hajime,” she spitefully says, and you snort the moment you hear his name. 

“You don’t even have to beg me for it,” you say and they furrow their brows. “You’re acting so coy! Pretending to be some goofy girl who tries to piss him off only to get to spend more time with him!” 

You sigh, “I’d kill to have him away from me for as long as possible, what are you guys even on about?” 

“Just stay away from him y/n l/n, he’s mine.” Cue another chuckle from you, “yours? I question your taste but Hajime doesn’t belong to you,” you sweetly smile, not knowing where the sudden irritation came from. 

Seriously, how could she say he was hers when he probably doesn’t even know her name like the stupid non-caring jerk he is, but you somehow thank him for it, somehow relieved that he could barely name a girl in your class that wasn’t you. 

“What do you know?!” She seethes, about to land a palm right across your cheek but it doesn’t come, instead, she stood petrified as she meets Iwaizumi’s gaze, securely standing behind you as he firmly grasped her wrist.  

“That’s quite enough,” he glares, the girl immediately withdrawing her hand. “What are you here for?” You bitterly ask, the previous encounter in the stairwell still having your hate meter for him past its max. 

“Y/n-baaaaka, where’re those killer moves of yours that almost have me injured all the damn time,” he says, his lips tugging downwards as he looked at you, and you stiffen under his touch when he rests his elbow on your shoulder. Now looking at the girls, “You’re quite the troublesome bird-brained bunch, pathetic too. You better not come anywhere near us again,” he grunts, a dull ring to it in fact; but his usual voice was also usually intimidating, hence the effortless success of scaring away the girls for good. 

You scoff, “what’s with the sudden chivalry?” 

He raises a brow at you before a scowl forms at his lips, “shouldn’t you thank me?” 

“What? For coming to my rescue? How charming, nothing less to expect from our ace,” you huff, turning around to walk away. You know how much he disliked you, so why was he being kind? Why do you a favor and rest his elbow on your shoulder and act like friends, maybe lovers— you recall the position you were in last time, you clinging to his arm while he leaned in, face painfully close to yours. 

“Did you really mean that? You’d kill to have me away from you,” he chuckles, “what strong emotion,” and you halt, turning around to look at his expression which resembled the masking of hurt. “You were listening?” You ask, but he merely walks towards you.

“Thought I’d hear some sort of love confession,” he stops a foot away from you, “but that was fucking disappointing.” You’re beyond confused at this point, why in the world would he expect a confession out of you? YOU of all people, you’re enemies, same sides of a pole that simply will and never attract. 

“What would you have wanted me confess?” You narrow your eyes at him; your pathetic attempt to be defensive when in reality your walls were all crashing down, and he’d be free to walk in and capture you his; vulnerable and genuine, free from your lies and forced obliviousness. 

“I’m exhausted,” he says, leaving you stupefied when he holds your chin between his thumb and index, warm from having spiked the ball multiple times as the ace from the game earlier on. “I don’t give a fuck, just keep your fucking hands off of me Iwaizumi,” you glare, making him grin. 

“You swear a lot with that pretty mouth of yours,” he presses on you more, knowing this would either be a hit or miss. A hit for when you crumble and give in to him, spilling the truth about how you truly felt which he has long figured, because he can’t be the only one who felt this way, no? 

The miss wouldn’t be much of a miss though, he’d still love it if you exploded, punching him or something but at the same time postponing your long overdue truthful conversations because you convinced yourself too much that love and hate were separated by a thick line, which was far from how it actually was. 

“I hate you,” you spat, but he can’t see any hatred in your eyes at all. “Does that mean you don’t want me?” He taunts, his lips inching closer and closer to yours. You only find yourself looking down, unable to breathe at the suffocating feeling of having your emotions come out all at once. 

love or hate, which was it? The latter. No, it couldn’t be, you wouldn’t be finding yourself getting lost in his eyes if you did truthfully despise him. Then, was it the former? Perhaps... Maybe... Probably explaining why you were going to say it, “if you don’t kiss me right now, Hajime, I will.” 

Bingo, he wins, it was a hit. 

In one swift motion, he locks lips with you, your hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders as he tilts his head sidewards to deepen the kiss, not wanting to spare an inch of your mouth. It was the perfect kiss, one to show your yearning for the other through questionable means such as inconveniencing the other’s life, and one to express the raw passion of love that without a doubt made every bit of you ecstatic. 

“Oya, Oya, what’s this?” Oikawa’s annoying voice reaches his ears, Iwaizumi pulls away with one last peck on your lips. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he mutters under his breath, Toru flinching before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, well then, I’ll leave you two to it,” he grins, waving at you before running off. 

“So you’ve had a crush on me all along, huh,” you smirk at him, his ears turning red as he looks at you. You snicker, poking at him teasingly as he covers his face with his hand. 

“Don’t push me,” he finally says, and you let out another laugh, of course you’re going to push his buttons, “eh, so what are we now, babe? I don’t think I like you at all, honey, that was charity.” 

“Charity?” He muses, grabbing your wrist to whisper closely in your ear, you gasp, his breath against your skin leaving you flustered. “If anything, all I did was fan service.” HE HAD YOU ALL FLUSTERED AND SPEECHLESS AND FOR WHAT? 

You push him away, irritation making you want to breathe fire, “FAN SERVICE?” You exclaim, wearing the deepest frown he had seen on you making him laugh. 

“Kidding, kidding,” he nonchalantly says, and you scowl, “I hate you.” 

“If you hate me so much then why not go out with me?” He says, all seriousness in his tone.

“What?” You blink, that was sudden.

“You should date me, cling to me, piss the fuck off other girls who try to get in between, and make sure I see your face everyday, that would ultimately make me miserable, and you hate me so much that you want that, don’t you?” He finishes, hands in his pockets as he looked straight at you. 

This time, he actually feared how this would turn out. He had revealed his cards already, there’s no going back to normal after this, things could only go from being strangers or to being lovers. 

“Sure, let’s date. Give me the luxury to annoy you everyday, and you better not break up with me for it,” you smile, and he chuckles, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Then don’t break up with me if I make you mad like ten times a day,” a soft subtle smile plays at his lips while you both walk hand in hand together outside the building, the sunset striking so beautifully at the two of you but you didn’t have much time to admire it as you were kept preoccupied with each other’s conversations. 

_____________________

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh 

[keanureevesisbae]

Coach Cavill - Chapter 9

Summary: Before they go to the autumn market, Amelia, Benji, Isabella and Henry have to talk about what happened the day before.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 6.3k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

I wake up before the kids do, as I usually do. I mean, maybe it’s a habit that I adopted back in Korea, because in the first fifteen years of my life, I wasn’t able to function properly before ten in the morning. However, during my trainee days and when I was still in Forever Hope, that meant starting the day at six in the morning. You had to eat breakfast, get ready for the day, dance practice, singing lessons, improving my Korean, going to the gym. By the time I moved back, my biological alarm goes off at six a.m. and I always get up then, since I can’t help but to get up early.

This habit comes in very handy, as I’m a mother now.

I take a quick shower, get myself ready for the day and I catch myself putting in extra effort for my appearance. I put on a little blush, put on some light lipstick and I spend a lot of time on my hair. I descend downstairs, where I make myself a cup of tea, before I plop on the coach. I think I only got one hour of sleep at the end of the night, because I kept worrying. Worrying about what this might to do Benji and Isabella. How the dynamics will change between them and their father.

Oh no, I haven’t even thought about how this will go over in town. I remember when the people in Luna Meadows got ear of what happened between Dean, me and how Mindy Simpleton was involved. However, that barely had anything to do with the kids. To some extent, of course it had something to do with the kids, but it was mostly about me and Dean. This however, is between Dean, Mindy and my kids.

Tears burn in my eyes, the same tears I have been holding every single time I looked over at my kids while they were asleep. Why does everything has to be so complicated? Why did I have to get divorced in this manner? It’s not that I have anything against divorce, but I just wished that it was one where Dean and I just fell out of love, but we still had the kids best interest in mind. That we would work together, just like we did when we were still together.

But that is not the case, not at all.

My phone rings, indicating I have received a message and I look at the screen. My heart starts to race, my hands all of the sudden get really clammy. Henry is already texting me? It’s only seven in the morning…

Henry: I hope I’m not waking you up, but I was wondering what time the Jungs would like their breakfast? 🤗

I let out a small chuckle, as the tears of either sadness or happiness—I don’t know at this point—run over my cheeks again. The fact that he uses an adorable emoji, one that is my favorite too… I don’t even know how this makes me feel.

Amelia: I’m up already, so whenever you want.

Henry: The place opens up at seven thirty. I can come right after I picked it up?

Amelia: Sounds good.

Henry: Want some cappuccino with that as well?

Amelia: You know me too well

Henry: I’ll bring you a cappuccino and I think Benji could use some coffee. How about I also bring some smoothies with me for whoever wants to?

Amelia: Just make sure the smoothie doesn’t have pineapple in it. Isabella is allergic to that.

Henry: Noted

Amelia: Please bring the receipt, so I can pay you back

Henry: You can pay me back with your presence, Amelia. That’s good enough.

Henry: I mean that

I lean back on the sofa, as I let out a deep sigh. Time slowly passes, as I continue to sulk over this. When I just started dating Dean, I never thought about having kids and neither did Dean. When I missed my period, Dean actually went to the store, to buy me some tests. They were all positive and despite being terrified, we both were also over the moon. It felt complete and I was so happy, just like Dean. We were going to be parents and he promised me that he would be there every step of the way.

As I told Henry on our date, I had to recover quite a few years after I had Benji, before I even dared to have another child. I wanted two kids, wanted that my firstborn had a companion, someone that no matter what happened to Dean and I, was there for them. But after two kids, I knew that it was enough for me. I have no desire to expand my family and I thought that even after the divorce, he would keep his promise to me: no more kids for us.

But Dean is doing what he promised me we wouldn’t do. I know that it’s unfair to want him to keep his promise…

I remember his face when Isabella was born. He missed the birth, being unable to get out of his meeting in time. It was rough, it was painful and unexpected and I so wished he was there with me. But he looked so happy, as he was holding Isabella in his arm, sitting down next to me on the hospital bed. ‘I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here,’ he whispered. ‘But thank you for this beautiful human being.’

I leaned against his shoulder, nuzzling my face in his shoulder. ‘I don’t think we should have more kids,’ I told him. ‘Unless you want me dead.’ I couldn’t believe that Eve tried to tell me that the second time giving birth would be easier and worse: that I blindly believed her. ‘Two is enough, don’t you think?’

He softly chuckled, visibly scared to wake her up. ‘I do think that two is enough. I love you, princess,’ he told me, kissing my temple. ‘I’ll forever do that.’

What a fucking liar.

The doorbell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. I quickly jump up and rush to the door. When I open it, I see Henry with some bags in his hand, Kal—who is excitingly wagging his tail—standing right next to him. ‘Good morning,’ he says with a smile. ‘Kal and I come bearing gifts in the form of breakfast.’

I want to say something, want to be polite or funny or at least grateful, but I can’t seem to find the words.

Except tears.

‘Oh, no,’ Henry says, placing the bags on the porch. ‘Come here.’ He holds out his strong and protective arms and I don’t even think a second letting myself being engulfed in his arms. ‘You look exhausted,’ he notes.

‘I am,’ I mumble. ‘I don’t think I have slept more than an hour last night.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s get breakfast settled, okay? You drink the cappuccino while Kal keeps you company. I can make myself at home and set the table. How about that?’

‘I don’t want you to think that I only invited you so you can serve as my butler or anything.’

He holds onto my shoulders, so he can look me into my eyes and says: ‘I know that is not your intention and nor is that the case here.’

‘Thanks once again,’ I say, placing my hands on his. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘Not a single problem.’

He grabs the bags, before I step to the side to let him and Kal in. We walk to the kitchen and he hands me my cappuccino. This is exactly what I need. I lean against the kitchen island, as Kal presses his cold wet nose against my hand, urging me to pet him. ‘Henry,’ I say, to gain his attention. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday.’

‘Don’t,’ he says, in a tone a lot sterner than I have ever heard him use before and Amelia, I swear, don’t let your mind wander. ‘Don’t you dare feel sorry about it, not even for a second.’

I’m not listening. ‘I’m not just apologizing for last night’s events,’ I say. ‘I’m especially apologizing for that kiss. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Why not?’ Henry asks, placing the smoothies on the table, checking the labels again.

I shrug, but he isn’t looking at me, so I add: ‘I don’t know, felt… Wrong. Weird. Too much too soon.’

‘Well, if this eases your mind: I don’t think it felt wrong, weird or too much too soon.’ Henry smiles, causing my stomach to twist in a way that I forgot that was pleasant and I smile back at him. When was the last time I felt like this? ‘And besides, I didn’t mind it one single second.’

Maybe it’s a good thing I hear two sets of footsteps storming down the stairs, so I don’t have to think about an answer for this. ‘Coach!’ Isabella yells, before rushing up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he crouched down for her. ‘You’re here! For what?’

‘I brought breakfast,’ he says to her. ‘I have four smoothies and you can pick the first one, how about that?’

She smiles brightly. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Henry confirms.

She looks over at me with a hopeful and happy smile on her face. It’s such a change from yesterday. ‘Mom, I get to pick the first smoothie.’

‘Make the choice worth while,’ I say with a smile.

Isabella’s eyes fall on Kal. She jumps a little, as Kal trots over to her, pressing his cold nose against her cheek, causing her to squeal.

Benji carefully approaches. ‘Hi coach,’ he says.

‘Hi Benji, slept well?’

‘I did,’ he answers. ‘Thank you.’ He stands next to me, lets out a long sigh and then says: ‘Good morning, mom.’

‘Good morning honey. I’m glad to hear you slept well.’

He nods. ‘Did you?’ My silence must be his answer. ‘I’m sorry. I think Isabella and I both forgot how this situation must be tough for you too.’

Henry looks over his shoulder, as one corner of his mouth curls up as he looks over at us. I sometimes wonder what I did in life to have two amazing kids, who are very considerate towards me and others for that matter.

‘Don’t you worry about me,’ I tell Benji. ‘I’m all okay. Go help set the table.’

He holds my hand for a brief second, giving it a squeeze, before walking over to his coach to help. My phone beeps, only to tell me that Dean send me a text.

Dean: You up?

Amelia: We don’t want to talk to you yet. If we did, I’d text you, remember?

Dean: I want to talk.

Amelia: Please, just read my previous message and for once think about your kids first, instead of yourself.

Sometimes it stuns me that I was married to him. Was he always this selfish and nearly childlike or did that change the moment he exchanged me for a younger model?

Who he got pregnant. Oh my, I still can’t believe that.

‘Mom, you can pick your smoothie now. I chose the orange with tangerine juice. Benji chose the one with banana, oranges and coconut milk. There is a banana mango one and a strawberry raspberry one left,’ Isabella says, dragging me out of this virtual conversation.

‘Banana mango, sweetie,’ I say, as I walk over to the table, to sit next to her. I look over to Benji and Henry, as they sit across from us. Henry thanks Isabella as she hands him the smoothie that is left and I let out a deep sigh. ‘Okay, we have to talk about the elephant in the room.’

‘We know,’ Benji says, though he looks like he’d rather be somewhere else. I mean, you and me both, kid. If I could, I’d skip this conversation, but if there is one thing motherhood taught me, it’s that the most painful conversations, the ones that deprive you from any sleep, are the ones that are very very important. ‘If there is something that you only want to tell me, maybe only to each other or only to Henry, you can just say so. I won’t judge and neither will anyone else at this table. Is that clear?’

‘Yes mom,’ the two of them say.

I nod. ‘Yesterday it became pretty obvious that you weren’t happy about Mindy’s pregnancy. How did they tell you about this?’

If there is something I have learned over the course of this divorce and trying to make this co-parenting work, is to always ask about the entire situation, so I know all about the wrong things their dad said, so I can make it up to them as we go.

Benji clenches his jaw, as he looks away from us. Isabella looks at me and decides to speak up. ‘We were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Mindy made us cupcakes and it had the text: ‘Congrats big brother’ for Benji on it and ‘Congrats big sister’ for me on it,’ she says. ‘Benji asked if it was a joke and then dad told us it was not and we should be happy about it.’ She looks at her big brother, before she says: ‘That was when Benji got pretty mad.’

Benji scoffs. ‘Well, he can’t fucking force me to be happy, right?’

‘Language,’ I say. Maybe Kal senses that he needs the most support right this moment, because the big dog struts over to Benji, placing his head against his arm. ‘But you are right,’ I say. ‘People can’t force you to feel a certain way. What happened after that?’

‘Well,’ Isabella continues, ‘Benji went upstairs to grab his stuff and came back with mine as well. He told dad that we were going home, that we had to think about this. That’s when dad got very angry. He told us that we should stay here and celebrate this. I told him that I wasn’t feeling very festive. He then said to me that I had to suck it up and fake it.’

When I was still together with Dean, he wasn’t the most well equipped dad, with the greatest parental decisions. I mean, he was a well loved English teacher in high school and to some extent, he is actually good with kids, but only for a certain amount of time (read: a maximum of three hours spread over multiple days). Naturally, he isn’t a good father. But when we were raising Benji and Isabella, he was willing to listen to me, to at least try his best to make the right decision. Though I sometimes wondered what on earth was going through his mind from time to time, I saw that he tried and I loved him for that. He admitted multiple times that he wasn’t naturally a good parent, not in the way I was, but that he was willing to learn from me. It was rough, but it was also doable, since we worked as a team.

The second he moved out of this place to move in with Mindy, it seemed like every parenting tip I had ever given him over the course of fourteen years, was thrown right out of the window.

‘Right,’ I mumble, thinking about Dean’s “fake it” tip. I gave the kids that tip once, when they had to go to parties thrown by kids they both didn’t like. Then it was useful, now it feels depriving our kids from having their own emotions. ‘Okay, then what?’

Isabella looks up at me, taking a sip of her smoothie. ‘Then I said I wanted to go home with Benji, but dad told me that it was too late for me to go home. Benji told him that if I wanted to go home, he was going to take me home, no matter what time it was. He grabbed our things and we went home.’

‘But he followed us in his car, continuing to say how we broke Mindy’s feelings and while that wasn’t my intention,’ Benji continues, ‘I was just mad, because he ruined everything.’

‘What did he exactly ruin?’ I ask him, though I think I might know where he is going.

‘Our family.’ He stares at the muffin in front of him, as I see tears form in his eyes. Henry gently places his hand in the back of Benji’s neck, almost as an encouragement for him to continue talking, but also for letting him know that he is not alone. That we are all here for him. ‘He ruined us. He betrayed you, mom,’ Benji says, his voice breaking in the process, something that on my end breaks my heart. ‘Now… He is betraying us, because he is not a good enough dad for me or for Isabella. How is he going to love another kid, when he doesn’t even love us? What if he loves them more than he loves us? What if that kid is better than us?’

No ‘recently divorced’-blog prepared me for this, at least not the ones that I have been reading. Fuck, how do I respond to this? I mean, his worries are obvious and valid, but as his mom, there is something that I can say that will help him in understanding and dealing with this situation. I clear my throat, as I look over to Henry. He bites his lip, as he seems to be at a loss for words as well. I really have to figure this one out all by myself. I wished Johnny and Eve were here as well. Or even my parents for that matter.

‘He did ruin our family,’ I eventually say. ‘He did betray me and I don’t understand why he is starting a new family, when he indeed has shown that he wasn’t the greatest dad to either of you.’

‘You are going to say but, aren’t you?’ Benji asks.

I look at my smoothie. ‘Maybe,’ I say. I take a sip of my smoothie and say: ‘I will let you decide what the two of you are going to do with this. But I’m going to tell you something that you have to keep in mind, okay?’

The two of them look at me, both with a nearly identical frown, a trait they inherited from their dad. ‘Okay.’

‘This is going to be a very happy time for Mindy.’

‘How do you know?’ Isabella asks. ‘You weren’t even there.’

‘True, but I have been pregnant two times. Knowing that I was expecting you two, were the two best moments of my life. Mindy will have a kid of her own and that is very exciting. Being a first time mom, or a second time mom, third time, whatever, for most people it’s wonderful. Hearing that she went out of her way to tell you guys, means she is very happy.’

Benji frowns and Isabella doesn’t seem too sure of what I’m trying to do here. I don’t really know how to continue this, if I’m being totally honest.

‘What your mom is trying to say,’ Henry decides to butt in and I’m so thankful for that, ‘is that you don’t have to go your dad anymore, but that you can send a card for example, to wish Mindy well. You can write that in a card, with something for their new baby.’

‘Why would we do that?’ Isabella asks.

‘Because that is the mature thing to do,’ I explain to them. ‘I mean, there are a million things I would rather do, but I am mature and will not do that.’

Benji sighs. ‘But if we do that, we don’t have to go anymore?’

‘Well, you don’t have to go in the first place,’ I say, ‘but if you do this, there isn’t any reason for your dad to be angry at you. He probably will be, but we didn’t hand it to him on a silver platter.’

Isabella nods. ‘We can buy something for the baby,’ she says. ‘And we can write a card. Maybe you two can help us.’ She points to me and Henry. ‘You are actual adults, so you probably know what to say.’

‘Henry can help us with that,’ I say. ‘He was born in England and he might be a little bit more polite than I am.’

Benji chuckles. ‘Because you might be very mature about this, but you actually want to tell them that this is a bad idea?’

I let out a laugh, but I also have to hold in my tears, because… That is exactly what I want to do. While I’m not the biggest fan of Mindy at the moment (or ever will be for that matter), she is a young woman and from the looks of it, she is not very happy in the life that she rolled into from the last few times I saw her, so… This is a bad idea, for both parties involved.

But I’m not interfering with other people’s love life, especially not in theirs, since it is not my place to do that.

‘Is there anything else that you want to tell me?’ I ask.

‘Well,’ Benji says, ‘just one thing, to all of you: I’m sorry for yesterday. I know that I scared Isabella, I know that I broke some things here and I know that I hit coach.’

‘It’s all good, kid,’ Henry says. ‘Don’t you worry about it.’

‘You know I don’t care about those types of things,’ I say to him. ‘As long as no one is injured, we’re all good.’

Benji looks at his sister, who blinks her eyes. I can already tell that for dramatical sake, she keeps quiet. ‘Well,’ she says, looking at her smoothie, ‘you did scare me a little bit.’ Isabella, honey, for your brother’s sake, don’t drag this out… ‘But I understand that you get mad from time to time, so I’m not mad at you. I forgive you.’

Benji is visibly relieved and nods. ‘Well, good then.’ He takes a bite of his muffin and Isabella copies his movements.

‘That’s it?’ I ask, a little bit confused.

‘That’s it,’ Isabella confirms. ‘Benji and I are going to be mature.’

‘Okay…’ I have no idea what I have to say to them now. ‘Remember, if you change your minds, that’s okay. You can always think about it again and if you want to you can always talk to me or Henry or Eve and Johnny about it.’

‘We know,’ they say in unison, both taking another bite from their respective muffins.

Have I done parenting exceptionally good? Was sleeping on it for a night, enough to digest this easier? Am I a successful parent? Should I write a book or something, to share my apparent wisdom with others?

I look over to Henry, who has a smile on his face as he nods approvingly. We eat our breakfast and Isabella is the ever drama queen, while Benji continues to seek approval from his coach, something that will forever warm my heart.

I tell them that we’re going to the autumn market and that they should get dressed. The two rush upstairs, already fighting who can shower first, and I lean back in the chair. Kal sits next to Henry on the floor, his head against his arm. It must be nice, to have a companion like that. ‘Answer this for me: have I found the perfect formula for parenting?’

Henry smiles. ‘I think you might have,’ he says, finishing up his smoothie. ‘How are you?’

‘I think I’m good,’ I whisper.

‘Come here,’ he says, as he pulls back the chair where Benji was sitting on a few moments ago, patting on the seat. I walk over to him, plopping on the seat. Henry pulls the chair closer to his and honestly, that is the biggest power move I have ever seen someone of the opposite sex do.

Before he can say anything to me, I ask: ‘I’m doing good, right? It was the right thing for me to tell them to be mature?’

‘It was,’ he says. ‘You are an excellent mother.’

Oh no, this shouldn’t make me cry. I bite my lip, before I let out a soft sob. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No, no, no,’ Henry says, ‘This is all totally understandable. This is a lot of change and quite the stressful time for you, Dean and your kids. But remember, you are doing good.’ Just as he did with Benji, he places his hand in the back of my neck and smiles. ‘When we’re at the autumn market, we should not only buy something for their new baby, but maybe, if you allow me, I can buy something for the kids. Something they want.’

I let out a chuckle, wiping away my tears. ‘You are a very interesting man, mister Cavill,’ I say to him. ‘Very smart too, working your way into my heart, by being kind to me and my kids. Men around the world should take notes.’

He smiles, as his cheeks turn red. For a second I wonder why on earth he does this. The fact that I have kids is not scaring him away. My ex-husband and the way he and his new fiancée are involved in my life, doesn’t make him leave.

This man is the jackpot.

‘Henry, I’m sorry you rolled into this whole family mess,’ I say.

‘What did I tell you about apologizing?’ he asks me.

I smile, as I shake my head. ‘I should save it, I know, I know. Let me say this instead: Thank you for staying. I know many others wouldn’t have done that.’

Henry smiles, but he can’t say anything to it, because we are brutally interrupted. ‘Mom!’ Isabella yells, ‘Benji won’t let me in the bathroom.’

I chuckle. ‘Duty calls.’

✰ ✰ ✰

‘Dear Mindy,’ Isabella reads from the card, ‘congratulations on your baby. We are very happy for you. However, co- consi- Benji, what is this again?’

Benji scoots closer to his sister, reading the card. ‘However,’ he continues, ‘considering the circumstances, we find it very difficult to celebrate with you. Please accept this gift for your new baby and we wish you nothing but the best. We hope that we are welcome when we want to come over. Lots of love, Benji and Isabella.’

We are sitting at a large picnic table, with some hot chocolate and extra whipped cream, specifically asked for by Isabella and me. Henry, who sits next to me, has placed his hand on my leg and that is exactly the kind of support I need. I have wrapped my arm around his, to place my hand on his. My fingers play with his. ‘You agree with this?’ I ask the two of them.

‘I do,’ Isabella starts. ‘It sounds very mature, don’t you think, Benji?’

‘It does,’ he agrees. ‘Thank you, mom, coach… I feel better already.’

‘Want to drop it by or send it to them?’ Henry asks. ‘If you want, I can drop it off, if none of you want to bring it.’

We Jungs all agree a little too quick.

This causes Henry to smile. ‘Well, I’ll do that and before you worry, Amelia, it’s all good. I don’t mind.’

‘Coach,’ Isabella says, ‘you like my mom, don’t you?’

Henry nods. ‘I do like her and I sure hope she likes me too.’

‘She does,’ she confirms for me. Am I that obvious? ‘Do you like us?’

‘Very much, so,’ Henry says. ‘And Kal really likes you too.’ Kal sits next to Isabella, licking her cheek. ‘I really like spending time with the Jung family. Makes me feel less alone.’

‘Do you miss your family?’ she asks.

He shrugs. ‘Maybe a bit, but not a lot.’

Isabella nods, before she says: ‘We like it too when you are around.’

‘That’s wonderful to hear,’ Henry says and it almost sounds like he is touched by it.

She looks at her brother and coerces him to say something, with just her eyes. Since Benji has a very hard time saying no to her—ever—he nods and adds: ‘We like it that you make our mom happy.’

‘Oh guys, that is really not necessary,’ I say, hoping they would stop, but Isabella won’t zip it, because she adds: ‘Our mom deserves someone. She always tells us that we are her greatest treasures and while we believe that, it’s nice to see someone who cares.’

‘Okay, now you really need to stop talking,’ I laugh, ‘because I’m going to cry if you keep going.’

Henry squeezes my leg, before he admits: ‘You have wonderful kids, Amelia. Both of them.’ And that on their end, causes Benji and even Isabella to blush.

I nod. ‘Yeah, I sure do. Now, enjoy your hot chocolate, before it is cold.’

‘Can we go into the ferris wheel?’ Isabella asks, licking some of the whipped cream of her drink. ‘Please, mom?’

‘Of course,’ I answer.

‘Will you come with us?’ she pushes.

Benji nudges his sister. ‘Bella, remember that mom is afraid of heights.’

‘You’re afraid of heights?’ Henry asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

‘Maybe a bit,’ I confess, ‘but the last time we went was three years ago and I think I have grown. Besides, we have a wonderful dog and a Henry with us. I think I can manage.’

Henry starts to laugh, as well as Benji and Isabella, who give each other a high five, because we’re going in a cart together. ‘Coach,’ Benji starts, but Henry shakes his head.

‘When we’re not training, you can call me Henry,’ he tells them. ‘Both of you.’

‘Really?’ Isabella asks, her eyes starting to sparkle with hope.

He nods. ‘Really. I might be Benji’s coach, but when I’m at your place, I’m not. I’m just Henry, okay?’

‘Copy that,’ Benji chuckles, before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. ‘Henry.’

When we finished our hot chocolate, we get in line to go in the ferris wheel. Thankfully for my kids, dogs are allowed, otherwise I’d happily stay behind on the ground with Kal. We get in and I sit next to Henry, as Benji, Isabella and Kal sit across from us. ‘This is okay,’ I say, looking around me.

‘Mom,’ Isabella laughs, ‘we’re still on the ground. Don’t be ridiculous.’

Benji holds back a laugh. ‘You can still get out now.’

‘I’m totally fine,’ I say, but that’s such a lie. I breath in deeply, before slowly breathing out, hoping to calm my breathing a bit. The cart moves and I let out I high pitched scream. Thankfully the cart is closed and no one can hear me, except everyone here. My two kids start to chuckle and I scrunch up my nose. ‘Is it too late to get out?’ I ask.

‘It is now,’ Henry laughs. ‘You two are being awfully mean to your mother, laughing at her like that.’

‘One time, coach— I mean, Henry, mom, dad, Benji and I went to California and we also sat in a rollercoaster that stops for a while at the top. Mom was crying.’

‘Don’t share those stories with him,’ I say. ‘That is not… Oh no, we’re so high! I don’t like this.’ I close my eyes, as my shoulder tense up and are near my ears.

I can feel Henry laughing silently next to me, before he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

‘Are we nearly down yet?’ I ask.

Benji laughs. ‘No, mom, we’re almost at the top.’ The cart shakes as we come to a halt and I nearly puke from the sudden movement. ‘We can see our house from here.’

‘Mom, open up your eyes,’ Isabella says. ‘Please, mom, just look. For us.’

For us. She knows exactly what buttons to push. I open one eye, wince at the sight of the entire town, before opening the other one too. ‘Maybe you should breath,’ Henry chuckles.

‘Shut up,’ I chuckle nervously. ‘Oh, we can indeed see our house.’

Isabella stands up and I nearly yell at her that she should sit down, but this cart can handle movement. Besides, I don’t want to come across as that kind of mother. ‘Henry, can we see your house?’

He nods. ‘Right there, with the orange garage.’

‘You live in Miss Bonny’s old house?’ Benji asks. ‘They say her spirit still lives there and she eats little kids.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, I’m all alone with Kal there. No spirit of Miss Bonny. It’s still a bit bland though.’

‘You want me to make something for you?’ Isabella asks. ‘Or maybe we can help you decorate it. Mom is really good at decorating. When dad moved out, the three of us completely redid our living room. We can paint, we can hang up wallpaper and we can find decorations.’

‘I would love that,’ he says with a smile. ‘Besides, I could use some help. I’m utterly useless when it comes to decorating.’

Benji smiles. ‘Then we really should help.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Henry and I watch as Benji and Isabella are in the arcade, playing away after Henry gave them like a billion quarters. We sip on our tea, with some cookies in the middle of us, as we sit across from each other. ‘So, how do you like the Luna Meadows autumn market so far?’ I ask him.

‘I absolutely love it,’ he admits. ‘This is such a lovely town. I’m happy I moved here and I’d like to take you guys up on that offer, of the three of you helping me decorate my place. I have been postponing it since the moment I arrived.’

‘Of course, let that be our way of thanking you for today. I honestly did not expect you to buy all of us matching pajamas, including a pair for yourself,’ I laugh. ‘And you’re sure you don’t mind bringing that package? I mean, I can send it to them or ask someone else to drop it off…’

‘I can just place it on their doorstep, right?’

‘You can, but… Don’t you think that it’s weird? Considering that there is something going on between the two of us.’

He shakes his head. ‘I want what is best for the kids and you. Really, I honestly don’t care about what your ex husband might think of it, what Mindy might think of it or the entire town for that matter.’

‘Gosh, you have such thick skin, Cavill. It’s admirable, really.’

He shrugs. ‘Barely.’ Henry holds out his hand for me to take and I hesitantly place mine in his. His thumb gently caresses my fingers. It feels so familiar, as if we have done this forever. For a second I’m afraid that people might see, but on the other hand: I don’t care. I’m happy right now.

I look up. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Go for it.’

‘Why did you marry your ex in the first place?’

Even if he was taken by surprise, he doesn’t show it. This man has an incredible pokerface and maybe it’s a blessing that I can’t even play poker; my face is an open book and Henry seems to read it with ease. ‘My parents thought we were a good match,’ he says. ‘I mean, I’ve known her since high school and I liked her as a friend, but… The both of us, we were never a match. However, she started dating my best friend behind my back, we finally got our divorce and I never saw her again. That’s the short, less pathetic version.’

‘Oh my, Henry, I’m so sorry. Did you date after that?’

‘I did, but it never felt good,’ he confesses. Henry tilts his head and smiles. ‘It never felt like how I feel about you. The second I lifted up that tampon box and looked into your eyes, it just clicked.’

‘Shut your face about the tampon box. When someone asks us how we met, we’ll just stick with the ‘you’re Benji’s new coach’-story.’

Henry smiles, while I am at a loss for words, since I’m drowning in his beautiful eyes. I don’t really understand why some parents would force their kids to marry someone, they don’t feel comfortable with. I still feel like there is so much more to the story then what he has told me, but I’m not going to pry. The fact that I completely tell him my entire life story, doesn’t mean that he has to.

‘Mom, Henry, look!’ Isabella yells, as she rushes back to us. She sits next to Henry and holds up her lion stuffed animal. ‘Benji won it for me.’

Benji sits down next to me, as I pull my hand back from Henry’s. ‘I don’t have any quarters left.’

‘We gave you tons of quarters,’ I chuckle.

‘Yeah, it may have cost me all of the quarters to win two,’ he confesses.

‘Two?’ I ask him, since Isabella is only holding one.

He holds up a little bear, twice as little as Isabella’s lion. ‘For Mindy’s baby,’ he says, causing Henry to look up as well. ‘Make sure it’s in the package,’ he tells his coach.

‘You’re a good kid,’ Henry says, taking over the bear from Benji. ‘You’re really going places, mark my words.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Dean: Your new boyfriend brought over the gift.

Dean: I honestly don’t get what the big deal is.

Dean: That you don’t like this, whatever, but the kids should at least have the human decency to bring over the package themselves.

Dean: The kids are coming over next week again.

Amelia: If they want to.

Amelia: And by the way: you’re welcome.

Dean: For what?

Amelia: The gift the kids prepared for Mindy.