#easier than filing a complaint or something

[paimonial-rage]

unraveled - alhaitham

synopsis: after hearing a rather interesting rumor about your boss, how could you give up the chance to test its validity?

ship: alhaitham x reader

notes: 4.8k, prompt given by @milkstore more than a year ago lol

You heard something extremely interesting the other day while walking around the Akademiya. Now let it be said you were never one for gossip. Not that you viewed yourself as above gossip or anything; it just rarely had anything to do with you. This recent tidbit that drifted into your listening ears, though, it had you stopping cold in the middle of the morning Akademiya rush. It was shocking. It was discombobulating. It was absolutely world-shaking! Alhaitham, your boss…

… was apparently interested in someone.

You were used to hearing many rumors about Alhaitham—how he was planning to change Akademiya hours to a strict 9-5 schedule, how he destroyed the self-esteem of toddlers for fun, how he was secretly raised by Inazuman Rifthound Wolves with the blood of the abyss flowing through his veins—but those were easy to ignore. As his secretary, you were privy to his plans and personal information. You knew what was true and false (not including toddler thing—that was up in the air). However, Alhaitham interested in someone? Now that was interesting.

Your first reaction was to dismiss the rumor. Your boss followed a strict schedule that didn’t leave much room for other activities. That wasn’t even mentioning the sheer number of people that filed complaints regarding his tongue. Sad to say, he didn’t get along with most people. 

And, while you’ve never been in a relationship with someone before, you’ve seen how others acted. They became sweet to their lover, engaged in much physical contact, noticed them even in most crowded of rooms, and spoiled them rotten. Could you imagine Alhaitham doing such things? You most absolutely positively could not. 

But when you thought about it more, it was often said that love changed people. Even the grouchiest of grumps could turn into the softest of softies, right? It was a possibility. Added to that, he made it a point to leave when his time for the day was up. He had a decent amount of time after work to woo and court to his heart’s content. Yes, as you contemplated it all, you came to a set conclusion.

Your curiosity was piqued.

So, let it be made known now that you knew it was wrong to do so. You knew that if you got caught, you’d get sent straight to the scary General Mahamatra. But you had a duty and it was this duty you would uphold. You were an alumnus of the Akademiya and you would follow in the footsteps of your predecessors. Desperate times called for desperate measures, as they said, and desperate measures called for engaging in a long-supported research method. 

Stalking Observation. 

It was a brilliant plan, perhaps one of your smartest. If the Acting Grand Sage was interested in someone as rumors implied, observation would be the best method to discover the truth. To ensure your plans would go off without a hitch, you slammed through your work for the day. You even skipped out on Shawarma Wrap special hour at Lambad’s Tavern. Sure, your stomach may had been causing a ruckus, but such sacrifices were necessary. Today you would find the truth!

You were ready the moment 5pm hit. Your work was done, you were in civilian clothes and clocked out for the day. He didn’t even notice you weren’t seated at your desk when he walked by toward the exit! Judging from how everything was going so far, it seemed that your mission would be far easier than you thought! 

And it was! In fact, it was rather boring! His first visit was to the House of Daena. You hoped he would be there to meet someone, but he instead made a beeline for the new book section. After glancing over a few here and there, he picked out a few, checked them out with the librarian, then left. They weren’t interesting books either. As you peeked out from under a desk, you could catch a glimpse of the cover of one of the books about Inazuma. It was written by “Hat Guy.”

Hm.

Anyway, your heart pounded in excitement when he began heading in the direction of the Grand Bazaar next. You heard he recently became acquainted with a dancer from the Zubayr Theater. Perhaps the secret lover was her? But he disappointed you once more. He spent a total amount of five minutes glancing over stalls, looking at some ugly pieces of furniture, before quickly departing once a crowd of people began filing in for a show. 

As you followed him to your next destination, your initial reaction to this whole debacle started to become more and more plausible. It seemed all that was on his mind was errands, nothing more and nothing less. If anything was strange, though, it was how you didn’t seem to be disappointed by the turn of events. 

Though it was clear Alhaitham didn’t get along with most people, you personally liked him quite a lot. When you first came to the Akademiya from Mondstadt, you had a difficult time. You weren’t sure why at the time, but you tended to annoy people. No matter how friendly you tried to be, they sneered even more. It wasn’t until an explosive confrontation that you learned why. They saw you as disruptive and nosy. You lacked any pride. You were too idealistic. 

You weren’t like them.

You spent much of your time to yourself after that. You didn’t know how to act. You didn’t want to do anything wrong. Despite its warmer climate, Sumeru somehow felt colder than the winters of your homeland. 

You first met Alhaitham on a joint project. As usual, you kept to yourself through much of it. Being the only member of your darshan there, you knew you should have brought up your points of concern, but fear held you back. And sure enough, the project ended up heading in a direction that would inevitably hit the roadblock you predicted. You would’ve kept quiet had Alhaitham not spoken up.

“Are you planning on contributing anything worthwhile to this project?”

His words came so out of the blue you could only splutter in response, “Excuse me?”

“I recommended you for this project because I thought your research papers showed complex reasoning and a thorough work ethic. However, it seems I was mistaken. Not only have you not offered anything useful, but you insist on keeping quiet despite your knowledge of possible issues. So I ask you again. Are you or are you not going to contribute anything worthwhile?”

There were so many things you could’ve said, so many things you should’ve felt. It wasn’t like you weren’t doing anything! You fulfilled your set duties for the project. But despite your work, you were being labeled by him as essentially useless. The only logical response was to feel upset, even anger. But instead, a hesitant warmth filled your chest instead.

“Wait. You recommended me?”

Though his expression didn’t change, somehow you could see he was judging the strength of your intellect.

“Your studies relate to this project directly. Why wouldn’t I?”

You floundered, gesturing wildly for a few moments before finally getting out, “But nobody likes me!”

He simply stared at you deadpan, communicating through body language alone, “That is my problem how?”

“Are you sure you want me to speak up? You won’t get upset?”

He sighed.

“You were brought onto this project for your expertise. If anything, I would be upset if you did anything but that."

His words were astounding. They were game-changing. They were earth-shattering! In his eyes, you were not an outsider from Mondstadt. You were a scholar, and it would only be your merits upon which you would be judged. 

You knew he didn’t exactly like it, but you found yourself sticking around him even after the project was successfully completed. With everything you dealt with at the Akademiya, Alhaitham was like a breath of fresh air. Sure, he did tend to point out the fallacies in your logic and personal flaws that would get in the way of achieving your goals, but that really was it. It wasn’t like he was ever wrong either, so you didn’t mind. At least you weren’t getting criticized merely for existing. 

As for how he felt about you, you really weren’t sure. He wasn’t exactly the most expressive person in the world, nor the most feelsy either. Really, he could probably be replaced by a Rishboland Leopard and you doubted there would be much difference.

Still, if there was anything you did know, it was that he never pushed you away without reason. Even when his nose was buried in a book during his free time, he had no qualms letting you ramble to your heart’s delight. And when you finished, he would respond with his own thoughts, always surprising you with the fact that he was listening all along. 

There also was the fact he requested you personally as a secretary when he was forced into the role of Acting Grand Sage. Sure, working at the Akademiya after graduation in administration made it easier for you both to keep in touch, but you didn’t think he still kept tabs on your work ethic. So maybe, just maybe, the feelings he felt toward you were higher than simple toleration. And you were content with that. 

So lost you were in your musings that you almost didn’t catch him turn onto Treasures Street. You nearly bumped into a few people while correcting your course. But he didn’t head in the direction of his home like you assumed, however. Instead, it seemed he was making his way to Menakeri's Treasure Shop. Which was rather strange. That shop had been out of stock for the past year. Unless he was planning on reserving something with Khalid? 

Upon peeking inside, it seemed he was examining quills and fountain pens. You nearly gasped audibly. Was he perhaps finally listening to your advice and purchasing himself new writing utensils? You didn’t know how many times you nagged him about those terrible ParchmentMate quills that anyone could buy in bulk. They didn’t give a consistent line, were prone to getting clogged, and were all around cheap garbage! It was about time he got himself something fitting of his position. 

But… Wait, was he…? It was the moment he hummed in thought and picked up a particular brand that you found yourself called to action. 

“Just because Zilot H2 fountain pens are popular doesn’t mean they’re actually good!” You exclaimed, rushing over and plucking the abomination from his fingers. “Even when you’re right-handed, they still tend to smear like crazy! Also, the quality is not consistent throughout the pens, so you can get some that clog constantly!!”

You were quick to plop the pen right back where it belonged on the display. Such a monstrosity would have no place in your boss’ office. No way. It was a good thing Alhaitham was essentially a lazy person who despised putting up with inconveniences because arguing with him was the last thing you wanted to do today. And thankfully, he did not disappoint!

“I see, then which pen would you recommend?” He asked with his fingers against his chin in thought. 

Oooh~ At the sound of that beautiful question, your heart quickened within your chest as a rosy flush found its way to the apples of your cheeks. He’d always wave you away whenever you brought up this subject before (probably because he knew very well you could ramble about the glory of stationery for a good hour), so what changed his mind? Well, who cared what did! You weren’t about to squander this chance he so graciously gave you!

“Well, there are many great fountain pens and quills. Monstadt is Teyvat’s biggest producer of high-quality pens, though Inazuma and Liyue have some notable brands too. I’d recommend…” You hummed as you scanned the display before plucking two that caught your eye. “A KWSBY Eco or a KAMY Safari.”

“And the difference between the two?” He asked as he stepped close to you.

Though the fact that you could feel the warmth he radiated against your arm and his gaze upon your face was distracting, the excitement within your chest overpowered any presence he had. 

“Well, while they both write very well, the Eco holds more ink and, in my opinion, requires less maintenance. It’s more eco-friendly as well because it doesn’t take cartridges. But I’d say the Safari feels better in the hand and requires less pressure, so it’s less straining to write for long periods of time.”

“Then which one would you recommend?”

You tilted your head to the side. That was a good question.

“Well, personally, I would recommend the Eco. While you do write a lot, I think the hassle of replacing cartridges and going out to buy new ones is something you’d find annoying after a while. However, both are rather cheap, so it wouldn’t be much out of your pocket to purchase both to see which one you like more. Then you could use the other as a backup pen, or maybe one to keep at home.”

He hummed. 

“I see. And why were you following me this whole evening?”

Well, that was the easiest question he asked by far!

“Because I heard rumors about you and I wanted to see if they were true!” You exclaimed with a wide smile on your face. 

Wait, that question wasn’t about pens at all… In fact, that was… You paused and realized something for the first time. Alhaitham was looking at you. Like… he knew and was cognizant of the fact that you were standing in front of him. Which meant… 

“You used those pens to lure me out, didn’t you!?” You cried out in betrayal. 

He shrugged.

“It’s not my fault you’re easily baited with stationery.”

You groaned in frustration. He wasn’t wrong about that. Anyone that knew you knew quite well how much you enjoyed talking. Blame it on your Mondstadt blood, but you were too talkative for your own good. Often times you’d surprise people by making conversation in long lines or when their pretty outfits caught your eye. More than that, you loved helping people and giving advice, even when you weren’t exactly needed. Really, it was a smart move on Alhaitham’s part.

“So, what is it this time?” He asked with a cross of his arms and a raised brow. “It’s not the rifthound wolves rumor again, is it?”

You shook your head. 

“Of course not. You know you were there when I checked that one,” You exclaimed with a roll of your eyes. “This rumor is way better than that one. They say that you’re courting someone.” 

He sighed.

“And you believed that?”

You shook your head once more. 

“Well, no. But rumors like that don’t come out of the blue. So I thought there had to be some truth to them. Maybe you’re interested in someone.”

“Oh? And it bothered you enough to follow me after hours?”

You laughed.

“Well yeah. Who wouldn’t want to see the sarcastic and straight-laced Alhaitham getting starry-eyed over a special someone?” You replied with a shrug.

His eyes shut, shaking his head in exasperation.

“And how exactly would my getting ‘starry-eyed’ look?”

“Well obviously–”

Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. You winced. Apparently not eating lunch today was coming back with a vengeance. It seemed that your companion noticed the sound as well as his brow raised while glancing down at you.

“Did you eat yet?”

You coughed.

“No.”

He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Then you can tell me over dinner.”

Your heart jumped as a smile leapt to your lips. 

“Are you paying for dinner too?” You asked, your eyes glittering. 

His eyes narrowed as he placed a hand on his hip.

“If I’m not mistaken, the last time, I was the one that paid.”

You coughed once more.

“Th-That may be true,” you began with a stutter, “But… I’m not the one with the salary of a grand sage. Surely it wouldn’t be too much out of your wallet to pay for your overworked assistant?”

He stared at you, his eyes half-lidded in exasperation shutting them in unwilling acceptance.

“Fine.”

With a joyous fist pump, you rushed to follow him at his side as he began to make his way in the direction of the tavern.

“This is why you’re my favorite boss, Alhaitham!” You exclaimed with a grin causing him to snort.

“If I recall, just yesterday you were calling me the worst for excusing you when you sneezed.”

“That’s because right after, you gave me tips on how to sneeze quieter,” you shot back. “I can’t help the way I sneeze, you know. I was—excuse me—born that way. Besides, nobody in Mondstadt ever–”

Your brow furrowed as yet another person bumped into you. It seemed the true rush hour of Sumeru finally hit as the roads were covered with people. You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course, nobody was walking into Alhaitham. He seemed to have a two-foot forcefield around him. Not that you were surprised. Though you liked him, even you could admit that the vibes he exuded were not the most welcoming. 

But as you kept musing to yourself about Alhaitham and his unkind vibes, the more you found yourself getting pushed and shoved away from him. Thankfully, you knew the direction he was heading, so it wouldn’t be too hard to simply meet him there–

“They’re not going to move unless you make them.”

Your eyes widened as you felt a hand grasp yours. With a gentle tug, you found yourself pulled from the crowd. There Alhaitham stood with a brow up, daring you to argue. You pouted.

“You could’ve done that earlier.”

He shrugged.

“I was waiting to see if you’d do it yourself.”

“Well thanks, I guess,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Still, you squeezed his hand gently because you were, though a bit exasperated, also grateful. 

With him at the forefront to part the crowd, he led you by hand to Lambad’s Tavern. Despite being a busy night, it didn’t take too long for you both to be seated. After being guided to a square table, he took his normal place diagonally to your side instead of across from you. In the back of your mind, you assumed it was so that you were easier to hear, but there wasn’t any point to putting much thought into it than that. With your orders put in and a round of drinks on the table, you took a hearty swig from your glass before leaning back. 

“So here’s what I envision for an Alhaitham in love,” you began, eager to continue your conversation from before. “I…

Hm…

“I um…”

That was a good question. How would a starry-eyed Alhaitham look?

“Well, you see…”

Though you found yourself ready to wax poetic about a normal person in love, when you really thought about it, Alhaitham wasn’t the most normal person around. He didn’t laugh much, let alone smile. He was more mean than he was nice. That wasn’t even mentioning his sheer lack of friends. 

“Can’t think of anything?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just realizing you wouldn’t act much different,” you began. “I think you would still treat them the same, but you’d always have an eye out for them. You may talk about them from time to time, maybe pay for their meals as well. I can see you wanting to be nearer to them than most people. You’d prefer their company more. Things like that.”

His head cocked to the side in thought.

“That doesn’t sound like I’d be very much in love with them at all.”

You shrugged.

“You don’t need to look in love to be in love, you know. It’s just that you wouldn’t be as obvious about it as most.”

It was then his turn to shrug.

“Really? I think most would say that I’m not capable of love.”

You snorted.

“Oh, come on,” you began with a humored grin. “We both know that’s not true. You’re a human just like anyone else. You’re one of the kindest people I know.”

“I know many people that would disagree with that.”

“And I would disagree with them. You don’t judge people. You see them for who they are. You always tell the truth, even if it may hurt. You don’t like it when people are troubled, so you give them words to help them change. Though you try to avoid company, you don’t hesitate to help the people you care about. You don’t abandon people in their time of need. You’re kind, Alhaitham.”

He took a sip of his drink.

“You make it seem like I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I merely don’t like being troubled by other people’s problems,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“Maybe,” you admitted with a shrug before giving him a knowing look. “But if you really hated it all that much, I think you would’ve gotten rid of some people in your life a long time ago.”

He turned away.

“I think you’re looking far too into it.”

“And I think you just feel exposed for being a softie,” you shot back with a laugh.

He didn’t speak after that, not that he needed to. You knew he knew there was no point in trying to argue. This was something you brought up multiple times in the past, much to his dismay. As much as he tried to ignore it, you saw him for how he really was. Which was why… 

You sighed.

“Do you really like someone though? Are the rumors true?” You asked nervously. 

“Was it that important to you that you had to follow me to find out if it was?” He questioned.

You shrugged. 

“Well, I mean I did want to see you get all starry-eyed, but… the thought of you having someone so important to you in your life and me not noticing a single thing bothered me. I mean you’re the person I spend the most time with. Can I even be called your friend if I didn’t notice something so big?” You asked, a bit dejected.

“Is that the only reason?”

When you frowned in confusion, he continued.

“You say it’s because you’re my friend. Are you sure it’s not for any reason more than that?”

As he spoke, his gaze did not waver from you. It was as if his eyes were piercing you through. It seemed as if he was searching for something, but what? Was there truly a reason more than that? You weren’t so sure. 

Before you could respond, your plates were set before you, prompting your stomach to let out another long and loud grumble. You flushed. Of course, your stomach had to interrupt such a serious moment. 

He sighed.

“Let’s eat.”

Really, you truly did mean to play around with his words in your head as you ate, but the moment the food touched your tongue, any and all thoughts were out the window. Lambad’s Shawarma Wraps were always top-notch. The flatbread was soft and warm and the sauce was tangy and fresh. Despite living here for the past few years, you still weren’t quite used to eating with your hands, but such problems never detracted from the taste. 

When you were almost done, you turned your gaze to your companion with stars in your eyes. 

“Do you want to share an Ajilenakh Cake with me?”

Though you knew he wasn’t one for sweet food, you didn’t know anyone who could resist the sweet nuttiness of Ajilenakh Cakes. They were warm and soft and the jam complimented the flavors wonderfully. 

“Sure,” he agreed with a shrug. 

And with an excited grin, you put in the order and went back to your food. In the back of your mind, you remembered the time Alhaitham mentioned he preferred meals with you. When you asked if it was because he enjoyed your company, he said that you were always so focused on eating that you barely had any time to speak. You hated how you always proved him true because once the dessert was placed before you, again any thoughts you had of continuing the conversation quickly came and left.

As you ate you mused it probably would be a good idea to go on a diet after this. Alhaitham barely had a fourth of the Ajilenakh Cakes, not that you were surprised. He wasn’t exactly one for sweets. But that meant you ate the rest, and with all the Shawarma Wraps you’ve been eating as well… it did not bode well for your waistline. 

“I don’t think it means anything. Me being bothered, I mean,” you finally announced as you wiped your lips clean. “I think any normal person would want to know what’s going on with one of their friends, you know? Besides, you say that me being bothered could mean something more. What more could it mean?”

He shrugged.

“It could mean that you’re interested in me and worried that I may have found someone else.”

You leaned back as you crossed your arms in thought. Well, when he put it like that, it certainly was a possibility. Perhaps you were afraid of being replaced by someone else. You enjoyed being at his side, after all. But that being said, being interested in him? It didn’t seem very likely.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied. “I’ve never really thought of you in that way before.”

He sighed.

“Then that’s a shame.” When you asked why, he continued, “Because the rumors are true. The person I’m interested in, the person everyone is gossiping about, is you.”

“And that’s what happened,” you finished as you sipped your wine. “Can you believe it? The source of the rumors, the one everyone was talking about, was me!”

���W-Wait. He literally told you that? He just went out with it!?” Kaveh exclaimed in disbelief. 

As Kaveh sat across from you, you wanted to laugh at the sheer look of confusion upon his face. He was utterly dumbfounded. Not that you could blame him. It was a rather crazy story, after all.

You nodded.

“Yep! I mean looking back, all of the signs were there. We spend a lot of time together for work, he likes sitting next to me at restaurants, sometimes he pays for me… He even holds my hand from time to time when the roads are packed! I don’t know how it took him explaining it to me to finally realize the truth!” 

And really, it was embarrassing on your part. Growing up, you’d love to while away the hours in the Knights of Favonius’ library reading mystery novels. Nothing was more exhilarating than getting the culprit correct. So really, this was something you should have figured out from the very start. But nevertheless, being given the answer to this mystery didn’t make the outcome any less exciting. It made you wonder if you should investigate more Akademiya rumors in your free time. It certainly would be fun.

However, a quick glance at Kaveh showed he wasn’t exactly sharing your thoughts. Instead, his face still held that same dumbfounded look from before, if not a bit more intense. 

“So what did you do? What did you say? Alhaitham didn’t seem any different when he came home! Oh Gods, and to think I scolded him that evening for leaving his books out! I really must’ve sounded like a jerk!!”

You frowned in thought. Was there something lost in the communication here? You didn’t see anything worth panicking over. 

“Well, after he told me that, I tried to argue with him, actually. Honestly, can you imagine me being the answer? That’s way too easy. But then he explained everything to me and eventually it made sense. After that, he paid for dinner and then we went home.”

His jaw dropped this time. 

“That’s it!? You went home?? After all that???”

You tilted your head to the right. 

“What do you mean? The mystery was solved. What more did we need to do?”

He dropped his head into his hands and pulled at his hair before them on the table.

“What do you mean!? Alhaitham confessed his feelings to you. And you just nodded and went home!? I can’t believe you’re making me feel bad for him! You really don’t think anything about it?”

Your head tilted this time to the left. Kaveh groaned.

“He likes you. Don’t you feel anything about that?”

Feel anything about him liking you? Him… liking you. He… liked you. 

Oh.

First your eyes widened, then your hands dropped to your lap, and then, with the fury of a thousand suns, you felt your face burn up. 

“I’m happy… I think?”

[alleiwentcrazy]

Eddie hates it when people don’t answer his calls. He hates it with passion.

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

He doesn’t even have to enter their apartment to know that Steve’s not alone. First off – if Steve’s pacing and rambling, an anxious trait he’s picked up from Robin, wasn’t a hint enough – it’s loud. Their paper walls can barely hold back a normal conversation, let alone something resemblant of a heated discussion. Honestly, Eddie has no idea how their neighbors can stand them sometimes, with his metal, their late-night conversations and non-conversations alike, with the kids visiting so often. Although Steve is optimistic (they have some lovely neighbors, like sweet Gran Fran, but don’t ever let Eddie express his opinions about that old hag from across the hallway, Miss Hermans), he’s still waiting for that complaint to be filed.

Second, he smells coffee. Steve never makes coffee for just himself.

Eddie opens the door gingerly, remembering how easy it is to completely unhinge them by accident, and is about to scream something about getting home, when none other than Dustin Henderson cuts him off with a shriek.

“—because it’s actually pathetic, that’s why! Get a grip, man, just do it!”

“Oh, it’s so easy for you to say, because you’ve never actually tried—”

“And maybe I never will! If you won’t do it, how can I learn how to do it myself? You know that you guys are the closest thing to father figures!”

“Hey, don’t make it about yourself for once, maybe? Some humility?”

Dustin’s quiet for a second, but Eddie knows he’s not about to admit full defeat. “Yes, sorry,” he chokes out, finally. “But you’ve tried so many times, you should know that it doesn’t get any easier on another try. Just do it, it doesn’t matter how.”

“It does, though! To me, it—it does. It matters,” Steve mumbles back, and Eddie can picture his face in perfect detail. It’s Steve’s small voice, which means he’s worried about something, even though his worry doesn’t make any sense in everyone else’s eyes. He’s unsure: his brows are pinched, lips pursed, stare skittering around the room, never focusing on anything. Dustin knows this face too, because his tone gets softer.

“Okay, then walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Walk me through it. You’ll know what you want, how you want it, when and where, and it’ll be easier when you try it next time.”

“Dustin, I really don’t—I’m not sure it can get easier, ever.”

“Because you’re scared.”

Steve sighs deeply before he responds. “Yes. Because I’m scared.”

“It’s been eight years, Steve. What are you scared of?” Dustin’s voice is gentle, curious. He’s not judging, he genuinely wants to know the reasons, and so does Eddie. He leans against the wall, trying to sneak a peek of the kitchen unsuccessfully, and listens. A while passes before Steve speaks again.

“I think—There are so many things I’m afraid of. But the main one… It’s still rejection. Not being enough. Because it’s not like it’s anything formal, right? It’s only a promise, and if it ends up turned down…”

Chair legs scrape the floor and Eddie can hear two soft slaps – hands on shoulders, probably.

“Steve Harrington. Calm down. You know it’s not going to happen—no, don’t argue. I know it, and this alone should be enough. You are an amazing person. You’re great with people, you’re bright, you’re sweet, caring, you have so many talents. I love you, Steve,” the pause that follows is filled with something so heavy there’s a shift in the air. It has a different smell now. A little salty, a little warm. “And he loves you. More than you can imagine, probably. So just pop the question, Steve. And don’t back out with some stupid excuse like this morning.”

“Pop the question,” Steve says, his voice firm, only a little timid. “Yes, I think—I think I can do that.”

Eddie bounces off the wall and takes quiet, slow steps backwards. He can’t hear anything else, even though the conversation continues. He bites his tongue hard enough to make it bleed a little. A coppery taste floods his mouth as he closes the door.

Oh, it’s just so, so stupid. He would have said yes. Each and every time, he would have said yes.

*

Later that day, when they’re lying in bed together, with the sheets rumpled, their bodies warm and mushy from the nap, with Eddie’s lips on Steve’s and Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair, Eddie remembers the overheard conversation.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since.

Every single second of what, at first, seemed to be yet another annoying Monday, has been filled with reverie and anticipation. Dustin’s right – Eddie loves Steve. He loves him enough to risk hell for him, enough to argue with anyone who’s in any way mean to him. Enough to take his hand and say “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m with you”, even though Eddie’s the biggest coward in the whole wide world.

Eddie loves him. Loves his goofy smiles and scrunched happy faces, loves his moles and the uneven mustache he grows out sometimes when he’s bored. Eddie loves how gentle Steve is, how thoughtful and kind-hearted he is. How he helps Gran Fran replant her flowers each month with more enthusiasm than Eddie’s ever shown to anyone. How he talks to children, how much respect he has for those undermined by everyone else.

Eddie loves how he’s learned to stand up for himself. He’s proud of Steve, of how much he’s grown, of how he knows how to express what he needs and what he wants now. Eddie’s loved him for ages, maybe even longer than he’s aware of, but every single significant and insignificant change in Steve’s behavior and point of view makes him fall a little bit harder, every time. In any shape, in any form, there’s one constant in Eddie’s life: his love for Steve.

He likes to think that they do that to each other, both of them. That they help each other through inevitable changes, painful regressions and euphoric victories alike. He likes to think that together, they make one, healthy, living being – and apart they’re good, because they’ve grown to be good people thanks to the connections they’ve made overall. He likes this idea of just being good, together and apart. And he loves Steve for giving him the opportunity to be just that.

Eddie wants it to last. Desperately, intensely, madly. He wants it to last and he needs it to keep happening – he knows that, and he knows he has the capacity to do that. To be there, to stay. His hands touch Steve’s thigh, not in the slightest covered by those silly Hawkins Tigers shorts he’s kept, then they touch Steve’s soft, scarred belly, then they touch his chest, where his heart is beating steadily and peacefully, and he keeps kissing him and Steve keeps clingling back to him, and Eddie’s so sure.

He wants this. He wants to experience growing old together, he wants them to get all wrinkly and bald together, he wants the fights over who gets the most comfortable chair in their grandkids’ living room. He wants them to experience the highs and the lows of the family that they already have, and the one they’re going to build someday.

Eddie wants this. He wants Steve. The whole deal; the promised forever. And he doesn’t want to wait another second.

“Steve,” Eddie says, cutting the kiss short so suddenly Steve actually pulls him closer, chasing after the warmth of his lips. “I’m saying yes.”

“Mm. Okay,” he mumbles back, too kiss- and sleep-hazy to catch Eddie’s intention right away. He tries to bump their noses together—which is adorable, really, but Eddie can’t let him hijack and self-sabotage this proposal too.

“No, Steve,” he squeezes Steve’s side until he looks at him properly. “I love you. I’m saying yes.”

In awe, Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through confusion, true bewilderment, a bit of fear and fleeting exhilaration, to finally settle on disbelief.

“How did you—”

Eddie laughs a little at that. “I called and you didn’t pick up.” Steve makes a little oh sound, already looking like a kicked puppy. “But it’s okay, doesn’t matter, not the point,” Eddie jumps in, anticipating an unnecessary apology. “The point is, I love you, and I’m saying yes.”

Steve stares at him for a long second, his eyes wide and earnest. His fingers slide from Eddie’s hair to finally settle on both of his cheeks, cradling them lovingly. Eddie kinda wants to cry.

“You’ll marry me?” Steve asks, incredulous, his voice only a bit louder than a whisper. The way he accentuates the word “marry” gives yet another layer of meaning to such a simple question. You’ll love me? Forever?

“I’ll marry you,” he replies without hesitation. “You’ll marry me?” You’ll love me? With my flaws?

“I’ll marry you,” Steve says back. Then he grins with his eyes glistening in the bedside light, and squishes Eddie’s cheeks so hard it squeezes the unshed tear right from his eye. “We’ll get married!”

Steve giggles happily, and Eddie laughs with him. There’s so much joy inside him—them, the whole room seems to get bigger. “We will,” he adds through a smile, already peppering his fiancé’s face with kisses.

“Oh gosh, I have to call Robin,” Steve manages through his giggles and Eddie loves him so much. “And Dustin!”

So, so much.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Falling for you

Summary: When you decided to bring your daughter to Colombia to work for the CIA to take Pablo Escobar down, you never thought you would find someone to fall in love with....

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader

Wordcount: 6.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: colleagues to friends to lovers, reader has a daughter, mentions of dead husband, death of best friend, angst, fluff, domestic Javi, kissing, smut (unprotected sex), feeeeeelings

A/N: This fic has been in the making for almost 2 years. I can't really explain why, but it took a long time and before I keep on editing it, I put it out in the world. I'm aware the last thing the CIA would do is send a single mother with her child to Columbia in the eighties but this is fiction and I don't want to hear complaints lol Also please let me know how you like the mood boards this year. I'm trying to change things up

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“He’s starring again.” You looked up from the file you were reading, looking at your partner Enrique before you let your eyes wander to the desk across the room. You had been here in Colombia for a good three months now. It might have been the worst idea you ever had to take your daughter with you to one of the most dangerous countries in the world, but it was not like something was holding you back in the states. 

You were used to the looks of all the men who thought they were more important than you. 

More intelligent than you.

The whispers behind your back. 

The catcalls. 

How they always tried to talk over you. But they didn’t know what you knew. They didn’t know the resources you had. Working as one of the few women at the CIA as an active agent took a lot from you. But you did it for the greater good. You did not talk to many of the men working in your department. Except for your partner Enrique and your supervisor. You and Enrique had been working together back in the states and him coming with you was one of the conditions you had before you agreed to go. You needed someone you could trust if you would work here to help to take down the biggest drug cartel in the world. You needed someone you could trust your daughter with, apart from the two nannies the CIA was providing all around the clock. 

Of course the safer and easier way would have been to stay back in the states. Where your daughter could play outside without being watched by at least one CIA Agent. But ever since your husband died almost four years ago on a mission, you had been searching for the change you needed in your life. And against all better judgement you found yourself agreeing to go and take your six year old daughter Eva with you to Colombia. Was it crazy? Obviously. Did it still feel like the right decision? Absolutely.

Javier Peña was looking at you, a cigarette between his lips. The first three buttons of his baby blue shirt were open and his finger kept rubbing over the side of his face. You nodded at him before you focused back on the files in front of you.

“Do you think he would still look at you like that if he knew about Eva?” Enrique whispered. You rolled your eyes. 

“He can look at me all he wants. I know how good I look today,” you chuckled and made him laugh. You were wearing a white silk blouse and dark red dress pants.

You did enjoy flirting with Javier Peña. 

He and his partner Steve were the only ones around here who actually talked to you. And in Javier’s case, try to get into your pants. And a part of you did enjoy the attention you got for him.

No one had looked at you like he did since your late husband. 

And even though you knew it was dangerous to entertain his flirtations, you found yourself doing it. You found yourself thinking about him more often, even though you knew that nothing would ever come out of it. He was, well, he was Javier Peña. Fucking everything that just looked his way and you were a widowed single mom. 

Of course you did enjoy it when he invited you for a drink after work at the bar around the corner. Who wouldn’t enjoy being invited for a drink by a handsome man? The problem you had was that he knew exactly how handsome he was and he knew how to use it. Because deep down, in the moments Javier Peña was just himself and not the guarded DEA Agent with commitment issues, you could see him as a man you could fall in love with.

“Why did we end up in this shithole again?” Enrique asked. You were about to answer when Carillo came back in, shouting in Spanish and everyone around got up and moved.

“What’s happening?” You asked, internally cursing yourself for not knowing more Spanish.

“Something about La Quico and a brothel?” 

There was something about La Quico and a brothel and you knew from the moment you heard about the intel and the plan that it would go to shit. Now, as you were standing outside, bulletproof vest still on, watching how body after body was carried out of the building, you kept shaking your head. 

If any of these fuckers would have just listened to you. 

Woman after woman was carried out. Dead. But your knees almost gave out when you saw your partner's lifeless body being carried out. Hugging yourself, you looked away from him and up to the sky to stop yourself from crying, They did not need to see you crying. You would wait to break down until you were home and after your daughter was tucked it.

You felt someone stand next to you.

“I’m sorry,” Javier said and you breathed in deeply, not looking away from the sky.

“It’s not your fault,” you answered quietly. Because it wasn’t. Javier actually had been more than vocal about what a shit idea this was in the first place.

“I’m still sorry,” you smelled the smoke he breathed out and you finally looked at him. He looked as tired as you felt. You reached for the cigarette between his lips inhaling the smoke yourself, before you handed it back to him. Steve came to stand beside him, the same tired expression on his face.

“I think we could all use a drink,” he said and you sighed.

“He’s been my partner for more than 8 years. And my friend for almost 20,” you shook your head, looking at Steve before your eyes fell back on Javier.

“I really wanna go home.” 

“We’ll take you.” Steve said.

You could still see the lights on in your daughters room and you sighed. You weren’t ready to tell her that her Uncle Ric wouldn’t be helping her with her Spanish skills anymore, that he wouldn’t help her paint her bedroom after he made the big plan for her to get her jungle book room.

“I’ll walk you in,” Javier said as the car stopped. You only nodded, saying your thanks to Steve as you stepped out and walked across the street. 

“Are you okay on your own tonight?” He asked, as you opened the door to the house, walking in. Javier kept following you.

“I’m not alone, and I am planning on getting drunk and then cry myself to sleep. It’s Saturday tomorrow right?” You asked and he nodded. 

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Javier said quietly. You felt the tears in the corner of your eyes and you prayed he would just turn around and leave. You just nodded, your lips already trembling. The reality of how alone you felt hit you like a brick as you looked at the apartment door across from yours, where Enrique lived… used to live. 

“Please go Javier. I don’t need you to see me breaking down,” you pleaded and turned away from him, putting the key into the lock of your apartment.

He sighed before he said your name. You felt his hand on your shoulder and against your better judgement you turned around and let him pull you against him, as you sobbed into his shirt.

You blamed it on the loss of your best friend, the need to feel something, that you just leaned in, your ear on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his hands rubbed soothingly over your back.

“You are going to get through this,” he whispered. You enjoyed this moment. Standing outside of your apartment in his arms. He wasn’t being a flirt. He was just there to comfort you. You breathed in deeply, his scent in your nose and you had never noticed just how good he smelled.

“Thank you Javier,” you whispered and brought some distance in between you. Looking up into his tired eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you, you were more than grateful when you heard footsteps behind your door. Untangling yourself from him you brushed your tears away and put a smile on your lips just in time before the door opened. Eva jumped into your arms as you turned around.

“I missed you Mommy!” She giggled and you felt yourself smile as you picked her up and carried her in your arms.

“I missed you too, princess,” you whispered into her hair, before you set her down.

Looking up you saw Maria standing there with a tired smile on her lips. 

“I tried everything Miss, but she wanted to wait until you’re home.” 

“It’s okay. Thank you,” you nodded at her. She looked behind you and you followed her gaze, finding Javier standing in your door as if he was out of place. Maria nodded at him as she said her goodbyes. He stepped out of her way as she left.

“Either in or out Pena,” you said. He looked at you, about to open his mouth when Eva came back with a painting she had made today.

“Who is that?” She asked looking at Javier.

“That is one of the Agents I’m working with,” you explained nodding at him. He still looked between you and Eva like a fish out of the water before he shook out of it.

“I’m Javi. And I should go before my partner drives off without me,” he said the last words looking at you. You nodded.

“Bye Javi. Thanks for bringing my mom home safe,” Eva smiled, and you sighed.

“Go brush your teeth, I’ll tuck you in in just a moment, okay?” You smiled down at her, your hands brushing over her cheek before you leaned down to kiss her forehead. She nodded, waving towards Javier and left the room to go to the bathroom.

“She’s a…” Javier began.

“Yeah,” you nodded, walking towards him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“You never asked,” you shrugged. He nodded. You could see the many questions he had in his eyes. 

“Will the two of you be okay here tonight? Alone?”

“We will. Thank you. And now go, before Steve actually drives off without you,“ you smiled forced.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday?” He asked, sucking his bottom lip in. You nodded.

“Good night Javier,” He nodded too and turned around, slowly walking down the hallway.

“It’s Javi,” he called over his shoulder and you frowned.

“Friends get to call me Javi,” he looked at you. You had to smile at that before you finally closed the door behind you.

Within two weeks after this day, everything had changed. You moved into the same building as Javi and Steve, after a brief visit to the states for Enrique’s funeral. You actually found a close friend in Steve’s wife Connie. But most of all the absence of your best friend had been hard on you. 

You never actually told him how grateful you were for his help. And for coming to this country with you, just because you felt the need to change your life. You spend the nights crying yourself to sleep, feeling responsible for his death. If he hadn’t agreed to come down to Colombia with you, he would still be alive. 

And you wouldn’t have to look into your daughters sad eyes when she remembered that Uncle Ric wouldn’t come around to cook her favourite meal. You never learned the secret on what exactly Enrique did with the mac & cheese that made her go absolutely nuts, and now you wouldn’t have a chance to. 

Work had been one big mess ever since the fail at the brothel. And it took all willpower you had to not go around and tell everyone “I told you so”. You also had a new partner. Well, two. Steve and Javier insisted on you joining them. Not that you had a chance when you came back on Monday morning and your desk was standing a joined to theirs. You had spend the whole weekend crying when you weren’t around Eva and this had almost made you tear up again.

Javier had almost entirely stopped flirting with you, which was the biggest change. He had actually been nothing but nice and respectful and you were wondering what it was that made him like this. Not that you minded. 

He made the effort to get to know you, asking little question here and there. Asking about Eva and what her hobbies were. 

You were fascinated by this side of Javi you got to know now. 

But somehow you missed the way he used to look at you. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” Steve asked, as you were sitting over another file of leads going nowhere.

“We wanted to paint Eva’s room. She chose green. And I absolutely hate it,” you chuckled.

“How come you never told anyone you had a kid?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“No one ever asked,” You shrugged. 

“People don’t really talk to me because I'm CIA and I'm a woman. And I don’t speak more than 10 words of Spanish.”

“Yikes, we really are assholes,” Steve shook his head and you laughed.

“Well… You’re not that bad. And you have a wife that bakes cake, so you’re on my good side,” you joked and Steve chuckled. 

“But what is going on with Javier lately?”

“So you noticed it too? I kept asking him but he just shrugged it off.” 

“Maybe he needs to get laid,” you shrugged and Steve grinned.

“You offering?” You heard Javier’s voice behind you and you glared at Steve who tried not to laugh. Turning in your seat you looked up at the man in question. He grinned down at you.

“What if I told you I'm a lesbian?”

“That would only make it hotter,” he winked. You turned in your seat looking at Steve. “Okay I think he’s back.” You chuckled.

“If you need any help, just say the word,” Steve said as you walked down the hallway. It was Friday and you had just come home. One of the perks of living together with Javi and Steve was that you could use one car to get to work. 

“Will do, thanks!” You smiled. 

“Help with what?” Javi asked, standing next to you. You were now occupying the apartment across from him.

“I want to paint Eva’s room tomorrow. And let’s just say it’s not my biggest talent. Enrique used to do things like that. He actually planned the whole thing,” you smiled sadly looking at the floor before you breathed in deeply and looked at Javi. He had a strange expression on his face.

“What about I’ll come help and you cook that thing you have been cooking last weekend?” he rubbed his moustache.

“You can come over for some food without working, Javi,” you said right away. 

“You tell me that now? What is it you cooked there last week?”

“I’m trying to figure out how Enrique made his mac & cheese cause Eva loved it so much.” You said quietly. You could hear her laughter behind the door.

“Sorry. I… Fuck. I keep reminding you of his death,” Javier shook his head.

“You’ve been a big help. I mean it. And if you want to spend your Saturday painting my daughter's room, you are welcome to do it,” you shrugged. He smiled a little.

“Okay. See you tomorrow then.” 

One thing you noticed since moving was that Javier was a night owl. Of course you knew about his reputation but you didn’t judge him. He was an attractive man. If you were him you would use that to your advantage too. When Eva was in bed, and you were sitting in yours, a glass of wine in hand as you continued to work on files it was more than once that you heard just how much of a night owl Javier was. Either his women were very good actors or he really knew what he was doing.  

“Mommy?” You heard the sleepy voice of your daughter and looked up from your book. She was standing in your door, her hair a wild mess. You looked at the clock. Nearly 1 am.

“Bad dream?” You asked. You saw her nod.

“Come here,” you smiled.

She climbed under your covers, snuggling to your side as you closed your book, setting it down on the bedside table. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked softly, stroking away her hair so you could look at her. She shook her head. 

“Okay,” you kissed her head.

It was a couple minutes later, you thought she was already asleep when she mumbled. 

“You are not gonna leave me too mommy, right?” she whispered. 

You gulped, pulling her closer towards you. 

“I’m never gonna leave you baby,” you promised, your heart breaking. 

She nodded. 

“I miss Uncle Ric,” she said. You fought the tears. 

“I miss him too,” you whispered. 

You didn’t know how long you laid in bed, watching your daughter fall asleep. You had questioned coming to Colombia from the beginning. 

You had been looking to change jobs for a while, and the job in Colombia was the only job the CIA had offered to various agents who had all declined it. Now that you were living here, you knew why. 

It was beyond dangerous to take your daughter to this country. The CIA took your safety serious, which could have to do with how your late husbands death, which happened on a mission the CIA fucked up. 

You could have asked the CIA for everything and they probably would have given it to you, just to keep you quiet. And maybe you should just have taken the money they offered you, buy a house on the beach, settle down with your daughter somewhere safe. 

But there was always a little part of you brain that wanted to…. Avenge the death of your husband who had died because he found himself in the middle of a cartel deal gone wrong in Mexico. 

You looked at your daughter, hoping that your selfish decision would not cost her more of her family in the future, before you let yourself finally drift of to sleep. 

There was a knock on the door just as you finished washing the dishes from breakfast. Eva was wearing a bright blue kids overall you had bought while getting supplies to paint, running past you to the door before she stopped and turned around. 

„Can I open Mommy?“ She asked. 

„You gotta ask whose there first,“ you remind her and she nodded.

„WHO’S THERE?“ She yelled loudly through the door and you chuckled. 

„Uh…. Javi?“ The man behind the door said, sounding it like a question. Eva looked at you and you nodded at her and she unlocked the door and opened it. 

Javi looked at Eva then at you before he stepped into your apartment. 

„Next time we need the codeword from you Javi,“ Eva said and he nodded seriously. 

„What is the codeword?“

„Pancakes,“ she whispered loudly.

„Good morning,“ he said a little awkward. Eva threw the door closed behind him, before she ran back towards her room. 

You shook your head amused.

„Good Morning Javi. Ready to spend time with a six year old girl who is obsessed with the jungle book?“ You asked, drying your hands, before you turned around to him. 

He was wearing some older looking jeans and a white, very tight, T-Shirt. 

„I have you know I have a lot of younger cousins. I think I can handle one girl,“ he said over confident and you nodded. 

„We will see,“ you said, a smile playing around your lips before you nodded with your head towards your daughters bedroom.

You stopped counting after the tenth time Eva insisted on replaying The Bare Necessities. It was a surprisingly fun day. 

You had to admit that you had underestimated Javier Peña.

You knew he was good at his job, but you didn’t know he was good with children. He explained every step he made to paint the walls to Eva and praised her when she began to paint herself. And he listened to every story your daughter told him. Never annoyed with her, always asking follow up questions. 

And once she brought out her little recorder and played the jungle book tape you even noticed him humming along to the song, making you smile as you watched them both together. 

They had both threw you out of her room so you could make dinner, leaving Javi and Eva to rearrange her room now that it was finished painting. 

You could hear them laugh and you found yourself smiling to yourself. You missed the sound of her laughter ever since Enrique died. 

You had put the Mac & cheese into the oven when Javier walked into your kitchen. 

He had paint all over his arms, his shirt too. There was a smile on his lips and you found yourself smiling back. 

„Enough Jungle book?“ You asked and he huffed a laugh. 

„For now. She’s rearranging her stuffed animals on her bed,“ he said, leaning with his hip at the kitchen counter, watching you. 

„Oh good. This will take her at least an hour. She’s a little perfectionist,“ you said. 

„That’s… That’s good…“ Javi hummed and you frowned, turning towards him. He had a hand on his hip, his other hand pulling at his lip as he looked at you. 

„Why?“ You asked. 

He seemed… nervous. His eyes focused on you, seemingly fighting with himself about something. 

„Javi…“ you started but he stepped towards you, one of his hands coming up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. Your breath hitched and you looked at him with wide eyes, your lips slightly parted. 

You were nervous, but not in a bad way. It was more… anticipation of what would happen next. 

„Can I kiss you?“ He asked. Instead of answering you nodded slowly, seeing him smile before he leaned in and kissed you softly. Your eyes slipped close and his lips found yours. You felt his other hand come to rest on the back of your head, and he slowly guided you so your back was against the counter as he slowly deepened the kiss. His tongue brushing over your lips until you parted them for him, sighing against his mouth. You rested one of your hands on his chest, your other hand in his hair as he moved his lips over yours. 

He rested his forehead against yours as he parted form your lips, both of you panting for air. 

„Wow,“ you whispered, opening your eyes. He was smiling at you. 

„Yeah,“ he whispered, kissing you again. 

You both jumped apart when you heard Eva call for you. You felt like a teenager who got caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing when you looked at Javi. You both chuckled at each other and you took a deep breath. 

„I should check on her,“ you said. He nodded. 

„Go. I’ll keep an eye on dinner,“ he said. You ran a hand through your hair, before you turned around, seeing Javi adjust himself out of the corner of your eyes. 

Date Nights were not something you ever had before. Yes you went on dates when you were married, but there was never a big fuss about it. 

Javier on the other hand, had taken you out every Friday night since you kissed. And it didn’t matter that you couldn’t openly date, not just because of work, but because the cartels had eyes everywhere, you were just happy to bet able to spend time with him outside of work.

Steve and Connie were happy to watch Eva for the evening, happy to have someone to play with their recently adopted daughter Olivia. You had been there in the house when Olivia was found. The scene still haunting your dreams. 

Javier and you remained strictly professional at work. Of course there was talk about how Javier hadn’t been to a brothels in some time, but no one ever dared to ask, because he still got his intel from the girls. 

You weren’t officially dating, but the both of you spend almost all your free time together. Things had become so domestic that even Eva seemed to realise things were changing. Not that you were hiding it from her. Javier had started to hang out at your place some more. Dinner for the three of you becoming a almost daily fixture whenever Javi was around and not working. 

There were secret touches around Eva at the beginning until she caught Javier kissing you goodbye one night. She had a million questions for the both of you, and you had to give it to Javi, he answered every single one of them until Eva was satisfied, allowing him to date her mommy which you found beyond adorable. 

You could never even entertain the thought of dating someone your daughter didn’t like. 

That your daughter approved of this new man in your life made the change that was coming even harder. 

Things in Colombia were getting more and more dangerous, leaving you to make the difficult decision to go back to the states. You had put in a request to get relocated which had been approved the week before. 

You and Eva would be going back tomorrow leaving you to have to start over again. It had actually been Javier who had brought his concerns in the first place about you and your daughters safety up. You knew that coming to Colombia as a woman working for the CIA would put a target on your back. But the cruelty of the cartels and above all Pablo Escobar were at an all time high and to hard to ignore much longer. 

So this Friday night would be your last date night with Javier for a while. He had taken you out to your favourite restaurant and held your hand all night, proud to show you off now that the both of you did not have to hide anymore. 

It was the first time he kissed you in a crowded room, unafraid of who was watching. Because he knew you would be safe and out of the country in less than 15 hours. 

And while the two of you had kissed for the first time almost three months before, you did not have sex yet. 

Something you meant to change tonight. 

You unlocked the door to your apartment, inviting him in. He had helped you put your whole life in boxes, promising to oversee them being shipped off to your new home. 

„You gonna tell me where you going yet?“ He asked as you made the both of you a drink. You bit your bottom lip as you turned around, handing him the glass. 

He knew you were going to Texas, he just didn’t know where. 

Javier took a sip while you took one too before you set the glass down on the kitchen table. 

„Laredo,“ you said and his eyes widened. 

„I’m transferring to the DEA in Laredo, Texas,“ you added, waiting for his reaction. You never really talked about the future. But Javier was a man you could see yourself growing old with. You knew he had his own demons, thinking he did not deserve to be loved. 

He had told you that he wanted to work on himself once he was finished with Colombia. 

„Say that again,“ he asked you. He was looking at you with warm eyes, a smile forming on his lips. 

„Eva and me will be moving to Laredo, Texas,“ you said, smiling yourself. 

„Where?“ He asked.

„I found a house. But it needs some work. So I talked to your Dad the last time he called to ask for some help to find a contractor and he offered us his guest room,“ you said shyly. Javi laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

He sat the glass down and walked to you, his hands crossing on your lower back, his chest against yours. 

„You did this all behind my back?“ He asked. You nodded. 

„Surprise?“ You asked and he kissed you. 

„You gonna be on our farm?“

„Eva is already looking forward to learn how to ride a horse,“ you nodded. 

„Fuck, she’s gonna have my Dad wrapped around her little finger in no time,“ he chuckled.

„Just like she has you?“ You asked and cried out in laughter as he dinged his fingers into your side, making you giggle. 

„Rude,“ he said. 

„But true,“ you shrugged and he kissed you again. 

„I’m not complaining,“ he mumbled against your lips. You sighed as his lips slowly kissed down your jaw and then your neck. 

„Javi,“ you gasped and he hummed against your skin. 

„Please take me to bed,“ you whispered and he looked up at you. 

„Are you asking me…“

„Yeah…“ you nodded, both of your hands resting against his chest. He took a deep breath. 

„I need words,“ he clarified and you got on your tiptoes. 

„I wanna have sex with you Javier,“ you whispered against his ear.

He took his time undressing you, once you made it to your bedroom. His lips following a path of every inch of skin he revealed. When you were standing in just your underwear in front of him before he kissed you, mumbling against your lips how beautiful you were, before he helped you strip him off his clothes. 

You gulped when you saw his cock for the first time, not really surprised at the lack of underwear on his side. Biting your lip you looked up at him, seeing him wink at you before he kissed you again. 

He laid you down on your bed, his lips never leaving yours. 

You moaned when you felt his weight on top of you, his arms resting next to your head to keep him hovering above you. You felt him rub against you, his cock rubbing against your stomach, making you both groan. 

He slowly kissed down your body. 

Your neck.

Your collarbone. 

Right between your breasts. He looked up at you then a question in his eyes. You arched your back and he smiled as he reached around and unhooked your bra, slowly pulling it down your shoulders until he could pull it off. 

„Beautiful,“ he hummed, his lips kissing the top of each breast before he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered, your back arching again, your hands playing with his hair to keep him close. 

He moaned against your skin, his tongue playing with your now hard nipple inside his mouth. 

„Javi,“ you moaned softly and  he released your nipple. 

„Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,“ he grinned and you felt yourself flush, giving him a shy smile. 

„I wanna taste you,“ he said, kissing your other breast. 

„Mhhh,“ you hummed.

His lips wandered down your body, his tongue dipping into your belly button with a grin before he kissed right above your panty line. 

You released a shaky breath and he smiled at you. 

„Can I take this off?“ He asked. You nodded, biting your lip. His fingers slipped under the fabric of your panties and he kneeled between your legs pulling them down. Both of his hand ran up your thigh as he leaned back down, his face resting just above your pussy. 

„You’re so wet,“ he said in wonder and you smiled. 

„Just for you.“

He hummed before his face lowered and his lips kissed just above your clit. He inhaled deeply, releasing a groan. 

„Gonna miss this when you’re gone,“ he whispered and you sighed. 

„Guess you have to come home to me quickly then,“ you said and he smiled as he looked up at you. 

„I like the sound of that,“ he said.

„What?“ You asked. 

„Coming home to you,“ he whispered before he licked into you. You grabbed the bedsheet beneath you as he began to eat you out, parting your legs even further. His big hands kept you in place while he devoured you. His tongue playing with your clit before it dipped down and into you. 

„Javi please…“ you moaned.

„Please what?“ He asked.

„Make me cum?“ You begged and he chuckled. 

„Already begging for me….“ He teased and you lightly kicked him in his side, making him chuckle before he leaned back in, eating you out until you were moaning his name, your legs shaking in his hold. He kissed your pussy after you calmed down and have you a proud grin and he leaned back above you, his lips finding yours to give you a deep kiss where you could taste yourself. 

You angled one leg behind him, pushing him down against you. 

„Fuck me, Javi. I want you inside of me,“ you mumbled against his lips.

„Fuck,“ he cursed. He grabbed his cock, lining himself up against your pussy. 

You both moaned when he slowly sank into you. Inch by inch filling you smoothly until his whole cock was inside of you, filling you perfectly. His forehead came to rest against yours and you wiggled your hips, making him groan. 

„Fuck…. Please give me a moment…“ he groaned and you smiled, pecking his lips. He kissed you slow but deep. Licking into your mouth. 

You made out for a while before he slowly bottomed out and pushed back into you, keeping a slow pace. 

„Feels fucking perfect, baby,“ he moaned against your lips, fucking you deeply. 

You wrapped both of your legs around him, your hands on his back and in his hair. 

„Shit I’m not gonna last, feels so good, he groaned and you felt one of his hands slip between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. 

„I want you to cum with me,“ he said and began to circle your clit while he fucked faster into you. 

„Javi,“ you whimpered, arching your back. His head dipped down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulled your nipple between his teeth, pulling it playfully and your whole body shuddered as your orgasm washed over you, whimpering beneath him just as he twitched and came deep inside of you. 

You sighed, your fingers brushing through his hair as he kissed you, both of you smiling against each others lips. 

You stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each others embrace before he slowly pulled out of you, pecking your lips. He went to the bathroom to clean himself off, bringing a washcloth to clean you too. 

„I’m gonna get Eva from Steve and Connie’s,“ he mumbled against your lips and you nodded dreamily at him, watching him as he got dressed. 

You got into your bathrobe and walked out of your bedroom just as Javi walked back into your apartment, a sleeping Eva in his arms. 

Smiling at him you opened the door to her bedroom for him, watching him as he put her carefully into her bed. He had been doing this since the first date night, and it never ceased to amaze you just how perfect Javi fit into your life. 

He kissed her forehead before he walked towards you, taking your hand to lead you back into your bedroom. 

You knew you had to sleep but as you watched Javi strip out of his clothes and get into bed with you you were overcome with a sadness, knowing that his was the last time you would see him for a while. 

You laid in bed, facing each other. 

„I love you,“ you whispered, wanting him to hear the words before you leave. 

He gave you a soft smile before he slipped closer towards you, his nose brushing over yours. 

„I love you too,“ he whispered back and kissed you. 

Both of you finding close to no sleep until it was time to get ready to leave for the airport the next morning. 

„Bye Javi,“ Eva sobbed as Javi held her in his arms the next morning. She was clinging to him like a koala, clutching his shirt in her tiny fists. He was still holding your hand.

Javi had gotten breakfast while you got Eva ready before he drove you both to the airport.

You saw him take a shaky breath, kissing her hair. 

„I’m gonna miss you,“ she mumbled and you felt tears stinging in the corner of your eyes. 

„I’m gonna miss you and your mom too. So much,“ Javi whispered, pulling you closer. He let go of your hand to put his arm around you, pulling you into the hug. 

„You have to fight the bad guys. And then you can come live with us all the time,“ Eva mumbled and Javi looked at you. You gave him a watery smile.

„I’ll do my best. Be good for your mommy,“ he said and you saw her nod, before he slowly let her down. She hugged your side and you wrapped your arm around her. 

„Be safe,“ you whispered looking up at him. 

„I will,“ he promised before he kissed you softly. 

„I love you,“ you said and he smiled, a tear now running down his cheek. 

„I love you, too,“ he kissed you again.

[maybe-im-dark]

Half the boyfriend, half the fun

Chapter 2 | Chapter 1

The best way to pass the time until his legs fully grew back was to sit in Dopinder's car and eat samosas. Wade ignored Dopinder's complaints that his mother had baked them for him. She could make new ones. He had bigger worries. He couldn’t stop thinking about Logan and the fact that he was responsible for his condition. Damn, he couldn’t even remember exactly what had happened! If only he’d never convinced Logan to come along on this mission. But that was just another bad decision added to the long line of bad decisions that defined his life. He could practically hear his father’s voice. Idiot, faggot, loser! You can’t do anything right! Wade shook his head. No! He would make it right. He would find a way to fix this.

He pulled his phone out of his belt pouch and sent a text.

Wade: Hey :3

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: What do you want?

Wade: I need a fayvr. Big one

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: ?

Wade: Logan’s hewrt. U need to find out wat they're dooing to him

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Find out yourself

Wade: I...may or may not be bent from the promises

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Not my problem

Wade: Then I’ll brayk in

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: You’re gonna get in so much trouble

Wade: Aight bet

Wade looked down at his legs. A few toes were still missing, but otherwise, they were back in their scarred, pale glory.

"Dopinder, I have to go. You wouldn’t happen to have pants for me, would you?"

He eyed Dopinder’s jeans.

Dopinder shook his head vigorously. "No, you’re not getting mine!"

Wade sighed. "It’s probably for the best. These buns don’t wear Levi’s!"

Sneaking around the back of the building was easier than expected. There was no sign of security cameras, but then again, who needed them with mutants who could see through walls? Unfortunately for him, none of the windows were open, so his plan of entering quietly was thwarted. Concentrating, he scanned the ground until he found what he was looking for.

"Let him, who is without sin, cast the first stone!" he muttered with a grin, tossing a rock through the window.

After climbing inside, Wade realized he was completely lost. The mansion was a maze, and he’d only been there a few times. The wood-paneled walls all looked the same, and the portraits of old white men didn’t provide any hints as to where he was.

"Quentin, was that you? I told you to..."

Storm was descending the stairs. Her white hair was styled in a sassy pixie cut, and she wore a pink crop top with glittery letters spelling out, "RAINING ON YOUR PARADE."

When she saw Wade, she let out a sharp shriek and covered her eyes.

"Wade?"

"Yes?"

"Why aren’t you wearing pants?"

The mercenary puffed out his chest. "Marvel Jesus doesn’t need mundane things like pants!"

Storm sighed, still covering her eyes. "I’ll take you to the Professor."

Now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants emblazoned with the school emblem, Wade sat stiffly in front of Professor Xavier’s desk, arms crossed, staring at the wall. The spacious office felt confining to him, like a cage, despite the ample space and the light streaming through the tall windows. Behind the desk was a bookshelf set into the wood-paneled wall, filled with countless books whose gilded, ornate titles he couldn’t decipher. In one corner stood a large globe, and in another, a sitting area with a chessboard. On the desk itself were a few file folders, a Newton’s cradle, and a photo of the Professor himself, younger and with a full head of hair. Beside him stood another young man with his arm draped around him, presumably Magneto. It might have been more than a friendly gesture; they’d been arguing for decades like an old married couple.

"Wade," Charles said, giving him a calming smile. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

Wade shook his head defiantly. "I don’t want a drink. I want to see Logan."

The Professor’s expression turned somber. "You know that’s not possible."

"Urgh, okay. I’m sorry for calling you Egghead. Can I see Logan now?"

"I don’t think you fully understand the gravity of the situation, Wade. Something has nullified Logan’s healing factor. Dr. McCoy is currently treating him, and any outside influence could be harmful to him in this critical state."

Wade’s eyes narrowed. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

Charles thoughtfully placed a finger on his chin. "Well, you could help by telling us what happened. Jean mentioned that you also lost your legs. A failed mission, I assume. What exactly happened there?"

Wade ran his hands over his face. "That’s the thing! I don’t remember! I..."

His voice broke. Loser. He was a fucking loser. The love of his life was fighting for his life, and his brain had decided to shut down. Logan was going to die painfully, and it was all his fault. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Charles took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I could help you remember."

Wade nearly jumped out of his chair. "Oh no! After Cassandra Nova—did you know you had a psychopathic twin sister?— there’s no way I’m letting anyone into my head again."

"I’ll only see what you allow me to see, and only with your consent," Charles assured him.

Wade swallowed and nodded. After all, this wasn’t about him. Charles slowly extended his fingertips toward him. He’d nearly reached Wade’s temple when the screams echoed through the halls. Desperate, raw, agonizing screams. Logan’s screams.

Wade burst out the door, ignoring the Professor’s shouts. He ran down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet. He didn’t know where he was going, just following the sound of the screams, his chest tight with fear. His bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as he followed the sounds to a door with frosted glass. It was locked, but that was no obstacle for Wade, who’d served in a military special unit. He pivoted halfway, raised his leg, and kicked hard. The door burst open.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him. Hank was bending over an operating table. Logan lay on it, his torso crudely stapled back together at the hips. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What froze the blood in Wade’s veins were the tubes. Countless tubes and wires ran out of Logan’s body and back into him at different points. He looked like a machine. But unlike machines, he was screaming.

Wade was reminded of Weapon X. He quickly made his way over to Logan. Logan’s eyes darted back and forth beneath his closed lids.

"Oh God, what did you do to him?"

He reached out to stroke Logan’s face, but Logan’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. His eyes snapped open, revealing yellow irises staring at Wade from blood-red sclera. His lips parted, exposing razor-sharp fangs. Then he lunged forward and sank his teeth into Wade.

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection Chapter 8

Tw: depression and inmate violence (not graphic)

Masterlist

Batman knew it had to have been Daelus to leak the story. The man had asked to send a letter and then the very next morning Vicki Vale had a story out about the scandal? There wasn’t a chance of it being anyone else at that point. Part of him was mad about it, given that they weren’t ready to handle the aftermath, but the other part of him understood the desperation. Men in bad situations did stupid things trying to fix them.

News outlets had leapt onto the story like savage wolves. It was only hours before the world knew of Dealus’s actions and the true nature of his medicines.

Just as Bruce thought, there was a savage fight over ethics and human rights. The two loudest sides were the people claiming that using the medicine was complacent in torture and child endangerment, and the people claiming it was ableist and classist of anyone who agreed with the former group.

Bruce couldn’t fully agree with either of the points. He could never condone the treatment Danny had gone through, but he wasn’t blind to the suffering Ameliorate had abated. Just like most things in life, there was no black and white answer.

He really wished there was.

“B?” Dick’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “How bad is it?”

“Hmm…”

“That bad?”

Bruce grunted again. It was worse than ‘that bad’. The Justice League was now being accused of not acting fast enough on a shady company, as if something like this was usually part of their duties.

Granted in hindsight they should have acted much sooner.

He let out a grumbling sigh before paging the League for an emergency meeting. They couldn’t go back and fix what happened but now they were going to mitigate the damage as much as possible. Though that ship might have sailed already.

With a swish of his cape, Batman went over to the zeta tube and in seconds he was up in the Watchtower.

Several of the others were right behind him. He led the way to one of the meeting rooms to wait for everyone. Thankfully, and promptly, everyone filed in and took their seats.

Batman pursed his lips before starting. “As you all are aware, the news of what happened regarding Danny has been leaked to the public. There has been great backlash against the League for how slow we were to respond to this, as the news had put it, dangerous precedent for business affairs.”

There was a wave of complaints that filled the room. Batman held his hand up, having to wait several minutes before everyone got their outrage under control. “I am aware that this may be unfair, but it may also not be. We need to have our best public speakers at the press conference. Superman? I want you front and center. I will have a list of topics that are confidential at the moment as well as a few pre-written answers if a question stumps you. Diana, I want you to help him.”

“The two of you are the favorites of the public, they will be easier on you. As for everyone else: Danny is fully confidential. If anyone tries to get you to speak about him, you will answer with ‘The league has already made their statements on the matter’, is this understood?”

A chorus of yesses followed. Flash held up his hand. “What are we going to do with Ameliorate? We can’t let them keep selling medicine, can we?”

“Not as freely.” Bruce stated. “For the time being they are going to be put under suspension. No medicine can be sold unless it is necessary for survival, no patients can be seen under the same conditions. In the wake of things, I think it best if we employ teams on site of dispensaries and clinics to protect the people who need the medication to live. I don’t want protests to get violent with those people as the targets.”

“I agree,” Diana was sitting up straight as a rod, anger barely hidden. “But I also believe there shouldn’t be any more collecting from Danny.”

Another chorus of agreement and Batman held his hand up again. “No, we will not collect more from the boy.”

“Then what of the people who rely on the medicine to live?” J’onn asked, brows furrowed.

Batman didn’t answer as fast this time. He’d been thinking about it and frankly, the only solution he could come up with was synthesizing something that resembled Danny’s tears. He could have his kids help with it to make it go faster.

He let out a sigh. “I will attempt to synthesize the tears. We can’t just let people die without at least attempting this.”

---

Danny floated in the expanse of space lazily. He didn’t need to breathe and the cold didn’t bother him so he could spend as much time as he wanted up here. With earth so tiny below him all that happened felt so far away-

Not-not that anything had happened to him. Everything was fine. He was just…relaxing after a hard day at school, yeah.

“Danny?” He whipped around at the voice. The green skinned man was back and this time he was holding his hands up placatingly. “My name is J’onn, but you may know me as Martian Manhunter.”

Martian Manhunter? The man who’d been harassing him was Martian Freaking Manhunter?! Of course one of the people he dreamed of meeting was being a massive jerk, that was just Fenton luck. Danny turned to fly away but was stopped by a hand to his shoulder.

“Would you like to see my home?” And just like that he was reeled in like a fish.

J’onn changed the dreamscape to an alien world with strange architecture and beautiful views. When Danny started asking questions about anything and everything, J’onn patiently answered them.

He learned about how the society ran, J’onn’s former job, his family (a clearly sore topic), how his planet was destroyed. J’onn needed a moment after that one, Danny let him compose himself as he explored a little more. This was a dream come true!

Danny asked even more questions until he wore himself out and he changed the surroundings back to empty space.

J’onn floated in silence with him for a while. It was nice. Maybe…maybe J’onn was nice too.

“Can I ask about your family?” J’onn gently nudged.

Danny stiffened. Was this a trap of some kind? He watched the alien in front of him for a moment before snorting. No, this was genuine. So…Dany told him. About his parents hunting ghosts, his sister who wanted to be a brain surgeon and wanted to grow up too fast, and when he was out of things to say about them he started talking about Sam and Tucker.

It was like a weight was lifting from his chest. Their surroundings changed with memories that he brought up; showing the Nastyburger, his home, school, and before he knew it Danny was starting to cry.

He didn’t want to cry, he’d done so much of it, but he couldn’t help it. J’onn held him as he broke down with body-wracking sobs.

---

Diana had noticed how relaxed their ward had become. It seemed J’onn’s new approach was working at first, until tears started slipping from Danny’s eyes again.

She quickly grabbed a tissue and began wiping them away. The poor boy had been through so much and he wasn’t even close to being done, the least she could do was wipe his tears for him.

Minutes after Danny started crying J’onn was taking his hand from the boy’s forehead. He met Diana’s eyes. “He wanted time alone. I believe I have reached him on some level though. He showed me his family and friends.” Diana nodded in relief.

After what had happened three tries ago, none of them were sure Danny would let them help. Showing his family was a huge improvement. A second chance.

“I’ll go tell Batman.” She swept to her feet and made her way to the monitors, where Batman was watching closely. “Batman?”

“Hnn?”

“J’onn says Danny showed him his loved ones.”

“Good progress. Have him come debrief with me when he can.”

Diana offered him a small smile. “I will. Do we have progress on the G.I.W?”

Batman let out a much more frustrated grunt. It took him a moment to compile his thoughts but Diana didn’t mind. She liked that he thought before speaking. “There’s…not good news. Researching them I found a set of acts, the Anti-Ecto acts, that make what they’ve done, what they’re doing, completely legal as long as they can prove their specimens are ghosts.”

“How have we not heard of these before?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce was clearly very frustrated. She understood, he liked having everything under control and no unknowns. This was a very important unknown.

Diana set a hand to his shoulder. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing; the public was going to be just as upset hearing about laws that allowed the torture of a young child.

---

Despite what people thought, Daelus was not the one to spill about his operations. He had wanted that to go quietly. As if he would sacrifice his whole company in an attempt to get the bat to listen to him. It was laughable.

No, the letter he had sent was to his assistant. He wanted Carter to re-start the synthesizing of P’s tears.

They had tried for years with no success, but if they could manage it now maybe the company, and the people who needed their medication to live, could be saved.

Unfortunately he had received a letter back saying that everyone who was working on that project had been put under various forms of arrest, and that his methods had been leaked. Who had leaked it? He wasn’t sure. Everyone was under iron tight NDAs.

Either way Daelus’s company was as good as dead.

Grief didn’t even begin to explain how he felt. His whole life’s ambition was gone, his good intentions marred, his reputation so sullied it might as well have been dragged lower than hell.

To say he was reacting poorly was an understatement. Most days he couldn’t get up to brush his teeth, let alone go to the cafeteria to eat.

Not that it would be safe for him anyway.

He had been moved to an isolation ward since the last time he’d been around the other inmates they had…very violent reactions to seeing him. Daelus shuddered at the memory.

Did he think he deserved it? Well…maybe? He hurt a child, sure, but he had also helped so many people. Surely that mitigated some of the harm. And really, how else would he have gotten tears from P, especially at the volume they needed to produce to keep up?

Surely the result had pardoned at least part of the means.

Though Daelus was put out about the fact that he had done those things to a child. Maybe he should have found a better method. Maybe he should have had his scientists work harder on the synthetic version of his tears.

Maybe he shouldn’t have bought a person in the first place.

Maybe his company shouldn’t have been the only thing he cared about for so long.

A puff of air escaped his lips. Daelus couldn’t change what he had done. He wanted to, yes, but he couldn’t.

He wished he could see P again.

He wished he could apologize.

[siilvan]

bloodsport – interlude

prologue | one | two | three | four | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: while waiting for your answer, makarov ponders on your unusual relationship and his yet-unknown motivations.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, makarov’s pov, he’s a bit fucked up mentally, light obsession?, couple mentions of sex, it's like a character study idk

word count: 2.4k

note: shit's officially hitting the fan in the next chapter, so... enjoy this sorta-kinda character study? dive into makarov's very odd "romantic" side? idk what to call it. hope you like it! (￣▽￣)

"i suppose i could protect you."

"i'm not joining your side, even for this."

vladimir makarov has never been a patient man. when he wants something, he takes it. strength, respect, power— he's razed cities and ended lives for less than that.

but, he's learned patience. his time in the military proved fruitful in this endeavor; being a captain forces a person to wait for things, to work smartly and plan for the future. ever since he left those days behind, he's continued to learn, and now proudly declares himself a master of self-control.

few things can break the restraint that he's put on himself. few people can.

makarov examines the board tacked up on the wall across from him. he leans back in his arm chair and reaches for the tumbler at his side, the whiskey in the glass sloshing against the sides as he lifts it to his lips. he furrows his brow, his attention flitting between the images on the board.

the one-four-one. the task force he technically has to thank for his ascension to the top of the ultranationalists - well, he mainly has his own efforts over the years to thank for that, but he won't deny that the group made things easier by eliminating zakhaev's incompetent heir back in verdansk.

pictures of the members of the squad - and, a handful of allies - stare back at him. his longtime enemy, captain price, ghost, soap, gaz, "nikolai," commander karim...

and, yourself. lieutenant petra. your real name briefly flashes through his mind as he shifts in his seat, his focus now solely on you.

his eyes linger on the photo of you pinned alongside your teammates' portraits. he's well aware that his personal vendetta against price causes him to act irrationally, but you... for whatever reason, makarov is easily influenced by you. he'll die before admitting it aloud, but he's become somewhat enamored with you.

why?

makarov sets the glass aside once more and stands, crossing the small space and stopping in front of the board. he all but ignores any information not pertaining to you. his eyes find you in group photos, he relentlessly scans dossiers and files of information on your professional and personal lives, he reads through your messages with each other and replays the conversations you've shared...

his mind drifts back to your first meeting, just two weeks ago.

⋆⋆⋆

the al-mazrah sun is violent overhead, beating down on him and his men. makarov's grown accustomed to the heat, but the few mumbled complaints that he overhears from his soldiers threaten to make him snap.

he would, if not for the good news overriding the frustration being imposed on him right now. everything has been going to plan— the few bumps in the road have ultimately done little to deter him from reaching his goals. the only worry is the task force in the city; shadow company is an annoyance, but the one-four-one is a true threat to makarov's plans.

when he comes across the scene of destruction, it's almost as if his prayers for the team's elimination are answered. three members of it are in the area; the two men - sergeants gaz and soap, he recognizes fairly quickly - lay pinned under rubble or incapacitated, while the third member stares at him in a daze from a spot closer by.

makarov fights back a twisted grin when he notices the fear gloss over your disoriented expression. you can hardly stay conscious, much less put up a fight, and as one of your teammates frantically shouts for you, he realizes he may have an opportunity here.

you're already fading in and out of consciousness when he orders his men to remove any of the wreckage covering you and, by the time makarov crouches down to gather your mangled body in his arms, you're out cold. the only resistance he faces are weak protests from the sergeants.

in his benevolence, makarov decides to spare the two. they'll dig themselves out of this or succumb to their injuries - either way, it's not his concern.

you, however, take in shallow, ragged breaths in his arms, and he knows that you require care if he intends to keep you alive. the squad accompanying him are soldiers, not doctors— they can do nothing to help, but he can stabilize you in the meantime. that's what he tells himself as he orders his men to evacuate, clutching you close to his chest until the transport plane arrives. he lays you across a section of the seats, barking at one of the soldiers to grab the medical supplies, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows with a heavy sigh.

he's no medic himself - quite the opposite, in fact - but makarov knows enough from his years in the field.

he ushers his men away from you once the supplies are delivered, forcing them to huddle up at the opposite end of the plane as he works. your injuries are severe, but still remarkably mild compared to what they could have been. it's a small miracle that every limb of yours is still intact.

you don't stir at all, even as he peels your gear off and carelessly discards it on the floor, before dragging your shirt up to your chest and examining the sizeable gash running down your side. steady hands clean and disinfect the dirt-stained wound and stitch it closed before his focus shifts to the burns starting to bloom on your skin.

it's a nasty sight, but it hardly fazes him. makarov rolls your sleeves above the afflicted areas on your arms and loosely wraps them in gauze, making a mental note to put you in something with shorter sleeves once you arrive at the prison. he's hurried in wrapping the burns covering your back; not because he is impatient, but because he can sense the prying eyes desperately trying to peer at your partially uncovered form after he removes your shirt.

if they weren't still flying above contested territory, he'd punish his men for their lack of diligence.

makarov carries you into the prison and to the small office that the doctor was permitted after finally arriving. tarkovsky sends him a curious look when he sets you down, already pulling on a pair of sterile gloves and preparing his equipment.

"i trust that you will give her the best care, doctor," makarov utters, stepping back from the operating table. "i will accept nothing less."

tarkovsky hums in acknowledgement as he carefully cuts your uniform open and looks over the freshly completed work. "you've never brought me a prisoner in a condition like this," he replies, referencing the dressings that he starts to unravel. "is she a special target, commander?"

"one-four-one." he says, curt. the doctor seems to understand and nods in response, already beginning to tend to your wounds.

"she will receive nothing but the best, commander makarov."

it barely takes a day for you to awaken, a fact that surprises even makarov himself. he personally handled delivering you to your cell, not trusting any of the depraved prison guards with such a task, and occupied himself with other matters until he received the news that you were awake.

you were as spirited as he expected from someone of your caliber. stubborn, confident, and competent in what you do. it took you over a week to finally kill one of his men, and the one you did kill...

he was pleased with your performance, and he did not spare the rod with the guards assigned to your surveillance.

makarov had been in the middle of dealing with one of the general's men that managed to slip under his radar. he was attacked after a private meeting with his council, earning several cuts from the man's blade before he successfully disarmed and pinned the agent to the floor, beating him into submission. his fists were bruised and smeared red from the force behind each swing, perhaps a bit excessive, but he didn't pay it any mind.

until another man came sprinting down the hall, briefly pausing at the sight of his commander standing over an "ally" beaten to a bloody pulp, only snapping out of his shock after makarov turns to face him. the soldier opened his mouth and practically vomited out his words, something about "the prisoner attacking the doctor."

the sight that he was greeted with upon arriving at your cell could only be described as stimulating.

you, the ever-disciplined lieutenant, disheveled and staring back at him with a wild look in your eyes, refusing to falter even as you're outnumbered and backed into a corner with guns drawn and pointed at you. makarov tore his gaze from you and allowed it to fall to the man lying dead in a heap - the younger, less experienced doctor that tarkovsky insisted on keeping around despite knowing that his commander wanted to wring the brat's neck.

needless to say, he wasn't disappointed with your choice of victim.

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm assuming you're not here to share the fun story behind those obvious self-defense wounds?"

if he didn't know better, makarov could almost mistake the question as coming from a place of concern rather than contempt. you have no reason to feel anything but hatred for him, though - nor does he have a reason to feel anything but the same for you.

still, he steps back from the board and reaches for his drink again, beginning to pace around the room as the interaction plays in his head. your sarcasm and attitude only serve to wear out his carefully-crafted patience— but, the way you responded when faced with almost certain death, the blood smeared across your skin, the proficiency that you maintained despite your condition...

he stops in the center of the room, fingers clenching and unclenching around the glass.

fuck, you were beautiful.

his jaw tenses, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows down the unfamiliar sense of desire that sits thick in his throat.

it's not like makarov is unacquainted with this side of himself. he's bedded a fair number of women in the past, he is far from a virginal saint. he seldom spends nights with company, however. it's just more convenient to deal with his needs alone and get on with his work; he's never wanted anything more.

but then, there's you.

you make his blood boil and frustrate him like no other. not even the captain, his sworn enemy, can rile him up as easily as you do. he's fascinated with you and the rage that you seem to awaken from somewhere deep inside of him. he feels nothing but anger towards you— even as he sits alone in his quarters, bringing himself to his peak, imagining you before him, under him, pleading for more.

a sudden pain in his hand distracts him from his thoughts, roughly yanking him back to reality. makarov looks down and blinks at the sight of blood pouring from his palm, unceremoniously dripping onto the floor below. the tumbler that was nestled comfortably in his grasp now clatters to the ground in pieces, leaving behind a small collection of shards embedded in his skin.

the amber whiskey mixes with the crimson that slowly pools at his feet, a sickening color combination that brings a smile to his lips.

this is your fault. he flexes his fingers, brow twitching from the pain that shoots through the area, and revels in the misery that you've indirectly caused. he wants more of it.

you are loyal to your team, loyal to your cause— on one hand, he admires it. on the other, it only tempts him to see how far you're willing to go, how far he can push you before you break. everyone has their weakness, even you. all he has to do is find it.

he could see the hesitation in your eyes the last time you spoke - in a collapsed building in the middle of a war zone, with enemies and allies both scattered in the streets, surrounding your location. you were covered in a layer of dust and ash, having narrowly escaped the collapse with your life, and all he wanted to do after coming face-to-face with you on the battlefield was push you to your limit.

as always, though, he restrained himself. you won't give in like this. makarov has to play his cards right and take his time with you. he's unsure of the role you'll play in his grand plans, but there is one thing that he knows for certain: you'll be his greatest accomplishment yet.

you're already wavering, standing over the edge and staring into the abyss. all he has to do is convince you to take the leap.

he clenches his hand into a tight fist, savoring the pain that binds him to you. every matter is easier said than done, he reminds himself. you may teeter over the edge, but it's clear where your allegiances lie - with the captain, not him.

for a reason that he can't quite place, that angers him. it's to be expected— no amount of information given in good faith can make up for the fact that he's your enemy. even so, he feels like he deserves your fealty, your skills, your attention; the lack of it makes his skin crawl. it's a thought that refuses to leave his head, a pit that settles deep in his stomach and twists like a poison-tipped knife whenever he's reminded of it.

vladimir makarov does not chase. he does not ask for what he wants. nothing will change that, not even you. he'll find a way to make you seek him out. he doesn't care what it costs, both in funds and lives, it's all the same to him. it's only a matter of time.

a buzzing from his phone on his desk catches his attention. makarov approaches it in a lazy saunter and picks it up - with his uninjured hand - and reads off the name on the caller id. your real name flashes across the screen, staring back at him. a low chuckle escapes him before he answers the call and lifts the phone up to his ear.

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." makarov concedes with an amused huff. "have you come to a decision?" he asks, cruel satisfaction swiftly displacing any of his prior emotions.

you inhale and exhale deeply, audible over the phone. he can imagine how you look— eyes held tightly shut, hand clenched into a fist at your side, your thoughts entirely consumed with him.

after a long moment of silence, finally, you speak.

"i have."

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @sparda-ly, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea, @thriving-n-jiving, @preciouslittlecreature, @infinitewhore, @jade-jax

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[celli-ohs]

If you are a HYBE supporter, MHJ anti, or NJS anti unfollow me right now. Block me even. My blog is not for you.

I've been collecting my thoughts about the MHJ/NJS v HYBE issue for quite some time now, but with the recent speech the girls made at KGMA, Belift filing a new complaint and demanding 2 billion won, and MHJ claiming Belift is using Illit as a shield, I cannot take the idiocracy any more.

The amount of misinformation being spread on basically all platforms, but exclusively on TikTok and X, is astounding. More than half of the time I'll see a tweet it's just straight up harassment towards the NJS girls. How can anyone with a sane mind read that and think "Yeah, this is appropriate to post onto the internet for the entire world to see, something that will be linked to me and my digital footprint forever". I'm not saying this only for NJS though, I've seen some nasty toxic Bunnies post heinous things about the Illit members, just because of something their company or CEO said/did. This issue has nothing to do with Illit, Le Sserafim, or any other group that was mentioned/involved, OTHER than NEWJEANS. All of this has to do with HYBE and specific staff, including the new ADOR staff.

I was a Bunny way before I was a Moa or an Engene. NewJeans was the first kpop group I'd bought an album for. I was listening to them not even really knowing they were a kpop group. They're so popular that at my old job they played their songs on the radio, which is how I discovered them. I owe it to them for introducing me to so many amazing groups, people, and cultures. Without knowing them, I wouldn't even know what HYBE and their other groups (besides BTS obvi) were. Currently, NJS is one of the few groups (both girls and boys) I fully stan. I'm proud to stan them too, they are an amazing group of girls who are talented, and full of hope and positivity. They're impact on not only South Korea, but the entire globe is and that is an incredible feat. And I don't want to dismiss any other groups achievements, as a fan of kpop it's exciting to me whenever there's positive news about any group, we should all be able to uplift and support one another, not tear each other down.

That is why I find it so heartbreaking to see toxic fans hating and harassing NJS and Bunnies. I always thought kpop fans held such a great community, no matter what groups you liked. We all share the same interest, same musical genre. To watch people who are so blinded by anger and rage, brainwashed by a greedy dictatorial company, and paint five young women/girls as the devil incarnate, it's sickening. I've seen people say that NJS are idiots, pretending to be victims, that they are actively looking to be groomed. How do you feel as a human being, to claim these things (and more bad things!) about five people you've never even met before? Have you heard them say this? From their own mouths? From their own will? I just don't understand why we as fans have to constantly fight each other over the menial things, when the larger and more concerning problem(s) are dismissed.

I've seen a lot of HYBE supporters recently site the hardships of their faves, attempting to use it against NJS in hopes of defaming them and discrediting/invalidating their mistreatment. This makes zero sense to me. Do these people not realize that they are essentially saying that idols/trainees must suffer in order to debut/be "good enough"?? You'd rather your faves struggle and just accept that their company is shitty and will treat them horribly than to see them have good treatment that they deserve?? "Enhypen had a broken A/C unit in their practice room, but they didn't complain" Be so fucking for real right now. "TXT used to practice in a moldy room, it was growing mushrooms but they never cried about it." And you sound like you want to keep them there with that statement. Idk about you, but if I had the power to help in any way for my faves to have an easier time pre/post-debut, I would do it in a heartbeat.

There's a lot of misogyny/sexism and racism linked to the hate train towards NewJeans. Antis are constantly claiming that only "old predatorial men" are their fans (when in reality most Bunnies are young women themselves!). I've seen many tweets where people are lying, saying that MHJ is prostituting the girls, and that whenever they are photographed within the vicinity of a man they are selling their bodies to gain popularity. There is no actual proof of any of this. The only "old men" who are seemingly sexualizing NJS are Belift. Separately, the racism towards Hanni for being Vietnamese is also disgusting. Not just antis on X, but that SNL Korea skit where they make fun of her accent, that was not okay. Racism has nothing to do with the issue of mistreatment within HYBE, and that is bullying. Anyone who believes they are allowed to hate on NewJeans because they are women or because a member isn't Korean needs to reevaluate their morals because that is an infringement of human rights.

TXT is my ult group, and Enhypen is my second favorite group. Both of them are under HYBE as well, which puts me in an odd spot as a fan of the three groups. But in all honesty, I do not like HYBE, I do not condone anything they've done that hurts any of their artists. And looking at their track record... they've hurt their artists a lot, and not just NJS. If we look at Belift specifically, the way they treat Enhypen is unfair. The release of their internal documents says it all: Belift as a company knows and understands that the Enhypen members are exhausted and overworked, yet they dismiss it and force them to continue pushing. Never-ending tours and comebacks, forced promotions of brands that support the genocide of Palestine, rejecting brand ambassadorships for Sunoo, I'm sure there's more that I missed. If Enhypen has been and still is being treated this way, I cannot imagine what they might do to Illit, as if they hadn't already set these girls up. Those girls don't deserve the hate either. All I can ask for is for both groups to be treated like human beings, and not pay pigs. It hurts me to see the members in so much pain and exhaustion.

With TXT I do admit I see more leniency towards them, and my guess is because they are under Bighit, and are directly BTS's juniors. But when I see stuff like them also being constantly overworked, using Yeonjun to belittle other idols who are his friends, favoring certain members over others, etc. I'm reminded that my ult group also suffers under the hand of HYBE. Even though TXT is successful and popular, that doesn't mean everyone (including their company) will treat them with respect. I've seen some people on X send hate/concern towards Soobin specifically, as he did speak on Weverse (I think) about how TXT focused on their comeback rather than the lawsuit/complaints against HYBE and MHJ. And to be honest, I can understand why some people felt a bit disappointed or hurt by him saying this because honestly, I was a little as well. But mainly I felt this way because I knew he would say something like this, he was probably told to say this to not start more drama. It's a safe option because it's a true fact, they all have been too busy to really be able to interject into this situation that does not technically involve them. As fans, we only know what we're shown, and as a Moa I just hope all the members are safe, healthy, and are treated with kindness.

Seventeen's Seungkwan's statement on his IG is such a beautifully written letter, and it shows and proves that even senior artists can and will be used by their companies for profit as if they aren't human beings. It's so dehumanizing, what these companies do to their groups. Because at the end of the day, not only is it HYBE (who is admittedly a very big perpetrator) it's the entire industry. You could name any company, and at some point, they'd mistreated their artist. This is why I support NewJeans and their endeavor to better the lives of idols and trainees. These five women/girls know and understand that what is happening to them is not humane. The amount of sabotage towards a successful group like them is so backward, it makes no sense. Whether or not you classify it as bullying, no one should hear others being told to ignore them, especially in a culture like Korea's where greetings are so significant. Stopping a comeback and surprise fansign from happening for an unknown reason is unfair. Documenting the plan and intention to get rid of the entire group as a whole and replace them with a junior group that needs more time to train is downright despicable.

To NewJeans: I'm so sorry for what you all have been through. Thank you for being the smart, strong, and brave young ladies you are. I will always support you and love you. Thank you for creating beautiful music, videos, and content. I'm so happy to be a fan of kpop, and so proud to be a Bunny! Wherever you go I will follow with much love!

To my followers: I still plan to write for TXT and Enhypen. I still love them very much, despite their shitty company. Personally, I've learned to separate my writing from the companies, because, at the end of the day, I'm writing about my own storylines and plots that I created. Besides, it's fiction and 99% of my works are fluff and crack which does not harm anyone. But if you have a problem with my opinions/views on this situation regarding HYBE and NJS, then my blog isn't for you.

[entertext]

HGSN 22-2

Chapter (Japanese)

(Please hit the green thumbs up at the end of the chapter to show support)

Rough translation by me

P1

(sfx: wakes up)

Yoshiki: Uwahh!

Yoshiki's mom: Dear...! Are you alright!? Why did you go to Takeda-san's place..!?

Yoshiki: Mom...

Mom: Is it true!? That old Takeda geezer went into a rage and knocked the two of you out?

Mom: The researcher? staying there managed to stop him, but...

P2

Yoshiki: Wait...slow down...you didn't call the police or anything...

Mom: A small quarrel within the village that isn't worth getting the police involved over...that's what it will be settled as, it seems. I seem like a fool. Even if I filed a complaint...

Yoshiki: Enough of that, what about 'Hikaru'...?

Mom: He's sleeping on the next bed...

(sfx: curtain swish)

Mom: But he hasn't woken up yet...

P3

(sfx: thump)

Tanaka: (This katana...)

Tanaka: (I snuck it into Takeda's house for an emergency, but it came in handy. It was able to cut "that" better than I thought)

Tanaka: (This confirms it. It took a long time to get to this point. I'm...really lucky... To think that it's manifesting in this era)

P4

Tanaka: (On top of that, how funny! Not only does it have an ego but it made itself weaker!)

Tanaka: (So things are already progressing towards my goal?)

Tanaka: (But....if that's now the case...)

Takeda: Tanaka!!!

Takeda: My father...they said he probably can't be saved. That it was a heart attack.

Takeda: What the hell happened...!?

P5

Tanaka: ...my apologies. I rushed there but didn't make it in time.

Tanaka: I noticed too late. ...It's my fault.

Takeda: ...

Takeda: My father...had said "I'm next"

Takeda: Was that was true then?

Tanaka: ...seeing the beings on the other side means the other side can find you more easily too

Tanaka: If you find them, the more you fear them, the easier of a target you make

Tanaka: That's all that happened to Matsuura-san and your father.

P6

Takeda: I see...no, to be honest

Takeda: My wife and I were relieved...though that isn't proper to say

Tanaka: ...

Tanaka: ...by the way, my sunglasses

Tanaka: have you seen them?

Takeda: They're right in front of you, aren't they...?

Tanaka: ...

(sfx: splash)

Takeda: You...

P7

Takeda: Is it possible that you're blind?

Tanaka: Yeah....

Tanaka: That's right.

Tanaka: But this is a kind of spiritual impairment. Even with a medical examination, there's nothing wrong

Tanaka: Besides, with these sunglasses I can more or less see

Tanaka: Though its annoying that they're company provisions

Takeda: How long ago?

Tanaka: ...since a very long time ago. Are you finished?

P8

Takeda: Wait

Takeda: What the hell is your goal here?

Tanaka: It's my job

Tanaka: My "company" is looking for a particular thing that originates from the other side

Tanaka: They've searched for several hundred years... It's worth that much effort

Tanaka: And that's why they send people like me out to survey any place that it has even the slightest chance of being in

P9

Takeda: No, I'm talking about your personal motive

Takeda: I don't know anything about that company or whatever

Takeda: But for you to do so much, you must have a reason

Tanaka: Haha, you're suprisingly sharp

Tanaka: Regarding "Nounuki-sama"...it's not wrong to say I plan on doing something about it

Tanaka: At the very least... I'm on the side of humanity

Tanaka: ...but I've just gotten a few more things to do now.

P9

Tanaka: I'll be gone from this village for a moment, so you're responsible for now

Takeda: !? Hey!

Takeda: What about dealing with Nounuki-sama!! If someone gets attacked by impurities...

Tanaka: Please fight them with that katana! Takeda-san, you're 6th dan in Kendo, aren't you?

Takeda: Is that possible!?

(txt: Missed Call: Satou)

==

Next chapter: in two weeks probably

Twitter Extra (link):

If he started speaking before it was stuck back on:

Yoshiki: ....!

Hikaru: How about working at a haunted house?

[deathbxnny]

Imagine if, to try and calm Yanqing’s “leap before you look” phase, Jing Yuan assigns a strategist for him. The strategist is more timid and anxious, so they don’t get into fights as much as him.

It’s the perfect exchange, in a way. The strategist is encouraged by Yanqing and Yanqing learns to slow down and use a different angle when necessary.

-----

A/N: Hello there anon! I'm sorry that I've just found the motivation for your request, but between being sick and busy, I unfortunately had no time either. However, since I'm in a bit of a good mood for once, I've decided to finally finish a request thats been in my drafts for a while now. I hope you'll enjoy and thank you for the cute idea!<33 Content: Slightly mean Yanqing being a reckless brat and the poor reader having anixiety attacks because of him, mentions of battles, fluff, sfw Reader has no set pronouns! ((Not proofread.))

-----

Just slow down. (Yanqing x Gn!Reader)

-----

Yanqing didn't like you at first. And he made it clear with the way he avoided you like the plague and attempted to get out of having to spend the whole day with you. This was harder than he liked it to be however, as Jing Yuan didn't take his distaste lightly and eventually forced him to make a clear decisions.

Either he accepted that you were assigned to him... or he simply just never saw the outside world again, unless it's work related. And how else was Yanqing supposed to react, other than just agreeing to the older mans terms. He whined and argued back, tried reasoning why he didn't need a strategist to keep track of him, how it would just slow him down. But all complaints fell on deaf ears... which lead him to now, where he stubbornly stood before your timid form, with narrowed eyes and a frown.

"Just to be clear, I'm not happy with any of this." He had said on your first meeting and yet all you did was give him a nervous and sheepish smile in return, as though you didn't catch the annoyed tone in his voice. "It's okay... but I hope we can at least get along anyways." You muttered back, before clutching your files closer to your chest and awkwardly shuffling past him towards the training grounds to observe his daily routine closely. Yanqing watched you take a seat nearby, before simply shaking his head and getting on with his training.

Surely, if you saw how talented and strong he was, you'd recognise that he didn't need you essentially overseeing him and would tell Jing Yuan the same. He showed off his skills well, clearly worthy to be called a swordsmaster. Yanqing was convinced that he had tone well, truly proven you wrong, until you held out a piece of paper to his panting form nervously. "You should learn how to slow down." You said, your voice so quiet that he only barely caught it, before you left in a rush. He stood there under the setting sun, his hand gripping the paper tightly, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

'Strategic improvement needed.'

Something about your note and the way you seemed still so sincere in your work, despite your obvious shyness, humbled him more than it angered him. Which is why the next times he met you, he tried following the words on the notes you always wrote him at the end of each session perfectly. It was hard at first, as slowing down and thinking before acting was difficult and near impossible to him. But as time went on, he began noticing the positive change it had on him.

He was more precise with his movements and attacks, his accuracy now unmatchable. Something Jing Yuan would smugly praise him for, as he knew he was right in his decision to pair you two up. And as much as Yanqing hated to admit it, he could only agree, since you've taught him alot more than you may have realised. He learned how to take things in life much slower and easier, how to be patient and calm in stressful situations, how to pause and take in the moving world around him. Life seemed brighter with you at his side.

And with time, he also learned that you were so much more under your shyness as well. You were smart and the conversations he would have with you could last life times, if days didn't eventurally come to an end. You were more open and talkactive than he was at times, and whenever you lost yourself in a topic you enjoyed, he found himself wishing that time truly would slow down just so that he could watch you like this for longer.

You've taught him how to slow down and in turn, he taught you how to pause time with him.

-----

A/N: Alright, I'm currently writing this half asleep... but I hope it's somewhat okay anyways and thank you again for the request!<33

[frostyreturns]

It's so sad that feminists have made life so much harder for sexual assault victims. In a world where sexual assault means sexual assault it's so much easier to give victims the benefit of the doubt. But in a world where sexual assault means "Both people consented but both were drunk" or "Everyone consented but she regretted it in the morning" or "Everyone consented but there was a perceived power imbalance" These are all things feminists claim is rape and have been teaching young women counts as rape...so knowing this when a woman comes forward and says I was assaulted...it carries the implicit...ok but what do you mean by assaulted.

I'm saying this because it looks like about 5 members of the 2018 Canadian World Junior hockey team are about to be arrested for sexual assault. Now could they all be guilty of assault absolutely and in that case I hope they all face the severest consequences...but already there are details that have me wondering.

case was closed shortly after investigation in 2019 and was reopened in 2022. Was it closed because they determined nothing illegal happened and reopened because someone with a different ideological bent got wind of the case?

Case centers around not just a criminal investigation but a lawsuit of hockey Canada who already paid out a settlement but a lawsuit is seeking millions alleging that the organization needs to pay financially for cultivating a culture where assault is ok. Anytime someone goes after a big organization seeking money for something they have to make up a bunch of bullshit to connect to an incident tells me someone is just after money. Were they assaulted...maybe but if they were it has nothing to do with the organization they played hockey for.

Victim claims they met the players at a bar/club and went back with the players to their hotel and initially engaged in consensual sex. Now is it possible for a woman to consent to one thing and then a bunch of things they say no to happen...and its still assault...absolutely. However the fact that they chose to go with the players and decided to have sex...means we now have to get into murky territory where lots of people have different and often very wrong ideas of what consent is.

The complaint filed makes specific mention that she was intoxicated the wording makes it sound like the players were not drinking but were getting this woman drunk to take advantage of her...when what more likely happened is they were all partying and drinking together. The fact that her being drunk is so important to the case again makes me wonder...are they operating under a definition of sexual assault where consensual sex is rape because she was drunk and couldn't consent...but the drunk males she had sex with were capable of consent and therefore guilty of sex crimes.

Do we know what happened no, it's totally possible that a bunch of drunk entitled hockey players took advantage of someone and did some shit without thinking and should face the consequences...but it's also possible a young woman who gets drunk and decides to fuck a hockey team regrets it the morning and decides to spin it to her friends/family/herself as an assault to feel better about her decisions. Both happen all the time. But these are things we have to keep in mind when people are accused of rape. And the doubt placed on people who come forward should lay solely at the feet of feminists who work so hard to redefine words and make the world rapier than it is because it suits their victimhood agenda.

It's also a reminder for everyone that casual hookups are a terrible idea.

[constellieos]

⋆ ╱ mission: complaint .

with: @invsibl location: the herald tw: mentions of drinking & consumption of alcohol

the idea had manifested in mimi's mind soon after the blackout happened. it was, at first, the snippy thought of one of her clones. an encouragement to get rid of the bullshit complaint against her and jaeyeol. who would even do such a thing? sure, most of the time, they talked more than they actually did any reporting. and sure, maybe they were loud in the office in their disregard for actually working during work hours. but to get a complaint about it? how insulting!

'they're probably just jealous we're both better reporters than whoever sent it in. i'll just .. get rid of it.' is what mimi thought as she quickly got dressed and made her way to the herald. because of the blackout, it was easy to sneak into the building, and even easier to sneak into the HR office to try and find wherever the complaint about them was. it wouldn't be that bad if she got rid of it, right? after all, she was doing both her and jaeyeol a favour, and if the complaint just happened to disappear, no one could trace it back to her.

the security cameras weren't working during the blackout anyway.

"fuck, where the hell is it?" she grumbled, looking through all the files and cabinets she could find with the bright flashlight on her phone shining. "where is... oh! go minji — resume, transcripts, where the- ah— here it is, minji and jaeyeol, 'complaint' my ass." she rolls her eyes as she says it, hands on the very thin piece of paper as she read over the complaint. her eyes quickly scanned over it, noticing that, not only was it a baseless complaint, but it wasn't even worth going through the filing process.

'well ... might as well get rid of it!'

but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she heard something. a movement that wasn't her own. the movement of a stranger — and during a blackout, that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

"shit— shit, shit, shit!" mimi quickly hid behind the nearest desk she could find, slowly peeking over as she squinted her eyes to try and see who it could be. was it the HR director? her editor? someone who forgot their things at the office?

many thoughts came to mind, but the steps of that stranger only grew closer, and her anxiety only climbed higher — so much so that one of her clones appeared next to her, which quickly got a hand slapped over her mouth to shut her up.

'okay, i'll make a run for it with you. do not get in my way, or so help me—' mimi thought, communicating with her clone who only nodded after a roll of her eyes. and after a count of 1, 2, 3, mimi shot up from behind the desk, making a run towards the door, but running into the wall — or a human, she wasn't exactly sure. but there was something that felt all too familiar about what she had run into.

"ow— what the.." in a false sense of strangeness, mimi turned on the flashlight on her phone once again, shining it at what she had run into, only to narrow her eyes and sigh rather loudly at who she saw. "jaeyeol? you scared me! what are you doing here?"

[extra-v1rgin]

‘cause it’s the prettiest night

Aki x reader • Sfw • 5.1k

Aki gets drunk, you take him home

Cw/Tw • Consumption of Alcohol, Himeno being Himeno

Through the grapevine you hear about the shit show that was division 4’s encounter with the eternity devil. The rumors of the event encourage you to be happy that you got stuck doing busywork and filling out all kinds of forms. It means that the paperwork filled out that will tell you the full story will find itself in your office, even if it won’t make it’s way to your desk for another few weeks. For now you settle for listening to the jokes cracked in the break room about the new recruits flowing in and the never-ending hotel floor.

Its the time of year where more workers flow in, high-school graduates looking for a paycheck or committed workers finally done with training. The dark truth is that most won’t last a month, either quitting or dying.

Until then the suggestion of a proper, cheesy get-to-know-you, meeting floats in. You don’t know if upper management is behind it, but these sorts of events tend to be ushered in yearly. A few times in between you might venture out with one or two of the others you like enough to bother getting to know.

A date is picked, just another week out. You skipped the one a few months back (because Aki wasn’t going either) because you were swamped with paperwork. You’re busy enough even now, that you don’t quite manage to figure out if Aki is going this time either. Drinks alone aren’t alluring enough to coax you to the restaurant, but you are intrigued to find out if any other fiends show up.

There’s talk of a hybrid too, a devilman. Something not entirely anything at once. It sounds more interesting than the normal rumors that float through the cubicles.

When the official invite is whispered through the walls you offer a hesitant acceptance.

—-

The first few minutes are always the worst. You don’t know why you don’t just start showing up late, but the impact of being one of the first there is too enticing. So you show up, hide in your car until someone recognizable enters, then claim whichever seat you find most appealing that night. Inevitably reoccurring coworkers file into the same kind of position around you, no matter which seat you choose.

It’s followed by awkward and stilted conversations with whoever else is present at first (usually Madoka, who is stiff and unwelcoming). The atmosphere never quite grows thick enough to deter you from your timely habits. It dissipates soon enough once a few others make it through the door. A few minutes of chewing your tongue is worth it.

The chatter gets gradually louder while you fight over the food and pay. Whichever poor waiter has come to serve you listens to the long list of platters everyone calls for depending on whatever their personal taste is.

Aki shows up right on time. He always is there promptly at 7, only late once. You made sure to tease him for weeks after.

Others stare at the fiend and hybrid that stroll in behind, you’re attention is solely on Hayakawa.

He looks the same he as he always does. You’re wearing more lax clothes, black tie swapped out for something colorful, suit jacket left behind. Aki is still, completely dressed up in his work uniform.

When he tries to walk past you drag him down to sit down beside you. “Where else were you gonna sit? Nobody else is gonna tolerate your presence.”

The man scoffs, even as he settles down. “I think you have it the wrong way around.” He surveys the food spread across the table, piling his plate with whatever he finds savory enough. Aki looks over to your tray, stealing the beer in front of you.

You don’t often drink, especially not beer. As much as you try, the sour taste never gets any easier on you. On occasions like this you might manage a drink or two just for the social environment. Mostly you’ll hide your distaste behind polite smiles.

“You should ask before taking others’ things.” Your complaint is flimsy, he knows well enough about your distaste.

He frowns and takes a sip of your drink. While you watch the amber flow down his throat you turn your attention to his charges for a brief moment.

It’s clear why Aki needs a drink. Power, the fiend you’ve vaguely heard about, has claimed several trays of karrage for herself. She eats the chicken nearly whole, gnawing at the bones. Someone tries to steal a drumstick for themselves and nearly gets a few fingers bit off.

Denji seems calmer only by the smallest amount. He has gathered up just as much food for himself, but isn’t as aggressive at protecting it. You’re still careful to nab stuff when he isn’t looking, but not scared enough to stop stealing it.

When you glance back over at him the glass mug is already empty. You’re already in the process of waiving a waiter down and ordering a few drinks when Himeno walks in.

Even though you’ve filled your stomach with warm food and drink a sour taste creeps up the back of your throat. Himeno always shows up to these things. Any excuse to drink you suppose. The thought brings a sly smile to your face, as rude as it is.

She sits right across from Aki, leans over to grab a drink and down it. He gives a soft grin in return, and you try not to outwardly grimace.

Your distaste for the woman is not the biggest secret out there, but you’re mature enough not to start a war with her. It’s tempting to scoff at her borderline alcoholic tendencies and crass mouth. Once she’s had a few drinks it only gets worse, more extreme.

For the second act of the night you’re stuck watching Himeno down glass after glass while she holds Aki’s attention. Even after years of knowing the man you still can’t figure out what he wants from her. The woman isn’t shy, he would have to be blind to miss her interest. There has to be a reason that he hasn’t acted on any feelings, feelings that he hopefully doesn’t have in the first place.

While Himeno tells vulgar stories, you turn your attention elsewhere. It’s easy to listen to what others say as you pick at your food. Conversation flows easily when there’s a few different topics bouncing around the table. The only taboo subject is work, after Fushi lamented the loss of his new buddy. Being paired up with a devil is annoying, but they’re much less susceptible to death.

When Makima enters things quiet down for a moment. She looks formidable. There’s a regal elegance that draws your eyes across her figure and towards her face. The red and orange eye that survey the restaurant are hypnotizing.

She sits at the head of the table. Aki and Himeno break away from whatever world they were trapped in to stare at her, as does everyone else. Even once the chatter begins again it’s slow and hushed. Every time Makima adds something to the conversation it grows still again.

When they begin to drink you give up focusing on whatever the rest are talking about. Piles of glasses begin to take over the table.

Aki is beautiful beside you. There’s always beauty in being able to see the small new pieces of him. As each round of beer is served to the trio he cheeks grow redder. When he downs the glasses foam builds up around his lips, a few stray drops of alcohol crawling down his neck. It inches down before soaking into his collar, still done up stiffly.

Makima drinks in slow but large gulps. Nothing escapes past her mouth. She leaves no lipstick marks against the glass, though her lips are an unnatural ruby red. There’s a vague pinkness on her cheeks. It’s hard to tell if it was there before.

Himeno is clearly the looser so far. Her tie sits in her lap, collar undone a few buttons down. It’s a pretty typical sight, the only surprise comes from the fact that she still hasn’t built up more tolerance.

All the glasses begin to spread over more and more of the table. Nobody is watching the trio quite as closely as you are, though it’s the most interesting thing happening. Even Denji seems vaguely intrigued even when his chin is still sticky with vomit. You catch him trying a few drops lingering to the sides of the mugs. His sour face is reminiscent of you own whenever you drink.

Aki and Himeno keep downing drinks. They both have some hidden determination, clear in Aki’s focused eyes. Overtime they grow hazy until he’s completely out of it, drooling on the table. The uniform suit jacket is finally shrugged off, as he folds it up to rest his head on.

Himeno hasn’t given up just yet. She probably won’t stop until she vomits in another person’s mouth, if anyone will get that close to her. Your focus has remained on Aki, and now that he’s retired your interest in their drinking game has dissipated.

Only one blue eye stares up in your direction. His other is shut tight, cheek pressing against the smooth table. The pupil is so dilated that the crystal circle of color around it is barely visible. You blow stray hairs out from his face, forcing his bangs apart.

Leaning down you murmur against his ear, “Aki-kun, how drunk are you? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” You wave three fingers right in front of his eye.

He peels his hand out from where it’s pinned underneath your shoulder, to bat yours away. “Fuckin’ annoying.” The man speaks around his slow tongue in a clumsy way. It pries a quick laugh from your mouth.

The corners of his lips twitch in a way that suggests a smile. It’s not quite committed to the action, but with how much Aki’s face is set a perfect grimace his smile muscles might have atrophied. Either way you’re glad to see him have just a glimpse of joy.

Fushi leans over your way, an offer of shirtama on a plate extended over to you. “Are you gonna take Hayakawa-san home?”

His friendly grin doesn’t look sly, or suggest any amount of knowing.

“Oh! I didn’t plan on it, but I guess he’ll need one now.” The half-truth slips from your teeth easily. The restaurant, the same one you always meet at for company gatherings, is only a block or two from the nearest train stop. It’s warm enough that you could’ve taken the train and walked here comfortably. Regardless you drive your car, an old piece of shit, every single time.

Mostly it ends with you dragging whichever one of your coworkers has gotten drunk enough to need the help. Usually it’s Himeno, much to your chagrin, though occasionally she’s sober enough to make the short walk home. You’ve also shuffled a good amount of senior hunters into your car, which occasionally means you get an extra bonus if anyone is sober enough to remember. It’s never Aki. He typically drinks only two or three beers throughout the entire night. Other than a slight drag at the end of his words, he always seems sober.

You’ve been waiting for this day for a long long time.

It sounds creepy when you say it like that. There’s no better way to put it. You drag out your shitty car, pay for too expensive gas, and take home coworkers you barely know, for the hope that instead Aki will be curled up in your passenger seat. It’s begging for a scrap of his attention that you’re so rarely rewarded with.

One in a million chance, and you’ve won the lottery.

Fushi leans a little closer. Your eyes focus again. “You’re always the designated driver.” There’s maybe a little bit of a tease in his voice, a little bit of a question.

“Sorry, but I haven’t been able to convince myself that beer tastes good yet.” That part is the full truth. Getting drunk off vodka or tequila is a few quick shots, beer is slow and leaves shit on your tongue.

He laughs and pulls away again, turning to chat with the other’s.

Your gaze turns back to Aki. His eyes are barely open, thick downward swooping lashes hiding the slivers of his pupils that are visible. “Do you want to go home yet?” Your voice is gentle against his ear. You murmur right up to it, needing to be heard over the chatter.

“Yer fine to go whenev’r.” A slight country boy accent flows in. You know he used to live in a secluded area out west before the gun devil attacked. The tone has crept in before, usually when he’s tired or looses his temper enough to let his poise slip.

“Well ‘yer’ joinin’ me, so don’t fall asleep before then.” Moisture from his breath lingers on your throat. It’s not close enough to brush up against his nose, but you can feel the distance.

He grins sharply. “Don’t make fun.” The man could tear out your jugular.

You jerk back a little. “Alright cowboy.” A small bubble of laughter pops in the back of your throat. Aki rolls his eyes and shoves his face back in between his arms.

You let him have peace for a few more minutes. People are still eager to chatter. Makima has long since stopped drinking, but Himeno is gulping down another still. Power has devoured an entire chicken farm with how much karaage she’s eaten. The fiend has finally settled down, curled up and clutching her bloated stomach. It’s rare to see her face repercussions for the gluttony she so often displays.

Denji is curled up in the corner still. Drunk Himeno is often a menace to anyone nearby, but even a vomit filled kiss is a little much for her. You remember how she had looked when the boy introduced himself, announced how young he was. It’s another item on a long list of reasons why you hate her. Even without the beer there’s a bitter taste on your tongue.

You approach him in the corner like a wounded animal. He looks up with hazy eyes and heavy weight on his shoulders. “Do you want me to take you guys back now Denji-kun?” You’re surprised by how pudgy his face is. It’s your first good look. The tips of your toes rise up to nudge his knee.

“How come you’re drivin’?” When he looks up you can see sticky remains of sick on his chin.

You try not to let your tone grow too tender. It’s easy to remember how queasy adults made you when they fixed you with that sad smile and sweet sayings. “Your buddy can barely walk right now, so I’m taking over. Unless you want to drag him and Power-chan back.”

Denji’s wide eyes make him look younger as he shakes his head. “We can go now. These guys are lame anyways.” A hint of a grin pulls at the edge of his lips. It’s reassuring that he isn’t completely down.

“Do you know how to unlock a car?” You dangle your keys in front of his face. “It’s not fancy like Aki-kun’s, you’ll have to do it manually.”

He jumps up like an eager dog to grab the metal ring you keep everything on. “Don’t try anything,” you warn. It’d be impressive if Denji got the thing to start in the first place, he might earn a joyride if he succeeds and any attempts. “It’s way in the back. Whichever car looks the worst is probably mine.”

The boy snatches your keys, and saunters out the door. You’re surprised nobody pays much attention to his exit.

Coercing Power out the door is much more difficult. Though she complains of stomach pains and clutches her middle, the fiend is still licking chicken bones, gnawing off a few pieces of a meat still stuck to them.

“We’re leaving.” You nudge her horns with your feet.

She blinks hazily and pulls herself upwards. “Says who? I haven’t commanded it yet!” Power waves a wet bone in your direction.

“Don’t you want to go home?”

The fiend gasps. “How dare you assume that! Tis my own mind that I know best.” You don’t know if fiends can get drunk, but there’s a wildness in her eye.

Madoka pushes his glasses up and gives you a serious look. “You gotta use reverse psychology. It’s like talking to a toddler.” He speaks like Power isn’t there, though she does ignore is words. “Watch this.”

He turns to the fiend. “Power-san, I’m surprised you’re still here. Usually the superior is the one who goes home first.”

She picks her head up. “Huh?! Why didn’t the other human say that? I shall not let you trick me!” The girl stands up and is out the door before you can point her in the right direction.

Madoka, as stiff as ever, leans back and lifts his drink back up.

Your smile breaks out slightly wider on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stumble backwards and fall into your seat again besides Aki. His face is plunged into his arms again. When you scratch the back of his head he doesn’t stir at all.

“Aki-kun,” you singsong in his ear. “Get up.” You poke into his skin harder.

The face that greets you is still as cute as ever. There’s a streak of drool across his cheek. Aki’s bangs are more uneven than usual, sticking up and out in odd places.

“We’re leaving,” you inform him. It looks like he hasn’t absorbed the information quite yet, but you’re already folding his jacket over your shoulder and tugging him up by his sleeves. Slowly the man stands up, knees shaking. He puts most of his weight on you, but you still manage to make a quick exit. You stop for only a brief moment to thank Makima, who offered to cover the cost for tonights meal as well as the drinks. Most devil hunters are compensated well for their work, but the amount of beers Aki downed would’ve burned a hole in his pocket. She waves off the appreciation and says, “Goodnight.”

When you’re no longer protected by the warmth of close company and insulated walls Aki shivers. You sling his jacket back around his arms, careful to make sure it doesn’t slip down. If you’re lucky the car will be a few degrees warmer than the outside air. It’s likely the damn thing won’t warm up fully until you’ve arrived back at Aki’s place.

Denji is curled up in the back, car already started and huffing out carbon monoxide. Power is sitting next to him, feet kicking the passenger’s seat. You dump Aki into the front, rubbing your shoulders. Later you’ll fax him the receipt for your chiropractor appointment.

Even drunk and mostly asleep he tugs the seatbelt on.

You run around to the drivers seat. As you pull open the door you can spot a few new scratches along the keyhole. When you slide into your seat you do your best to glare at Denji through the rearview mirror. He doesn’t catch the feeling of your eyes burning holes into his head.

Shifting your gaze to what’s actually behind you, you pull out slowly. Despite the fact that you’re used to dragging coworkers home, you don’t have the best track record when it comes to driving. Your car insurance rates are through the roof, only affordable because you don’t have to pay for any other kind of coverage.

You drive home painfully slow. Normally you’re a bit reckless, even when you’re sober as a stone. The fast nature of Tokyo’s roads encourages you to push through yellow lights and drift around the corners. The first time Aki sat in your passenger seat he looked like he was going to throw up.

Though you still break too roughly and completely miss a stop sign he doesn’t stir. The entire car is strangely quiet other than the squeaking of Power kicking the back of Aki’s seat. Some older song crawls out of your stereo, full of static. The words are unfamiliar, but you can follow the tune.

Aki’s apartment doesn’t have assigned parking, something you’re thankful for. There’s a small gap right near the front that you can squeeze into. You’ll probably scrape against one of the cars on the way out, but you can’t drag the trio all the way across the concrete.

Power springs out easily, racing through the doors and all the way upwards. Denji and Aki both take a bit of prompting, but you manage to coax them out of the car. The boy is stable enough despite his clear exhaustion. Aki sways on his feet. It’s been nowhere near long enough for him to have sobered up, but you wish he had. When the man leans over your head his hands trace your waist.

The night air tickles your nose and fingers. Beside his body there’s pockets of heat that you hide within. Both the teens have charged forward, leaving you with silence. Aki occasionally murmurs something aloud, always too slurred and quiet to understand.

“Thank ya, for takin’ us back,” he finally gets the words out. As he says them his cheek nudges against yours, mouth right against your ear. Your stomach flips several times over, you feel drunk yourself.

Aki’s house is dark. You can hear water running in the bathroom, and see light peeking through another one of the doors. You don’t know who is where, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. Aki’s room is the 2nd door on the left.

It’s neat inside. The bed is made. Pajamas sit folded at the edge. You’re glad you won’t have to ruffle through his drawers, a bit disappointed too. The man pulls away from your side to curl up in bed.

“Don’t sleep yet, I haven’t even taken your shoes off.” You haven’t taken your own either. He’d yell at you if he was sober. If he finds your footprints in the carpet tomorrow you’ll get a late scolding.

Aki mumbles something unintelligible. His loafers are stubborn. The man double knots the laces and no matter how much you tug they don’t come loose. The strings are pulled tight enough that you can’t slip the shoes off without undoing them.

Suddenly he leans forward until his head hangs over your own. “Ya gotta pull here.” Aki tugs at a small little loop at the side and the whole thing unravels.

He grabs your hand in both of his and guides you to the other shoe. “Should’ve taken ‘em off before.” You tug both loafers off and set them underneath the bed.

Taking a brief moment you slip your own off too. You might be able to avoid a scolding still.

“If you wanted them off at the door you could’ve done it yourself.” You fold his suit jacket and place it off to the side. He fumbles with the buttons on his shirt. Sliding upwards you help with the movement. “What would you do without me?”

His head drops down to sit on your shoulder. A calm quiet envelopes the room. His warm cheeks rub against your skin. Aki’s arms hang limp at his sides, letting you do all the work. Once the fabric is undone he stretches his arms out. You can’t tell is he’s trying to be playful or just moving on autopilot. Either way you choose to indulge him.

Tugging the shirt off his body you toss it in the corner. Scooting even closer you pull on the sleep shirt. It’s baggy and old, covered with a fades logo from an unfamiliar band. Your hands brush against the sides of his stomach.

Your thighs brush against his. Letting your fingers wait along his waist it’s hard to pull back. With a brief shift you could topple into his lap. His bed is soft, you could sink into the mattress and fall closer.

Instead you dip off the edge of the mattress. Tossing the pants at him you tell him to change all the way. Seeing him nude, as appealing as the idea is, is something you’ve seen before. Whether it is helping him with wounds or just stuck in uncomfortable situations his naked body isn’t unfamiliar. Still, none of those situations had been anything other than forced circumstance. This isn’t.

“Can you do this part yourself?” Aki’s eyes are closed as his head bobs gently. It seems like he’s not absorbing your instructions at all, but there’s not much more you can do. Taking the bottoms you press them into his hands. His grasp of then is weak, a gentle reflex.

You stand up and stumble out the door. You’ll give him peace for a moment. In the end you suspect he’ll end up sleeping in his boxers or work pants anyways.

It’s quiet outside, pitch black. You weren’t paying attention, but whoever was in the bathroom is gone now. Tracing a finger against the wall you feel the wood until it breaks and you step into the kitchen.

There’s more dishes in the sink than you’ve seen before. Aki’s home often looks spotless, nearly uncomfortably so. Around the table leftovers from breakfast sit. You can imagine the spectacle that the trio make in the mornings.

You don’t love anyone enough to fully clean for them, but you find a place in your heart for Aki as you put away cans of jam and spices. He has a proper breadbox, instead of just jamming the loaf back into the bag, so you use that. The table (and floor) is still coated with all kinds of spreads, accompanied with breadcrumbs, but you leave it for now.

As you set the water to fill up the sink and soak the dishes you finally head towards your original goal.

There’s a low hum the fridge sings. It’s fuller than you’ve found it in the past. Your kitchen back home has mostly leftovers and tv dinners shoved inside of it, nothing like the fresh produce Aki uses. You’ll sort through his cabinets properly and steal whatever’s appetizing later.

Reaching into the back you grab a can of sparkling water. It’s the shitty kind that claims it tastes like fruit, when it’s a pale attempt at flavor. Aki has strange taste, strange to you at least.

You grab a box of crackers from the pantry, alongside a large bowl. It’ll be a miracle if he makes it to the bathroom before his hangover kicks in fully. Himeno couldn’t even make it away from Denji’s mouth.

You’re not an expert in having to deal with hangovers, not when you hardly deal with them yourself. The amenities you’ve grabbed are simple tips shared in magazines to fill space. Hopefully at least some of it will do him good.

When you peek into Aki’s room again he’s tucked into the bed. His pants are shoved into a pile on the floor. He’s curled up still clutching the pair of sweats you offered, meaning he probably couldn’t find the energy to do more than remove his pants.

You peel the bottoms free from his grasp and deposit them back on the floor with the rest of his clothes. Sitting on the bed you’re careful to not disrupt him. Taking out the small trove of items you spread them over the nightstand. The water chills your hand now, but it’ll be warm by morning. Aki will probably be too sick to notice.

Avoiding turning around and admiring the sleeping man you push yourself into his bathroom. It’s hard to read the medication labels in the dim light, but you sort through everything until you find simple painkillers. They find a place beside the rest of the items you brought.

There’s not much you can do to extend your stay.

Kneeling beside him you whisper a quick, “goodbye.” You brush your fingers through his hair and finally take out the ridiculous topknot he insists on wearing all the time. His hair spreads over the pillow, stuck up in a stiff and awkward way. Ruffling the dark locks you watch them settle into a more natural position.

His cheeks look a little more like their natural color, red fading back to a subtle pink. The slumber he’s fallen into seems like a result of the late hour rather than the alcohol consumption. Pausing for a moment you take in the sight of him. Cool shadows mold his skin, his hair looking more blue. If his eyes were open they’d reflect the moonlight, even if it doesn’t permeate the room.

You wish you could stay. It’s tempting to curl up beside him and soak in his presence. Your fingers skim over his cheek one last time. His warm skin lights your fingers ablaze.

The feeling carries you up and out of his room.

The entire home is absolutely silent on your way out. It’s a little unsettling as you creep down the hall. You steal a can of soda from the fridge and crack it open. It must’ve been bought for Denji or Power, Aki would never drink something so unhealthy.

It’s a strange sort of silence once you close the door. The walk there wasn’t particularly loud, but it felt warm and comfortable. The shadows seem more threatening now, the air slightly colder. You regret now that you don’t often wear a jacket. The suit provided is boring and indistinguishable from anyone else’s, but it’s sturdy and well insulated.

Awkwardly jogging towards your car you shiver in the chill air. As you slide in you’re quick to turn on the heat. The car still smells a little bit like Aki, a combination of booze and cigarette smoke. Underneath there’s a hint of whatever body spray Aki uses, warm and musky. If the scent belonged to anyone else it’d be unappealing, but it’s so uniquely Aki that you’re glad the smell permeates the air.

It lifts your mood the whole ride hime, even on the walk to your own apartment. You carry the feelings of his breath against your neck and hands on yours while you curl up in bed.

—-

In the morning you have a single notification on your small phone.

Thank you.

[cazort]

Last night I went to a local city hearing on the noise ordinance. A city council person (not mine) was there, along with the city manager, and they showed a 5-point revision to the ordinance, along with 3 citizen-proposed amendments.

I was incredibly impressed and have such great faith in my local government. The 5 points they came up with were impeccable, each and every one addressed a major shortcoming. For example, they found a way to use cheaper noise-measuring equipment without affecting accuracy, and reduce the burden on city employees to measure noise levels.

There was also a move away from policing. One of the key reforms was that they were changing noise ordinance violations from a criminal offense to a civil offense. This would allow a city code inspector, rather than a police officer, to issue the violation. This right off the bat means less unnecessary police involvement in the community, fewer police showing up at people's homes.

On top of this, it means the appeal process can be initiated by the person who filed the complaint, something not possible under the old setup (it was left to the discretion of the responding officer, and if the officer didn't think it is a violation there is no recourse to appeal no matter how bad the noise is.) On top of this, the appeal process is now handled by a local city committee instead of a court, which makes it both much cheaper, and more accountable to the community because the city committees tend to be populated by local residents who are more networked into the community here.

So the reform (1) saves money in multiple ways, from equipment to policing costs to court costs (2) reduces appearances of armed police officers at homes or businesses (3) gives more power to people filing noise complaints (4) makes an easier and cheaper appeal process to people on either side of complaints (5) makes the ordinance faster and easier to enforce in certain cases such as complaints about stationary (industrial) noise.

All of this is happening on a time-scale of 4 months or so. I really hope it passes. I voiced my full support for all the proposed changes. I think it may have mattered too, as there were a few people who were opposing some of the changes and I think I voiced stronger support for the changes than anyone else present.

If you care about reducing unnecessary policing and reforming local laws, this is the kind of stuff you can get into.

Don't just go to protests, get involved in your local government. They may already be doing some good things and your voice may make a difference.

[sybaritick]

alex (🐍) has surely been instructed at work not to eat anything in front of anyone new and and I imagine he jokingly says he's going to file a discrimination complaint. but he doesn't care much bc he knows how it is.

boss jokes they're funding his bad habits and alex, who's not really the drinking/partying type unless it's For Networking, tells her it's interesting she'd rather have quants who blow their bonus on coke and throwing yacht parties than deal with someone who has no CHOICE but to source some whole 50-pound Hopefully It's Fish! prey item

"i have MET snakes who manage to adjust to a more regular meal plan," she says. "you just like to eat things that still have eyes."

"you expect me to survive on chicken cutlets?" he answers, gesturing to her doordash order. "i think i'd lose my touch if i didn't get to swallow all the organs in there with it. i need my vitamins."

she calls him a freak but it's a term of endearment, and leaves him be.

there are anthros who adjust to some kind of common societal norm: maybe eating twice a day in moderate amounts that no longer look like a whole ass dead creature or a leg of something, sleeping at night instead of during the day, avoiding showing your teeth if they make others uncomfortable.

and those that refuse to adjust and do their own thing: snakes only eating once every two weeks, some preferring to still eat whole [nonsapient] prey or god forbid live prey, some working night shifts because their species is naturally nocturnal and it's easier, avians that sleep on a perch instead of a bed, dormice taking annual leave to hibernate.

alex is the latter type. he's too proud and stubborn (and unpracticed at it) to cover his snakeishness for the sake of social capital.

[adapembroke]

You Also Are Psyche: Beauty and the Shadow Self

I was a teenager the first time crop tops and low-rise baggy jeans were cool. In my eyes, everyone in my school was a clone of Brittney Spears, and I felt like a hideous beast. Because I couldn’t go around with a bag over my head, I did my best to hide behind books.

One of those books was Till We Have Faces by CS Lewis. It is a retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche from the perspective of Psyche’s sister Orual. Orual was angry and bitter, and she was actually allowed to wear a veil to hide her face. Best of all, since she was a queen, there was no one to tell her not to write an entire book about it.

Till We Have Faces was the perfect medicine for that time in my life. I drank up Orual’s bitterness like illicit beer. I reveled in her self-righteous anger.

Her life was unfair. And she was allowed to file a complaint with the gods!

As she prepared to present her argument, I cackled with glee, convinced that the gods would see the rightness of her cause and... I wasn’t sure what I wanted them to do, exactly. Just the possibility that Orual might be right was enough.

Spoiler alert.

Orual doesn’t get what she wants, exactly, but she does get what she needs. After she is allowed to repeat her rant at the gods over and over again, she realizes that “the complaint was the answer.” She is not actually the righteous victim. The story (and her involvement in it) was more complicated, and she was (unknowingly) complicit in her sister’s suffering. Then she is taken to receive judgement from Eros. Reunited with Psyche, they look into a reflecting pool together, and she sees identical reflections.

“You also are Psyche,” the god says, and that is his judgement.

Orual receives, not mercy exactly, but a lesson in the interconnectedness of all things. She learns that gods and people “flow in and out of each other,” and, so, justice cannot assign blame to a single individual. The ugly sister and Psyche and Venus are one, and their beauty and ugliness and suffering are experienced by each other in the same way a body feels the pain of its hand or foot.

Psyche as the Shadow

As an adult, I have come to realize that Lewis’s version of Cupid and Psyche is about the paradoxical nature of the shadow. When we say “shadow,” we usually mean something ugly or wicked, but the shadow is anything about ourselves we can’t accept.

The difficulty I had with fashion as a teenager was just an outward manifestation of my inward struggle to see myself in my entirety. For whatever reason, it was (and continues to be) easier for me to admit my faults than participate in beauty. Attempts to put my “best foot forward” and present myself “in the best light” feel disingenuous. Like Orual, I am happy to show off my intelligence, but wearing makeup and fancy clothes and sitting in front of a camera feels fundamentally wrong.

It can be more difficult to accept the beautiful in us as it is to accept the ugly, and I get a lot of support from the spiritual community for my position on beauty. In a landscape rendered flawless by filters and Photoshopping and AI, refusing to participate in the beauty game seems humble and honest, but my motivations are anything but honest.

“If I can’t play the game well,” I say to myself, “I’m not going to play at all.”

For me, hiding from the camera is a subtle way of engaging in spiritual bypassing and, in the process, supporting the position that “only the beautiful deserves to show up” that I claim to stand against.

The Astrology of Psyche (Or, You Are Psyche, Too)

“You also are Psyche” is true in a mythical sense, but it is also true in a more literal sense. There is an asteroid named Psyche, which means the Goddess of the Beauty of the Soul appears somewhere in everyone’s chart.

In my chart, Psyche appears in my 10th house, close to my Midheaven, which means that my relationship with the myth of Psyche is an aspect of my soul that is a highly visible part of my personality--visible even to people who don’t know me personally. Psyche is close to my Mercury, giving me a “way with words” and making it easy for me to own the mercurial side of my nature, but Psyche is “close but not close enough” to my sun and Venus making it difficult for me to identify (sun) with Psyche and see her beauty (Venus) in myself.

Being able to see the astrology of a favorite story playing out in my life has helped me to begin the life-long journey of hiking to Psyche’s reflecting pool and seeing her face in mine, and I would like to help you, too.

If you’d like to learn more about asteroid Psyche in your chart, check out my workshop on Cupid and Psyche, or let’s chat over tea!

[stressedlawsecretary]

Today's Focus

07.30.24 - The last challenge is to style yourself now in a way you don't think you would have before the challenge. In that regard, I don't think I've ever worn this dress. So I thought to do something bolder than I usually do for a work day.

Work - Literally as I was about to leave CSB asked me to print and hole-punch a 156 page document so I got him to let me do it today. But that's it; I haven't really had work to do.

Background Noise - In the office so pounding out YT videos again. I'm working on two things: random videos I've saved that are under an hr long, and a couple of instances of YT drama that have both slowed down and the videos aren't super long. In that regard, I have like 4 videos on the Sketch situation to watch, and I think I can tackle the Cody Ko stuff as well.

23 videos yesterday is not bad; it's less than I wanted but many of those videos were in the 40-50 min range so like. Longer videos means a longer time to watch them.

Study - Tuesday is article day and boy do I have several to read!

Yesterday I did well. I did like the three press releases from the weekend, half a dozen of the temporarily saved articles on A.I. "art", a random article, and a couple on Lucy Letby - a UK baby serial killer. I also finished reading that complaint the AG filed against a couple of bad housing attorneys.

Extras - Okay last Tuesday of the month so I am cleaning the bathroom top to bottom, including mopping the floor. Dinner should be easier, at least; I'm doing teriyaki meatball and broccoli skewers with rice. Starting Samurai Sentai Shinkenger today and I'm a little excited for this one - it has the first female red ranger in Sentai history, and they let her have more than 1 or 2 episodes! Yeah after that Idk what I'll watch.