#even if i never get the chance to put them to paper or formulate them into the things i want to make.

[fuglyjeans]

I'm gonna be 30 this year. ....

Where'd all the time go.......

[sylvyviolett]

“Nggggh…”

A small figure rustles underneath a thick layer of blankets on a bed in a small, but modest bedroom. The room is cluttered with various trash, such as water bottles, juice bottles, various junk food, and crumpled sheets of paper containing random scribbles. The bedroom is also furnished with a desk, and on it is an alarm clock, a laptop, a stack of notebooks, a lone, unopened journal, and an empty mug with a tea bag still inside. Finally, near the desk is a shelf and a body-length mirror.

The small figure makes its way out of the mountain of bedding, and reaches for the alarm clock which reads 11:40 am.

“Oof… it’s almost noontime already?” they groaned in dismay, in a soft, high pitched voice.  They then walk to the door, saying, “Oh well, I guess I gotta get myself some food-”

They stop to look at themselves in the mirror, and see a lithe, feminine figure that of a 12 or 13-year-old with long, lush light brown hair, complemented with a soft, youthful face. The round, wide eyes had chocolate irises and black, shiny pupils complemented with thin eyebrows. Their nose was small and their lips tiny. Below the shoulders is a small but growing bust. Their arms, hands, and legs were thin, smooth, and delicate, as if they were silk. The whole body was covered in a gray, baggy shirt that hangs past the elbows but just above the knees.

“No way…” they say in confusion and excitement as they look at themselves more closely. “Is this… really me?” They run their fingers through the soft locks, and immediately felt a sense of euphoric bliss that they never experienced before. They then examined the rest of their body all over, until they heard the bedroom door open.

“Jamie!” an older girl says from behind the door. She had a physique that was appropriate for a 20-year-old woman. She had dark brown hair tied up in a bun, with brown eyes that complemented her sisterly look. She was wearing a simple red blouse and a modest skirt, laid over by a white lab coat.

“Jamie, it’s about noontime already, so why don’t you get up and-” She is cut short by the sight of their sibling innocently feeling their body in the mirror, and admiring the changes.

They looked at their sister in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “J-Jaiden! I was just, um… checking myself?”

Without a word, Jaiden checks her sibling from head to toe, taking note of the changes in a tablet computer she was carrying inside her coat. “Yep, looks like everything’s going great! You sure got a lot cuter though, you look like a middle schooler…”

They look in bewilderment as Jaiden makes her way to the mug on the table. She picks it up, and remarks, “It seems that my formulation worked better than I thought…”

It didn’t take long for them to put two and two together and realize that their sister drugged them to turn into a girl. “Wha-what was that you put in my tea last night?” they demanded.

“It’s an experimental drug of mine. I decided the test subject should be you, since I have no one else willing to try…” Jaiden answered.

“But… why? What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“You’ve been a lock-up for two years now! You don’t even go outside for a simple neighborhood walk! That’s why I created this medicine to show you what it would be like to…”

Thoughts ran into the newly-transformed girl’s mind as their sister was rambling. “No way… My younger sister… did this for me? Jennifer, a locked-up and closeted loser, given a second chance at life? This feels like a dream! Now I can do what I always wanted to do: be the girl I always wanted to be! I wanna try on some girl clothes, make some friends, get a girlfriend, and-”

Jennifer’s train of thought was interrupted by Jaiden catching her daydreaming. “Jaime? Were you listening to me at all?”

“Y-y-yes! S-so, um… Where were we?”

“I got brunch for you at the kitchen table. You haven’t eaten properly in like, forever! And after eating, can you please clean your room? It looks like a petri dish in there!”

“S-sure thing! I’ll clean it up later!”

Jennifer made her way downstairs to the kitchen and dined on what is possibly the first great meal she had in a while. Maybe it’s because she’s been living off of junk food for months or that her new body makes the food taste better, but whatever the case, she’s enjoying every second of it.

After a great brunch, Jennifer went back to her bedroom and cleaned up three years’ worth of garbage, all while musing about what her new life will be like. Three hours later, the room was tidy, and she opened up the blank journal she was saving to document her first day as a girl.

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

Hey guys! I hope you liked this little idea for a novel I'm planning to write. Basically it's my interpretation of a manga I love which has helped me crack my egg. What do you think of the story so far? Please let me know!

- Violett

[dirtwatching]

ok, heres the rant:

i wrote my ba thesis on norwegian hiphop and highlighted three acts, although i ended up focusing on this one act (a duo) in particular, you might even consider it obsessing. i listened to and analysed all their songs, music videos, interviews etc. For six months, they were pretty much all i could think about. and that started to hurt, in a way i still havent fully comprehended. maybe i am sad that i have not seen them live yet and feeling like a perpetual outsider to this culture, afraid that i will never be able to fully understand them. overwhelmed, too. or maybe i am empathetic to the fates they describe in their songs.

(let me add that, whilst i already was in the midst, or rather the final "endspurt" of my work, they released a new album, so whenever i would go on instagram i was flooded with new information that, oftentimes, was not intended to be understood by someone like me.)

i am only somewhat proud of the thesis. it got a good grade (a minus), and i somehow got to many "right" results, without utilising the "right" theories. however, you can clearly see that it was my first major paper. every time i open it, i see mistakes and i cringe at formulations. in addition, i would sum up the work as overambitious, trying to grasp everything at once. since i am thinking about participating in an scientific essay writing contest, i thought about redoing my work, keeping the topic and big parts of the analysis but refining everything and adding more "proper" theories.

since i deinstalled instagram a year ago, i havent really been keeping up on them. i am finally at a point where i can listen to their music and enjoy it again, although i do sometimes find myself analysing it. well, a week ago i opened spotify to a notification that they had released a new album, along with some merch. i clicked on it, only to find that they are currently on a european tour, their first, as far as im aware. i also saw, that while many of the tour dates had already passed, there was still one open, ten days from then, (next monday) in a city only 3 hours by train from me. i immediately went to the ticketing website, which gave me the option to be put on a waiting list for any returned tickets. i signed up, and somehow got a hold of two tickets (bringing a friend for emotional support).

ever since then i have been in a conundrum: do i ask them to sign a copy of my thesis? the idea of having my printed out version of it autographed by the analysed artists has been stuck in my mind basically since the conception of it. (did i write the thesis solely to get the artists' attention? not exclusively; i genuinely think it is an important topic that is underrepresented in my field of study) so tonight i finally reached out - i sent them a snapchat of the thesis with the plea to sign it. if i recall correctly, the one in charge of snapchat is also the one whos autograph i want the most. he has also studied cultural studies, i believe, so i think he would maybe appreciate my effort the most. and while in my head i keep having discussions with him on orientalism and cultural studies, the simple act of sending that snap gave me enough anxiety to kill a small child.

i feel i would totally embarass myself in front of them and they would hate me, and i know that is nonsensical, but that is how i feel. i would love to get that booklet signed, but preferably without having to communicate with them. but this is pretty much a once in a lifetime chance. and being able to talk about their work would also give me some input and motivation to work on the essay for the contest.

i am bringing that print out to the concert, whether i get an answer or not, and maybe, after a great concert and having danced out all anxiety or w/e, i might be able to talk to them, without immediately afterwards feeling like clawing my way out of my skin.

i really want my favourite artists autograph, but i dont want them to perceive me

[valleyfae]

𝐥𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

Paring: dark!biker!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Warnings: graphic and explicit content, unprotected sex 18+ only MDNI, noncon, dubcon, oral (male receiving), degradation, dumbification, forced orgasms, loss of virginity, corruption kink, Bucky is obsessive, condescending, and manipulative

Summary: Bucky makes sure to show you who you should trust after moving alone to a big city.

Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: this is an unproofread shit show lol

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Never feeling connected to your surroundings, you have become accustomed to spending nearly every second of your free time alone. Finally taking the plunge to move, you now find yourself still alone but now frightened in an apartment in Brooklyn, New York. Maybe they were right. Maybe you would never be able to push yourself and go outside your comfort zone to accomplish the things you have always desired.

The doubts weigh down on your already detached aura. The constant formulation of reasons to continue your pessimistic tendencies starts to become unbearable. Sick of the endless battle going on within your mind, you give yourself twenty minutes to get off the couch, tidy up the mess of books and papers chaotically sprawled around your apartment, and attempt to look somewhat presentable.

Another twenty minutes pass and you end up mindlessly roaming along the picturesque streets. Second-hand smoke and the intoxicating aroma of alcohol flood your senses. Walking past a dark and secluded patio, you finally step into what seems like an old-style but favorable bar.

You don’t fully know how you ended up here. If you even told the cab driver the correct address, but you were here.

Observing the people in the bar, it seems that every one of them is a regular. Everyone appears to be friendly with each other, or at least know the unapproachable ones.

Your anxiety is reimbursed as numerous glances from the intimidating and not to mention inebriated, customers stab into your back. Putting down your vodka soda, you shakily take a deep breath out. Swiftly turning your head, you scan the buzzing room.

A pair of the most intriguing but daunting deep blue eyes catch you off guard. His eyes were placed above his chiseled jaw, sheathed in stubble. He runs his hand through his silky hair. His bicep bulges as it catches the light, showing off his skin, decorated with intricate tattoos and defined rivers of veins.

After the longest two seconds of your life, your back awkwardly contorts from embarrassment. Your brain won’t let go of how he looked at you. So intense. Too intense?

"You comin’ Buck? Steve and I are gonna head out."

Not concentrated on Steve and Sam, Bucky only has one thing on his mind. "You guys go. Gotta check something out." Bucky’s hand lands two firm pats on Sam's husky shoulder.

"Promise not to kill the poor thing."

A smug grin appears on Bucky's face. "Don't know if I can keep any promises, Rogers," Bucky smugly rebuts, "Tomorrow, 10:30?"

"See you then, tough guy."

Sam’s chuckles and Steve's remarks fade away, and Bucky is now fully consumed by what seems like the end of his night.

His thoughts are reckless, on the verge of being uncontrollable. The darkest deliberations imaginable crept into his brain. Bucky fights to keep his composure. He hides behind his brawny physique, attempting to suppress his filthy desires. He knows he shouldn't, but you intoxicate him more than any amount of liquor could. Pushing him to the point of insanity. Just from a single, innocent smile.

The feeling of eyes glued on you doesn’t go away when you turn back around. Mindlessly playing with the cold condensation on your cup, trying to calm yourself down and build some courage to at least introduce yourself. But before you get even the slightest chance, a soft breath of heat waterfalls down your neck. Rich amber and bold notes of earthy musk flood your senses. Your confidence gets stuck in your throat as you try and swallow.

"How you doin’ tonight, doll?"

"Oh, um, hi. I’m okay. " Bucky sits on the empty stool next to you. You can smell the strong whisky arising from his deep and earnest words. "How are you doing?"

"Better than I thought I was going to be," Bucky can't help but watch you attempt to be discreet while you fidget with your fingers. "You look very nice tonight. Never seen you here, first time?" Still too nervous to maintain eye contact, Bucky rubs your tense shoulder, producing goosebumps that trickle down your apprehensive figure. "You know, it's not very nice to look away when someone is speaking to you," He hastily grabs your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with his dark blue eyes.

"S-sorry, I just don’t normally go out, and stuff. Just moved here," rambling in circles, your already heightened level of embarrassment rises.

"Don’t worry your pretty little mind, no need to be scared of me."

After fifteen minutes of Bucky carrying the conversation. You don’t know what starts to come over you, but you’re captivated by his deep blue longing gaze, while Bucky absorbs every ounce of information you share. The alcohol from the three drinks he's bought you after your initial vodka soda has helped with loosening you up, in addition to his cherry-picked, manipulative sweet talk. Favoring your feebleness and how docile you are, he can’t help but expand his vile thoughts, considering how he can live them out.

"How are you planning on gettin’ home? Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, now would we?"

"I was going to take a cab or Uber?" you question, yearning for Bucky's approval. "I don't live that far away anyway," you chirp awkwardly, as your cheeks heat up. Pushing aside the fact that he’s the first person who’s tried to talk to you since moving, Bucky has made you feel safe.

"Alone at this hour?" Bucky keeps up his concerned facade. "You know how creepy those men can be. Picking up pretty girls like you to take advantage of," his words laced with faux sympathy. Taking a sharp breath in, Bucky slyly reaches out and gently caresses your supple flesh.

"Couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you on your first night out." Maintaining piercing eye contact, Bucky generously tips the bartender. Fixing the collar of his beat-up Harley jacket, Bucky subconsciously runs his tongue across his plush bottom lip, watching your eyes follow his fingers as they glide across the tough leather. "I’ll walk you home, can’t leave you by yourself in the dark."

"It’s okay, I don’t want to disturb your night," The battle of conflicting thoughts starts to fall even deeper into Bucky's deceptions. "You’ve already been so sweet to me, and I am out of your way. Are you sure? I mean I-"

His pants start to become uncomfortably tight at his crotch from your innocent responses. "Bergen, yes?" he grins. Silencing your incoherent rambling with a finger to your lips.

"That’s the street!" you cringe at your own words. Your awkward smile returns, endeavoring to mirror Bucky's evasive chuckle.

Two short thuds diverge off the walnut wood as Bucky pushes himself off his seat and back to his intimidating stance. Intertwining his large hand with yours, you hop off your stool. Guiding you out of the still lively bar, Bucky towers above you. All awareness depleted, you gush over Bucky's bulging biceps. The defined outline is impressively visible under his thick jacket.

"Thank you again," you murmur. With the unexpected harshness of the cold breeze, you stumble on top of your steps. You abruptly grip Bucky's hand out of apprehension, depending on his strong stature to stay grounded.

His pants become uncomfortably tight at your innocent response, "Someone drank a little too much, hasn't she?" While pulling you closer, Bucky retains his possession over you. Giving stern looks to the various men who are eyeing you.

"S-sorry"

"No more apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong, honey," Bucky interjects. His words feel more like demands, as you mercifully allow him to exploit your inebriation.

Not letting your captivation go, you happily marvel at the lofty 6'4 brunette. He has succeeded in making you feel comfortable enough to engage in conversation. Making you feel safe, just in the twelve minutes of talking to you while walking to your apartment.

Oversharing random details of your dull life back home, he pulls you close. But his twisted smile and encouraging nods egg you on to keep blabbering. He slows down his pace and brushes his hand across your cheek to cup your face.

"So no boyfriend, you say?" His words flow softly with ease, "How does a sweet angel like you not have a boyfriend?" Bucky can sense your hastening heartbeat as he wraps his arm around your back.

Your nerves return and the obvious confusion starts to be displayed across your face. Opening your mouth, nothing comes out but a shaky breath. Before you get the chance to take a second chance at responding to Bucky, he dips his head down, pressing a light kiss under your jaw.

Squirming under Bucky's firm grip, your back harshly lands on the cold brick wall. Cornering you against the wall, Bucky hushes you once again, but now the kiss is on your lips, Bucky gropes your thigh. "Do as you are told. Don’t want to have to hurt you."

"Sorry, I just, I- I thought."

"Shh sh, don't make me tell you again, alright sweetheart? I’m in charge around here. Just do what I say." Bucky's demeanor becomes increasingly angry, as he watches your eyes move anywhere but to his. Stroking your trembling cheek, he grasps your fragile hand. Your arm has gone completely lax out of anticipation. Bucky guides your palm to his prominent bulge. Slowly, letting your hand fall away from his pants, he begins to unbuckle his belt. His willpower is still strong, but with every second it becomes harder for him to hold back.

"I’ve never done that before-" This time, you stop yourself before a consequence follows your nervous and naive comments. Enclosed between the cool bricks digging into your back and Bucky, all you can do is comply with his demands.

"Remember what I said? Just do as I say and everything will be fine."

"I just, I," a meek whimper escapes your lips as tears well up in your eyes.

In the blink of an eye, gravel is digging into your shaky knees and you’re eye level with Bucky's tall standing beefy thighs.

You’ve never in your life drank as much as you did tonight, nor has any man this handsome and assertive given you the attention Bucky has. Too many factors to comprehend have led to him being able to toy with you like his personal puppet. Not wanting to make your situation worse, you accept the circumstances and give Bucky control over your body.

You watch as he unzips his jet-black pants that are strained from his erection. You control yourself and make sure you don’t talk. You can’t help but roll the flesh of your bottom quivering lip between your teeth. Your nerves are bubbling restlessly around your stomach.

Slowly pumping his cock in one hand, he seizes a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up into his intimidating eyes. "Now there's no need to worry, okay? I’ll tell you exactly what to do, and all you gotta do is obey. Alright, honey?" Bucky’s domineering tone still captures you with every word.

Gradually swiping his tip, already smearing precum across your sealed lips, his patience dwindles down to his breaking point. He can’t hold back anymore.

"Open."

Looking for reassurance from Bucky, you begin to place apprehensive kitten licks on his harsh red tip. He continues his harsh tugging on your hair, aching your sensitive scalp. With his hands on the crown of your head, he forces every inch of himself down your throat. Bucky's deep and raspy tone shamefully adds to the sheepish trembling in your knees.

Choking on Bucky's extensive length and thickness, your eyes start to sting, flooding with salty tears. Drool runs down your chin, getting slapped against his balls with each of his merciless thrusts.

He doesn’t care how much you gag or squirm beneath him. Bucky can’t control himself anymore. His pulsing tip pummels down your throat, driving soreness to grow abundantly. Tirelessly fucking your mouth, throaty groans assemble at his lips. As his animalistic growls grow louder and louder, Bucky digs his pearly white teeth into his plush red lips.

Tears gush down your face and butterflies flood your abdomen, as Bucky suddenly rips your mouth off of him to admire the beautiful mess he has corrupted.

"Look at you. So pretty, trembling on your knees for me. Such a pretty little thing." Bending down, Bucky reaches his hand to your numb cheek. Running two large fingers across your skin, he collects a mixture of tears, spit, and his salty, precum. You watch him glance down at your lips. Before he can further instruct you, you immediately open your mouth, allowing him to shove his dripping fingers inside, immediately triggering your sensitive gag reflex. "And so smart. Knew you were somethin' special."

The crisp breeze hits your body as Bucky manhandles you, making you ready to be on full display for him. You’re still pressed adjacent to ridged bricks, but now you don’t have the chance to speculate on what he is going to do to you.

His hands graze the back of your thighs, capturing your anticipation and prolonging his desire to corrupt you in your most vulnerable form. Bucky’s grin increases from the sweet sound of your whimpers when his dexterous fingers reach past the hem of your dress.

As Bucky locates himself between your legs, he slowly slides his tip through your dripping slit. Your body twitches from the slightest friction. He gets increasingly hard from watching you struggle to not fully give into him.

Without warning, he rams himself through your aching folds. He reaches his arm forward to cover your mouth. Stifling your screams with his intense grip, Bucky’s movements get harder and deeper.

Your sensitive skin burns from being forcefully wrapped around his cock. With each thrust, you can feel yourself getting weaker. Your muffled cries abrade your sore throat. Bucky starts going faster and deeper, messily pounding into you.

Suddenly, you moan. Horrifying yourself. You've never felt that way in your life. Never felt that amount of embarrassing, painful pleasure. Legs jolting, uncontrollably squirming under Bucky's domination.

Bucky smirks, "Atta girl." He moves his spit-covered fingers away from your swollen, chewed-up lips, groping a harsh trail down to your agonizingly throbbing clit. "Knew you could do it. Perfect little doll warmin’ up to me. Even feel your pretty cunt squeezing my cock."

Bucky’s breaths are short, with throaty groans quickly following. His arm reaches around your waist to rub your pulsing bundle of nerves. His constricting bicep digs into your ribs. Your eyes shut and your legs uncontrollably spasm.

"Sorry, Sorry, I don’t know what-" With your neck squirming, and your hips prodding at Bucky’s pubic bone, you can't formulate a coherent sentence. "Couldn’t, I just-"

"Aw, has my cockdrunk angel never cum before? Just a confused little mess crying around me, aren’t you, honey?" Bucky responds to your incoherent rambling. With a mean slap to your cunt, his provoked tip assaults your cervix. You can feel him practically splitting you into two. "Don’t worry, I got you. Just keep on taking me like a good girl."

Bucky's words, manipulatively sweet, completely contrast with his opposing, ruthless thrust. His brutal movements mixed with his enduring words lead you to fail your battle against caving into his fabricated ward.

Not comprehending your body's reaction, Bucky continuously pulls aching orgasms out of you. Your evasive yelps and the writhing of your hips chase after his impending climax. Holding himself back for a second more, he maneuvers you to be pressed against his heaving chest.

"Gotta see your ruined face when I fill that sweet cunt full of my cum."

Bucky’s remarks penetrate your overstimulated clit. Drawing a fifth and final orgasm out of you, he digs his nails along your skin while he swells you with his velvety cum. A final moan leaves Bucky's throat while your lips quiver. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours.

"Good girl," Bucky murmurs, "wasn't so bad, huh?"

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Kuroo Tetsuro

As requested by @forgetou (hope you love it bb!)

Previously: Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 

(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)

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

‘So I hear you’re going to fill in for Hinata next match?’ 

Your head whips around. A growl builds up in your throat. 

You’d recognise that sleaze ball voice anywhere - Kuroo Tetsuro, Slytherin prefect, top student in potions and more importantly, the scumbag keeper that formulated a strategy (alongside Oikawa, that brat - but that’s besides the point) to completely break down the Gryffindor chaser trio of Hinata, Lev and Yamamoto when Iwaizumi was out for an injury the last Quidditch match. 

If you weren’t playing against them, you’d admit that the Slytherin strategy was perfect. Suna and Daishou caged Hinata in with non-stop bludger head shots, and the Miya twins flew literal circles around Lev - still a beginner, so you’ll cut him some slack, so much that the two idiots collided when Kuroo feinted forward and they thought they finally had a chance to score. 

So now you have to step into Hinata’s position for the match next weekend.

You like Quidditch well enough, but you don’t have an overwhelming passion for it the way Hinata or Oikawa or Atsumu or heck, even Yaku does - monsters, the lot of them. You play it for fun, you enjoy being a reserve member, and you’d never expected that you’d have to play in an actual match with Iwaizumi, Lev, Hinata and Yamamoto all playing chaser already. 

You’re scared - and you hate feeling this way, especially a Gryffindor like you, so you snarl and hiss and kick your feet when Yaku drags you away from Kuroo, the demon keeper scolding you not to ‘cause a scene in the Great Hall - seriously, what are you five?’, though Lev and Yamamoto cheers you on. 

‘Come on, let’s make a bet on our match next weekend’, Kuroo calls after you, and you flail hard in Yaku’s arms enough that Yaku loses not just his balance, but his grip on you. 

‘Sure’, you shout defiantly, not caring that the pair of you have attracted an audience. You can see the entire Slytherin team five steps away, matching Cheshire grins on all of their faces. Your blood boils and you’re ready to accept the terms of whatever stupid bet this rooster head proposes. 

Kuroo’s grin widens. ‘I bet you can’t even get five goals past me.’ 

‘I bet you I can’, you retort, even as your heart sinks. Kuroo isn’t quite as good as Yaku, but he’s devious and brilliant at feints and you’re not even a starter on the Gryffindor team. But you’ve dug yourself into a hole, and you’re determined to commit to your position, damnit, so you keep your voice steady as you ask for his terms. 

‘If I win, you’ll have to go on a date with me the next weekend’. He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, eyes crinkling at its corners in amusement as you mouth an outraged ‘what the hell?’ and Yaku starts shouting bloody murder himself. 

You gather yourself and resist Yaku’s attempts at pulling you away. ‘And if I win, what do I get?’ 

Kuroo laughs airily. ‘I highly doubt that, but name your price, sweetheart’. 

You think of the most embarrassing thing you could possibly inflict on this smug bastard, your eyes landing on the ridiculous mop of hair on his head and it’s your turn to grin, sharp and full of edges. 

‘Fine. If I win, you’ll shave your head’. 

‘Deal.’ 

Kuroo sticks his hand out to you and you take it. You feel like you’ve just made a deal with the devil himself. 

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

Iwaizumi nags you to bits when Yaku tells him of the entire debacle, the Gryffindor keeper throwing himself dramatically across the locker room bench, complaining that he’s done being a damn babysitter to this lot of idiots without any sense of self preservation. 

‘You’re gonna need a whole lot of training in that case’, Iwaizumi tells you grimly, and you sigh, because you know it’s not going to do any good. 

And you’re right, because even though you’ve spent the entire week training and running drills in snow and sleet and rain, it’s not enough. You barely get three goals against Kuroo in the match, let alone five - and to be fair, one of them was when you literally threw Lev against him when the referee wasn’t looking, so you resign yourself to his mocking looks when the whistle blows, marking the end of the match where Oikawa outsmarts Kageyama to grab the snitch out of the air first. You feel a kinship with the captured snitch, the pathetic fluttering of its wings so much like your futile attempts to win the damn bet. 

Kuroo smirks at you knowingly when you refuse to take his hand at the end of the game. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you next weekend?’ he asks, eyes glinting as you huff and fold your arms across your chest. 

‘Fine, I guess’, you answer with a distinct lack of grace. You don’t notice when his smirk turns into a genuine smile. 

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

The Gryffindor boys crowd around you, groaning in disappointment when you tell them no they’re not allowed to follow you around Hogsmeade, even if you’re on a date with Kuroo Tetsuro - and no, Lev, a disguise is not going to work, your height and ridiculous hair makes you far too conspicuous for that! 

‘I’ll beat him up if he does anything’, Iwaizumi threatens, and you roll your eyes at his overprotective streak. 

‘I’ll be fine’, you reply, shrugging off Yaku’s attempts at giving you ridiculous magic artifacts intended to ward off wandering hands. Kuroo Tetsuro may be insufferable and smug and a general pain in the butt, but he’s not an absolute piece of shit - plus, you’re handy with your wands in duels so you’re certain you can handle anything he throws at you. 

You don’t even bother putting on a lick of makeup when you prepare to meet him. He magicks an enchanted paper plane to land on your desk during potions to tell you that he’ll pick you up from Gryffindor tower at three o’clock sharp, and he’s leaning against the pillar with feline grace as you tumble out of the portrait hole, your teammates shooting him deadly glares as he sweeps you off with his palm warm against the small of your back. 

‘Want to grab a drink first?’ he asks, with a surprising amount of concern when your nose turns pink in the cold. 

You nod hesitantly, expecting him to drag you into the pink and white monstrosity that is Madam Puddifoots to complete your humiliation, but he doesn’t - holding the door open to the Three Broomsticks, ushering you into the corner booth, ordering a pint of butterbeer for you. 

‘My team’s not here, don’t worry’, he says, laughing when you glance around the pub, eyes narrowed for any signs of that odious Oikawa or the bothersome Miya twins - or worse, snarky Suna and devious Daishou, but Kuroo isn’t lying, none of them are around to witness the indignity of your date with one Kuroo Tetsuro. 

‘Do you drag unwilling girls into pubs often?’ you snark, tapping your fingers on the table irritably. 

‘Nah, only you’, he answers easily, smirk widening with mirth when you wrinkle your nose at him. ‘Come on, lighten up a bit - we might as well get to know each other since we’re going to be spending the whole afternoon together.’

‘Fine’, you say sourly, brightening only when the bartender brings your drinks. ‘Why don’t you tell me about yourself’. 

 And so even though you’ve been classmates with Kuroo for years, you learn for the first time that he’s not intending to be a professional Quidditch player when he graduates next year, even though you admit he’s a talented keeper in his own right. 

‘Really? You’re giving up Quidditch?’

‘Yeah - I have it all thought out I’m going to study potions further and figure out how to revolutionise the potions industry - d’you know the muggles have a pharmaceuticals industry that’s like our potions industry, only hugely profitable?’ 

It’s so typical of a Slytherin that you can’t help but snort. 

But then he disarms you with funny stories of himself growing up. You learn that his parents separated when he was only five, and as a result, he stayed mostly with his grandparents growing up. You learn that he was lonely and shy and awkward - really? you? you choke on your butterbeer incredulously  - at least until he moved next door to Kenma from Ravenclaw. 

‘I introduced him to Quidditch, and he’s a natural at coming up with strategies’, he says proudly, proceeding to chatter fondly of quiet, unsociable Kenma, who you can tell is his little brother in all but name and blood.

You tell him about growing up with three older brothers - all Gryffindors, just like you. He listens to your stories about breaking your arm when you stole your eldest brother’s broom, chuckles at your recounting of the pranks you pull on your teammates to remind them that you may be a girl, but you can take of yourself just fine - because Iwaizumi and Yaku tend to take their protective side a tad too far sometimes.  

It’s so pleasant that you forget that your date is the result of a bet, and you don’t even think twice about raising a napkin to gently wipe the froth from butterbeer off the corner of Kuroo’s mouth - it comes with the territory of being teammates with messy eaters like Hinata and Kageyama - until he freezes in shock. 

‘I’m sorry!’ you blurt out, mortified. But instead of teasing you for your forwardness, Kuroo turns bright red and gapes at you. He must think you’re an idiot. ‘Um - d’you want to check out Honeydukes before they close?’ you ask, in a desperate attempt to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation.

That jolts Kuroo out of his daze. Thankfully, any awkwardness vanishes when he slides out of his seat to steal the bill from you. You complain because he refuses point blank to split the bill with you, and he even playfully keeps his hands above his head to avoid your attempts at pressing coins into his hands until you reach the candy store. 

You watch in amusement as he loads his basket with chocolates and sweets for his team. He gets dark chocolate for Miya Osamu, and white chocolate for his twin Atsumu - at this point, I’m convinced they’re just determined to like the opposite of what the other prefers just to be contrary, he laughingly tells you. He gets creamy nougats for Oikawa - I should stop by the bread store to get him mlik bread, but his fangirls spoil him enough so I shan’t, he says. Ice mice for Suna to prank the twins with, tooth flossing stringmints for Daishou - he needs to clean his fangs, he jokes, and a whole bunch of chocolate frogs to be used as bribes for Kenma to go to bed on time. 

It’s lovely and warm in the store. You have a good time tossing fizzing frisbees behind the storekeeper’s back at Kuroo, dodging as he tries to drop jellybeans down your shirt. At the checkout counter, you protest again when he slyly tells the cashier that he’ll pay for your purchases on top of his, and he doesn’t even let you carry your own chocolates as you’re walking back to the castle. 

‘I’m perfectly capable of carrying a bag of chocolates by myself’, you huff, annoyed that yet another boy is treating you as though you’re made of glass. 

‘I believe you’ Kuroo replies emphatically, pressing his hand to his chest with  dramatic flair. ‘But I’m also a kind and considerate soul, because someone forgot to bring her gloves, and I’m going to need to save your hands if you actually want a shot at trying to get more goals past me next time’. 

You scowl. ‘Fine’, but you relent grudgingly. You didn’t even know he noticed that your hands are numb and cold. You’ve just never enjoyed the cold, and to make matters worse, it’s snowing. A chilly wind picks up, and you sneeze thrice in quick succession. 

‘Can’t wait to get back indoors, or can’t wait for the date to be over?’, he comments as you pick up your pace, trudging through the cold wet snow. You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw drops when he tugs you to a stop, tucking his cloak securely over your shoulders. His body heat and the faint scent of cinnamon and butterbeer still lingers in the fabric and you can’t help but wrap his cloak tighter around yourself.  

‘There’, he says, satisfied. ‘Better?’  

You nod, not trusting yourself to respond. 

He walks you all the way back to Gryffindor tower and when you try to return his cloak, to your surprise, he refuses to take it back. 

‘Keep it for our next date’, he tells you cheekily, laughing when your eyes widen and you choke on your breath. 

‘I don’t recall hearing you ask for a second date’, you reply archly when your body finally stops its attempts at expelling your lungs from your chest. 

‘Well, I am now’, he replies. 

You look at him. Though the smirk he wears on his lips is unwavering, you can see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. And though you’d never think you’d ever say it, but the afternoon was a pleasure, and Kuroo was a lovely date. 

You - you like him, this adorable dork of a boy who’s both charming and confident yet awkward and uncertain at the same time. He’s caring and funny and ambitious and there are so many facets of him that you’ve only discovered today - and if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re curious enough to want to delve deeper into the enigma that is one Kuroo Tetsuro. 

‘Fine’, you mumble, the tips of your ears turning pink. This time it’s definitely not from the cold. 

‘Yeah?’ he asks, quietly, uncertainly. 

‘Yeah’, you reply softly, casting your gaze down to the floor, suddenly shy. You don’t notice him take a step forward, startling as he gently tilts your chin up to face him. Your first instinct is to snap at him for coming so close, but he’s too quick for you to even react, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead, tenderly tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

‘Next week then’, he says, with a wide smile before sweeping off, leaving you standing in the middle of the corridor, mouth open in shock. 

The portrait door swings open. 

‘WHY ARE YOU IN GREEN AND SILVER?!’ 

‘HOLY SHIT, WAIT A MINUTE IS THAT KUROO’S CLOAK?’ 

‘Did he curse you? DO WE NEED TO DEFEND YOUR HONOUR?’ 

You bury your burning face in your hands. Your teammates are not going to take this well. 

[shokobuns]

something sweet

maybe having someone to help you out in the stockroom wasn't so bad after all.

PAIRING: itadori yuuji x reader

GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: almost stabbed, mentions of sharp things (boxcutters and broken glass), making out

it’s not like you had a problem with the same menial tasks everyday.

in fact, you would even say that it was a fun way to spend your free period. it was better than doing some complicated assignment or even having to talk to people with your lack of sleep and patience. coffee never allowed for a proper nap no matter how exhausted you were and your teacher wouldn’t allow that anyways.

it was an easy job that you could do with minimal help. all you had to do was put the beakers away, clean up the floor once in awhile, maybe pop some bubble wrap when new packages arrived. being alone in the stockroom was nice because you were able to turn on some music on your headphones, do whatever dances you felt like doing as long as you were still doing your job. no help was needed or wanted.

“where should i put this?”

you jump, nearly stabbing the blonde haired boy behind you with a boxcutter. luckily, he was quick, jumping backwards with a yelp as you took a deep breath in to process the situation. you didn’t accidentally hurt the boy in front of you, did you? your face falls and the initial rush of fear turns into guilt. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know you were there!”

“it’s okay,’ he responds with a smile, unphased by the fact his shirt had almost been slashed, ‘i understand. you’re probably here alone most of the time, right?”

“yeah, i wasn’t expecting for anyone else to be here,” you sigh before realizing what he had probably walked in on before the whole ordeal, “wait.. did you see me doing anything?”

“you’re a pretty good dancer if that’s what you’re asking.”

embarrassment. your cheeks feel unbelievably hot and your stomach turns while embarrassment settles in your body. this period was your alone time, your chance to flail about and having someone else witness it? definitely not preferable. although, he does seem nice and he hasn’t made fun of you. not yet, at least.

his voice brings you out of your train of thought. “so, where should i put that thing?”

he carries on as if nothing happened. thank god. “the flask goes in that cabinet, bottom shelf. you’ll see more just like it.” you reply, pointing to the space.

he mumbles a quick thank you before doing unloading more of the new flasks onto the cabinet. you work on your own, choosing to count the new magnets on the other side of the room, doing your best to avoid him considering you just embarrassed yourself in front of the stranger by nearly injuring him for asking a simple question. though, he looks slightly familiar, he’ll probably be gone tomorrow and that’s all that matters.

behind you, yuji takes small glances while he puts away the flasks, waiting for you to turn around and ask for his name. hell, he’s waiting for any type of question. after all, who sees a random boy in their work space and doesn’t question it at all?

when the next day comes, you’re proven wrong because he sits in the chair, awaiting another order from you. you curse under your breath before putting on a faux smile. “do you need help with anything?”

“do you need help with anything?”

“no, thanks. i’m good on my own. you can go back to whatever you do in this period.”

he scratches his head, eyebrows furrowing together. “i thought you needed help. that’s what my math teacher told me when he sent me here.”

“not really? i can usually get a lot done on my own. who told you i needed help?”

“gojo. i’m his teacher assistant, but i don’t know how to do the math he’s teaching, so i can’t really help anyone.” he explains

“oh, yeah! i had him for calculus last semester,” your eyes light up at the mention of your favorite white haired mentor, “weird guy. good teacher.”

wait. gojo’s teacher assistant?

you’ve heard your friends talk about him, given that they were in that exact class the blonde haired boy was supposed to be in right now. the one guy that pe teachers fawn over and coaches try to recruit? why did they put him in the math department instead of pe? what’s his name again? yuki? yugi?

“you’re yuji itadori?”

“yuji itadori.” he confirms and you’re relieved. good thing you didn’t mess up his name.

no wonder he looked familiar. miwa was fascinated by his physical ability, you distinctly remember her pointing him out during lunch and telling you about how he was ‘scarily fast’ and could probably ‘lift ten of her at a time.’ although, it was from far away and he was partially blocked by a girl with short brown hair and megumi, the intimidating spikey haired quiet boy in some of your classes.

but yuji didn’t look like someone who could lift ten miwas up close. maybe he was hiding behind the oversized hoodie he wore, but he was a kind looking boy with wide eyes and messy tufts of strawberry blonde hair. throughout the short time you’ve seen him up close, he always had a slight smile on his resting face. in short, he looked approachable and was seemingly friendly.

“so, do you need help with anything?” he asks again and you decide that maybe he can be of use to you. especially if he has the strength that miwa had described.

“actually, yeah. can you lift those boxes over there and bring them to the other side of the room? they’re kind of heavy-”

she was correct because he lifts the box, which is supposedly about thirty kilograms according to your teacher, with ease. now, you don’t have to constantly go back and forth around the room just to put the packaged metal away in a farther cabinet and he can probably just put them away himself, too. it goes that way for the next hour and a half, both of you staying in your respective sides of the room, putting away your own respective items.

“thanks, itadori.”

“call me yuji.”

“will do.”

over the next two weeks, you two don’t talk as much as yuji had hoped.

he still remembers gojo’s words of encouragement, his push to get his favorite student to talk to the person who drops off notes to the teacher across the hallway from time to time. he’s never talked to you and he doubts you would even know that he existed in the first place. in fact, he was perfectly content with just stapling the papers that gojo would give him, maybe getting his own homework done in the period, but he was insistent.

“i’ve seen you staring outside the window whenever they pass by, yuji. just talk to them.”

“it’s okay.’

“no it’s not. get to know her. what if they’re nice? hmmmmm?”

“i’ll talk to her myself at some point.”

that was all it took for gojo to leave him alone, not that he didn’t like gojo or anything, especially with gojo being his second favorite teacher in the first place, but he’s content with his little crush. and again, he doubted that you would remember him in your history class and from the looks of it, he was right.

he just didn’t expect to be sent at the very stockroom that you would be in. for the rest of the semester. gojo had definitely set him up for something.

yuji was in that conflicting position in which he didn’t know whether to start a conversation or not because he didn’t want to bother you. but he also wanted to get to know you up close. of course he can sense your exhaustion himself through droopy eyelids that threaten to close and your dependence on caffeine, something he had learned about you so far in these few weeks. the only thing, it seems like.

as for you, a short talk with your science teacher confirmed that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon and though you will miss dancing around the stockroom by yourself, he wasn’t bad company. he mostly kept to himself, often being more rigid when you barely spared him a glance. at the times you would speak to him, he seemed more excitable and easygoing, listening to every word you say.

“yuji?”

“hmm?”

“come help me by unboxing these beakers, alright?” you patted the spot next to you before sliding the blade down the tape, “don’t worry. i’m not gonna stab you.”

“i guess i’ll help,” he snorts, “don’t you usually do these by yourself?”

“yeah, but since you’re spending the semester with me in here, we might as well get to know each other right?”

the whirring of the fan, the sound of your voice — it all seemed to fade into the background as his heart thumped hard in his chest. a million thoughts, both good and bad, race through his head as he formulated different questions, answers, and scenarios in his mind, all of them being a jumble of fantasy and panic.

you wave a hand in front of his face in an attempt to catch his attention. he seemed completely frozen, staring at you with dead eyes and it’s now that you realize you haven’t seen him up this close. honey brown eyes, the soft curve of his nose, and were those crinkles under his eyes, too? up until now, you only knew him as the ‘athletic man who was bad at math’, but he was also undeniably beautiful with his carved face and strawberry blonde hair.

“yuuuuuuuji?”

“oh! i’m sorry! did you say you wanted to get to know me?”

“yeah, we’re kind of stuck in this room everyday for an hour and a half together. i might as well find out what your favorite color is or something.”

“red! my turn! what were you listening to when you almost stabbed me?”

“hey! it was an accident!” he giggles, slicing the tape seal down the middle and opening up the package and pointing right at it. “you see that? that could have been me. i should at least know what i’m being stabbed to.”

“meg thee stallion..”

“nevermind. she’s beautiful and i wouldn’t mind dying to her music.”

you snort, thinking up another question. maybe you should ask him about why that megumi guy was so gloomy? nope, might get too personal. what about the reason he’s here? nope, you already know.

“why don’t you do any sports even though you’re literally physically gifted?” you ask curiously. there’s still a smile on his face, but his expression becomes more wistful. you didn’t accidentally hit a spot, did you?

“my grandpa is in the hospital,” oh shit, you think, “i visit him everyday and if i was on a team, i would have to go to practice at the same time.”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hit a sensitive topic, but that’s sweet of you.’

“i don’t mind. and i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“no, it’s alright. let’s just keep asking questions then, okay?”

he nods.

in one hour, you learn that yuji itadori also likes karaoke, rice bowls, and that he’s just as bad at science than math. ironic. and yuji enjoys getting to know more about you, falling into easy conversation, becoming less of a nervous wreck. the more you speak, the deeper he falls into the trance and he silently thanks gojo for letting him get a closer look because you’re even better than what he could have imagined.

but the period is coming to an end and it’s time for him to carry off the last box of beakers to his side of the room. at least there’s time for another question and it’s his turn to ask.

“what’s your type?”

you place your fingers on your chin as you think for a moment, finding a common trait in every crush for a proper answer.

“i guess my type would be sweet boys. with pretty faces, like you, i guess.”

the response is nonchalant and you don’t think twice about it. maybe you were a little too tired to process how he’d interpret it or maybe a little too tired to filter yourself, but it slips out of your mouth like butter and you’re completely unphased. shameless, even.

meanwhile, the box drops to the ground and like before, every other noise besides his own heartbeat fades into the background, even the sound of shattering glass. heat creeps of his neck into his cheeks until his face is burning, his feet stuck in their place and his palms becoming uncomfortably sweaty. his mouth is wide open, but no words come out.

“yuji! we need to clean this, hurry up!”

your voice brings him out of his thoughts as he realizes what’s been done and immediately snaps back to carefully, but quickly, picking up the shards of glass and placing them in this box. “i-i’m sorry!”

“don’t worry. just leave the box on the counter and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

maybe you didn’t quite realize what you had said or what effect you had on him during that time in the stockroom because you continue everyday as if nothing happened.

it’s been, what? a little over a three weeks? and sitting next to you still causes his mind to go to odd places, ones with you. he starts to notice little things about you, too. how your tongue peaks out of your mouth when you’re peeling another sheet of bubble wrap off of some glassware, how you only count in even numbers when you take inventory of the containers.

god, you were adorable.

“yuji?”

“yeah?”

“did gojo ever tell you that there’s no cameras in here?”

“no? i thought they had security cameras everywhere.”

“that’s only hallways and classrooms. there’s none of them here. do you know what that means?”

“what?”

his head is already turned in your direction, the perfect opportunity to lean in and catch his lips. it’s small and he’s hesitant at first, but before you know it, your hands tangle in his hair, bringing him closer to you. he tastes like something sweet, like cherries, and his lips are warm. one hand rests on your cheek, his thumb brushing against it endearingly. when he pulls away, both of you are panting for air, the packages long forgotten.

“this sounds bad, but i’m glad that you’re terrible at math.”

“thanks.” he laughs and admires the look of your heated cheeks and swollen lips before pulling you back in for another searing kiss.

sure. being in that room by yourself could be fun, a perfect break with menial tasks lacking human interaction. you were far too tired to be patient with other people. but there was an exception.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost.

[novamirmirsblog]

So stay with me

Word count: 1957

Request: Yes

Genre: ANGST

Warnings: DEATH. SADNESS. Like there is literally no silver lining.

A/N I've done the foster system based off how it is where I live. I don't know what it's like for other countries so I apologise if it isn't quite the same for where you live :3 ALSO I'm going to put the request elsewhere because in order for the full unhappiness, you must experience it like this 😈

When you first entered the S.H.I.E.L.D training programme, you had been hand picked by Fury himself. You were bouncing from foster home to foster home at the time, causing general trouble by stealing, fighting and lashing out at anyone and everyone. You had no real direction. You knew you were most likely to end up on the streets - sure your social worker would still check in occasionally after you had aged out of the system but there were more and more kids being given up. Realistically, you knew you were on your own. When you reached 13 you knew that no one was going to adopt you. Especially when there were babies and young children available. Deep down, you had figured it out when you were around 9 but you clung to the naive hope that you were wrong.

~~~~~

Fury found you when you were 15 but didn't take you in until you were 17. It was the day after your 17th birthday when he turned up at your foster parent's door. He said he wanted to take you for a military programme and you packed your bag before he had even finished his speech.

You went through years of intense training and passed top of your class for everything. It was surprising considering you had never been first before. What was more shocking was the need for praise. You had always believed that you didn't need it. You had never had it before, so why is it a necessity. You realised how wrong you were when Maria took you to the side and told you that you had done well. The comment replayed in your head for months.

~~~~~

You were 23 when you first joined the Avenger's initiative. 23 when you first met Natasha. The two of you didn't hit it off to begin with, Natasha didn't like how reckless you were and you didn't like how far the stick was shoved up her arse. Truth was, you both liked each other a little more than just friends but neither of you knew how to deal with these emotions. Let's face it, Natasha grew up being told 'love is for children' and you grew up in the system where the cracks were so big elephants fell through them. The team could see it though.

"Just ask her out." Wanda told you while sitting on your bed painting her nails.

"Who?"

"You know exactly who. I can read your mind and your thoughts are very loud."

"No. Your information is wrong." Wanda grabbed your hand, painting the left one first.

"Y/n just ask Natasha out. She'll say yes."

"I hate her. We're enemies."

"Some say you have to love someone to hate them and besides" Wanda paused, gauging your reaction "You wanting to bend her over a table doesn't sound very enemy like."

Heat rose in your cheeks and you prayed nothing gave you away. "Untrue. I want to do that in an enemy way."

"Sureeee..."

From then on, you were extremely careful to keep your thoughts quiet. Especially when you had to watch Natasha train.

~~~~~

It was Natasha who asked you out. At first you thought she was joking and very nearly laughed but then you saw how she was standing, how she said 'will you go out with me' with such nonchalance that it was as if she was asking you to pass the ketchup. No one could be that cool and collected. It was the way she even played slightly with her fingernails that showed you she was nervous. You of course said yes.

That was the beginning of your relationship and you had been going strong for a good five years. The nausea and tiredness however, started three years into your relationship. Natasha used to joke that maybe you were pregnant when it had first started happening, the others laughing at even the thought of you cheating on Natasha. The jokes died down when after a month and a half of running to the bathroom, it finally affected your missions. You were sent right off to Dr Cho and no one would have anything else said on the matter. You had tried to fight them, of course - it really wasn't that bad. All you needed to do. was take some anti-nausea medication and you would be fine.

Leukaemia

You knew that one little word would do so much damage to your strange family if they ever found out. You sat in silence as you formulated a plan, Dr Cho just watching you, letting you process. What was the point in telling your family and causing them pain if the treatment plan Dr Cho had lined out for you worked? There wasn't. That's why you kept it a secret. Why you brushed off any comments about your increased nausea, or your lack of hunger. The only person who knew was Fury.

~~~~~

"Are you cheating on me?" Natasha had cornered you after a particularly tough session of chemotherapy. All you wanted to do was sleep.

"No. Why would you think that?" Words were hard to say when you had to put all your energy into just standing up.

"You go out at all times of the day and night, you're too damn tired to do anything and you never talk to me anymore Y/n... If you wanted to break up you didn't have to cheat."

You knew this day would come eventually. It was a year into your treatments and none of them seemed to be working. Natasha wasn't stupid. It's why you kissed her on the head and pulled her into the tightest hug you could muster.

"I would never do that. I love you Natasha Romanoff. I'll explain but let me get everyone here." You asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to call everyone down to the living room.

Once everyone was settled on the sofas and chairs, you sat on the coffee table, no longer being able to hold yourself up.

"I have leukaemia."

At first, you couldn't bring yourself to look at the others. You didn't want their pity but you knew they wouldn't be able to show anything else. You looked at Natasha first. You knew she wouldn't have a pitying look on her face.

You were right.

Natasha looked furious. How dare someone who didn't even want you in their lives give you a horrible disease. She knew your chances of survival weren't good but there were treatments that could help. She had more than enough money to get whatever treatment necessary.

Tony spoke first. "I'm going to my lab. FRIDAY, contact Dr Cho. I need Y/n's medical details."

Bruce followed quickly behind him. The others gave you sad but hopeful smiles. You couldn't bring yourself to tell them there was little hope.

~~~~~

Natasha had been gone on and off for 6 months. You knew your time was coming to a close but she still hadn't given up. She was always in some country following a lead for some experimental drug to try and cure you.

But there was no cure.

Not for this. Maybe one day there would be a cure, but not in your lifetime. The cure wouldn't be able to save you.

You were almost hesitant to let Natasha come back. It had been a while since she had seen you and now you looked like paper. You were thin and fragile and your skin had lost it's colour and took on a grey tinge. Your cheeks were hollow and your lips were constantly chapped and the only thing you could stomach were tiny meals and energy drinks.

You were dying.

Everyone had come to terms with it. Tony and Bruce never stopped trying to find a cure, it just wasn't for you anymore. Wanda tried her best to keep you as comfortable as she could with her powers and Steve would come and tell you stories of before he was put in the ice to entertain you. Clint would bring his kids until it got too painful for them to see you turn from the scariest, coolest person they knew into a hollow shell.

The only person who hadn't come to terms with it was Natasha.

"Nat she needs you." Steve told her when the team were all eating.

"I know. I really think this time this lead will be the one. Then she can be fixed and-"

"Natasha." Wanda cut her off, her voice dangerously low. She had heard this speech so many times that it was painful to hear it again. "She needs you. She's dying and you need to accept it. You don't have much longer left with her and you're abandoning her when you should be with her 24/7!" Wanda's eyes glowed slightly red as she thought of all the times she had to watch her best friend realise the love of her life wasn't there with her. The cutlery began to shake a little and something fell over in the kitchen.

The crash that you heard woke you up. Maybe it was Natasha. You hobbled out of what was supposed to be your shared room, and made your way to the kitchen. By the time you had reached the kitchen, everyone was fighting. There was food being thrown, knives being grabbed and glasses shattering everywhere. You just stood there as your best friend and your girlfriend attempted to kill each other.

"guys stop." Your throat hurt from hours of throwing up so your voice didn't carry.

"guys really..." You tried again, tears forming in your eyes. You didn't want to spend your last days watching your loved ones fight.

"FRIDAY tell them to stop. please."

"Miss Y/l/n would like you all to stop. Now."

Everyone turned to the doorway where you were standing, horrified that you saw them fighting.

"Y/n, you need to get to bed sweetie." Wanda walked over to you, wrapping her arm around your waist.

"Don't touch her." Natasha stormed over, taking your other side.

"Ladies there's no need to fight. You can share right?" You let out a soft laugh and watched as they both melted. Just because you were dying, it didn't mean you lost your sense of humour.

They both took you back to your shared room, Wanda leaving to give you and Natasha some privacy.

"Please don't go anymore." You laid with your head on Natasha's chest, her hand stroking your hair.

"But I'm so close. I can cure you Y/n."

"Natty please. I can tell I don't have much longer left and I don't know if I'll still be here for when you come back if you leave again."

"But I can't lose you." Natasha whispered, scared that if she spoke any louder, some other power would hear her and take you away from her too soon.

"So stay with me."

~~~~~

It was strange, you thought, lying on your bed; you had always thought you would die doing something spontaneous, or maybe in the field. Not because your cells were abnormal. Natasha had spent every moment with you since she returned 5 months ago. You had planned everything; your funeral, little messages to each of them, where to bury you. Everything was sorted. All that was left now, was to die.

It was an ordinary Wednesday afternoon when you felt the last drops of life drain from you. You knew it was time and so you turned to Natasha who had you wrapped up in her arms, placing a hand on her face, the rest of the Avengers all sitting there quietly.

“When the time is right, we’ll be together again. I’ll always be with you.” You then let your eyes drift shut, never to open again. Not in this world, anyway, but perhaps in the next.

A/N pt 2: NOOO BUT WHY AM I CRYING. THAT'S NOT THE RIGHT WAY AROUND. We've got some Peggy Carter fluff coming up soon tho :)

Also here is the request:

A Natasha x fem!reader. Reader was one of THE best shield agents and a great member of the avengers, but sadly had genetic cancer. After fighting for two years, with nausea, pain, and no improvement, reader knew she was dying. She didn’t want to admit it, especially after all the team has done to help her, especially her girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff. No amount of treatment or amount of money or technology Tony had was gonna save her. In the end, reader comes to terms with it. But Natasha doesn’t want reader to give up. Reader get through to Natasha that she wants to spend her last moments with her without putting more strain on her body. Natasha then comes to terms with it. Eventually, on readers death bed, surrounded by the rest of the avengers, Natasha is holding reader in her arms as reader says goodbye and looks to Natasha and says “When the time is right, we’ll be together again. I’ll always be with you” (GO NUTS AND MAKE IT ANGSTY)

[xavadak3davrax]

Crisis of lust /George Weasley

Lawyer!George

Summary: Fred and George are the most powerful lawyers England has seen in years and y/n is fresh out of college and looking for a place to do her internship. What happens when George decides to hire her? A lot of things.

Warnings: Smut (18+), daddy kink, dom/sub (Dom George) and if you squint very much dom y/n for mere seconds. Spanking, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, unprotected sex (because somehow I find that hot lol).  There’s angst and fluff and mentions of things such as anxiety and more sad moments but nothing extreme!

a/n: this is lawyer George, it’s 11.7 k words. I got carried away and ended up making this in only one part aha. As always English in not my first language, any mistakes or wrongly worded phrases, please excuse me. Titles are not my thing so yeah this is just horrendous. As a lot of people around tumblr say: don’t be shy, reblog! Thank you so much to everyone who even takes time to read my stuff. Love you all!

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Weasley’s Law Firm was the most famous law firm in whole England. They were known for hiring the best of the best. They also got the worse of the cases there is. Fred and George worked extremely hard on those cases and that’s what got them where they are today. Every murder case there was they were the first, people came to.

They had all the knowledge, all the experience, all the fame. Although they started small, they very quickly became who they are today because they are that good. Now both of them only take on the biggest cases and usually they came from very famous people, otherwise they keep themselves busy by taking their firm a step further.

While Fred was busy working on a case from a famous singer who was now being accused of murdering his wife and a whole lot of love affairs in between, George was working on another very important thing.

Interns. Every year their firm hired at least two interns. Becoming an intern for them was extremely difficult, and the skills required were almost never met (reason why they either ended up with one intern, or none at all). The type of work they needed from them was not fetching coffee or take some copies of some documents. They required their help all the time and their knowledge. Last year they had taken two, top of the class and they showed to be so good they recommended them to another very good law firm that took them in that moment. How could they not? Coming from the Weasley Firm they were the best of the best.

This year however things were proven to be a lot more difficult. It looked like anyone wanted to join them, people with so little qualification that George wondered how they even met the requirements to apply to their firm. Universities usually advised certain students, who they knew not to be good, or had the necessary demands, to just not attempt their chance at it.

George’s headache was even stronger now, and it only had been two hours since he started.

“Mate need your help.” Fred’s voice took him out of his trance and made him look at his brother. George nodded and Fred put the documents on his secretary. Pointed with his head towards them and George picked them up and had a look.

“Oh shit.” George said, laughing a little loudly. “She was involved with his assistant. That does make him suspicious. Finds out his wife his sleeping with his assistant, feels betrayed, takes his chance when she’s in the pool, makes it look like an accident.” George looked at his brother who nodded.

“I mean yeah, but to confirm that theory we need acces to the cameras he has displayed around his house. He’s been refusing that since the beginning, told him how that makes him a suspicious and that he should just give us those, since we’re trying to help him not get convicted. Any advice?”

“Ginny is very good with persuasion, maybe we should give her a call? She’s always our best chance.” George suggested, and when Fred widen his eyes, he knew he had had a brilliant idea.

“Yeah thanks mate. I will. By the way still looking for interns?” Fred nodded to the papers in front of him. He had to look through every curriculum.

“Yes, this year is proving to be hard. Everyone thinks they can get in, almost everyone had a bad average grade.” He brough his hands to his red bright hair and pulled at his hard, letting a groan leave his mouth. “Can’t take this shit anymore.”

Fred came around the secretary and leaned down next to him to get a better look at the people he was looking at. All of sudden his hand came to the table and pointed at girl. “Look, she finished top of her class, with 20.” George opened his eyes and looked at where he was pointing.

“How did I miss her?” it came out in a whisper, only because George was a little loss at her beauty. Sure he had seen a lot of beautiful girl applying to his firm, and he had a lot of them working for them, but he never saw anyone like her.

He tried to pull if thought out that. She was no minor, after all she had finished college and was looking for a place to do her internship at, but that didn’t mean it would not be wrong.

“I don’t know, but you did. And let’s look at the rest…” Fred said in a wondering voice his finger coming over the list of names. “You also have, his name is Elias, he’s in the same situation as y/n.” He looked at his brother, then got up from the crouched position he was in. “You were making a big fuss. I mean I clearly understand your point, besides these two no one else is even close. But I found you the interns. I have to do your job and mine.” He joked in the end earning from George a punch in his arm. That made Fred groan.

“Go on about your day asshole, I will take care of the rest. But thanks for the help.” George screamed the last part a little because Fred was already exiting the door and closing her.

So George arranged his secretary so the only things in front of him was y/n’s and Elias resumes and applications so he could read them and actually decide if they were to be hired or not. And if yes proceed to send an email to them to tell them the news.

Some people might think they would prefer to give this job to their secretaries and let them do this. But one year they did that, and ended up with some of the worse people they could find, just didn’t know how to do the simplest of jobs. It might sound mean, but they had a reputation to maintain.

So every year they alternated had to who had this job. This year it had been him. And after an hour of so of reading everything, he did decide to hire them. So he proceed to write their acceptance email.

⚘

y/n was sitting in her sofa, a tub of her favorite ice cream in her hand. She was in her last week of collage (ever) and she was patiently waiting to receive any type of email from the firm she had applied to do her internship.

She would be lying also if she said she hadn’t receive some emails already accepting her. The problem? Well they were all last options, those were she said to herself ‘if I don’t get in it I will need something to cushion the fall’ her mother had told her that expression and it stuck with her to this day.

y/n really, really wanted to work for The Weasleys. They were the best of the best, everyone was racing to get a place in their firm. She wanted to be confident, with her grades how could she not? But she also knew a lot of people were had good has her, she for sure would be competing with the best of the best.

She was close to answering one of the emails of the firms she already got an email from.

She sighed. Looked at the pot of ice cream and then got up to go get her computer. When she had it she came back to the sofa and slumped on the couch and groaned quietly. That stupid horrid anxious feeling coming down on her. Every time for the last few days when she was to open her pc that’s how she felt. That desire to see an email from that firm.

When she opened it for a few seconds she didn’t get any notifications.

“Fucking stupid computer.” She muttered, sometimes her pc didn’t connect to the Wi-Fi and she hated that. Because then she would get millions of notifications that she didn’t get because she wasn’t connected. But it connected a few seconds later and she was flooded with messages.

In between all of those if she wasn’t paying any attention she would’ve missed it, probably deleted it too. The email she was so dreading. She didn’t know how they worked. Did they sent an email if you didn’t get in? or did they just sent if you got in? some firms would do both. Not that y/n had gotten any, every single one was accepting her and very eager to work with her.

With trembling fingers, and her breath caught in her throat she open the email, but closed her eyes quickly before she could read what it said.  

“breath, everything is going to be ok. Even if you don’t get in, you have a lot of other option.” She pepped talked herself, and then after what felt like an eternity to compose herself, opened her eyes and started reading.

Her mouth moved but no sound came out as she read through every word. The words “congratulations” “we’ve accepted you” “we wait for your response for further meetings” making her mind go dizzy. And then a scream left her lips.

“I got in, Oh my god I got in.” She almost threw her computed on the ground from how happy she was. Every night she didn’t sleep, every night out she had denied her friends, every hour in the library and every cent her parents had spent on her was worth it.

Her parents weren’t rich or even close to it, but they had promised her and her siblings that they would pay for their education until they could. When she had entered the best university and the most expensive she told her parents she would find work and pay for everything. They told her no. Her mom and dad found each a second job and payed for it, even finding a small flat in the middle of nowhere but still close to where she attended, for her to stay in. And now, everything they ever did for her was paying of.

After calming herself down she started to formulate a response to the email. And then proceeded to call her parents, steric and with a smile they were sure they could hear and see from the other side of the phone.

⚘

She started today. Although very happy and grateful for the opportunity she couldn’t help but let the nerves consume her. Some money she had money a little while a go from some old clothes she sold, she decided to spent it on a new suit. She didn’t very much like dresses, and skirts. In all the important meetings and presentations she had throughout her years in collage, she always wore suits.

But for her first day on the firm, and to give a good impression she couldn’t just wear one of the old ones. So she bought this black suit. The pants were all black and a little tight and came to rest on her ankles. The jacket of the suit had a little cleavage and was supposed to not be worn with anything underneath. She had only her bra in, one you wouldn’t be able to see. The jacket closed beautifully around her, and made some of the nerves subside. Her confidence radiating all over her. ´

She looked at herself one last time in her mirror and then picked up her purse and rested it on her shoulder.

“You can do this.” y/n murmured as she closed the door of her apartment and made her way to catch the bus. A bus were if her plans were correct, she would arrive 30 minutes earlier, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t have to get in until the hour they had arranged, but at least she knew she would be there at said hour and not be late on her first day.

Can you imagine, being late on your first fucking day and give her (hopefully) new bosses that impression? They would deny her right then and there and she would not have the chance to show her potential.

As planned she arrived early. Their firm was one of the biggest and modern building in the city so it wasn’t hard to miss. She decided to get herself a little comfort drink while she made the time pass. When only five minutes were left for her interview she entered the firm. Everything was spacious, and very open and they got all the light in here that was possible. She felt small in such a big space. Although taking and studying law, she always had social anxiety. The friends she had were the most amazing people and took her right under their wing and always made her feel safe. She wishes they were here to help her.

“Hi, my name is y/n y/l/n, I’m here for an interview, I-“ her words came a little shaky. She took a deep breath and smiled at the lady behind the big counter, her face had a smile that made y/n a little less nervous.

“You’re here because you are the intern right?” she completed her sentence and then wrote something on her computer. “The other intern is also here. You both will be interviewed at the same time, Mr and Mr Weasley will both be in there to talk you through everything.” She gave her something of a smile. “You can take the lift, they’re in the last floor. Iris, their personal secretary will instruct you when to come in.”

“Thank you so much.” y/n said, bid her good day and then went on her way. When she got to the second floor she was met with a beautiful modern entrance that had some very good looking and comfortable chairs in. In the middle a glass table with some law magazines. ‘of course,’ she thought to herself ‘what else would they have here’ she laughed a little.

She she looked better she found a tall, blonde guy sitting in one of the chairs. The white button down he wore had hugging his muscles very well, y/n might’ve felt drool pulling in her mouth. It only intensified when she looked at his pants and the way they hugged his legs. His black necktie made everything look together. He didn’t wore a jacket that’s why. The jacket was hanging in the arm chair.

“You must be y/n.” he said, getting up from his position to come and greet her. His hand stretched out, the veins in his hands very prominent. She had to put herself together, she was here to work.

“Yes, and you are?” she was a little lost, the lady downstairs hadn’t told her his name, but told him hers.

“Elias, it’s a pleasure.”

“pleasure is all mine.” She smiled.

“The lady at the front told me to wait here, she will call us when they’re ready for us. Do you for any reason know how they look?” He asked quietly trying not to bring attention from the people working in this floor. From what y/n understood, their offices were here, and their secretary was also here but some other people worked here to. Potential important lawyers?

“Ahm… no, not really. Tried to look them up but no photos. Very private aren’t they? Wonder how they do it, being so well known among everyone. Specially famous people.” y/n said when she brought her thoughts to focus on Elias again. She sitting next to him and they chatted for a little, until they were called.

“They will see you now. You can go down the hall, and it’s the last door to your right. It’s the meeting room.” Iris spoke eloquently, and that made y/n and Elias share a worried look before they got on their merry way.

“That made a little nervous, I mean, didn’t expect much less from someone who works with such big people, but… you know what I mean?” Elias spoke, worry in his voice. Not being able to form many words do to her being nervous, y/n just nodded.

“Do the honors.” y/n managed to let out, a small and brief smile on her face. Elias opened the door after knocking and hearing a ‘come in’ from inside.

The table wasn’t full of people but fore sure y/n would have a hard time, until they introduced themselves, knowing who Fred and George were. They had invited other lawyers, she assumed, from their position and all, she had to be. She was now regretting accepting this.

“Please com in and have a seat.” One man with spiky, red hair pointed to the chairs that had y/n’s and Elias name. They proceeded to do just that.

“I’m George, this is my brother Fred, and these are some of our best lawyers. Please don’t be frightened we just like to make sure the interns we are giving a chance have actual potential and are not just ‘grades’, that’s why they are here.”

y/n had to swallow very hard and hope to not be heard. If she was gonna have to work here and look at that all day was she gonna be able to do it? God helped her. If she thought Elias was attractive mere ten minutes ago… what did she thought of these two men, who were clearly twins but somehow had differences that made her more attractive to the one who was speaking.

“We are going to make a series of questions, from all of us and see how you answer and handle very specific situations. “ It was Fred speaking, he held what she expected to be a smile on his face, while his brother had a way more serious demeanor.

They nodded, not knowing if they should speak or not. George held his eye on the girl slightly longer than he did on Elias. She was more beautiful here than in the picture she had presented in her portfolio.  How could he handle that? And if they kept her she was to work on their floor all the time? He needed to control himself, now.

The questions started and they alternated between y/n and the boy next to her, making sure the majority of the questions were different for both of them, to actually see their potential and not some copy of the others answer.

When it ended y/n felt like her heart could be heard by everyone around her and that it would come out of her chest. She didn’t have a very good perspective on things, in a way, if they were good or bad. So she didn’t know if she had done a good job, the faces everyone had at the table didn’t help a little.

Elias gave her a look, a reassuring one. And under the table, like they’ve knew each other for years he squeezed her hand gently.

“I think you both did an amazing job, I think everyone agrees?” Fred gave a questioning look around, starting at his brother and then to their co-workers. Everyone was nodding. “So I think this is all, you are hired as our interns.”

She could scream again, like she did when she had gotten the email saying she was accepted. But she controlled herself. Gave Elias hand a squeeze back and when everyone got up they both followed them.

“I think my brother will now sort with you both every last detail. I won’t be present mainly because I have an import case to work on, but we trusted each other with our lives. So you won’t miss me.” Fred tried to loosen the mood with a small inexistent joke.

Everyone started to leave and only left George, y/n and Elias there.

“If you would follow me please, my office will be a bit more comfortable than these chairs.” He passed through them and like lost puppies they followed to his office.

They spent hours talking about everything. George wanted them to be on the same page, and following everything precisely. y/n tried her best to memorize every word he said, but it started to get harder when after a while George felt bored of his position and dragged his chair away from his desk and then crossed his right leg over his left knee, leaving him in a powerful and extremely hot position that made y/n have to cross her legs and try to be as discreet as possible while trying to alleviate some of the pressure she had.

Why was she acting like a stupid teenager? For heavens sake, this was her work place, that was her boss, and she should not even thinking about him as other than that. But when his hands came to rest on his crotch her attention switched to the very prominent bulge he presented. Her eyes were not there for even a minute, but she still felt guilty when she looked up to see him looking at her. She looked away fast. He continued with what he was saying.

y/n hoped Elias was oblivious to the situation.

After while George got himself of that position and looked at both of them.

“This is everything, if for any reason something comes up you can always ask Iris, or any other thing, email me or my brother or ask Iris to speak with us. Right?”

He popped his tong and proceeded to get up when everything was settled.

⚘

Their first official day started the next day. And then after that is was smooth sail for a while. y/n helped Fred a lot in his cases and he loved how she was just so vibrant to have around. Took him a while to get her out of her shell, to show her she could treat him as a friend rather then her boss. He felt like he somehow could trust her a lot and when they were very concentrated on a job and they were both tired he would tell her bits and pieces of his life. Usually about his girlfriend Angelina and how they’ve been tighter for years and he is thinking of proposing. Or how he feels old and wished he could be an intern all over again. To which y/n would say:

“Aren’t you considered the youngest and most successful lawyer of all time?” Those were facts, Fred and George were in fact all of that. At twenty five they had a massive empire, that they built from scratch and with only the help of a very few close ones.

He would share small details of his childhood, of him and George. Usually those gave y/n some hope that George would one day be to her what Fred was to her. But until now all she got from him were small short and cold answers from anything she was working on. Usually Fred asked her to go bribe them out of him. Elias was the one who worked more closely to George and even him was usually in other lawyers offices doing close work with them.

“George is stubborn and weird sometimes. He always loves to work with you lot, I don’t understand why this year is different.” Fred stated, looking at y/n for a moment and shrugging when he couldn’t find an answer to it.

“Mister knows everything and everything needs some closure, is now left speechless.” y/n joked and they both laughed a little loud. His office door open because the case they were working on required y/n to leave all the time in search for answers. They didn’t notice George at the door.

He cleared his throat. Fred looked at him, and y/n that on the other side of the desk, back to George turned around to also look.

“Elias is sick and had to go home, I have come important matters to take care of, would it be a nuisance if y/n could do it?” She noticed he spoke more to his borther than to her.

“Sure, what she was doing can continue tomorrow or whenever Elias comes back. Right y/n?”

“Yes of course. Mr. Weasley you just have to show me what to do.” She got up and showed herself ready to work. After her first day her clothes were a little bit more casual, but she still wore pants, but George still had dificlty in not imagining those beautiful legs wrapped around his head.

‘Get your head out of your gutter George’ he always thought to himself when these thoughts came, ‘she’s young, and working for you.’

“Yes, come with me.” He instructed and turned around to leave. y/n waved to Fred and closed the door after she left. She knew her work with him wasn’t nearly done, but without Elias she would have to split herself in two and help both of them. Since Fred always had her help, he would have to to what he could for the time being without her.

“We have to through all these voice messages, the case calls for it and four ears are better than just two.” His voice was always so serious how could he work like this? Elias never complained to y/n on their lunch break or when they decided to do something outside work, that almost always ended up in work talk. They just didn’t have much in common besides that.

“yes sure, can you give me paper and pen or a pencil will do just fine.” George gave her a puzzled look “Well with Mr. Weasley every time there’s voice calls or something we take notes to pin point important stuff.” George knew that by Mr. Weasley she meant Fred but she knew that outside she called him Fred, they were that close. She had only ever heard Mr. Weasley came out of her mouth when it was related to him.

“Yeah you’re totally right. Here. Have this.” He gave her the notebook in front of him, the one that had all the important notes on the case. She sat down on the chair in the same place of Fred’s office and waited for him to start the audios.

She placed her head on her hand, and her elbow was resting on the desk. She looked at George who just started the audios and the tried to concentrate. Silently throughout all the time she was there she took many notes, George was a little taken aback, what was he missing that she clearly wasn’t, when it ended she looked at him. He barely had time to start something because she started first.

“So according to the first call, the lady in question didn’t know the person on the other side, but that person knew her very well, otherwise how could they be so sure of such personal information. The thing was she wasn’t paying attention and didn’t notice any of the signs of what was to come.” y/n started, and when she continued talking and demonstrated so well everything he didn’t dare to interrupt her. Although by the end he knew the girl in front of him has just solved him the case. He was also a little embarrassed because some of his notes were not has good as hers.

“You just solved me a casa.” George said astonished with what had just happened, his mouth opened in surprise and the look y/n gave him was brilliant.

“Did I? Really?” She couldn’t hold her happiness, although working here for a while and helping, and having done so much, Fred usually referred that she had done much more than any other intern they’ve had, she hand’t actually solved a case by herself. Fred and her always came to conclusions together.

“Yes, yes you just did.” George couldn’t believe that the case he has been working on for the last week and a half, and that he was getting to a road with no end was just solved. When he decided to listen to the audios he didn’t expect much from them because he thought he had worked through everything. Well, he guessed wrong. “Do you have any idea what this case might’ve costed me hadn’t you just solved it?” George wondered out loud. She denied, not being able to form words. The way he was looking made her panties soak, which is a current occurrence because every time she see him even from a far he manages to do something to her.

“It would cost us millions of dollars and very bad fame. You see we are working with some of the most influential people England has. Winning is very important.” George said.

“I thought every person you worked with was influential and important?” It came out a genuine question.

“These people can manipulate everything around them, if they wanted to end mine and Fred’s career, they could with a snap of their fingers. Winning them this case on the contrary, will give us something in all out time working he never had in this scale.” He stated. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Well that was first, y/n never heard him say a ‘hi’ to her, and a ‘thank you’ to anyone else.

“You can go have your luch now, I’ve kept you here for… oh for a long time.” He said when he looked at the hours. Two o’clock was away past their lunch our. Fred hadn’t come knockinh why? They always had lunch together. “How about had as a thank you I offer you lunch?” What a bold fucking move George Weasley, what will people think if they see you out and about with your little intern ahm? ‘Fuck that’ George thought to himself.

“Is it appropriate?” way to ruin the opportunity y/n, she thought.

“Lunch as co-workers of course. Celebrating early the win.”  He persuaded, now that he was all in, might as well convince her. When she nodded he continued. “Well have you ever tried the Italian on the main street?”

He meant the beautiful restaurant that looked straight out a movie? The one she’s been eyeing since she started working here, but the prices have kept her way because lord forbid her of spending fifty pounds on a fucking meal?

“I was thinking maybe something more on my price range?” She suggested, trying not to offend him, or look poor in front of him. She wasn’t and the money she received working for them was good but she started to pay for her stuff now, to relieve her parents of the bills and so money was always a little tight on her side.

“None sense, I will pay for us both. No one needs to know. Now come on, or we will eat our lunch when we’re suppose to be snacking” He was already getting up, got his jacket of the back of the chair in a swift motion and walked to the door.

No one was to be seen in the hall, which was weird given the hour of the day. Everyone came from lunch and this was the hour of chatting a little bit, drink a coffee or something else and going to the bathroom before resuming their work. Some forces where on their side because besides Iris, no one saw them leave together. And Iris was nice enough to keep everything to her.

The restaurant was to the brim. y/n thought they would have to wait hours or not even have a place. But the very nice employee at the front, as soon has he saw George swiftly pull them in and into one of the best tables they had.

“I’m a regular.” He justified, when they were seated and her eyes weren’t on him for once but instead on the menu.

“yes of course.” She wanted to had, and the most powerful man there is, but she kept that to her.

“If you have any doubts choosing I would suggest the chicken marsala.” Did he think, even though she had just solved his case, that she was dumb? The tone in his voice suggested everything but a suggestion. It was almost a command. What type of fifty shades was this? Although she did like the dominant side he radiated to her.

“Sure, I’ll have that.” And George gestured to the employee working around the tables on the place they were before starting their request. And while they waited they talked. In just few minutes he felt like he was Fred in there. Because y/n was talking openly and so freely that he couldn’t believe she was doing that to him.

It felt nice for her hear her talk like that, like she had no worries and that she felt safe in speaking to him like that. He also talked and y/n was surprised he even wanted to share something with him.

“I also lived in a flat while studying, me and Fred shared one I mean.” He corrected. “Two teenagers leaving alone in a apartment after coming from a big family? Sweet, we were in paradise.” When y/n laughed he had do contain the smile that was to appear on his face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what two boys would do all alone.” Her tone was suggestive. George coughed a little trying to hide the smirk in his face. If she was trying to rile him up and get something out of him it was working.

“law if difficult, but we never studied they way some of our pears did. We partied, and people were impressed because they never expected the best parties to come from law students, yet, they did come from us. Took us a while after collage to build our reputation to what it is today, a lot of people didn’t take us seriously. Then Fred hit the jackpot with a giant case and things just grew from there. I had my big moment a few months later.”

Now that was all information y/n had no idea about. Fred never shared that with me.

“Fred shared a lot of things with me but never that. I’m shocked.” When George looked at her accusingly but in a joking manner she found herself correcting what she said. “I mean, it’s just… I’m sorry, but you both have this like dominant strong image around you that it’s hard to think you ever did party. There’s zero photos of you on the internet, all of your cases have closed doors. I mean? People create an image, even if not the correct one, about you.”

“You have a point there. You have very good points that I didn’t have any idea about. But then again Fred took you all to him so it’s hard to know anything.”

“Mr. Weasley just likes the way I work.” She felt the need to justify herself almost immediately.

George rolled his eyes a little. “Still, you are working for both of us and although Elias does a good job I found out only today how hard working you are.”

If he was trying to make her feel guilty or sometime of thing it wasn’t working.

“Well, Mr. Weasley, I never worked for you because first, today was the first time you actually felt the need to call me and only because it was urgent and Elias wasn’t there and because every time I try to ask you something, for Mr. Weasley’s work you always answer me shortly.” She stated. George lost words at that, but only for a brie moment.

The next words that came from George were fast and wouldn’t have made any sense if y/n didn’t have all her attention on the beautiful man in front of her.

“I don’t have you work for me because, “he stopped for a moment, thinking his brain might stop him there, but was wrong, “because it is wrong to fantasize about someone who works for you, someone who is your boss. Is it not?”

Her cheeks started to feel warm, and her body was next. She squeezed both hands together and crossed her legs tighter tightly, the warmth from earlies mixing with we warmth from now.

“It is profession to crush on your boss?” She wanted to come out like is words hadn’t just affected her, but it came out shyly instead. George’s breath came out uneven and he put both of his hand on top of the table and closed is hands into fists is knuckles turning white from the force. He breath very deeply, y/n watched his nostrils flare and his eyes turning a very dark shade.

“It is. But I guess we’re both bad at keeping things professional.” He wanted to ass more but their food arrived and he was forced to tidy up is posture and look like he wasn’t hard under his pants.

They ate in silence. And when they finished George paid for their food, and when they got up he put a hand on the end of her back, almost at the curve of her ass.

“We should keep things professional.” y/n got way from his touch and looked at him. “Wouldn’t want to loose my job because I wanted to fuck my boss no?” The smile she gave him made him know that wasn’t scared of what they had said at the table. And that if both of them found it hard to hide the sexual tension before, now that they were both made aware that it was returned, it would be even more difficult.

⚘

George ended up winning the case that same week. Fred had made Elias and y/n work very little that day and in their floor they did a small celebration party due to the fact that this was major win for them. Everyone wanted an interview with both of them, their phones hadn’t stopped ringing. Iris had to put it on hold so she could come celebrate with them since they had insisted. They were in the meeting room, and although they were known around, Elias and y/n stayed in a little corner, champagne in their small cups a little bit of cake in their hand. Elias had chocolate and y/n had red velvet.

“You know we are not alone in this room right?” Fred asked his brother, coming up next to him and bumping his shoulder. George looked at him questioningly. “You know other people will notice if you continue to look at her like you wanna rip her clothes of.” Fred joked and laughed when George mumbled angrily under his breath. He was regretting telling George what had happened at lunch and even more so telling him the crush he’s had on his intern since she started. Although Fred stated, and very well, that of the crush he already knew. If any of the thing either one or the other did that made him have his confirmations. It was small things Fred would notice. Like every time George came into his office and almost every time he had nothing of interest to say, he would find a stupid excuse that Fred was always to nice to snitch on him in front of her. Or how her looked lingered a little to much when she was in his presence, and how Fred had to call her name various times before she looked at him again.

How George only seem to need something from him in the hours y/n was in his office. How, if she wasn’t there, George would be caught red handed with nothing to say or do, because he just wanted to look at her.

“Shut up.” He said angrily. “Stop trying to make me do something irrational. It’s wrong. And we’re not in the right place to have that conversation.” He wanted this conversation to be the end of it, however Fred was not done.

“You know I don’t mid right? If things are done correctly I wouldn’t mind.” Fred looked at his brother. They were both tall, taller than almost everyone in the room, so they both had a good look over y/n and Elias at the end of the meeting room, close to the door.

“What is there to be done correctly? Haven’t you understand she works for us? And let me also tell you from what I’m seeing when her year long internship ends that the possibly of us hiring her is big?”

“If someone else doesn’t hire her first.” Fred said only to tease him. He was very much planning on hiring her, and planning on giver her a notice before the internship ended so they could assure her position in the firm.

“They won’t. We are the best of the best. And as you said before she had other opportunities but waited for ours. Do you think she would be stupid enough to say no?” George scoffed and then moved his head from side to side, his eyes still on the girl in green. She brought a suit today, she knew today was gonna be big and she had spoken briefly to George the other day and told him about it. She was gorgeous.

“Elias and her are alone in the corner, why don’t make yourself useful for once little brother and go talk to her. Oh look just faith speaking.” Fred said the last part when Elias was pushed to the side by one of his colleagues, a lawyer who was been working on a small case.  

George composed himself the best he could and made his way to her passing some people who were congratulating him again, and wanted to talk but he had her on his mind.

“May I just say, you were very impressive today, Mr. Weasley.” She beat him to it, speaking first. George had invited y/n and Elias to watch firsthand, front row seats at court. She was very thankful for such a big opportunity, she hoped one day she would be where George was, and be has amazing has he was presenting all the facts and making everyone subdue to him and his ever brilliant knowledge.

“Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you y/n. You were brilliant, and I wish you could’ve been there. Be the one to defend.” He had his back turned to everyone in the room and since he was tall he covered y/n a little. He was lanky to she could still be seen.

“I think I will have many opportunities no? I mean working for your firm will give me a very good profile, and people will want me, that is, if you give good recommendations.”

“We could always skip the recommendations and hire you.” She looked at him her eyes big and shiny, having him say that made her heart beat a little faster. If she could work for them permanently and be a lawyer to them? Dream come true.

“That would be very nice, yes.” She tried to keep her cool, and then closed the distance between them, but trying to not make it to noticeable for other people not to see. Her mint scent hit his face and his teeth came to rest on his bottom lip, her closeness made him nervous. “Working for you permanently would be a challenge no?” she had her arms crossed, but uncrossed them to rest on hand on his arm and squeezed it. She was about to cross the biggest line there was.

“I could do so much more than working couldn’t I Mr. Weasley? I bet I would look good working on my knees, under your desk, only for you so see.” She spoke almost inaudible, only he could hear it and with the noise everyone was making he was sure they didn’t have a clue what she just said. To everyone else they were just chatting about his win.

George trembled and he had to put all his willpower into not doing something stupid. He had no words. And didn’t have time to say, Elias came up behind her and called her, and he lost all her attention. People had the nerve to always be interrupting them. She left, because they both had to work on something Elias needed help in, and y/n always ready to please, offered to.

⚘

After that, if they thought they had ever felt sexual tension, then they weren’t expecting to go through this. Fred couldn’t take George anymore, everyday in his office going on about how he needed to get laid. How lately he just felt like everything was building up and the work piling on his desk wasn’t helping.

“You should just go to y/n, I think she would be more than willing to help.” Fred hadn’t meant for his words to sound wrong and George understood where he was coming from. Fred felt y/n’s sexual tension before he even hit the floor at 8 am every morning. He even asked Angelina for some advice on how to try and make them understand that he was ok with them.

George wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. “You are no fucking help, ever. I might as well visit my ex.” He stated. In that moment y/n was knocking on the door, she was speaking before she was looking and knowing George was there. “Fred I brought you what you asked, and also some ideas for presents for Angelina.” She said, and finally looked up, every word she was gonna say next. She has just called him Fred in front of his brother. She would only say that if he was alone. Fred didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you so much y/n. My brother here was just leaving right George? Me and y/n have some things to do.” He looked at George who huffed and left without another word to y/n.

“Sexual tension still?” She questioned, bold question to make to anyone but her and Fred were more than co-workers, they were friends now and he didn’t mind.

“Yes. You two should meet up.” Came Fred’s voice sounding uninterested, and y/n rolled her eyes as she sat in front of him starting her work. Fred looked at her when she wasn’t looking and wanted to laugh at the annoyed and very frustrated face she had.

When five hit the clock Fred got up, after staring to organize his desk minutes before.

“I’m going, don’t wanna be late to my date with Angelina. You’re staying?”

“Yes, there’s still so much to be done and the lady hasn’t stopped calling Iris today asking for anything we might know. This is going to take while.” y/n stopped what she was doing for a moment to look at Fred. “Do you want me to leave? I can go to my desk or the meeting room?” The desk she barely used, it’s only use now being of support to her bag and computer.

“No, you can stay I trust you. Just please don’t stay up to late. Tomorrow we can give her something to occupy her mind.” She nodded, and said goodbye as he left and closed the door behind him.

y/n only got up two hours later to turn on the light in room because it was already dark, but her brain so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t think much of it.  

“Fred are you seriously still working?” Came a sudden voice that scared her and made the pencil she held drop to the floor. “Shit sorry, y/n? Where’s Fred?”

“Mr. Weasley left sometime ago, a date with his girlfriend. He let me stay because I have to finish this.” She pointed to the papers in front of her and the proceeded to pick up the pencil. George came in and closed the door behind him. She had to prepare herself to bask in his presence, his knowledge and his extreme intelligence. y/n was not only fisically attracted to him, but also mentally. He was just so intelligent it was scary sometimes to work with him, even though she had helped him solve that case a sometime ago. It was still hard because she was afraid to make any wrong moves.

“Well I thought it was just him in here and was gonna tell him to drop his work and go home. It’s not him but it applies to you to. Besides I had to stay up late too, I’m the only one here and the security will want to close everything up in a short time. I bet if they had done their patrol already that you wouldn’t be here.”

“I will leave when they come here, but for now I have to really finish this.” She turned to her work again, trying to ignore his presence completely. He came closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Well I have nothing to do at home, I can help you with what’s left. Two heads are better than one.” He said. He pulled a chair from a corner and put it next to hers. She gave him some papers for him to analyze. “Surprising that Fred stayed with this case, i usually take care of financial stuff.” He said more to himself than anything but y/n heard.

“I think he only took it because I told him I like this type of cases and could help him. I’m doing most of the works, he’s working on the arguments and such.” She looked at George. Being the end of the day, he has his shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging from his left pocket of the jacket and he just had a tired look on him.

“Ah I see, stealing you all to himself.” y/n denied with her head. “Unfair, seen as he knows very well I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the party the other day. Or did you forget what you said?”

Shit, y/n wasn’t expecting him to act on it. But oh boy, how she was happy he did. Every dream she’s had since that day was of her on her knees sucking him of until he cums in her mouth. While he calls her little pet names and makes her stay with his cock in her mouth because it’s warm. And then in her dreams he would slap her ass, slap her little clit until she trembled and made her call him ‘daddy’. The name would come out shy at first and then when he was destroying her it would come out more strong and sure.

She swallowed hard and pressed her legs together.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He put his hand on her leg and pulled them apart, so her legs were separated and he looked at her sternly. “Keep him this way.” He demanded.

“I thought you were gonna help” she whispered, hand coming to rest on top of his and caressing his long fingers. Shit, they would hit every spot inside her so good.

“And I am, aren’t I? I’m attending to a more important and demanding matter.” His hand came up from her knee to her thigh and then leaned inside towards her core, he could feel all the heat radiating from there. She nodded and guided his hand to be right on top of her still clothed pussy.

“Please, help me.” She said sweetly and seductively, any doubts she had and concerns if the should even be doing this in the first place all melting away.

“Yeah? Want my help baby girl? Since you like to be so bossy and know it all, tell me, what do you want me to do?” George pressed his fingers, quickly finding her clit and letting the pressure there for a moment, a moan coming from her mouth.

“Undress me, and please touch my pussy. I’m so wet.” She pleaded.

“Then get up, come on now, be a good girl.” He sair almost impatiently, and saw her get up and fumble with the buttons of her jacket and then with the button of her pants. “Shit.” George was amazed how good she looked, the black panties and bra she had made her look even more delicious if that were possible. The panties were laced and so her wetness could be seen from them. “On the desk.” He instructed, and y/n without thinking did what he asked.

If Fred ever found out they had sex in his office he would never see the end of it and he might as well think about creating his own firm because… wow.

“I’m so wet.” She brought her hand to his hair and pulled on hit the groan that left George was brutal. “Please kiss it.”

George didn’t need to be told twice, he brought his lips to her covered pussy and kissed, although mixed with the fabric of her panties, he could very much taste her distinct, sweet, taste. He kissed it again, and again until she was restless enough to pull his head back her eyes a darker color.

“Take them of.” She order, George looked amazed at her commanding tone.

“be careful there little thing, might just stop here.” He had taken his hand to move her panties to the side exposing her engorged and redish clit, asking to touched. She mewled, her hand coming to rest on her belly and her fingers digging a little.

George took his mouth to her clit and sucked it gently, gaining from her the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He sucked again so have that reaction again, her legs came to rest on his back pulling him to her. She moaned his name.

“Sound so fucking good moaning for me princess, just love it so much.” He took the moment she was distracted to rip her panties open, she gasped.

“What the fuck George.” She looked at him incredulously.

He slapped her thigh and squished it. “Watch you language there or daddy might just leave you hanging.”

The fact that not only had he used the word ‘daddy’, the word she so dreamed of him calling, he had also called himself that. He couldn’t be real.

“No please.” Any dominance she might have tried complete disappeared at his words. Two of his fingers played with her wet hole while his mouth kissed the inside or her thigs, kissed just above her pussy, above where she wanted to be touched the most. Her eyes closed and one hand was behind her, to support her and the other still on her belly.

He entered the two fingers, slowly, looking at her, at the way her head fell back, his name fell out of her mouth, and the hand on her tummy came to push him agains her cunt. Non verbally stating where she wanted his mouth to go.

HE wasted no time attacking her clit with his tongue, his fingers moving slowly in and her out her allowing to fill her, to be close to her.

“Daddy, shit.” Her legs slid down his back almost to his butt, they were shaking a little.

“You just so good baby girl, so sweet, fuck, I’ve been imagining this ever since I saw you. How tight you would be, how sweet, how responsive to your daddy.” He moaned, he was so hard the zipper on his trousers opened a little. His free hand came to unbutton and in a very messy way he pulled his boxers down and freed his cock.

His cock was swollen, red, and we was leaking the stinky susbstance y/n wanted to taste. It came slapping to his belly, rock hard. He put his hand on it stroking slowly letting some moans slip out of his lips, which came shocking against her clit and she shook.

“Fuck. Are you touching yourself daddy?” She asked innocently, pulling some of the red hair that had fallen onto his face to have a better view of his wet swollen lips, from mounding at her pussy.

“I am baby, I am, you just, taste so good, feel so warm and squishy.” All the vibrations from his voice were crashing on her clit making her even more sensitive.

“I- I’ gonna cum, George, fuck.” She was so close, so so close, but he stopped, seized his movements at her pussy but his fingers still buried inside of her.

“You’re gonna come, with me deep inside that little pussy, yeah baby?” He asked, moving away from her. Pulling his fingers, she sighed happily, and took his hand as soon as it was out her. Bringing her face close to his hand and putting his fingers in her mouth, sucking feverishly on them.

George groaned, the hand on his cock pressing his tip and he felt like he could come there at sigh.

“I wanna suck you cock daddy, please.”

“Since my girl asked so nicely, I can’t say no.” Hearing him say ‘princess’ ‘my girl’ made her stomach feel with butterflies, and her heart skip a beat. Shit this crush was way out of hand.

She bounced of the desk, and pushed his chair a little, the wheels helping her do so. She came down to her knees, the view making George think the most sinful things.

Her hand took his out and put it in his thick thighs. Her mouth close to his where she left small wet kisses. Her hand started to stroke him, coming from the base all the way to the rudy red tip. She took the pre-cum that was coming out and used it had lubricant making the sensation so much more intense to him.

She opened his legs to fit in between them and looked up at him for a brief moment, her pussy pulsing around nothing wishing to be touched. He had his head back, both hands at his thighs kneading the flesh there. His mouth opened looking like his was gonna moan but no sound came out.

She understood them we was trying to control himself.  

“Moan for me daddy, let me hear you. Let me know I’m making you feel good.” She squeezed his tip tightly and his hole body shook, a moan he couldn’t control of her name.

“You’re making me feel so good, shit, your hands are so small and can barely wrap around my thick shaft isn’t that right pretty princess? And why don’t you put that dirty mouth of your to work.” Her mouth came to meet his tip and engulfed it in her lips, sucking softly on it, her hands massaging the rest of his cock for now.

Her tongue playing with his tip and then she not so slowly took more of him into her mouth. Her hand resting on his balls and massaging them. And then coming up again twisting around the part of his cock she didn’t have in her mouth.

He put his hand on her hair, making a pony tail out it and helping her guiding her movements, even thought she didn’t need that, he just wanted to feel in control.

She breath in deepley and relaxes her throat and before he knew it she was taking him all of him in, hitting the back of her throat, gagging around him, her spit and his come dripping down the corners of her mouth.

“Sucking my cock so messily baby, but so fucking good- ah fuck” he cried out his legs feeling numb from all the pleasure. Her hand moving more vigorously on his balls. She pulled out slowly, her free hand not touching him, touching her needy clit.

“Come on, up you get.” He was out of breath, pulling her by her hair and instructing her silently to sit on the desk again. He got up, one hand spreading her thighs apart and the other stroking him, the color red spreading from his head all the way thru his length from the way he was feeling.

“Next time, daddy, I’ll suck your cock until you come. I won’t let you pull out.” y/n said, hands coming up to knead her breast thru her bra.

“Take that off, want you naked while you make a mess on my cock.” He smacked his cock on her clit the sudden touch making them both shudder. With trembling fingers she tried to pull open her bra, and with some difficulty she eventually managed.

George filled her up nice and slowly letting them both ride the high of feeling each other so closely. George feeling her up all the way, her pussy adjusting to his size. He was big, long and thick and y/n hadn’t had sex in a long time and no guy she was with was that big. George was way above average and she could feel it very well and would feel it even more the next day.

“Daddy shit.” Her feet met his ass and pulled him towards her, George wasn’t all in but her sudden movement made him do just that, fitting snugly in her pussy, brushing her sweet stop that made her spasm around him.

“You are just perfect all over aren’t you baby? So perfect and angelic but the dirtiest whore for your daddy.” His hand took the hair that still fell on his eyes and his other hand touched her clit and pressed it, sinful sounds coming from her, her clit touched and played with along with the pressure and size of George’s cock making her senses stop working and her loosing every train thought she had.

“I’m gonna love to play with this pussy.” He started moving his hips, taking his hand of her clit and taking both her legs in his hold. He bent her legs at the knee and close tho her chest the knew position made her scream. He hit her g-spot right there and then, and her legs became gelly.

“Found it baby, now touch you precious clit for me.” He instructed and she did has she was told, all the pleasure she felt becoming to much, her pussy was throbbing, her nipples were hard from all the pleasure and his cock inside her felt heavenly. He was so smooth, and heavy. She made rapid little motions on her clit while George sped up his movements his hips meeting hers ever, bottoming out with every thrust and touching every little part of her cunt.

When her legs started to quake powerfully in his hold he knew she was starting to get close. She had been teased and denied one orgasm, and she would do it again if he demanded, but the way her breasts moved with power of his hips and strokes, and how she clenched around him swallowing him holy he knew he would be mean to do that.

“You gotta ask for permission.” He slapped her hand way from her clit to pus his there, to control the pressure and the little up and down movement.

At first she couldn’t form words, her vision was going white, the shots of pleasure thru her body to much.

“P-please can I cum?” A gentle whimper came from her mouth as the waves of her orgasm become stronger.

“Yes baby, go ahead soke my cock.” His hand moved even quicker on her clit and that’s when they both felt it. Her orgasm rippling thru her, strong waves of pleasure felt all over her body, her legs quacking, her arms stretched out beside her, her pussy convulsing, her juices coating his cock deliciously.

“Squeezing me so tight baby, I’m gonna fucking come.”  She puts her head in a way that she can look at him, all destroyed and proper fucked out. He doesn’t have time to warn her again before his climax comes crushing down on him. He almost looses his balance for a second, so strong that everything in his body paralyzes. He buries himself to the hilt in her pussy letting his cum shot deep in her and falls on top of her, his arms don’t give him much support but allow him not to crush her. He hides is face in her neck.

“We really did it ahm?” came her voice, sounding still a little afar since he was still recovering from his strong orgasm. He just nodded unable to form any word.

She waited a little, her hand gently brushing his back making goosebumps appear on his skin. The gentle and sweet gesture making his heart flutter.

“We did.” Came out after a while, finally regaining his posture and picking himself up, pulling out of her. The movement making them moan a little, the emptiness she felt felt weird. She was somehow already used to being full of him.  

He pulled her by the arms so she could sit on the desk and not stay laying down.

“Does this change anything?” She asked shyly. He nodded.

“It does, because, I’ll be dammed if I don’t make you mine.” Intertwining their fingers he brought to his mouth to kiss. She smiled britlhy. “If you want me, that is.”

Her answer came in an attack of kisses all over his face and ending up in his mouth.

“We didn’t even kiss thru all that shit. And you kissed my cock.” He joked and she punched him gently on his chest.

“Watch your mouth. And also how we will explain to your brother this?”

“What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.”

They got dressed, both of them taking their time because their bodies were still not at the maximum potential. A knock on the door startled them.

“Mr. Weasley are you still in there?” It was the guard. George made a gesture with his finger over his mouth for y/n to keep quiet.

“Yes Augustus, be out in a minute.” George said a little loudly and finished up getting dressed and waited for y/n to do the same, and then proceeded to organize the mess they made so Fred wouldn’t know about anything.

Opening the door Augustus was there waiting, a few feet from the door he smiled at George, did he knew it was George now that he could see him? Or did he still think it was Fred? Wouldn’t look good if he did, Fred is probably at home with his girlfriend.

“Augustus, my brother gave us some last minute work and we completely forgot the time. I’m so sorry.” George apologized. Augustus understood then is was not Fred. He only nodded, looked at y/n and also nodded and then watched them leave, their hands intertwined while he heard a little laugh coming from the girl.

⚘

Next day y/n came in at the same time as always, but neither Fred or George were to be seen. She sat at her desk and started to work on the things she should’ve done yesterday but got a little to busy to do so. Fred came in first.

“Good morning y/n. Already working on the case?” He asked bewildered, stopping in front of her desk. She nodded, now that she was seeing him, after what she had done in his office words were hard to come out her mouth. “Good, well when George comes in can you please tell him to come to my office? Iris is coming in later today so I can’t leave her that warning. You can also come in with them for us to work on the case.”

She nodded again, her words still not forming. About half an hour later came in George, way later than usual since he came in at the same time as Fred or a little after. When they made eye contact the smile he shared with her was so big and bright that made some of the nervous feeling she had subside. She had spent all night overthinking if that was a mistake, but by the looks of it wasn’t.

“Mr. Weasley your brother wishes to speak to you.” With some of the lawyers doors opened she had to address him like that.

“Thank you y/n, gonna put this in my office and then I’ll go right in.”

And when he came around she got up to follow him. Silently she spoke to him.

“he said to come in too, so we can work on the case.” She felt the need to justify herself.

“Ah yes, the case you should’ve worked on yesterday I am correct? Got a little to distracted no?” He put his hand on her back and pulled her to him. He kissed her lips gently. If her hands weren’t full she would’ve put his face between them. They were lucky that they in a part where no one could see.

“Ah fantastic that you both still know how to follow some orders.” Fred said, when he saw both of them enter his office. y/n swallowed hard, that sentence had a lot more meaning to it.

George tried to hide his smile, he thinks he might know what could come out of this, but how did he know?

“Next time you both decide to shag, which mind you I have nothing against, finally actually, do it at home, in George’s office somewhere… but please not my fucking office.” He looked at both of them trying to portrait himself as mad but failing terribly. A smirk resting on his lips.

y/n wanted to hide so badly, dig the biggest hole ever and burry herself there from how embarrassed she was.

“Hod do you know?” George asked incredosly, one thing they refused to have were cameras in their offices, it was a private place for them.

“Well my dears there’s a thing called a fucking phone.” He pointed to the phone he had on his desk, it was used to call around the firm, but Fred had his house number on there in case Angelina needed anything and couldn’t reach his personal phone. “Having my girlfriend pick up the phone, and come in the bedroom saying ‘someone is having sex on your office’ sure makes you both have a good impression. Lucky me I was at home with her when that happened.”

George looked at y/n who was feeling hot and embarrassed all over. Shit, it must have been her in the moments of pleasure she might’ve pushed some button. Fuck, shit.

“Just that. But finally you both decided to do it, I was done earing from one or the other just plain bullshit.” Fred rolled his eyes, continuing to write what he was doing. “Even Angelina was happy, not about the phone sex, about you two getting your shit together.”

y/n looked at George and took his hand in hers again.

“So are we together?” She asked him.

“Yes, but to make it official let me take you on a proper date. Today, sound good?” She nodded.

“Great you two, but please don’t let it end in office sex.” Came Fred’s voice again, making the three of them laugh.

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter one: how odd

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

notes: you guys have been so amazing with your feedback on “guarded” and it warms my heart that you loved hoseok and ms. kim -- so it’s time to show mr. kim some love, too.  this series will not be long (probably three parts) but i had to break it into chapters because of the POV shifts. please let me know what you think about this chapter and as usual thank you so much to all the tiger wives and my amazing betas @ladyartemesia​ and @hobi-gif​.

this series is dedicated to the amazing @sahmfanficbts​ who is an incredible writer, an awesome woman, and kim namjoon’s number one fan.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

“You fired me?”

Namjoon turns at the sound of the quiet accusation that comes from over his shoulder.  

There is color in your cheeks as you cross the length of his office.  Your jaw is tight, one lock of hair falling free from the loose knot at the base of your neck. One perfectly-arched brow is raised high.

You look hurt.

Beautiful -- but hurt.

Guilt hits Namjoon like a freight train.

“Of course not,” he deflects, taking a seat.  He picks up one of the papers scattered across his desktop and pretends to read it carefully.  “I reassigned you to a position I believe will be a better fit.”

There’s no way he could miss the irritated breath you suck between your teeth but Namjoon keeps his eyes glued to that paper in his hand.  He realizes, absently, that it’s a takeout menu.

He hopes you haven’t noticed the same thing.

“Well, was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Namjoon winces at the dejection in your tone.  He finally forces himself to meet your gaze and finds your eyes brimming with frustration.  

He certainly can’t blame you on that account -- you have every right to be frustrated.  You shouldn’t be made to feel somehow lacking when it’s him who is lacking in every way that counts.

“Quite the opposite,” he says carefully.  “I think it’s a waste of your skills to have you keeping my schedule and taking calls.  Seokjin can make better use of your talents on the business side.”

A strained silence settles over the room and Namjoon clears his throat before looking back down to his papers.

“Well, the new girl is terrible at this,” you say flatly.  “I certainly wouldn’t have let me walk in here unannounced.  She’s too busy looking at her phone to look after you.”

Namjoon knows you’re right about that.

In the few short months you’ve worked for him, you’ve proven yourself to be unnaturally attuned to his needs. You knew without asking which calls he was trying to avoid and when, when to clear his schedule the day after a rough night on the streets. You’ve kept his office stocked with every comfort he’d ever wanted and some he hadn’t even realized he wanted.  

You are the single best assistant he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand to keep you around for one minute longer.

You don’t wait for Namjoon to formulate some kind of response to your damning and accurate observation.  By the time he looks back up from his papers, you’ve already turned on your heels to leave.  

He watches you walk away with regret weighing heavy in his gut.

**************************

Namjoon’s keys clang loudly when he drops them on the table in his foyer.

This penthouse is the best apartment in one of the best buildings in Seoul.  It’s filled with lavish furnishings and expensive paintings and boasts a stunning view of the Han River.  It’s one of the finest residences in the city.

And Namjoon hates it.

The vacant rooms and the echoing walls seem to mock him, making him all the more aware of how empty it is.  How completely devoid it is of any life. Most nights he stays at the office until he’s delirious with exhaustion just so he can collapse straight into bed once he gets here. 

Tonight though, for once, this place seemed like a better option. 

Namjoon pulls off his tie and releases the first few buttons of his shirt before pouring a scotch.  

He’s drinking too much these days -- he knows it -- but the drinks help slow the constant movement of his mind.  They help dull the anxiety that seems to take over when he’s too still for too long.

He walks to the window to look out over the night sky.  

This is his favorite way to see the city -- high up enough that everything looks pristine.  Get closer and you’ll be assaulted by the noise and the crowds and the pollution.  Get closer and the flaws are too hard to ignore.

“Was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Your words echo as clearly in Namjoon’s mind as if you’d spoken them out loud in this cavernous apartment. He takes a seat in his plush chair and sips his drink, savoring the familiar burn of the scotch.

He thinks back to when you both were kids.  

Your father -- one of the few decent men in his own father’s inner circle -- didn’t bring you around much.  He can only recall a few social functions you’d attended before taking off to university.  News of your father’s death came shortly after that and it had been years since Namjoon had even spared a thought for you.

Then you came walking through his office door.

You definitely weren’t a kid anymore, that much was clear.  

What was much less clear was why you -- a college graduate -- turned up one day, desperate for a job.  He hadn’t questioned your need for fast work and fast money and you hadn’t questioned the long hours and strange requests.

You repaid him with a flawless work ethic.

And he repaid you by fantasizing about fucking you blind over his desk basically every chance he got.

So yeah, there was a problem, all right.   

The problem was Kim Namjoon.

*********************

“There you are.”

The voice on the other end of the line practically slithers into Namjoon’s ear when he answers the late call. 

“Mina,” he sighs, infusing the name with a displeasure that comes through loud and clear across the connection.  “This line is for business only, you know that.”

Mina makes an exasperated sound.

“I wouldn’t have to call your cell if you’d return my messages from the office.  I’ve been trying to reach you for more than two weeks now. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”

Namjoon pulls the phone away to allow himself a long exhale before putting it back to his ear.

“How did you get this number?”

“You’re hung up on that?” Mina groans. “Honestly, Namjoon.  I reached out to your new assistant who was more than happy to pass it along.”

Fuck. He’s going to have to fire the new girl, isn’t he?

“She’s a nice girl,” Mina muses.  “Far more competent than that last assistant of yours.  Excellent decision on replacing that woman if she fails to complete a task as simple as delivering a message. Three messages, actually.”

Namjoon mulls that information over in silence.

“Where is your mind these days, Mr. Kim?” Mina tries to cover her displeasure with a laugh but he hears it anyway.  “You’ve been so distant lately.  It’s been too long since we had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”

Namjoon can envision the pout she is wearing on the other end of the line and it aggravates him beyond belief.  Pouting ranks near the very top of his least favorite female manipulation tactics. 

Pouting makes him want to put his fist through a wall.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he mutters.  “I’m here.”

“Are you drunk?”

Namjoon grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his glass.

“No, Mina,” he grinds out. “Not drunk. Just not in the mood.  Not anymore.”

She sputters on the other end of the line as Namjoon ends the call.

Maybe he should feel bad about being so blunt, but he doesn’t.  It’ll be a week before she’s onto the next wealthy, connected man.  Women like Mina make sport of locating and latching on to power. 

She’ll survive.

Namjoon stares out into the night sky and sips his scotch, letting his mind wander back to the one piece of the conversation that did capture his interest.

What are the chances that you -- a woman with seemingly unerring attention to detail -- forgot to deliver three separate messages from the same caller? 

He contemplates that in the dark.

How odd.

***********************

YOU

Kim Namjoon was the most serious boy you’d ever seen. 

Even as a young man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You can still close your eyes and remember exactly how he looked back then -- standing solemn at his father’s side, lanky body swimming in a suit he’d not yet grown into.  His hair just a touch too long and falling into his eyes.  

You thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Korea.

Namjoon kept mostly to himself -- no easy task given that his status alone made him the most celebrated catch amongst the children of the Gajog.  

Everyone fought for the attention of the boy who would be king.  

It would have been so easy for him to abuse the power he had over his peers, to treat them with disrespect, but Namjoon never did.  You noticed how kind he was to the children who idolized him.  You noticed how well he managed the volatile moods of his alcoholic father.  You noticed how he hovered protectively over his sister.  

He never noticed you, of course.

Your own father was careful to limit your exposure to the Gajog and as such, you lived on the outskirts of the social circle.  By the time you were a teenager, you’d only spoken to Namjoon directly a handful of times.  The few times you did see him face-to-face, you’d had to suffer through that awkward moment before his eyes lit with recognition.  

It always took a minute for him to remember who you were, but when he finally did -- every time he finally did -- your heart would stop just a bit at his shy smile.  

That was the image you held on to when you held your breath and walked into his office a few months ago.  You’d taken a deep breath and prayed that the quiet, kind kid you’d known so long ago hadn’t changed too much over the years.  And then you stepped into his posh office.

Kim Namjoon definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

The Namjoon who stood up from behind his desk to bow a greeting was nothing short of devastating.

Standing in place of the slender boy from your childhood was a man with deep, dark eyes and a striking, angular face.  His suit -- cut to fit every line of his body to an exacting standard -- did nothing to conceal his powerful frame.  He had grown into the full lips that once seemed a bit too large for his face. 

Without a doubt, he’d become the most handsome man in all of Korea.

The shy smile remained, though -- dimples prominent when Namjoon extended a hand to shake yours and you woodenly accepted, blinking back.  You’d realized, absently, that you were gawking.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed the same thing.

If Namjoon had picked up on your mortifying reaction to seeing him after all these years, he was far too much of a gentleman to let on.  He’d offered you a seat and then listened patiently as you explained that you were in need of a job -- any job -- so long as you could start right away.

You left out the painful details, of course.  

Namjoon nodded quietly as you outlined your education and qualifications and emphasized your willingness to serve the Gajog in any role he saw fit.  His eyes were warm and reassuring as you spoke, but you still braced yourself for the possibility that he’d send you away empty handed.

He didn’t.

At the end of your impassioned speech, Kim Namjoon made you an offer you could not refuse.  

Reporting directly to him and starting right away.

***************************

The serious boy you’d known so many years ago had grown into an even more serious man.

It didn’t take long on the job to notice the bone-deep melancholy that seemed to emanate from Kim Namjoon.  He was good at concealing it in front of others but you saw it clearly.  The way he would stand at his window at night, drink in hand, brooding.  The way the shadows behind his eyes would surface when he thought no one was looking.

But you were always looking.

You wanted so badly to help.  

You wanted to do something to help ease the burden he seemed to carry around at all times.  So you threw yourself into the work, memorizing his routines and taking note of the things he needed.  You organized his files.  You streamlined his schedule.  You ran interference on Yoongi and Hoseok and Seokjin on the nights when his moods turned dark and ominous.

Tiny gestures, in the grand scheme of things -- but there were days when you could convince yourself the gestures made a difference.

Days when Namjoon would look at you with a quiet appreciation that made you feel heat down to your toes.  Days when his eyes would soften as you’d instinctually met some need he hadn’t voiced out loud. Days when the darkness inside of him seemed to recede and one of those heart-stopping shy smiles would emerge.

You convinced yourself over time that this was enough --  that taking care of him like this would be enough for you.

It had to be enough. 

To allow yourself to imagine otherwise was nothing short of delusion.  

**********************

“Eomma?” 

You call out into the quiet as you lock the door behind you.  You can barely make out the sound of your mother’s soft reply from her bedroom.

This is where she spends most of her days now, shuffling between her bed and her chair, too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time.  Pill bottles litter the nightstand, obscuring the yellowing photograph of your parents as newlyweds.  

“My sweet Ttal,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re home.”

“I am,” you sigh, sweeping into the room and pulling off your coat.  You bend down to drop a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat at her side.  Your mother’s once-luminous skin is now spotted with age, eyes cloudy and dull, but she is still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.   

She flinches when you take one of her hands into your much colder ones.

“Sorry,” you murmur, massaging over the paper-thin skin.  “It’s freezing outside.  I should have warmed them first.”

She gives your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Home early again,” she croaks.  “Is everything okay at work?”

Her innocent question brings the sadness simmering just under the surface of your thoughts back to a full boil.  You still can’t understand why Namjoon chose to reassign you -- and you still can’t forget the sting of getting the news secondhand from your replacement.

Your face falls at the memory and you hope your mother doesn’t notice.  

The last thing you’d want to do is add worry to her already long list of concerns.

“Yes, Eomma,” you soothe, smoothing back her hair.  She leans into your touch with a tired smile.  “Everything is fine.  My new boss doesn’t keep me as late as the old one did.  But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, closing her eyes.  “Mrs. Sim left just a short while ago.  She brought some Japchae for dinner.  Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”  

You laugh at the way the corner of her mouth lifts into a smile at her jest.  

People like Mrs. Sim are in large part why you’ve fought so hard to keep your mother here in your childhood home.  The financial strain has been tough -- particularly when paired with the medical bills -- but you need the help.  With no siblings to share your burden, you’ve had to lean on the goodwill of longtime neighbors.

“Leave Mrs. Sim and her Japchae alone mother,” you tease, standing to stretch.  “I’m going to get a shower before bed.”

Your mother makes a noise that sounds like approval, but you can tell she’s already drifting off again.  

She’s on so many pills these days; a blessing and a curse.  More pills means less pain and better rest -- something she desperately needs.  But more pills also means far fewer moments of lucidity -- much shorter windows of time for you to enjoy your mother’s quick wit and dry humor.

She’s back in a sleep state before you even make to stand.  You stroke your fingertips across her face just as your phone pings in your pocket.  You pull it out and very nearly dismiss the routine banking alert altogether -- but something catches your eye.

You swipe into the app to confirm you’re seeing the numbers correctly -- that your tired eyes and tired mind aren’t playing games with you.  

They aren’t.

The direct deposit of your paycheck is coming on the date it should, at the time it should.  But the number glaring back at you from the screen is higher -- much higher -- than it should be.

A demotion and a raise in the span of one week?

How odd.

******************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

tag list: @barbikatherine​

[alj4890]

Hi you are awesome! Got an ask. What do you think will happen if the gang found out that Barthelemy along the others involved was behind Queen Eleanor's deat, just after days of him threatening to take the Princess and be a regent?I want to know Liam's POV on it.

Aww!!! Thank you ☺Honestly, I think Liam would have figured it out when he realized the goblet was from both Godfrey and Barthelemy. He was the one to devote his free time to secretly study the effects of poisons and ways it could be administered. Once the group found his mother's secret room, I think it would have all come together in his mind. For your request though, I will try and show Liam's reaction if he discovered the connection after Barthelemy's threat. Plus, I think this is one circumstance where he wouldn't want to involve the others. To be able to capture his mother's murderer would be something he would want to do himself with the help of his king's guards.

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305

Masterlist

Subversion

"I've got you." Liam gently took his wife's trembling form into his arms.

The nightmares were getting out of hand.

Ever since Maxwell's father had threatened to take their daughter from them, Riley's nerves were shot. She tried so hard to put on a brave face during the day, but when night came across the land, she fell apart.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she held fast to Liam. Her breaths hitched at the thought of Barthelemy Beaumont winning in the end.

"How did he get so many of the court on his side?" She whispered. "After all we've done for them!"

Liam rested his cheek on top of her head. "I don't know."

"He's been gone for what...fifteen, twenty years or so?" She grumbled. "We saved the country from Justin. We secured the throne with Eleanor's birth." Her anger began to overcome her fear. "And these traitors do this to us?!"

"The court serves its on purposes." He explained. "They always have. It is rare to find a truly selfless noble amongst the group."

Riley left his arms to reach for a tissue on her nightstand. "I saw how selfish they could be during your bride search."

She blew her nose softly before a frown firmed her lips. "I mean, the whole reason Bertrand wanted me to win you was so House Beaumont could be restored, reputation wise. He said he also wanted to see us happy, but now I doubt it."

Liam listened quietly as she went through her nightly rants of those that had betrayed them. She then went into a litany of how ridiculous it was that they had to travel with a one year old to their homes in the hopes of swaying their fickle minds back in their favor.

Before long, she had worn herself out and began to doze off. He held her until he felt her slow deep breaths. Easing his arms away, he crept out of their bedroom.

As had been his nightly ritual for the past year, he first went to the nursery.

His lips curved over his one year old daughter's tendency to cocoon herself in her blankets. Eleanor's head and that of the purple stuffed bunny she loved to sleep with were the only things visible.

He tenderly brushed her hair from her forehead as he gazed upon his most prized possession. His inner resolve hardened with the vow that nothing would ever take her from him and Riley.

On his way out of the nursery, he paused to pet Chance. The sweet corgi seemed to almost understand that something was going on and that he needed to guard the little princess. Lady Luck and their puppies were curled up at the foot of the toddler bed, being the next line of defense if Chance failed.

Liam quietly closed the door and continued downstairs. He nodded briefly to the guards that were stationed at various points along the halls and staircase. None seemed surprised by their king up at such a late hour.

Why should they, when he had been doing this for a year now?

Liam met Bastien in his study. The older man handed him a steaming cup of coffee, before sitting down across from him.

The workspace between them was covered with pictures, reports, and test results.

"Anything new?" Liam asked.

"I received this from one of my underground informants." Bastien handed over a set of photographs. "And I uncovered this report through the help of the queen mother. We came across this while going through your late father's personal files."

Liam's lips firmed into a thin line as he flipped through the old photographs. Barthelemy had made a wide variety of friends during his supposed' "coma".

"Is that...?" Liam handed the picture over.

"It is, sir." Bastien reached across the table for another set of photographs. "Lord Barthelemy along with Godfrey had been developing close ties with both the Nevarkis family and those that raised the leader of The Sons of the Earth."

"I see." Liam tapped his fingers against his mug. "So our initial theory was correct. Godfrey didn't act alone when my mother was poisoned."

"In all honesty sir, I never thought he had the stomach for such an act." Bastien frowned over the picture of the late Queen Eleanor that also showed Jackson Walker in the background. "Of the two friends of your father, I suspected Barthelemy."

Liam looked up. "You did?"

Bastien shrugged. "I was the junior agent when the first attack on your mother failed. Jackson told me only what was relevant." His eyes narrowed in memory. "He said it was for her protection that I wasn't told more. Now I think he and your mother were hoping to not put anyone else at risk with what they were uncovering."

Liam focused once more on the last picture his mother had taken. It was the very ball in which she received the poisoned golden goblet. He felt that familiar breath aching pain in his heart. She had missed so much of his life. His growing up, his marriage, his child.

He wanted to destroy the men responsible for this. He wanted vengeance for his mother and all the lives affected by her death.

He wanted them to suffer as he had. As his late father had.

They deserved it. They deserved so much more agony than a mere prison sentence or swift death could give.

He knew it was wrong, but he hoped Barthelemy resisted being captured. Then the king's guards could use other methods to apprehend him.

Godfrey's capture had not given him the satisfaction that Liam needed. Something had always felt off when he thought of the fastidious former Duke of Karlington. He just couldn't believe the man had acted alone.

"I believe we have enough evidence with this last report." Bastien handed him another sheet of paper. "Queen Amalas sent this along with her regards."

Liam read through the many sheets.

This was it. This was the final nail to Barthelemy Beaumont's coffin.

Liam stood up. "Prepare the guards. We are going to Ramsford immediately."

*****************

Duchy Ramsford, at the first blush of dawn...

"We have every inch surrounded, sir." Bastien whispered.

"Good." Liam squared his shoulders. He tried to itch his side, but encountered nothing but the Kevlar vest his guards insisted he wear. "Let's go."

The pair, flanked by four more guards walked up to the front door and banged on it.

A sleepy servant appeared, perplexed to see the king standing on the steps.

Liam and Bastien pushed past him, stating they were there for kingdom business, and began to climb the stairs.

Their footsteps were silent as they checked each room they came to.

Having finally come to the family wing of the manor, they opened the door to the room where the culprit slept.

Before the old man had a chance to come fully awake, he was handcuffed and shoved out into the hallway.

"What is the meaning of this?" Barthelemy yelled. "How dare you come into my room in such a manner?"

Bertrand and Savannah rushed out, only to stop in surprise at the sight before them.

"Barthelemy Beaumont." Liam's voice held a sinister edge. "For crimes against the royal family and Cordonia, I hereby sentence you to death."

"What?" Barthelemy dropped his easy going mien he had maintained since he first reappeared.

Something more dark and evil took over his features. "You do not have the power to do that, King Liam. You gave the Council those rights. Now that you're family is under attack, you think getting rid of me will stop them from taking the princess away?" He snorted in derision. "Even if you find a way to kill me, others will make certain neither you nor that pitiful excuse for a queen ever see Princess Eleanor again."

"I do not think any noble will fight my decision once they see your list of crimes Liam's blue eyes blazed with fury.

He began to approach the man who had formulated the plan to kill his mother. The man who had blackmailed numerous nobles so that they were forced to support him. The very man trying once more to destroy his family and take the crown from him.

Barthelemy snarled at him "You know nothing of my supporters." His chin lifted in triumph. "There are many outside of Cordonia who would love to see me take the throne as Prince Regent."

Liam's slow, deliberate steps caused Barthelemy to shrink back. He stumbled over his own feet as he was backed into a corner.

His eyes were wild as he looked for anyone who might possibly be on his side.

"Bertrand! As the Duke of Ramsford, you must stop him before he--"

His son shook his head. "House Ramsford has always stood behind King Liam and Queen Riley." He felt Savannah's hand slip into his to help him through this. "Anyone, be them blood relation or friend, who does not will become an enemy of this duchy."

Barthelemy began to spew insults upon his son. His hatred and disgust was then directed to both of his progeny having failed him in every possible way.

Bertrand didn't flinch or even appear to hear the diatribe directed towards him. He instead reported his own investigation into his father's activities.

"Forgive me, your majesty." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "I had to make it look like I had truly turned against you and our queen to make my father more open about his plans. I have all the information you might need for what he intended to do to take the princess away in my bedroom's safe."

"Traitor!" Barthelemy struggled anew against his handcuffs and the guards holding him. "How dare you betray your own blood--"

Liam punched him, knocking out the old man with an uppercut. A blessed silence followed his drop.

Bertrand stared dispassionately upon his father's crumpled form, then turned on his heel, leading Bastien to the safe.

Liam took long, deep breaths to calm himself down. The urge to continue to beat the man at his feet was strong.

He remembered every tear shed in the dark over his mother. Every need for a hug from her. Every holiday memory without her. Every single worry and secret he had longed to share with her.

He then thought of the miserable years he and Riley would have had without their daughter. Every single moment without her sweet smile. Missing each milestone. Being denied the right to even speak to her. No hugs. No kisses for skinned knees or bad dreams. No playtime. No chance of checking on her during the night.

He never knew he could hate a man as much as he did Barthelemy Beaumont.

How had such a man fathered two of Cordonia's most loyal noblemen?

Liam realized he should be grateful for the late Annabelle Beaumont and her sweetness overshadowing all that this man tried to teach them.

It would have hurt even more so, if Maxwell and Bertrand had betrayed him.

"Your majesty?"

Liam lifted his eyes and took the folder filled with all Bertrand had uncovered. It was enough to put his father away for multiple life sentences.

"Sir, I hope..." Bertrand's shoulders drooped. "Do you think Riley will understand why I did what I did?"

"I do." Liam placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, for this and for your continued loyalty."

Bertrand bowed his head, unable to speak from his own relief that it was at last over.

The guards dragged a still unconscious Barthelemy down the stairs and into the back of an armored truck.

Liam and Bastien followed close behind.

The king took a deep breath of the early morning's crisp air. The sun beginning to shine reminded him that this was indeed a new day...one in which he could return to his family victorious, knowing they were once more safe.

[machinegunbun]

2

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 25: Odd Ailment

Warning: strong language, sexual themes, fingering, vaginal penetration, cream pie, mentions of death, grave robbing, mild explosions

Summary: Juniper’s sickness doesn’t go away…leaving her wracking her brain for answers.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

In the days following, Juniper’s nausea did not go away. It would lull at times, giving her the confidence to try to help out in the shop again. But, inevitably, when she caught the smell of the rotting blood and old organs, it would hit her like a heavy stone all over again.

She was still hungry and never developed a fever. Heisenberg insisted it was the cadou, that it could do damn near anything to her system, and at first she believed it to be true.

As the days dragged on, that belief waned more and more.

Heisenberg on the other hand was determined to just wait it out, giving her space and refraining from asking for help with Soldats. He was long used to working alone so fell back into the routine easily.

Being able to return to the apartment to see Juniper and sleep beside her at night was more than enough for him, for the time being at least.

He sat before the many monitor screens, waiting and watching. There were multiple cameras in the village itself, set up at key points of interest: the church, town center, the cemetery, the ceremony site, and every way in or out.

His pale eyes scanned over them all, silently hoping for someone, somewhere, to fuck up enough to put them in an early grave.

While he waited, he worked on other things. Today he worked on making improvements to his Panzer designs. Determination fluttered in the pit of his stomach, unwilling to let these new creations turn out like Sturm.

Eventually as the day ticked on there was a commotion in the town center. Heisenberg set his pencil down, glancing up. There was a crowd of people gathering around a cart, one villager trying to calm an obviously spooked horse.

Heisenberg turned a knob to zoom in and get a better look. There was a villager on the ground, unmoving and bleeding. It looked as if the cart or horse had run them over. Heisenberg smiled, a new body he could snap up.

He stood from the desk, gathering up papers and his stray hat as he headed back to the apartment.

“Honey I’m home!” He burst through the door, his voice mimicking an old family sitcom.

Juniper looked up from her reading, face brightening at his chipper tone.

“You seem awfully happy today.” She commented as he strode forward.

“It’s a fine day.” He smiled back, making a show of removing his hat and glasses, “Guess what just happened.”

Closing her book, she gave a guess, “New project idea?”

“No.”

“Soldat?”

“Nope.”

“Sturm finally started working properly?”

Heisenberg snorted, “As if. All wrong, buttercup.”

“Oh just tell me, you silly man.” She exclaimed with a smile.

He leaned on the table, placing his weight on his palms, “Now where’s the fun in that?”

She purses her lips in annoyance earning her a chuckle from him before he finally gave her the answer, “Alright, alright, I’ll go easy on you. Someone just died!”

“And that’s why you’re so happy?” She almost scoffed.

“Well yea.” He shrugged, “I finally caught a young one getting smoked on the cameras.”

“Young one?” Juniper’s eyes were full of concern.

“Not a kid!” Heisenberg corrected quickly, “I’m not that evil of a bastard.”

“I suppose not…” she murmured, her mind clouding with other thoughts.

Juniper went to the counter, leaning against it as she looked out the tiny window over the sink. She gave a heavy sigh, hearing Heisenberg come up behind her. Gloved hands wrapped around her middle, pulling her back against his broad chest.

“Such a big sigh for my little wife.” He murmured into her ear.

“Mmmm.” She hummed, placing her hands over his own.

He rocked her a bit, asking, “How are you feeling today?”

“Better.” She nodded then more quietly admitted, “But still not good. It comes and goes.”

“How are you right now?” He asked before he dipped his head in to give her a rough kiss on her neck. She keened softly when his teeth nipped the sensitive skin.

“It’s mostly gone now.” She spoke breathily as he moved to the crook of her neck.

“Then how about,” he trailed his lips back up until he whispered the question into her ear, “We waste some time before I have to go, hm? Right here in the kitchen, even.”

“You’re terrible.” She gave out a little giggle.

“Hm?”

“That’s why you are being so sweet?”

“Sweet?” He echoed, “Would you rather me be rough with you? One comes much easier, buttercup, so be careful.”

She pressed her ass into his groin, giving a cheeky reply, “I’ll take my chances.”

Heisenberg gave a growl, moving forward to trap her body between himself and the counter.

He ground his hips into her own, cursing the fabric between them. Usually he would give her a chance to remove her dresses, to avoid getting chastised, but today he gave her no such mercy. After her playful provocation he ripped through the material of her skirt. Before she could curse him he forced her face into the counter.

She mewled when he shoved two fingers into her already moistening hole.

“Look at you, already a mess.” He jeered, finger fucking her and making her thighs shiver. He did this for a short time until he was satisfied she was prepared enough. Heisenberg undid the zipper of his pants, pulling out his hard cock. He coated his member with her slick, lining himself up to her core.

Without warning he pushed forcefully into her. Juniper’s cry caught into her throat as she held onto the counter.

She heard him groan over her as he pulled back slightly just to rock forward again.

He set a brutal pace, leaving Juniper crying out in pleasure. He forced her head down, the counter cool against her burning cheek.

“Like being fucked rough do you?” Heisenberg bared his teeth, not letting up, “Tell me whore.”

Juniper made a warbling gurgle, earning her a quick smack to the ass with his free hand.

“Y-yes master!” She managed, cunt clenching his cock.

Heisenberg’s lips twitched into an ever bigger smirk, his hips fucking into her own hard enough to bruise. The sound of their skin accompanied by the clinking of his metal charms filled the kitchen.

His thighs shook as he emptied in her, nostrils flaring like an angry horse. He took a few more heavy, ragged breaths before he pulled free from her heat. He looked proudly down at the thick string of come that connected their sexes, straightening his hat.

“I have to head out, Buttercup.” He patted her sore ass.

She gave out a weak reply, still trying to recover.

~

The nights were much warmer, mud soaking into Heisenberg’s boots. It made the digging fly by. The glow of the cigar’s hot cherry illuminated his dark shades as he watched the haulers get closer and closer to breaking the bottom.

“Keep going you stupid bastards!” Heisenberg growled, walking in a circle around the grave. The sickening feeling of grave robbing someone’s loved ones long since jaded from his mind, replaced with excitement over the prospect of new materials.

‘Materials’…Fuck he really was a monster.

He thought darkly. It didn’t have long to ruminate in his mind, a hollow thud sounded. Heisenberg ordered the haulers to pause, they made little screeches as they backed away from the hole.

Heisenberg took a shovel from one of the closer ones, jumping down into the hole. His boots made an echoy thud, as he took the shovel and scraped away the last layer of sediment. Using the blade he jimmied the coffin open. The smell of dried flowers hit his nose when it opened. The body was already starting to bloat slightly, unprotected by winter’s grasp.

He brushed away the flowers and coins on the man’s eyes, turning the body’s face in his hands.

Not big enough for his Panzer design but he would definitely make a good Soldat.

His lips twitched into a smile as he straightened, gesturing with a finger for the haulers to start the retrieval.

As they neared the factory, passing the scrapyard, something caught Heisenberg’s pale eyes in the moonlight.

He paused, the haulers deftly pushing the cart past him. The shape of a jet stuck out of the nearest pile, rusted and bent.

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips, an idea flashing in his mind. A glorious idea, a flying soldat!

“Get him inside!” Heisenberg yelled, turning fully towards the old jet. He raised his muddy, gloved hands. The object of his desire began to rattle and rise free. His lips split with the exhilaration of the new prospect.

~

The pale dawn filtered through the small windows when a Juniper awoke, Heisenberg had long since returned and went again. She looked at the muddy boot prints tracked across the apartment with a grimace.

Juniper started to stretch, stopping short when a light stinging pain tugged at her chest.

She sucked in a breath, cupping her breasts. They felt swollen and tender, more so than she could remember.

Worry pooled in her gut as she kneaded the flesh. Everything was adding up in a way she didn’t like, but she couldn’t be certain….

She finally broke down and asked the Duke for a special item. She made sure no prying ears were close, and Heisenberg had indeed trusted her to pick up the current shipment. This request was for the Duke’s ears only, he had an air of trustworthiness about him that Juniper felt she could ask him anything without fear of judgement.

When she made her request the Duke simply nodded, warning her such an item would take time to acquire.

Juniper nodded, no other choice but to wait.

So she waited, as patiently as one could with so much worry in her guts.

The weeks while she waited Heisenberg had started a new project. He had the terrifyingly brilliant idea to make flying Soldats. It ate up most of his time, trying to formulate the right type of core to allow flight.

The morning of the next shipment Juniper headed down to the workshop. The heat still affected her but since he wasn’t currently working with bodies it made it more tolerable to her recent tender stomach.

But today the smell of smoke and sulfur came from the shop. Her footsteps quickened, bursting through the door to see Heisenberg cleaning up after another small explosion.

He looked up at her sourly as he swept.

“What happened?” Juniper bent to pick up the nearest chunk of charred core.

Heisenberg’s lips were tight, “It blew up in my fucking face.”

“Honey…” Juniper came closer.

“Don’t start.” He huffed, turning towards her. Now that she could fully see his face she made a little sound of surprise. He looked up curiously.

“Oh Heis…your eyebrows had just grown back.” Juniper frowned.

Heisenberg threw the broom down, “Well they’re fucking gone again!”

He was simmering and fuming as she tried to help him clean. He finally cooled a bit to speak to her more calmly, “It’s almost time for the Duke’s shipment. Let’s go meet him.”

A thin sliver of alarm shot through her as she quickly spoke, “You have a lot going on down here, let me go get the shipment.”

He gave her a long look, but the morning had dulled his desire to argue.

“Fine…fine.” He waved her off.

Relief washed over her as she ascended the stairs back towards the elevator.

~

Blinking into the spring sun, she was surprised to see the Duke’s cart already waiting in the factory yard.

She quickly made her way over to him, hopeful.

“Hello Duke.” Juniper looked at her boots, worry heavy in her green eyes.

“Good day my dear.” He spoke, “I have the Lord’s shipment all prepared.”

“And the-?” She began to ask but the Duke cut her off.

“Of course.” The man picked up a small package from beside him, placing it in her hands, “Not the easiest thing to find all the way out here, but I have my ways.”

Juniper nodded, shoving it into her pocket, “T-Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, “And Lady Juniper?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck.” His voice was genuine.

They said their goodbyes. Juniper quickly brought in the delivery, not taking the time to go through it. She rushed onto the elevator, not wanting Heisenberg to question her absences.

~

She paced in the bathroom, anxiety eating up her core. She kept looking down at the small plastic stick on the sink. It felt like the longest two minutes of her life.

Her heart dropped, seeing a second little pink line staring back at her. She picked it up with a shaking hand, tears pricking her eyes.

Heisenberg said it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t human anymore, neither of them were.

The room span, she held her stomach.

She was a monster, full of infected parasites.

Juniper felt bile rise in her throat. Running from the bathroom onto the balcony.

Death was all around them. Mother Miranda twisting all those around her into nightmares.

She looked down at the stick one last time.

Maybe it was a mistake?

She knew it wasn’t.

Would Heisenberg tell her to leave? Would he hate her?

Tears ran down her cheeks as she threw the test off the balcony, it becoming lost in the piles of scrap far below.

Why them? Why were they so stupid? Why hadn’t they been so careful?

Questions thudded in her brain.

It wasn’t possible.

But it happened.

She was pregnant.

[bloody-bee-tea]

On the other side

Asadbatman over on Twitter wanted to see the other side of the Clan Swap fic, where Jiang Cheng gets transported into Lan Wanyin’s body and where he meets Jiang Xichen. You can find “In every timeline” here and you should probably read that one first. This comes in at 12k.

Lan Wanyin is reading over a particularly insulting letter on his favourite pier, but even that does nothing to soften the frown on his face.

Sect Leader Yao really has a lot of nerve to send this letter to Jiang Xichen who—for all intents and purposes—is a goddamn war hero now, not even to mention the Sect Leader of one of the most powerful Sects out there.

Lan Wanyin takes a deep breath and decides to deal with that letter later—much later, if he can get away with it—before he turns his attention towards the lake in front of him.

It’s a rather calming sight, and one of the reasons why this is his favourite place in Lotus Pier. The lake stretches on for longer than the eye can see, and this close to the piers, there are dozens of lotus heads gently bobbing on the water and it’s so calming and relaxing that Lan Wanyin could totally drift off here.

Except that he still has work to do, because Jiang Xichen trusts him to deal with the paperwork and this part of running a Sect even though they are not married. Yet.

But Lan Wanyin will not allow anyone to say that he’s slacking off, and even though this is a private pier there is still a chance someone might catch a glimpse of him, and so he lets out another sigh as he picks up the next letter from the stack to his side.

He wonders if the stacks always get so high, but then he remembers fondly that there is almost nothing more Jiang Xichen hates doing than paperwork and with how victorious Yunmeng Jiang came out of the Sunshot Campaign it’s understandable that everyone wants to gain a favour with Jiang Xichen.

Lan Wanyin is very pleased that Jiang Xichen allows him to be the one to formulate very polite “Fuck off” replies to them, he’s not going to lie about that.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Xichen suddenly whines from behind him and drapes himself all over Lan Wanyin’s back.

“Doing the work you pushed off on me?” Lan Wanyin gives back without even putting the letter in his hand down.

He has gotten rather used to Jiang Xichen being as tactile as he is, and Lan Wanyin is enjoying it immensely, even though he would never admit it. He would blush his way through every single word of that sentence, he just knows it, and then Jiang Xichen would tease him about it, and Lan Wanyin would blush even harder.

He knows that from experience.

“But I didn’t mean you have to do the work immediately,” Jiang Xichen sighs, but he stays where is, with his arms around Lan Wanyin’s waist and his head hooked over his shoulder.

“I’d rather get it out of the way,” Lan Wanyin says, patting Jiang Xichen’s hand on his stomach.

“You’re all work and no fun, lately,” Jiang Xichen complaints and Lan Wanyin’s mouth twists with his words.

He knows that he hasn’t been the most fun to be around lately, but one of them has to take the task of leading a Sect seriously and it certainly isn’t going to be Jiang Xichen, no matter how effortlessly he still seems to fall into the role as Sect Leader.

Lan Wanyin puts it down to his rigorous training and Lan Wanyin did not receive the same training. He was never meant to be Sect Leader, so he has a lot to catch up to, he knows that. Especially since the wedding is still a few months away.

He just doesn’t want to embarrass Jiang Xichen with his ignorance before they are even tied together.

“If you keep this up, I’ll give you something to complain about,” Lan Wanyin says with less bite than he intended to, but then again he never can be really mad at Jiang Xichen.

To underline his threat he reaches out for Sect Leader Yao’s letter and waves it in front of Jiang Xichen’s face, who makes a grimace at that, but then hides his smile in Lan Wanyin’s neck.

“Feisty. I like it,” he mutters, and Lan Wanyin doesn’t mean to, but he freezes up completely.

With how Jiang Xichen is still pressed close to him, he notices it immediately of course and Lan Wanyin can almost hear him frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and soothing, and Lan Wanyin hates that he is still like this—that the doubt is still a niggling bud in his mind—but he also can’t help it.

“If you like feisty so much, you should probably go look for my counterpart again,” Lan Wanyin says, and this comes out much more bitter than he thought it would.

It’s too telling, he knows that immediately, and Jiang Xichen pulls away for long enough to make Lan Wanyin panic before Jiang Xichen simply turns him around and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t want your counterpart,” Jiang Xichen tells him, his voice controlled and even, and despite the way Lan Wanyin clings to Jiang Xichen he lets out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, right,” he mutters. “You wouldn’t even have noticed me if it wasn’t for him catching your eye,” he goes on, hiding his face much more firmly in Jiang Xichen’s chest, because he doesn’t want to know what kind of face he makes at that.

But Jiang Xichen is not letting him hide; he pushes Lan Wanyin away, so that he can look him in the eye when he next speaks.

“He might have managed to catch my eye, but it’s you who kept it for years now,” Jiang Xichen tells him and Lan Wanyin blushes at his words.

Jiang Xichen has never made a secret out of the fact that he fell head over heels in love with him, but his actions speak very loudly too.

Like the fact that he not only allows Lan Wanyin into his home and family, but that he also trusts him to lead the Sect together with him. Lan Wanyin knows how much Yunmeng Jiang means to Jiang Xichen and it regularly warms his heart to know that Jiang Xichen wants to share this with Lan Wanyin.

“Shut up,” Lan Wanyin grumbles slightly, but he’s very pleased by Jiang Xichen’s answer.

“Only when you stop being stupid,” Jiang Xichen gives back and brushes a kiss over Lan Wanyin’s cheek.

“I’m not stupid,” Lan Wanyin protests more out of reflex than anything else and then he sighs. “I know you love me and it’s stupid of me to still be jealous of my counterpart,” Lan Wanyin admits.

But knowing that he is unreasonably jealous and not being jealous are two completely different things and Lan Wanyin is not doing well with the latter part.

Jiang Xichen hums at his words and manhandles him around again, until Lan Wanyin sits with his back to Jiang Xichen’s chest and Jiang Xichen hugs him close.

“You never did tell me what happened in that other world,” Jiang Xichen lowly says and Lan Wanyin shrugs.

He doesn’t think anything that happened to him in that world is worth mentioning, but he guesses that Jiang Xichen has burned to ask this question for a long while now.

“Fine,” he sighs and pulls down Jiang Xichen so he sits pressed up to his back and he puts his hands over the arms around his middle. “I’ll tell you.”

~*~*~

Lan Wanyin wakes up to someone frantically calling his name.

“Jiang Cheng? Jiang Cheng, wake up right this instant! Jiang Wanyin! Don’t make your poor brother fret like this, come on. A-Cheng? Chengcheng?”

Okay, someone calling a semblance of his name, anyway.

Lan Wanyin groans slightly, before he blinks his eyes open, and his vision is immediately filled with a mop of unruly hair and a worried face of a person Lan Wanyin has never seen before in his entire life.

“Jiang Cheng?” the person asks him and Lan Wanyin pushes him away as politely as he can.

“No,” he says, immediately startled by how deep his voice is.

He looks down at himself, to figure out if there is a visible clue as to why he was unconscious, but when he sees dark purple robes he frowns. His frown only deepens when it feels like something vital is missing.

“What is going on?” he asks the other person, who is clearly not at all reassured now that he’s awake.

“Jiang Cheng?” he is asked again and Lan Wanyin shakes his head.

“My name is Lan Wanyin,” he gives back and watches as the person goes pale at his side.

“Lan Wanyin,” he mutters and then he scrambles up to frantically gather a few papers.

Lan Wanyin watches him study them, seemingly more desperate the more he reads and when the guy looks at him Lan Wanyin can see something close to panic on his face.

“Oh fuck,” the guy mutters and then plasters a smile on his face so quickly it gives Lan Wanyin whiplash.

“I’m Wei Wuxian, nice to meet you,” he says, adopting a cheery tone that’s so obviously fake that Lan Wanyin cringes on his behalf.

“Where am I?” he asks, but when he looks around he can tell that this is the Jingshi, so he changes his question. “Why are you in my home?” he asks instead and watches as the smile on Wei Wuxian’s face falters dangerously.

“Your home, of course,” he mutters. “You’re Lan Wanyin and this is your home,” he goes on and Lan Wanyin bristles at his words.

“Yes, I am and yes it is. And I demand an explanation from you now!” he says, trying for a stern tone, but he knows it comes out much more wavering than he’d like.

“I’m sorry, this must be really stressful for you,” Wei Wuxian says, and he sounds so sympathetic that Lan Wanyin immediately has to bite back some tears.

“Just explain to me what’s going on,” he tries again and Wei Wuxian sighs, clearly about to give in, but before he can do that, someone slides open the door.

“Jiang Cheng? Wei Wuxian?” the newcomer asks and Wei Wuxian gives a fleeting smile to Lan Wanyin before he gets up and turns around to the new man that stepped into Lan Wanyin’s home uninvited.

He’s wearing the customary Lan white—he even has a forehead ribbon—but Lan Wanyin has never seen him in his life and he frowns at him. All that does though, is making it startling clear that he’s missing his own forehead ribbon, and suddenly Lan Wanyin feels entirely too naked.

“Lan Xichen,” Wei Wuxian says with a nod of his head. “Meet Lan Wanyin,” he then goes on with a nod towards Lan Wanyin, who is still on the ground, and Lan Wanyin scrambles to get up.

It’s a little bit strange, this new body; he seems to be taller and broader than he’s used to being and he fumbles around for a second before he falls into an appropriate bow.

“What is going on?” Lan Xichen wants to know, his expression bordering on outright pained and sad, and Lan Wanyin turns expectant eyes on Wei Wuxian because he is still expecting an answer to that very same question as well.

“It seems that my spell did not work as intended,” Wei Wuxian says with a wince and Lan Wanyin watches as Lan Xichen’s eyebrows rise on his forehead.

“What spell?” he asks with the voice of a man who is too used to dealing with mishaps and problems and keeping his own feelings on the matter very far removed, and Lan Wanyin frowns.

“Are you the Sect Leader?” he asks, because he has seen his brother make a very similar face when he’s faced with one of the junior disciple’s shenanigans.

“Technically I’m—it’s complicated,” Lan Xichen finally settles on, but when Lan Wanyin keeps his baffled expression he goes on. “I used to be,” he finally admits.

“Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian whispers, clearly a lot of history behind that one sentence, but Lan Wanyin is too stuck on the informal way with which Wei Wuxian refers to him.

“Where’s my brother? And how dare you refer to your elder as disrespectfully as that?” Lan Wanyin suddenly asks, filled with the desperate need to see someone familiar, to have his brother look out for him like he always does, and he doesn’t even care that his tone is very close to whining but he also has their Sect’s rules ingrained in his bones and he cannot let disrespectful behaviour like that stand without even trying to correct it.

“Lan Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks, clearly only guessing and Lan Wanyin nods frantically. “He’s out on a night hunt. It should still be a day or so before he comes back. He’s accompanying the juniors.”

“I want to see him,” Lan Wanyin says, knowing that he shouldn’t be making demands of people he doesn’t even know, but he needs to see a familiar face.

“We can’t call him back,” Wei Wuxian gently says. “We’ll have to wait until Lan Zhan returns on his own.”

Lan Wanyin freezes when he hears that name, because even he doesn’t dare to call his brother that and he can feel his temper spike again, before he takes a deep and calming breath.

“Could you please not refer to my brother like this? You have no rights to do so,” Lan Wanyin says in what he thinks is an appropriately calm voice.

“What should I call him then?” Wei Wuxian asks, a mischievous smile on his face. “Lan-er-gege?” he asks and Lan Wanyin goes hot under the collar.

“How dare you call me that?” he hisses out and watches as Wei Wuxian’s eyes go big and how Lan Xichen presses his lips together.

Lan Wanyin is not sure if it’s in an attempt to hide a smile or because to keep some words in.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen reprimands him and Wei Wuxian does seem appropriately chastised, if only for a second.

“You’re the younger brother?” Wei Wuxian asks, clearly embarrassed for a moment and Lan Wanyin nods.

“I’m sixteen,” he answers and now both of them pale.

“Oh fuck,” Wei Wuxian answers and even though Lan Xichen doesn’t look like he would ever utter such crude words he nods with emphasis.

“Lan Wanyin, Wei Wuxian is Wangji’s husband,” Lan Xichen gently tells him and Lan Wanyin goes still.

His brother is way too young to marry but he guess that’s not the case in this world.

“How old is he?” Lan Wanyin carefully asks and Wei Wuxian shrugs.

“Over thirty. You are too, in the body you’re currently in,” he explains and Lan Wanyin needs to sit down for a moment.

This is not what he expected.

“I want to go home,” Lan Wanyin whispers, suddenly feeling small and young despite the body he is in, and he watches as Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian share a look.

“I’ll work on reversing the spell, but I don’t know how long it will take,” Wei Wuxian finally says and Lan Wanyin deflates.

“It’s probably best if we leave him to it,” Lan Xichen chimes in, giving Lan Wanyin a reassuring smile. “How do you feel about staying with me for the time being?”

Lan Wanyin is not feeling anything about that despite the aching urge to go home, so he simply nods.

“I’m sorry about imposing,” he says with a small bow and Wei Wuxian makes a startled noise at his side.

“If anyone’s imposing, it’s us, since we dragged you here against your will,” he says and Lan Wanyin wants to snap at him that he’s damn right about that, but he only nods.

Snapping would be rude, after all.

“Wei Wuxian will get you back home,” Lan Xichen promises and Lan Wanyin pretends that he doesn’t see how Wei Wuxian winces at that.

It doesn’t spark confidence in Lan Wanyin, but then again Wei Wuxian did drag him here, so he should be capable of sending him back too.

Neither of them comment on Wei Wuxian’s slip of face though, and when Lan Xichen motions for Lan Wanyin to follow him, he does so without another word.

The trek to Lan Xichen’s home is silent, but it’s not long before Lan Wanyin recognizes the path they are taking and unease grows in his gut.

Logically it makes sense that Lan Xichen would live in the Hanshi if he is the older brother, but Lan Wangji is very protective of his space—always has been—and so Lan Wanyin hasn’t set foot into the Hanshi more than a couple of times in his life.

The thought that he’s going to live there for the time being makes him feel slightly sick and he tries to subtly reach out for the trailing ends of his forehead ribbon, but of course his hands come back empty.

“It’s not much, but I hope you can relax here a bit,” Lan Xichen says as he invites him into the Hanshi, and Lan Wanyin hesitates a moment before he follows him inside.

“This is not where you usually stay,” Lan Xichen mildly observes and Lan Wanyin shakes his head. 

“My brother lives in the Hanshi,” he explains and Lan Xichen nods.

“I suppose that would make sense, if he is the older one this time,” Lan Xichen says with a shrug and then busies himself with getting some tea ready.

Lan Wanyin observes him, and he takes note of the slightly shaking hands and the way Lan Xichen avoids looking directly at him.

“I’m—I shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wanyin finally whispers, and Lan Xichen jerks with his words.

“Wei Wuxian will work very hard to get you back to your world,” he promises. “You’re occupying his brother’s body, he’s personally invested. It’s a good motivator,” Lan Xichen whispers and Lan Wanyin frowns at his tone.

“His brother,” he mutters and then walks over to the mirror in Lan Xichen’s home.

Lan Wanyin takes a long moment to simply look himself over and he’s not sure he likes what he sees. Jiang Cheng’s body is older—of course it is—but it’s also a lot broader than Lan Wanyin is used to. It seems battle hardened. 

His face at least is much the same—even though it looks empty without the forehead ribbon—though of course he seems more mature.

“Jiang Cheng doesn’t usually smile like you do,” Lan Xichen suddenly says from behind him and Lan Wanyin thinks that over for a moment before he schools his expression into a frown.

“That’s more like it,” Lan Xichen says with a wistful chuckle and Lan Wanyin keeps the expression for a while longer.

Jiang Cheng is still handsome, even with a frown, but it also makes him look fierce and unapproachable and Lan Wanyin doesn’t like that at all. He quickly drops the frown, watching as his features smooth out into his much softer ones.

“Do you want a forehead ribbon?” Lan Xichen suddenly asks him and Lan Wanyin whips around.

“What?” he asks, though he can’t deny that the answer would be a very resounding yes.

“I noticed you keep reaching out for it,” Lan Xichen explains and Lan Wanyin flushes when he realizes that he must have done it unconsciously. 

“I can’t take your forehead ribbon,” Lan Wanyin says, appalled at just the idea of it, but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“I have some spare ones,” he says and walks away to retrieve one of those. “I used to look after this one rowdy kid,” Lan Xichen says with a smile when he sees Lan Wanyin’s confused look. “He needed a few new ones every day and I didn’t have the heart to throw them out once he grew up.”

“I see,” Lan Wanyin whispers and takes the offered ribbon with shaking hands.

He does quick work with tying it around his forehead and he has to admit that he does feel better once it’s tied snugly.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely to Lan Xichen and after one last look into the mirror—now much more familiar than before—he turns away from it.

“If Wei Wuxian is my brother in this world, then where is he in my world?” Lan Wanyin asks Lan Xichen, mostly to have something to talk about.

“I don’t know,” Lan Xichen answers with a shrug. “If Wangji is your brother in your world, then where am I?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Wanyin whispers. “I don’t even know Wei Wuxian.”

“You’re sixteen?” Lan Xichen wants to know and he hums when Lan Wanyin nods. “Did you participate in the classes already?”

“No,” Lan Wanyin mumbles. “They are about to start in less than two weeks. I’m going to miss them, aren’t I?” Lan Wanyin asks, and he feels strangely despondent at that thought.

He’s going to miss out on so much.

“Wei Wuxian will do his hardest to send you back. The classes last the whole summer, right? You’ll probably have some time to get to know the other students,” Lan Xichen tries to reassure him, but Lan Wanyin is not convinced. 

Wei Wuxian hasn’t looked all that confident before; he’ll probably be here for longer than either of them cares about.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen suddenly says and Lan Wanyin tenses before he realizes that Lan Xichen doesn’t mean him. “Do you think he’ll be alright in your world?”

“I think so,” Lan Wanyin says without hesitation. “My brother will look after him.”

“That’s good then,” Lan Xichen says with a small smile and then he busies himself with the tea again.

They spend the rest of the afternoon with soft conversation, comparing notes on the different worlds, but it becomes clear to Lan Wanyin pretty quickly that Lan Xichen is skirting around a lot of topics.

Lan Wanyin is honestly too scared to ask and so he allows the topics to be shallow and safe.

Night has already fallen by the time footsteps approach the Hanshi and both Lan Xichen and Lan Wanyin perk up. 

There’s a polite knock on the door before it slides open and Lan Wanyin has to fight the rush of relief to see his brother.

“Xiongzhan,” Lan Wangji greets, and the word sounds exceedingly strange on Lan Wangji’s lips.

Lan Wanyin doesn’t even have time to process the fact that Lan Wangji is looking at Lan Xichen instead of himself, when he’s already bowing.

“Xiongzhan,” he says, too, and then he shrinks back when Lan Wangji gives him a bone-chilling glare.

“Wangji, this is Lan Wanyin,” Lan Xichen explains but Lan Wangji’s look only gets darker at that.

“If you have to marry anyone, why does it have to be him?” Lan Wangji asks and Lan Wanyin reels back as if he has been hit.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen snaps, stepping closer to Lan Wanyin. “Do not forget your manners. This is Lan Wanyin from another world. One of your husband’s experiments went very wrong, and you would do well to be polite to our guest. To any guest.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t lose his hostile look, but he at least bows to Lan Wanyin, even if he doesn’t apologize.

“I’ll be checking on my husband then,” Lan Wangji says, immediately leaving the Hanshi and Lan Wanyin can do nothing but stare after him.

This is not how he imagined meeting his brother would go over and he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself now.

“I am so sorry,” Lan Xichen says. “There’s some history between Jiang Cheng and Wangji.” Lan Xichen winces at his own words and then goes on. “It’s still no excuse. He should at least remember his manners.”

Lan Wanyin can’t even nod at that, because he is still too shocked. He has never heard his brother sound that cold, not even when dealing with people he doesn’t like. To have it directed at himself is certainly an experience Lan Wanyin could have done without.

“I think I would like to sleep now,” Lan Wanyin eventually whispers and Lan Xichen’s face falls. 

“Should I send for some dinner first?” he asks, already half up, but Lan Wanyin shakes his head.

“I just want to sleep,” he mumbles and Lan Xichen sighs.

“Alright,” he thankfully agrees and setting up a second bed is short work, so soon enough Lan Wanyin is laying down.

He doesn’t fight the urge to pull the blanket over his head and he also can’t help the few tears that escape, but he’s proud that he doesn’t outright sob, even though he absolutely feels like it.

He tries to convince himself that tomorrow will be better and that he will be back home soon, and Lan Wanyin falls asleep clinging to that hope.

~*~*~

Breakfast is a quiet affair. Lan Wanyin understands that it’s not quite acceptable for him to go to the communal breakfast, even though he would like that. But outsiders are not allowed and for all that Lan Wanyin is very much a Lan, Jiang Cheng—whose body he’s currently inhabiting—is most definitely not and so Lan Wanyin can’t go there.

Lan Xichen stays with him though and breakfast passes quickly like that.

Lan Wanyin is still thinking about his meeting with Lan Wangji—more like fretting over it—when they hear another set of footsteps approaching the Hanshi.

“Oh no,” Lan Xichen whispers, before he gets up, clearly recognizing the steps, but before he can reach the door someone knocks on it. Very insistently and loudly.

“Lan Xichen!” that person yells and Lan Xichen is quick to slide the door open, but he tries his best to block the person from looking inside.

“How dare you?” the person hisses and Lan Wanyin sees Lan Xichen wince.

“Jin Ling—” he starts, but Jin Ling doesn’t let him talk.

“You call my jiujiu away on urgent business and now you refuse to let him leave again? How dare you? Let me see him at once!” he demands and Lan Wanyin gets up, because he figures it’s kind of inevitable that he’ll have to introduce himself.

“Listen, Jin Ling, there’s been an accident,” Lan Xichen starts and Lan Wanyin thinks this might not be the best way to break the news to Jin Ling about his uncle.

“If he got hurt on your watch I will make you regret it,” Jin Ling says, and Lan Wanyin is surprised at the confidence with which he says it.

Lan Xichen shakes his head, but before he can figure out how to explain this to Jin Ling, he pushes his way into the Hanshi.

“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling calls out but when his gaze falls on Lan Wanyin he freezes.

“If you married Lan Xichen without telling me I will never speak to you again,” he then says, voice deceptively calm and Lan Wanyin rushes to clear the situation up.

“We didn’t marry,” he says and he’s proud that he only flushes a little bit.

A side-glance at Lan Xichen reveals that he’s doing much worse, because his face is bright red.

“Then what the hell is going on?” Jin Ling demands to know.

“Language,” Lan Wanyin says out of reflex and he is surprised at the pained look on Lan Xichen’s face at that.

“I’ll watch my language if you explain to me what you’re doing here, in Lan Xichen’s personal quarters, with what seems to be his forehead ribbon.”

“It’s a spare one,” Lan Xichen chimes in. “And he’s not actually Jiang Cheng,” he then belatedly says and Lan Wanyin thinks that maybe he should have led with that.

“What do you mean? It’s clearly my jiujiu,” Jin Ling says, already puffing himself up as if he’s gearing up for a fight.

“My name is Lan Wanyin. I’m from another world,” he rushes to explain but the frown on Jin Ling’s face only gets more pronounced.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he decides then and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“One of Wei Wuxian’s experiments went wrong,” Lan Xichen says and it seems like that makes much more sense to Jin Ling because his face falls.

“What?” he whispers and now Lan Wanyin can finally see that he’s just a teenager.

“I’m really sorry,” Lan Wanyin says but Jin Ling shakes his head.

“I want my jiujiu back,” he says and Lan Wanyin can understand that feeling—he wants his brother back, too—but there’s not much he can do about that right now.

“I wish I could just swap us back,” Lan Wanyin says. “But we have to wait until Wei Wuxian figures out how to switch us back.”

“How is my jiujiu? Is he alright?” Jin Ling wants to know, but it’s again something Lan Wanyin can’t tell him for sure.

“He should be. I was at home when it happened, so he should have woken up safe and sound. And there’s not much that can happen to him in the Cloud Recesses.”

“Does he have someone to look out for him?” Jin Ling asks, and his voice is small.

“Of course he does,” Lan Wanyin tells him, frowning when he sees Lan Xichen shaking his head at him. “My brother will make sure that he’s alright.”

“Your brother? Lan Xichen?”

“No. Lan Wangji,” Lan Wanyin says, smiling slightly when he remembers just how protective his brother can be and so he nearly misses the way Jin Ling’s face falls again.

“What?” he hisses and then whirls around to Lan Xichen. “He’s alone with him?”

“As far as I understand it, there is no Jiang Cheng in his world. Wangji has no reason to hold a grudge against him.”

“But you don’t know it,” Jin Ling bitterly says and then turns back around to Lan Wanyin.

“How can you be this calm? My jiujiu is missing and you’re not even doing anything” he asks them, but Lan Wanyin shrugs.

“There’s nothing much we can do,” he says, even though he wishes it were different too. “We just have to wait for Wei Wuxian to reverse the spell.”

“And you’re just okay with that?” Jin Ling asks, now turned towards Lan Xichen again.

“Like he says, there’s not much we can do,” Lan Xichen apologetically says but it seems to have been the wrong thing, because Jin Ling huffs.

“I hate you,” he hisses. “I hate you both and I want you gone,” he then adds towards Lan Wanyin and promptly storms out of the Hanshi.

His words sting, even though Lan Wanyin understands that his emotions are most likely running rampant right now.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Lan Xichen tells him after a long moment of silence. “He just loves Jiang Cheng more than anyone else in this world and he’s clearly not doing well with his absence.”

“I see,” Lan Wanyin whispers and he gets it.

He isn’t doing well without Lan Wangji either, but at least his manners prevent him from breaking down or lashing out like Jin Ling just did.

“He’ll probably be back soon to apologize,” Lan Xichen prophesises but Lan Wanyin doubts it. “His parents died and Jiang Cheng raised him. I know he taught him more manners than this, but Jin Ling is a very emotional boy.”

“You seem to know them very well,” Lan Wanyin says with a small frown and watches as Lan Xichen’s cheeks go slightly red.

“We are—were fellow Sect Leaders. It’s only natural that we got to know each other.”

Lan Wanyin doesn’t want to ask about his correction there, though he can’t deny that he is curious what could have possibly made Lan Xichen step down from that position. But Lan Wanyin is too polite to ask about something that so very clearly still brings pain to Lan Xichen, and so they fall into silence again.

It’s not uncomfortable—at least not entirely—but Lan Wanyin finds himself fiddling with the ring around his finger more than he probably should.

He didn’t yet have a chance to look at it clearly, but he figures there’s nothing else to do for now, and so he raises his hand closer to his face, so he can take a better look.

The motion gets Lan Xichen’s attention immediately of course, but he stays silent for now.

Lan Wanyin inspects the ring with the utmost care, and he realizes soon enough that it’s a spiritual tool, but he’s not sure how to use it or if he even wants to.

“It turns into a whip,” Lan Xichen eventually chimes in and Lan Wanyin startles slightly, he was that engrossed in the intricate details on the ring. “It’s the Yu family heirloom. Jiang Cheng got it from his mother. It’s called Zidian.”

“What form does the whip take?”

“Purple lightning.” Lan Xichen hesitates briefly. “Would you like to try it out?”

“I—" Lan Wanyin starts, but then he doesn’t know how to finish that. 

It’s likely that he will have more than enough time on his hands here, since he doesn’t have his usual classes or chores to attend to, but right now Lan Wanyin doesn’t feel like doing anything. 

“I would like to meditate,” he finally says, allowing himself one day off in all this madness.

Lan Xichen doesn’t seem like he minds that much, because he very earnestly offers to accompany him to the cold springs, and Lan Wanyin would love to tell him no, but he knows that he’s in the body of an outsider, so seeing him at the cold springs without proper supervision would probably upset other Sect members.

There is nothing for Lan Wanyin to do but to agree.

It’s not so bad, in the end, because Lan Xichen has a very reserved nature it seems—not unlike Lan Wanyin’s own—and meditating next to him is easy.

Easy enough that the day goes by quickly and before Lan Wanyin knows it, he’s back in the Hanshi, with only Lan Xichen as his company during dinner.

Lan Wanyin finds himself wishing that he could see more of his brother, but then he remembers the tense atmosphere and Lan Wangji’s cold stare and Lan Wanyin figures it’s better that Lan Wangji doesn’t come around more often.

He kind of wonders over Wei Wuxian’s absence—since he’s apparently inhabiting Wei Wuxian’s brother’s body—but when Lan Wanyin brings it up to Lan Xichen he simply shrugs.

“Wei Wuxian is most likely doing his level best to send you back,” he explains and Lan Wanyin can’t quite hide the bitter twist of his mouth.

It has nothing to do with returning him to where he came from; it has everything to do with getting Jiang Cheng back.

“He would do the same for you if Jiang Cheng was still here,” Lan Xichen says, clearly reading the thought right off Lan Wanyin’s face and not for the first time does Lan Wanyin wonder if he is just that easy to read or if Lan Xichen is that familiar with Jiang Cheng.

“He made a mistake and he’s rushing to fix it. Not to mention that it’s probably driving him insane that he can’t figure out why his original spell went so wrong,” Lan Xichen says but the exasperation in his voice tells Lan Wanyin that this isn’t the first instance of Wei Wuxian going mad over something he caused himself.

Lan Wanyin wonders how Wei Wuxian can possibly fit into the Lan Sect, but if he and Lan Wangji are married, then at least Lan Xichen must have approved of it.

That thought spirals into imagining if Lan Wanyin’s own brother would approve of him marrying someone like Wei Wuxian—not that Lan Wanyin can imagine himself doing so—and he gets hit with a wave of homesickness.

It ruins his appetite rather thoroughly.

“I’m tired,” Lan Wanyin says as he puts his bowl down, trying not to notice Lan Xichen’s worried gaze on him.

Lan Wanyin doesn’t wait for a dismissal, and simply gets up to retire to bed. He hears Lan Xichen rummage around, but the noises are quiet and unobtrusive and Lan Wanyin quickly drifts off, even plagued by worries as he is.

~*~*~

The days don’t pass quickly enough for Lan Wanyin’s taste and soon enough he feels trapped inside the Hanshi. He’s not used to being so idle; in his world he has duties to fulfil and classes to attend but here there is nothing for him to do but sit and wait, and he has never been good at either of those things.

“I think I want to practice with Zidian,” Lan Wanyin says apropos of nothing one morning and Lan Xichen doesn’t seem as startled by that as Lan Wanyin expected him to be.

“Of course,” he quickly agrees and Lan Wanyin narrows his eyes at him, watching as Lan Xichen smiles slightly.

“You’re not as different to Jiang Cheng as you might think,” he says with a shrug. “Both of you don’t deal well with just sitting around; I was just waiting for you to get bored enough to say something.”

Lan Wanyin blinks at that.

“I had duties in my world,” is what he finally says.

“And I’m sorry you can’t carry them out here. You can help me with some of the paperwork later, if you want. It’s nothing important, but it would give you something to do.”

Lan Wanyin doesn’t comment on the nothing important part, but he can’t deny that he’s curious. Lan Wanyin is absolutely sure that Lan Xichen used to be Sect Leader and to hear that his paperwork is nothing serious just feels wrong. Even if he no longer is Sect Leader, if he stepped down for whatever reasons, people should still seek him out for his expertise and knowledge.

Lan Wanyin is on the cusp of asking, when Lan Xichen abruptly turns away from him, walking out of the Hanshi and clearly expecting Lan Wanyin to follow him.

Lan Wanyin swallows his questions down and trails after Lan Xichen to the training grounds.

“Do you have a spiritual tool?” Lan Xichen asks him and Lan Wanyin nods.

“I play the xiao,” he says and Lan Xichen looks startled.

“You—of course you do,” he finally says and Lan Wanyin frowns at him until he explains. “I do, too. It truly does seem like you have my place in your world. Maybe I do have your place, then, in Yunmeng Jiang,” he muses and Lan Wanyin promises himself to find out about Lan Xichen’s whereabouts, once he’s back in his own world.

“How does this help me with Zidian?” Lan Wanyin wants to know, and shakes himself out of these useless thoughts.

He can do nothing as long as he’s here, in this world, so there’s no point in making plans for now.

“If you already know how to use a spiritual tool, channelling energy into Zidian will be easier,” Lan Xichen explains and Lan Wanyin flushes, because he should have realized that himself.

Lan Wanyin takes a deep breath and pushes his embarrassment far away, because it’s never helpful while practicing and instead he concentrates on channelling energy into Zidian, just like he usually would with his xiao.

It doesn’t take long at all for Zidian to spark purple and then suddenly it’s no longer a ring, but a whip in Lan Wanyin’s hand.

“Very good,” Lan Xichen says with a smile and then steps away from Lan Wanyin, clearly giving him space. “Try it out,” he encourages him and Lan Wanyin does just that.

Controlling the whip is much harder than he imagined it to be, though. He can feel some confused resistance from Zidian, and Lan Wanyin is surprised to find that the tool notices that he’s not its usual master.

Jiang Cheng really has quite the priceless weapon at his disposal.

During the course of the next hour Lan Wanyin whips himself on accident more often than he really cares to admit, but it only plays into his stubborn streak; he is going to master this tool, and if he comes out of it bloody, then so be it.

“I think you need to arch it further over your head,” Lan Xichen suddenly says from the side and Lan Wanyin startles so badly he nearly whips himself in the face.

He completely forgot that Lan Xichen was there.

“Sorry,” Lan Xichen says with a grimace.

“How would you know how to use Zidian?” Lan Wanyin asks him, frustrated by his lack of progress so far, so his voice comes out more biting than it should. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he goes on. “Have you used it before?”

“No,” Lan Xichen rushes out, blushing at the suggestion. “But Wanyin and I fought in the same war; we have been on some night-hunts together as well. It’s hard to miss how he uses Zidian,” Lan Xichen explains and Lan Wanyin frowns at him.

He still tries to do what Lan Xichen told him to and to his surprise it works out quite well. Lan Wanyin is aware that his posture is not perfect, but he’s getting there and he thinks with a bit more practice he could master Zidian, especially now that it seems to have accepted him.

Lan Xichen continues to give him a few more valuable tips and while Lan Wanyin does try each and every single one of them out, he can’t help the nagging thought in his head when Lan Xichen keeps talking.

“You’re in love with him,” Lan Wanyin says out of the blue after yet another successful manoeuvre and Lan Xichen freezes on the spot.

“You are,” Lan Wanyin says, taking Lan Xichen’s reaction as confirmation and then he watches as Lan Xichen goes red, before all colour drains from his face.

“I am not,” he tries to deny, but it’s a little bit too late for that. “Why would you think that?”

“You don’t learn these kind of tricks by picking up on a few things during night-hunts,” Lan Wanyin says, calling Zidian back and returning it to its ring form. “To notice the things you notice you’d have to watch him pretty closely.”

Lan Xichen opens his mouth as if to argue, but he can’t seem to find his words and so in the end he simply closes his mouth again.

“Have you ever told him?” Lan Wanyin wants to know and is surprised by the bitter laugh Lan Xichen lets out.

“Of course not,” he whispers and then looks away from Lan Wanyin. “I’ve been in love with him for so long, but I never dared to say anything. And now it’s just—” he trails off with a shrug and Lan Wanyin wonders just what the hell happened for Lan Xichen to think like that but before he can ask anything else, Jin Ling approaches them.

“You can wield Zidian,” he says, and it sounds so accusatory that Lan Wanyin flinches.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes and has half a mind just offering the tool to Jin Ling for safekeeping when Jin Ling lets out a rough breath.

“I’m here to apologize,” he says, not looking at Lan Wanyin directly, but he seems very determined.

“There’s no need for that,” Lan Wanyin says, because he can understand why Jin Ling freaked out when he realized that it wasn’t his jiujiu he was talking to.

“There is. It’s not your fault you’re here and I don’t hate you. I’m sorry I said it,” Jin Ling says, clearly uncomfortable with the apology, but he’s still doing it and Lan Wanyin thinks that Jiang Cheng really did a great job, raising him.

“It’s alright. Thank you,” Lan Wanyin says and once that is out, Jin Ling looks at him.

“I just miss my jiujiu,” he says, voice small, and Lan Wanyin notices yet again that Jin Ling barely looks older than Lan Wanyin is.

“I miss my xiongzhan too,” Lan Wanyin admits and Jin Ling nods.

“I’m sorry I can’t be around too much, but I have a Sect to lead, too,” Jin Ling says, and Lan Wanyin aches for him because no one that young should ever have to shoulder that kind of responsibility.

Lan Wanyin knows he couldn’t.

“It’s alright,” he says, because he guesses it’s only partly that, and mostly the fact that Jin Ling can’t bear to look at him and know that it’s not actually Jiang Cheng, and he’s not holding it against him.

Jin Ling nods brusquely at that, and then turns to Lan Xichen.

“I expect a proper courtship afterwards and you damn well better ask me for permission,” he hisses at Lan Xichen and then he simply stalks off again.

“Everyone seems to know you’re in love with Jiang Cheng,” Lan Wanyin mildly observes, thinking back to what Lan Wangji had said too and he watches as Lan Xichen blushes slightly again.

“It doesn’t matter. Jiang Cheng doesn’t know and he doesn’t feel the same way, and there’s no chance that will change now,” he gives back and he sounds more composed than Lan Wanyin expected him to.

“How would you know if you never confessed?”

“You’re not wrong. I have watched him a great deal. So trust me when I say that he doesn’t. Jiang Cheng is never subtle with his feelings and especially not when he loves.”

“Is he in love with someone else?”

“I don’t think so,” Lan Xichen admits.

“Then there’s hope for you,” Lan Wanyin shrugs, even though he can’t be sure of that at all.

He doesn’t know Jiang Cheng after all, but if he came here on Lan Xichen’s request—in a rush nonetheless, too, if he didn’t properly explain things to Jin Ling—then he must at least treasure their friendship.

“Thank you for saying that,” Lan Xichen whispers though he doesn’t sound convinced at all and Lan Wanyin turns away from him.

He doesn’t feel like practicing with Zidian anymore and the encounter with Jin Ling just reminded him who he is missing as well.

“I wonder how xiongzhang and shufu are doing,” Lan Wanyin mutters and startles when Lan Xichen puts a hand to his shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go see Wangji, but we can go visit shufu,” Lan Xichen says and Lan Wanyin turns towards him, his eyes wide.

He hadn’t dare to ask after Lan Qiren, too scared that he wouldn’t like the answer, and since no one had brought him up either, Lan Wanyin had half convinced himself that Lan Qiren didn’t exist in this world at best or was dead at worst.

He never dared to contemplate this.

“Can we?” he asks and Lan Xichen nods with a smile.

“Of course,” he agrees and then leads Lan Wanyin away from the training grounds.

Lan Xichen doesn’t act like Lan Wanyin has to pretend with Lan Qiren, so Lan Wanyin guesses he must have been told about what happened.

His suspicions are confirmed when Lan Qiren greets them.

“Xichen, Lan Wanyin,” he says with a nod and they both bow to him.

“Shufu,” they say in unison and despite the tight feeling in his chest Lan Wanyin has to hide a smile.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Lan Xichen says and promptly leaves Lan Wanyin alone with Lan Qiren who motions for him to sit.

“How are you doing?” Lan Qiren asks him and Lan Wanyin has to fight against the tears.

His uncle is exactly the same here in this world and Lan Wanyin feels so homesick, it threatens to overwhelm him.

“Good,” he somehow gets out, even though his voice is all choked up.

“I see you got a forehead ribbon,” Lan Qiren says, and while he doesn’t say it with any form of judgement Lan Wanyin rushes to explain.

“It’s not Lan Xichen’s! It’s a spare one! Nothing inappropriate happened.”

“A shame,” Lan Qiren mutters. “And here I thought the only nephew with taste would also finally be man enough to do something about it.”

Lan Wanyin presses his lips together, because apparently really everyone knows about Lan Xichen’s feelings for Jiang Cheng but when he sees the twinkle in Lan Qiren’s eyes he allows himself to smile.

“Maybe they will figure it out eventually,” he says and Lan Qiren sighs.

“Maybe,” he agrees, though it seems like he long ago gave up hope for that.

“Do you like Jiang Cheng? Would you approve of him?” Lan Wanyin asks, even though the answer seems pretty clear.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren easily admits and he doesn’t explain anything, so he really must hold Jiang Cheng in very high regards if he thinks it should be that obvious.

“He will come back to you all, soon,” Lan Wanyin whispers, hoping that he is missed in his own world just as dearly as Jiang Cheng is being missed here.

“He no doubt will,” Lan Qiren agrees but then he reaches out and cups Lan Wanyin’s cheek in his hand, stunning Lan Wanyin into stillness.

“But until then we’re all very happy to have you,” Lan Qiren says and Lan Wanyin swallows against his emotions. “Now,” Lan Qiren says and clears his throat. “How do you feel about a lesson?”

“I feel very good about that, shufu,” Lan Wanyin admits and when Lan Qiren falls right into explaining something Lan Wanyin feels settled.

It feels a lot more like home this way.

~*~*~

Lan Wanyin continues to spend his days training with Zidian before he goes to Lan Qiren for a lesson. Like this it doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on so much back in his own world, and the Lan Qiren of this world is just like the Lan Qiren of Lan Wanyin’s world.

Strict, but loving and Lan Wanyin wonders if he ever thought to appreciate that before.

He doesn’t see much of Lan Xichen for a few days, because he leaves Lan Wanyin to his own devices more often than not, but when he returns to the Hanshi in the evenings Lan Xichen seems troubled and stressed but he won’t talk about it, no matter how often Lan Wanyin asks.

Jin Ling seems to be staying in the Cloud Recesses, too, because he sees flashes of his golden robes more than once, but Lan Wanyin is in no rush to bother him again.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian continue to be evasive, but it’s not like Lan Wanyin saw much of them before so their absence doesn’t seem all that strange.

Until he walks back into the Hanshi, almost three weeks into his stay in this world, and everyone is there waiting for him.

So this must be what had Lan Xichen so stressed over the past few days, Lan Wanyin thinks as he settles down at the table, expectantly waiting for someone to say something.

“So,” Wei Wuxian starts, nervously fiddling with Lan Wangji’s fingers. “Here’s the thing. We decided to tell you a few things, since it seems like they might still happen in your world and we don’t actually want you to have to go through them,” he says and Lan Wanyin frowns.

“Does this have to do with all the topics you keep glossing over? Like why Lan Xichen is no longer Sect Leader and the history between Wangji and Jiang Cheng?” he asks and everyone nods at him.

So this is not going to be fun then, Lan Wanyin thinks and he is right.

It’s a nightmare, if he’s being honest, and his mind is reeling when everyone finally falls silent again.

“We’re sorry about simply dropping this on you, but we think it’s better if you know these things,” Wei Wuxian says with a wince and Lan Wanyin cannot believe that he was dead for sixteen years.

“I—” Lan Wanyin starts, but he doesn’t actually know what to say to any of that and so he falls silent again.

He compares the things they talked about to the political landscape of his own world, and he realizes that they are probably steering towards the same war. The Wens are trying to reach for power; Sect Leader Nie’s father already died and no one believed Nie Mingjue when he said that Wen Ruohan had a hand in that.

There will be a lot to do for him, once he gets back to his own world, Lan Wanyin realizes and he grows cold with horror at the thought that maybe he cannot prevent any of it.

“I need to talk to him alone,” Jin Ling suddenly says and glares at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, before his gaze goes a little bit warmer when he looks at Lan Xichen. “Would you allow us to talk here, for a moment?” Jin Ling asks, suddenly all polite, and Lan Xichen is quick to nod.

“Of course,” he says, as he gets up, doing his hardest not to meet Lan Wanyin’s eyes but before Lan Wanyin can say anything he, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have left the Hanshi.

Jin Ling walks after them, making sure they really leave, before he puts up a silencing ward on the Hanshi.

“What else?” Lan Wanyin asks, rubbing his head, because this cannot be good.

If Jin Ling send everyone else away, this cannot be good at all and Lan Wanyin is not sure if he wants to hear it. His mind is already reeling and he still feels faintly sick from all the things he just heard, but Jin Ling fixes him with a hard glare.

“Jiujiu did not go back to Lotus Pier to retrieve his parent’s bodies,” he starts with, simply diving right in as it seems and Lan Wanyin frowns.

“But that’s what Wei Wuxian said.”

“Because he doesn’t know better. He thinks that’s what happened. But it’s not true. My jiujiu got captured because the Wen soldiers were about to capture Wei Wuxian and jiujiu distracted them,” Jin Ling says and Lan Wanyin is glad he’s already sitting down.

Jiang Cheng sacrificed himself to keep Wei Wuxian safe, only to have it all ruined when Wei Wuxian gave him his core.

“They don’t know?” he asks, even though the answer is obvious.

“No. Jiujiu never wants Wei Wuxian to know that and so you’re not going to tell him either.” There’s an underlying threat in his voice and Lan Wanyin is quick to nod.

“Of course not,” he agrees. “But why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want the same to happen again,” Jin Ling says. “I don’t know about your relationship with your brother and I don’t know if there’s a Wei Wuxian in your world and if he has a brother, but maybe you should keep an eye out. They seem to think things are going to be the same in your world, and this is something you need to know as well.”

Lan Wanyin nods, his mind still spinning, and this new information does nothing to calm him down at all.

“Did he know he would lose his core?” Lan Wanyin asks and he watches in horror as pain flashes over Jin Ling’s face.

“He expected to lose his life,” he whispers and Lan Wanyin can’t even imagine how much Jiang Cheng must love Wei Wuxian to do something like that, expecting it to cost his life.

“I see,” Lan Wanyin whispers and wonders if he would be strong enough to do the same for Lan Wangji.

He hopes the answer is yes, but he also hopes he never has to find out.

“Thank you for telling me,” Lan Wanyin mutters and Jin Ling nods, before he destroys the talisman.

“I’ll get going then,” Jin Ling says, suddenly back to his awkward teenager self and Lan Wanyin musters up a smile for him.

“Have a safe trip,” he says, praying to all the gods he knows that the next time Jin Ling will see his jiujiu again.

“You too,” Jin Ling says, clearly not doubting for a second that Wei Wuxian will figure out how to send Lan Wanyin back and then he’s out of the door.

It’s not long before Lan Xichen comes back, but he’s still avoiding Lan Wanyin’s gaze and Lan Wanyin frowns.

“What is wrong?” he wants to know and watches as Lan Xichen flinches even as he plasters a smile to his face.

“You can request to be housed somewhere else until Wei Wuxian figures out how to send you back,” Lan Xichen says, his voice stiff and formal and Lan Wanyin’s frown only deepens.

“Why would I do that?” he demands to know and Lan Xichen shrugs.

“You heard what happened. I gave A—him the tool to murder my sworn brother and I never noticed a thing,” Lan Xichen says and Lan Wanyin pretends he doesn’t hear how his voice breaks over the almost uttered name.

“As did no one else,” Lan Wanyin hotly gives back. “So everyone else is at fault, too. And besides. He was your sworn brother, too, was he not? You should have been able to trust him.”

“I should have noticed,” Lan Xichen insists again, but Lan Wanyin shakes his head.

“He shouldn’t have done it,” he counters, but now it finally all comes together.

If Lan Xichen thinks he is guilty—an accomplice, almost—then of course he would step down as Sect Leader. Of course he would think Jiang Cheng could never fall in love with him.

“You said Jiang Cheng and I are quite similar, right?” he demands to know and Lan Xichen jerks his head in a nod.

“Then he must feel the same about this. It’s not your fault. You were all deceived. I doubt he thinks of you like you seem to fear.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Lan Xichen says and it rankles Lan Wanyin to be spoken to like that. “It’s more personal for him. He lost so much because of what happened, because of what I allowed to happen.”

“Everyone allowed that to happen. Everyone who didn’t say a thing and simply followed. Do you think he’s angry at the whole world?” Lan Wanyin wants to know and he is almost relieved to see a small smile on Lan Xichen’s face.

“He’s angry a lot,” he whispers but then he grows serious again. “Our relationship changed quite a bit once the truth came out.”

“Could that maybe be because you went into seclusion and withdrew?” Lan Wanyin wants to know and Lan Xichen looks startled by that suggestion.

“I don’t—” he starts but Lan Wanyin shakes his head.

“He came here when you wrote him, right? Didn’t he visit you before, too? I certainly wouldn’t do that with someone I hold responsible for a crime of any kind,” Lan Wanyin says, because he does feel pretty confident about that.

Lan Xichen swallows heavily before he nods once.

“Thank you for saying that. I will give it some thought,” he whispers and while it’s not exactly what Lan Wanyin wants to hear, it’s better than nothing.

Small steps.

~*~*~

Lan Xichen and Lan Wanyin have just settled down for a relaxing breakfast when Wei Wuxian barges into the Hanshi without properly announcing himself.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen says, not as biting as Lan Wanyin would have expected, but then again Wei Wuxian seems too excited to properly remember his manners.

“I figured it out!” Wei Wuxian yells, disregarding yet another one of their rules and with every time that happens Lan Wanyin understands the pinched lines on Lan Qiren’s face more and more.

“You figured out what?” Lan Xichen asks, clearly practiced in wheedling out the necessary explanations of an excited Wei Wuxian.

“How to send you back, of course,” Wei Wuxian says with a maniac grin as he looks at Lan Wanyin. “Come, come, we gotta get started right now,” he rushes out and darts forward to take Lan Wanyin’s hand and drag him out of the Hanshi.

“Xichen-ge, you better wait here for now,” Wei Wuxian calls back when it becomes clear that Lan Xichen intents to follow them and when Lan Wanyin looks over his shoulder he sees the lost look on Lan Xichen’s face.

“Don’t worry,” he calls back, trying to sound more confident than he really feels, but Wei Wuxian’s manic energy doesn’t inspire trust at all.

Lan Xichen nods at him and doesn’t make a move to come after them and Lan Wanyin finds himself wishing that he could have said a proper goodbye to him.

Provided that whatever Wei Wuxian figured out actually works.

“Are you sure about this?” Lan Wanyin asks as he’s being dragged after Wei Wuxian, who nods so frantically that his hair goes flying.

“Of course I am! I never make mistakes,” he cries out and Lan Wanyin raises a very judging eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I do make mistakes, sometimes, rarely, but I promise you this will work out just fine. Don’t worry.”

Lan Wanyin of course still worries—how could he ever do anything else—but he also follows Wei Wuxian more freely.

He’s not surprised to be brought back to the Jingshi, but he is surprised to see that Lan Wangji is obviously missing.

“Can’t have any other qi mess up my careful planning,” Wei Wuxian cheerfully explains when he sees Lan Wanyin’s searching look and then he simply pushes him into the centre of the room.

There are papers strewn all over the Jingshi and Lan Wanyin’s fingers twitch with the need to tidy up in here, but then Wei Wuxian whirls around to him.

“Now, channel your energy into Zidian,” he demands just as some dark mist starts to swirl around Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wanyin has never seen demonic cultivation in person and it takes him a moment to shake off his instinctual horror but then he does as Wei Wuxian asked of him.

When Wei Wuxian’s and his energy come together the papers around him start to glow and Wei Wuxian lets out an excited yell.

“Yessss,” he hisses and then gently guides Lan Wanyin to lay down. “Tell your Lan Zhan hi from me,” Wei Wuxian says with a wink and it’s the last thing Lan Wanyin sees and hears before everything goes dark.

~*~*~

“You know the rest,” Lan Wanyin says, and sinks deeper into Jiang Xichen’s embrace, content to feel his heartbeat through his back, as he tightens Jiang Xichen’s arms around his middle.

Lan Wanyin can’t help but to appreciate his own forehead ribbon wrapped around Jiang Xichen’s forearm, but when he reaches out, Lan Wanyin fingers stray towards Zidian.

“That’s why we did so well in the war,” Jiang Xichen mutters and presses a kiss to Lan Wanyin’s head. “Because you knew what was going to happen.”

“Enough things were different that we still struggled,” Lan Wanyin says, feeling yet again like he failed everyone who died in the war.

He always gets upset over that, and his fiddling with Zidian gets stronger.

“Can you still wield it?” Jiang Xichen asks and swiftly slides the ring off his finger, before he puts it on Lan Wanyin’s.

“Xichen!” Lan Wanyin yells out in surprise, because it’s a family heirloom, and he really shouldn’t be holding it.

“Don’t you know that you can use it?” Jiang Xichen mutters in his ear and when Lan Wanyin tries to direct some energy into the ring, it promptly responds to him.

“Xichen,” he says, much more softly this time and Jiang Xichen noses at his cheek.

“What belongs to me also belongs to you,” he whispers and presses a kiss to the corner of Lan Wanyin’s mouth. “You should know that.”

“You should know that as well,” Lan Wanyin says and puts his hand over his forehead ribbon on Jiang Xichen’s arm.

“Oh, believe me, I do,” Jiang Xichen suggestively says and Lan Wanyin lightly slaps his arms, even as Jiang Xichen pulls him closer.

“But you know, I’m actually kind of upset now,” Jiang Xichen finally says after a while and drags Lan Wanyin out of his comfortable doze the soft murmuring of the lake lulled him in to.

“About what?” he whispers and turns his head so he can kiss the underside of Jiang Xichen’s chin.

“It’s clearly not me who caught your eye. You didn’t even know me. But from the way you talked about him it seems like Lan Xichen caught your eye.”

“Well, just like Jiang Cheng caught yours, right?” Lan Wanyin says and untangles himself from Jiang Xichen, just so that he can turn around and straddle his lap instead of sitting with his back to him.

“But it was me who managed to keep your eye, remember?” Lan Wanyin whispers into the space between them and he cannot believe how lucky he is when Jiang Xichen looks up at him with nothing but love on his face.

“Yes,” he whispers but when he strains up to get a kiss from Lan Wanyin he slightly leans back, just enough to stay out of reach.

“And you are the one who managed to keep my eye,” he tells Jiang Xichen and only when he sees the possessive happiness on his face does Lan Wanyin lean down and meet him in a kiss.

They get lost in it for a while, and when they finally part, Lan Wanyin moves around so he sits sideways on Jiang Xichen’s lap and can tuck his face into his neck more comfortably.

“I just hope that Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng figured it out on their end as well.”

“Well, Jiang Cheng seemed pretty flustered with me. I’d say chances for them are good,” Jiang Xichen says with a small laugh and Lan Wanyin hopes he is right.

Lan Xichen deserves to be just as happy as Lan Wanyin is right now.

~*~*~

Lan Xichen stares out over the water, thoroughly enjoying the silence at his favourite pier, even though the cold is slowly creeping in.

It’s been years since he came to call Lotus Pier his home, but there are days where he can barely believe that he got this lucky at all.

That Jiang Cheng came to love him back, even though Lan Xichen doesn’t deserve it. And he’s pretty sure that Jiang Cheng’s stay in the other world has something to do with it, even though Jiang Cheng never really told him exactly what happened there, always blushing furiously before changing the subject.

Lan Xichen wonders if they would be here like this, today, if that experiment hadn’t gone wrong and then he wonders if Lan Wanyin also managed to get this lucky in his own world.

He definitely deserves it.

“My light, what are you doing?” Jiang Cheng suddenly asks from behind him and Lan Xichen cranes his neck to look up at him. “It’s too cold still for you to sit like this,” he berates Lan Xichen, but Lan Xichen can see the blanket in his hands and he knows that Jiang Cheng is simply worried.

“Maybe you should keep me warm then,” he gives back and he feels entirely too indulged when Jiang Cheng immediately settles down behind him, putting the blanket over his front and pulling him into his chest.

“You’re going to get sick like this,” Jiang Cheng grumbles but he presses a kiss to Lan Xichen’s hair as he says it. “What are you doing here, though?”

“I was wondering about Lan Wanyin,” Lan Xichen admits and snuggles into his husband’s chest. “Do you think things on his end turned out okay?”

“You told him what to look out for, right?” Jiang Cheng asks and strokes his hand up and down Lan Xichen’s stomach in a soothing motion. “And I doubt he was stupid enough to disregard everything you said to him. It should be fine.”

Lan Xichen hums at that, because he hopes Jiang Cheng is right.

“Do you think he got as lucky in love as we did?” Lan Xichen asks after a while and he doesn’t even have to look at Jiang Cheng to know that he’s blushing again.

“No one is as lucky as we are,” Jiang Cheng says but then he sighs. “I would think so,” he then finally admits. “I might have been a bit careless with his forehead ribbon,” Jiang Cheng finally admits and it’s surprising enough that Lan Xichen turns around to him.

“You what?” he wants to know but he’s smiling giddily when he sees how embarrassed Jiang Cheng is about this.

“I met your counterpart,” Jiang Cheng admits. “Jiang Xichen.”

“Ah, so that’s where I went,” Lan Xichen nods, finally being able to put that nagging thought to rest.

“Yeah. You had your hair in Yunmeng braids and you were wearing purple,” Jiang Cheng admits and he reaches up to tug on Lan Xichen’s braided hair and then he smoothes his hand over Lan Xichen’s side, clearly appreciating the deep purple that his robes are.

There is still some blue mixed in, but it’s subtle enough that one might miss it on first glance, and Lan Xichen doesn’t mind it as much as he once might have thought.

His heart belongs to Jiang Cheng and that means his everything belongs to Yunmeng as well. It’s only fair that his look reflects that.

“And?” Lan Xichen probes when Jiang Cheng falls silent and then he can’t help himself because he simply has to kiss the blush on Jiang Cheng’s face.

“I was in a sixteen-year-old body,” Jiang Cheng says as if he needs to defend himself and his actions upfront. “There were a lot of hormones I wasn’t used to anymore.”

“And?” Lan Xichen asks again, a smile curling around his mouth because he might see where this is going.

“And Jiang Xichen was smuggling in alcohol past curfew and he was being a little shit and he looked so strange without his forehead ribbon. And I wasn’t used to mine,” Jiang Cheng mutters, clearly embarrassed beyond words and Lan Xichen laughs.

“So you gave him yours?” he snickers and Jiang Cheng pinches his side, before he chases away the sting of pain with a kiss.

“Maybe,” Jiang Cheng whispers against his lips and Lan Xichen hums.

“I thought you were different when you came back,” he admits and a tiny part of Lan Xichen can’t help but to wonder if they would be here at all if Jiang Cheng wasn’t forced into that other world.

If he ever would have come to love Lan Xichen on his own.

“Stop it,” Jiang Cheng chastises him and cups Lan Xichen’s face in his hand. “I love you,” he firmly states. “And I would have come to love you without those three weeks as well. I was already falling for you,” Jiang Cheng promises him and Lan Xichen has to blink back his tears.

Jiang Cheng does know him too well.

“And besides, you don’t have room to judge,” Jiang Cheng finally huffs out. “You gave me your ribbon as well, after all,” he says and tangles his hand in the trailing ends of the slightly purple ribbon Lan Xichen is wearing.

It’s not his Lan ribbon, that one is braided into Jiang Cheng’s hair like it should be, but it still sends a shiver down Lan Xichen’s back when Jiang Cheng lightly pulls on it.

“And you accepted it,” Lan Xichen gives back, because he still can’t believe that some days, but when Jiang Cheng smiles at him, all thoughts flee his mind.

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng whispers, straining up to kiss Lan Xichen, who happily leans into the contact.

He’s too busy kissing Jiang Cheng back to say the words as well, but Lan Xichen figures since he’s wearing purple, proudly displaying Jiang Cheng’s braids in his hair and with his forehead ribbon forever in Jiang Cheng’s possession, it should be more than clear.

He wholeheartedly belongs to Jiang Cheng. 

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[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH2

<2> First Advance Notice

In the Sky Joker's living room, Hachi handed Joker an advance notice written on manila paper.

"W-What are we gonna do?" Hachi looked up at Joker with a worried gaze. Hachi, who wore an aqua-colored hood snugly over his head, was a descendant of ninjas. He had met Joker by chance when trying to steal a treasure and had pleaded with him to become his apprentice. He was now Joker's trusty right hand, and not only did he help with his work, he also handled all the household chores.

With Hachi's eyes on him, Joker read the old-fashioned notice.

I humbly inform you that I will be taking the Crimson Crystal you stole tonight. I will arrive post-haste. Be prepared for me.

—Phantom Thief Noir

"How'd this get here?"

"When I went outside to collect the laundry earlier, Hosshi found it stuck to one of the sheets."

"Hosshi!" exclaimed Hosshi next to Hachi.

Hoshi was a small, squishy, orb-shaped, cat-like creature that had been living with Joker and Hachi since they found him at a site of ruins. The shining yellow stars on his cheeks wobbled as he smiled and bounced cutely around Hachi.

"Hmmm..." Joker studied the advance notice. Locating the Sky Joker while it was in the air was a difficult task. After all, given his line of work, he couldn't let his hideout be discovered easily. This person had sent advance notice right to the Sky Joker, and also knew that Joker had just stolen the Crimson Crystal. This "Phantom Thief Noir" was no amateur...

"But I've never heard of anyone who calls themselves 'Phantom Thief Noir'."

"You're right, I haven't heard of them either. Joker-san, did you make an enemy somehow without realizing?"

"Excuse you. I'm upstanding and gentlemanly, nobody's got any ill will against me!"

"Since when! You said before that there are so many people who hate you that you can't keep track of them all." Hachi gave him a dubious look. Kaneari, whom he had just stolen from, wasn't the only one. Shadow and plenty of others were hounding Joker.

"We may not know who Noir is, but shouldn't we come up with some measures against them?"

"Measures? Naaah, too much work," said Joker as he threw himself onto the sofa.

"Joker-san?"

"Ahh, Shadow was there too, so I'm worn out. Hachi, can you make dinner early?"

"Are you sure you can be so lax about this?"

"I mean, there's nothing to do until this Noir guy gets here, yeah?"

"There's plenty that you could do! Like hiding the treasure, setting up some traps, formulating a plan... Kaneari-san does all sorts of things when he gets a notice from you, Joker-san!"

"But despite all that, has Kaneari ever once protected a treasure from me?"

"Eh... well, no, but..."

"See? Ultimately, getting treasure all depends on the skill of the would-be thief. Doesn't matter how much you set up in advance. It's a match where you have to read each other's minds," Joker said, before taking the Crimson Crystal out of his pocket and letting it catch the light. The crystal gleamed as it reflected the light from the ceiling. The globular surface of the crystal diffused and scattered the light like a prism. Joker was captivated by its beauty for a while.

"I get why he wants to steal this... but!" Joker sat up. "He's not getting it easily!"

"Hm, now that's the spirit," came a voice from the dining room suddenly.

"Eh!?" Joker and Hachi turned around in surprise to see a boy sitting on a chair in the dining room. The boy twisted open a glass bottle with a hiss and took a swig of the beverage inside.

"Spade!"

At Joker's exclamation, the boy called Spade turned to face him. "Hi, Joker. Happy to see me again?"

"I'm not happy! Where'd you come in from!?" Joker gnashed his teeth and glared.

Spade was, like Joker, a phantom thief. He wore a violet scarf and snowy white coat. His long azure hair cascaded over it, and a crest of golden hair shone over his forehead. He was a well-groomed, handsome youth.

"Settle down. This Riviera is exquisite when chilled, Dark Eye."

"Yes, Spade-sama." Standing beside Spade was Dark Eye, whose head was wrapped in bandages. They opened a bottle of the beverage as well. Dark Eye was Spade's assistant, who was female under the guise.

The Riviera which Spade was drinking is a popular drink all over the world, and both Joker and Spade loved it. As Joker said, it was the perfect drink to have after a difficult caper.

"But I must say, it's much more soothing at my own home. This place is always so raucous and dusty," Spade said, clearing his throat deliberately.

"If you're gonna complain, then leave!"

"I came here to ask you about Phantom Thief Noir."

"Wha-!?"

"Spade-san, do you know about Phantom Thief Noir?"

Joker and Hachi leaned forward and gaped at Spade.

"Did you get a notice too!?"

"Notice...?" Spade looked puzzled for a moment.

"You didn't receive an advance notice?" Hachi asked.

Spade answered jitteringly, putting the pieces together.

"Y-Yes, right! That was an advance notice. Will you show me the notice that arrived here?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Hachi handed Spade the notice, which Spade examined closely. "Hm... It's the same type of paper as the slip I received. This tells us a lot about this man calling himself Noir."

"It does?" Hachi asked, to which Spade responded ponderously.

"Hm... Noir seems to be much older. He's naturally left-handed, but has corrected himself to be right-handed. He lived in France at some point, and he likes popcorn..." Spade waved the notice and listed out each point.

"Kyo kyo. Impressive, Spade-sama," nodded Dark Eye with admiration.

"Don't make stuff up," Joker said wearily, but Hachi ignored him.

"How do you know that?"

"Simple. When this notice is held up to the light, you can see that it has a watermark written in French. This paper was produced by a maker in France. But that company went under over thirty years ago, so this paper is no longer on the market. Therefore, the fact that he was able to buy this proves he's up there in years. His letters angle upwards, which is a quirk commonly seen in corrected southpaws. And this oil mark has a residual smell of salt and butter, so it must be from popcorn. He must like it considerably if he has it around even when writing an advance notice." Spade rattled off his reasons.

Hachi was wholly amazed. Spade had gleaned so many traits of the sender from just a small piece of paper. "Huh! You're incredible, Spade-san! It's like you're a detective!"

Spade slipped down a little. "Ha ha, you could say that," he laughed. "Deductions aren't exclusive to detectives. Phantom thieves have to be able to deduce, too. Of course, Joker already knew all of this, yes?" he said, bringing Joker back in.

Caught off-guard, Joker went along with what he was saying. "Huh? Y-Y-Yeah, 'course I did! I figured that all out yesterday!"

"The advance notice hadn't arrived yet yesterday."

"Shush!"

Then Spade sighed. "Really now... why did Noir send advance notice to you, of all people?"

"Kyo kyo, it's a mystery..." Dark Eye's shoulders dropped, and so did Spade's.

"Shut up! What did you come here for, anyway!?"

"I just wanted to discuss this man called Phantom Thief Noir with you."

"I've got nothing to discuss with you. I bet you just had your treasure targeted by Noir and started second-guessing yourself, right?"

"S-Say what?"

"Ever since way back when, you've had trouble getting anything done on your own!"

"HUH? I came here out of the goodness of my heart. I knew that instead of speculating on Noir's identity or formulating a decent plan, you'd try to come up with something random on the spot!"

"Oh yeah!? Well that's my style!" Joker argued as he scowled at Spade.

"He's got a point there, Hosshi."

"Hosshi."

Hachi and Hosshi murmured to each other. But the pair weren't done bickering yet.

"Besides, I don't need a plan! A phantom thief's battle starts when he shows up, that's what makes it interesting!"

"And how much trouble do you think your lack of preparedness has caused me!?"

"When did I ever give you trouble!?"

"Plenty of times!"

"Then be specific! What year, month, day, hour, minute, and second!? What planet, country, region, prefecture, city, ward, block, address, and room number!?"

"That childish attitude of yours is the issue!"

"Shut up! If I'm childish, then so are you!"

"I'm more mature than you, at least!"

"Someone who's mature doesn't shout like that!"

"You're the one shouting so loud!"

"I'm what!?"

"Got a problem!?"

Their foreheads were pressed tightly together as they snarled at each other with vehement looks.

"Cut it out!"

"Kyo kyo, please stop!"

Once Hachi and Dark Eye intervened as usual, Joker and Spade finally pulled away from each other and simultaneously looked the other way with a "Hmph!"

"We're leaving, Dark Eye. It seems Joker has no need of my generosity," Spade beckoned to Dark Eye, and he started walking toward the door. Joker jeered from behind him.

"Yeah, go ahead and leave. I don't need your stinking 'generosity'. I don't trust you in the first place!"

"Likewise," he said, turning back around. Joker and Spade glared at each other once more.

"Don't come back!"

"Who would!"

Spade placed a hand on the exterior door. "It was quite a displeasure..." Spade said, and jumped out into the open. Dark Eye hurried after him.

"Bleh! That's what I wanna say!"

After watching Spade's airship, the Twin Thunder Shark, fly away, Hachi turned back around to Joker. Joker was grumbling and taking out his anger on a cushion. His temper was worse than usual this time...

"Joker-san, you went too far."

"Hmph! I went just far enough for him. The way he's always so patronizing and tries to tell me what to do pisses me off." Joker lay back down on the sofa.

Is that the truth? wondered Hachi. Maybe Spade had come to visit Joker because he was worried. The two of them may have been rivals, but they had once lived together under the same roof. Perhaps Spade had wanted to talk to Joker about Noir, as an old friend... If Spade had received an advance notice as well, he was definitely at least a little uneasy. And if he came to consult with Joker, who might have also received a notice, then...

Hachi remembered how Spade had looked a little desolate from behind when exiting. Joker had calmed down a little by now and was lying down with his back turned, sulking. Hachi sighed, when...

Suddenly, lightning flashed outside the window, and a loud tremor shook the Sky Joker...

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Nineteen: I May Think of You Softly

The angst is starting to hot up now, because we can’t have a Chishiya fic without it :) 

As always, you can also read this on AO3 here. 

Just adding this because I’ve gotten a few messages about it, but once this fic comes to an end, I’ll start reading the manga properly so I can eventually write a part 2/sequel! 

While I’m reading it though, I want to make a collection of one-shots based on this fic from Chishiya’s pov. I have a few scenes in mind to focus on, but if there are some you’d like to see, just drop me a message, comment, carrier pigeon etc... and let me know! 

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

‘It’s time.’

They were simple words, but they carried an awful lot of weight. The plan had to go perfectly, otherwise we were finished.

Arisu’s voice sounded from the other line. ‘Is everyone getting into position?’

I picked up the walkie talkie and headed to the door, only for Kuina to grab my arm and stop me. Perplexed, I opened my mouth to ask her why, but her pleading expression silenced me as she took the walkie talkie from my hand.

At the same moment, a new voice – Usagi’s – came through. ‘I’m in the hall, keeping lookout.’  

Never taking her eyes from mine, Kuina’s hand tightened around my arm. She pressed the button to activate the walkie talkie. ‘We’re watching over the elevator to the top floor.’

Except we weren’t. We were here, in my room.

Kuina??

Once again, I began to ask her what was happening, but she shook her head, shushing me. The guilt in her eyes was unmistakable. ‘The coast is clear,’ she said into the walkie talkie.

Then it became awfully, awfully apparent what was going on.

‘The new leader is making a speech in the lobby,’ Chishiya said, ‘and all the executives and militants are at the annex. I’ll let you all know if there are any changes.’ There was a pause. ‘This is our only chance. I’m counting on you, Arisu.’

Shrugging out of Kuina’s hold, I sat down on the bed, trying to process the situation. This had been his plan from the start. Not the official plan, but a fake one: to use Arisu and Usagi to locate the safe, and to let them take the fall. Chishiya may know the passcode, but the location of the safe is something that can only be discovered once you actually go into the room.

He’s using them as his guinea pigs.  

‘I’m in the Royal Suite now,’ Arisu said. ‘Though I can’t see anything that looks like a safe. Just give me a minute.’ My knee began to bounce nervously as the line went quiet. Then his voice crackled through, triumphant, ‘I’ve found it!’

A puff of air sounded from the other line, and I could practically hear Chishiya’s smirk. ‘The code, it’s 8022.’

There was a pause. ‘How do you know?’ Arisu asked. ‘Did you see inside the black envelope?’

I leaned forward, curious about how Chishiya had managed to figure it out simply by sitting in the same room. There were two possibilities here. Either Chishiya knew perfectly well what the passcode was, and he would concoct a lie to give to Arisu, or he only had an inkling about the passcode, and he was using Arisu to test it out.

‘No,’ Chishiya said, ‘but I didn’t need to. Aguni’s expression told me everything. He was surprised at first, then he was confused. I believe the paper inside was blank.’

‘Blank? But what about the passcode you just told me?’ Arisu asked.

There was an amused hum. ‘The wax seal. You remember Hatter’s ring… it was stamped with the word ‘BOSS’. When the wax seal was stamped, the embossing left numbers. That was the true code.’

You really are incredible, and not necessarily in a good way.

It certainly sounded convincing enough, though until Arisu tested it, there was no way of knowing whether this was the genuine truth, or an impressive sounding lie. And judging by the way things were going, he would find out very quickly.

My heart broke for Arisu as he spoke with pure, blind amazement. ‘Chishiya, I’d hate to be your enemy.’

I held my breath, waiting for the worst as silence ensued. This was a setup, after all. I glanced at Kuina, but she only looked at me apologetically.

Why does he have to be so cruel?

‘Chishiya??’ Arisu’s voice shook. ‘Chishiya, the code’s wrong?’

The static shut off into silence.

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

Even the stale air of my room tasted bitter as I gripped my walkie talkie, turning it over in my palm. It was tempting to just toss into the dustbin and wash my hands of the whole thing, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Chishiya had backed me into a corner. It would be too dangerous to stay at the Beach now that the militants had taken over, but I also resented Chishiya for stringing me along in such a dreadful scheme.

Kuina was waiting for me in the hall outside. Now that the militants were busy with Arisu and Usagi, the royal suite was unguarded. This was the final test. The real plan. But as for whether or not I joined them…. I didn’t have a choice, or at least, it seemed that way. I remembered the words that I’d told Hatter when I first arrived at the Beach.

‘I still have a choice. It’s just that one of the options doesn’t look too great.’

There was always the option to stay and pretend that I had nothing to do with it. Except there was an obvious downside; Niragi wouldn’t settle for that. He’d be out for blood. My blood. It was either possible death or certain death… freedom or confinement. I knew which one I preferred.

‘Though wise men at the end know dark is right, because their words forked no lightning they do not go gentle into that good night.’

It was funny how fittingly Dylan Thomas’ poem sprung to mind now. I was going to die. That was inevitable. But I still wanted my voice to be heard. I still wanted to chase the meaning of it all.

Pocketing the walkie talkie, I walked towards the door. It almost felt sad. All the textbooks I had been given, the books that had kept me sane this entire time… I would have to leave them behind. They were gifts from Chishiya, but after what he’d done to Arisu, they were tainted. I shut the door behind me, quite possibly for the last time.

Kuina was leaning against the opposite wall, and when she saw me, her expression was one of relief.

‘For a minute, I thought you weren’t coming.’

I tried to smile. ‘For a minute, so did I.’

The hotel was quiet as we made our way to the top floor, it became apparent how quiet it was. The militants and executives were likely dealing Arisu and Usagi by now, and I hated to think of what was currently happening to them. Perhaps this was another reason Chishiya wanted to use them; as a distraction.

‘I don’t like it either,’ Kuina said. Her jaw was rigid. ‘I really don’t like it. But I have to get home to my mother.’

Some of the bitterness I felt softened. I couldn’t fault her for that. Not really. She had told me once, while we were on the rooftop, about her mother being the only one to accept her after her gender reassignment, and now her mother was ill, yet she was stuck here, unable to help. She had tried asking about my own life, although I’d brushed it away at the time.

‘My brother,’ I said after a moment. ‘I want to get back to him. He’s older than me, a psychologist. He went into psychology to research treatment options for certain mental health conditions. My mother isn’t happy… to put it mildly. She’s a mess. Probably it’s something to do with being married to my dad, or maybe it’s genetic.’

Kuina went quiet at first, then took the quit-smoking aide from her mouth. ‘Are you two close?’

I shrugged. ‘I suppose we are. We both grew up in the same place, and we both have that understanding. He was always the one who went first, and I’d follow him. He wasn’t scared of anything, not even my dad.’

Kuina and I didn’t say anything more after that. We were nearing the top floor now, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew that Chishiya was lurking somewhere, waiting for us to give him the all-clear.

As planned, Kuina handed me a second walkie talkie, and I took my place at the end of the hall, looking out for any executives. Meanwhile, Kuina took watch outside the royal suite, where she could see Aguni’s room. So far, Aguni had remained in his old room, despite being the new number-one, and since Arisu and Usagi’s capture, he had yet to emerge.

Chishiya’s voice sounded through the walkie talkie. ‘You two, how are things on your side?’

Just the sound of his voice brought with it a mixture of anger… despair… betrayal… relief… and love. Even that. How was it that now, when I had never been more hurt by him, I still craved the safety I found in his voice.

I don’t know who I hate more, him or myself.

I didn’t particularly want to speak with him. But ignoring him wasn’t an option either. ‘You’re all good to go from where I’m standing.’

‘Aguni’s still in his room,’ Kuina’s voice crackled through. ‘We’re getting bored now.’

‘Then should we get going with the plan?’ he suggested.

I clicked my tongue, eyes scanning either side of the empty hall. ‘We’ve already gotten going. It’s you who needs to hurry up.’

‘Patience,’ was the curt reply.

I didn’t hear anything, but I knew that somewhere down the hall, Chishiya was entering the royal suite. ‘I don’t know if Arisu is stupid or intelligent,’ he said. ‘Hatter was paranoid. He wouldn’t have hidden the cards in a normal safe.’

Did Arisu try breaking into one of the hotel’s guest safes?

‘Where’s the real one then?’ Kuina asked. She sounded tired and weary.

‘When Arisu was caught,’ Chishiya replied, ‘Aguni wasn’t paying attention. He was looking towards a certain picture on the wall. It turns out the paper wasn’t empty after all. It contained a drawing instead.’

It was impressive how Chishiya was able to figure these things out through body language alone. For someone who seemed to have no concept of how people behaved, he sure paid attention to our behavioral patterns.

‘So, you had no idea where it was until then?’ I asked.

‘Exactly,’ Chishiya said. ‘What happened to Arisu was necessary if we were going to find the real safe. Speaking of which, I’ve found it.’

The way he talked about it was chilling. Not so much the words themselves, but the ease in which he spoke them, the lack of hesitation.

Kuina seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she sighed into the walkie talkie. ‘You used him just for that?’

The response was immediate. ‘In order to gain something, you have to lose something. He’s just a sacrifice. Things like this happen a lot, don’t they?’

The level of self-assurance behind those words… it was brutal. I always knew he was like this, but what did that mean for me and Kuina? Were we just pawns like Arisu and Usagi? Would our deaths be necessary too?

‘No, they don’t.’ Kuina said. ‘Not at all. I really don’t want to be your enemy.’

At this, I almost laughed. When I first met Chishiya, I had thought the same thing, and earlier today, Arisu had said something similar himself.

‘I get that a lot,’ Chishiya replied.

Perhaps everyone is his enemy. Perhaps the only person he sees surviving the Borderlands is himself.

The idea was a harsh philosophy, but it made sense. Chishiya had always made me feel like insignificant just through his calculating gaze alone. In that sense, he was just like my own father, and chances are that was why I was drawn to him. In this crazy parallel world, feeling small was the only thing familiar to me.

Maybe, in order to gain my own freedom, I have to lose Chishiya.

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

Now that the sun had set over the skyline, the evening had turned still and cold. Aside from the hum of cicadas and the chatter of crickets, it was quiet. Leaning against the outside wall of the hotel, I wrapped my arms around me, although it did nothing to stave off the shivers that tickled my skin. Nor did it melt the wedge of icy determination that had buried itself within me.

I’ll follow him for the sake of leaving the Beach… but I refuse to let myself love him.

I had never been a good liar.

To my right, Kuina was leaning against a lamppost, staring guiltily at the ground. Meanwhile, Chishiya removed his numbered wristband as he strolled towards a decorative brick archway that led out of the hotel grounds. ‘I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.’

‘Don’t you feel sorry?’ Kuina asked quietly.

He stopped. ‘Sorry?’

I looked at him curiously, wondering how he could seem so calm. ‘About what happened to Arisu… I feel really sorry for him. We both do.’

Kuina nodded, folding her arms tighter. ‘Don’t you?’

Chishiya’s eyes flitted to mine, and for the first time, I saw genuine surprise there.

Show me a sign… please give me a reason why I should trust you.

‘Is there anything we wouldn’t do in order to survive?’

A shudder ran through me, and this time, it had nothing to do with the breeze. His words confirmed my every suspicion, but I couldn’t let myself feel so disappointed. I needed to block it all out… block everything out.

Then he smiled. It would’ve been easy to mistake it for his usual smile, if not for the hint of bitterness there. ‘If you both feel so worried, then maybe you should go and help him.’

Kuina looked at him, eyes wide with regret. However, she didn’t move. Neither of us could. We both had our own reasons why we needed to survive and return home. Knowing this well, Chishiya took a step towards the arch, only to stop once more. His brow furrowed as he whispered something under his breath.

Growing impatient, I pushed away from the wall and walked towards the exit… towards freedom.

‘Stop.’

Chishiya’s hand clasped around my wrist, dragging me back. I yanked my arm away immediately, both hating and loving the feeling of his fingers on my skin. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Kuina appeared at my side, and the three of us watched tentatively as Chishiya tossed his wristband through the arch. A red laser burst through the plastic, leaving behind a singed hole.

I stepped back, horrified. This couldn’t be… could it?

The Beach is a game arena??

[ladydorian05]

Dangerous love - Javier Peña x Gn!reader

Okay, I finished it, finally!!! I don't have a lot to say about this except that it all began with a few lines provided by my brain in the middle of the night and then this happened.

A huge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​ she helped me so much editing this thing and with the ending (many parts of the ending were written by her).

Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Dangerous love

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader 

Summary: With Steve on vacation, it's up to Javier and you to check upon the new lead; unexpectedly the stakeout goes to shit and some surprising things happen after you jump at the first opportunity to endanger yourself. (I still don't know how to write this thing and I'll probably never learn.)

Warnings: Bullets, minor injuries, mentions of blood, what else, Javier’s potty mouth but with restraint, maybe a little of out of character behaviour at the end, no time line, fictional events. thoughts in italics. Spanish translations of long sentences can be found in ( ). And I think that’s it.

Word count: 5K and then some.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn you Murphy, Why did you have to ask for vacation days right before we got a lead. Javier thought as he tried to get comfortable in his seat  behind the wheel, with Steve out of the picture, he was left to carry out this stakeout alone, alone with you. Inside the close quarters of his car.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, far from it actually. He just didn’t want to fuck things up with you now that he was finally able to put a name to the way he felt whenever he was around you. From the way his heart rate increased in your presence, to how much his thoughts revolved around you. Hell, he even stopped fucking around with his informants for the simple fact that none of them were you.

There was no way he was going to tell you. He couldn’t, your jobs were too dangerous. The slightest mistake could cost either of you your lives and the last thing he wanted was to put you in more danger than you were already in, even if he knew you could take care of yourself.  Besides, he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.

“Okay, I got the snacks and here’s your coffee.” You said opening the door of the passenger side, taking him out of his thoughts. It was some kind of tradition between the three of you, getting snacks to make sitting inside a car for hours on end, waiting for something to happen, a little more bearable,”Any sign of our guy?”

He thanked you, taking the paper cup from your hand “And no, no sign of him or any of his associates.” he sighed before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Damn it, it’s close to midnight, either they appear in the next 3 hours or we’ll be stuck in here for another day.” You complained, leaving the bag with the snacks between you two. You were tired, even if you liked the extra alone time with Javier it was hard to enjoy it when both of you were sleep deprived, more than usual, and cramped inside his car for the second day in a row.

The lead was solid, the problem was they needed evidence that the house they were watching actually belonged to the guy you were after, once you got it you could take the information to Carrillo and mobilize resources to take him in. 

“Five says that we won’t get anything tonight either.” Javier says, taking a bag of chips for himself.

“Five what? Bucks?” You see him nod while stuffing his mouth with a handful of potato chips. You contemplate his profile for a moment before answering his bet, “Alright, I’m in. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it's been quiet.”

“That’s mainly because Murphy’s not here.” You both share a laugh at your partner's expense. It was no secret that out of the three of you Steve was the most approachable. Javier was the known asshole of the embassy, you always tried to keep your guard up, what with being the new one, and Steve was just a ‘by the book’ kind of guy, even if being after Escobar made him bend some rules lately.

When you were first transferred to Colombia you were surprised that you actually got along just fine with both of your partners. You were the newbie, but they didn’t belittle you or underestimate you like you expected them to. However, you certainly never expected to end up falling for one of them.

As the months passed Javi became more than just your partner or friend, he became your confidant, you knew you could always talk to him. While he wasn’t the  most approachable person around the embassy, you found out he actually had a soft side. He was reliable, hard working, with a dry sense of humor, a ‘no bullshit’ attitude that called to you, and as much as he wanted to hide it, he cared deeply, even for things that were out of his control. The fact he was so fucking handsome didn’t hurt either.

You didn’t fall for him overnight, it was a steady, slow kind of change. It took sleepless nights pouring over documents, each taking turns getting more coffee to keep you both going;  late night conversations and laughs over strong alcohol to chase the stress from work away; having occasional dinner nights with him at his apartment or yours on those nights when the feeling of being alone in a different  country fighting a never ending war gets unbearable.

It wasn’t sudden, but it still surprised you when you realised your feelings for the DEA’s resident Cassanova were deeper than you thought. That was another thing that worried you, it was no secret where or rather from whom he tends to get information about the narcos you were chasing after. Even if he’s recently been more discreet about it.

“Heads up, we’ve got movement.” Javier brings you out of your thoughts, tossing the bag of chips back into the bag of snacks you brought. “Seems like you’ll be getting those five bucks after all.”

“Told you I had a hunch.” Both of you watch as a van parks in front of the house you’ve been watching, several men get out of the vehicle. You recognise a couple of them from the list of known people working for Escobar, most of them were foot soldiers.

You reached inside the glove compartment for the camera, hoping to get a few good pictures before they disappeared inside the house. This could be the missing link you needed to get to the guy that lived there.

“Hold on, don’t finish the film just yet,” Javi’s words give you pause as you start rewinding the camera to take another photograph, “another car’s pulling up.”

“Anyone we know?” You ask squinting to see who comes out of the other car parked away from the street lights lining the road.

“Fuck me...yeah, from the Cali cartel.” He answers, rubbing his chin with a hand.

“Shit, that can’t be good.” You lowered the camera. The change in the atmosphere around you was instant the moment both of you noticed the persons inside the other car were readying their guns.

“You have your gun with you?” Javi asks, reaching behind him for his own weapon.

“Never leave the house without it.”

“Good. When all hell breaks loose, and it will, I want you to find cover before you do anything else, got it?” You hear the click of the safety from Javi’s gun as you reach for the handle of your door; you can sense the familiar feeling of adrenaline as you ready yourself for what’s to come.

“Yeah, you better do the same.” You don’t get a response from him. In a matter of seconds, the once quiet street turns into a war zone. Gun in hand, you run for cover, ending up behind the wall of a house at the entrance of an alley.

You take a moment to breath and try to pinpoint Javier’s location. You see him poking his head from behind a wall on the opposite side of the street. You sigh, relieved to see that he got himself behind cover in time.

You can’t really do anything. It’s just you and Javier out here, you lacked both the numbers and the firepower. Minutes that felt like hours passed. You take a look at the shooting happening a few meters from your position before hiding again in the dark of the alley as three more cars arrived on the site. One of them coming up from the street you were in, you prayed that they didn’t notice either of you. It was clear that both sides had called for backup.

Fuck, now bullets were flying towards this side as well, it wouldn’t take long for them to start looking for a more solid cover than their cars. You see Javi come to the same realisation as he sends you a worried glance when your eyes meet. You needed back up too.

Neither of you expected something like this to happen, it was just a stakeout; you were horribly unprepared with no vest and only so many bullets. The moment they noticed either of you it was over. There was only one choice, you needed to call Carillo.

There was a phone inside the car. If you were fast enough you could dive inside the back seats of the car and grab the phone, you were certain Carrllo would still be in his office, he never left early. It would take him little to no time to round up a team and get to your position as fast as possible.

You turned to look at Javier after formulating the quick plan in your head and explained it as best as you could with your hands, asking him to cover your back. You watch him shake his head, gesturing with both hands for you to stay put. You know if you do as he wants they’ll find you sooner or later; with your plan, if everything went well, at least you both stood a chance of getting out of this alive and  there was even the possibility of taking some of them into custody.

You put the safety of your gun back on and  tuck it into the back of your pants for the moment. While looking at Javier straight in the eyes you slowly shake your head, watching as he spits out a curse you’re too far away to hear before diving out of your cover to get to the car.

Javier knew the situation would escalate badly for the two of you if they noticed your presence there, he was just holding onto the hope that they would be too engrossed in trying to kill each other for that to happen. He turned his attention away from the wall in front of him to check up on you, only to see the determined expression on your face. He’s seen that one before, you always looked like that before doing something brave, yet incredibly stupid that would no doubt end up endangering you.

What the hell were you thinking!? Javier understood what you were trying to say with your hands, your plan was insane. Yes, having backup would be really helpful, life saving even; but risking your life like that? No, he wouldn’t let you. He answered by very clearly telling you to stay where you were.

He swears his heart leapt out of his chest the moment you disregarded his instruction to stay put, tucking your gun in your pants before breaking into a run for the car. FUCK!

You left him with no choice but to do as you asked, there was no way in hell he was going to leave you even more open than you already were. Hopefully, with all the chaos going around, they wouldn’t notice you or where the bullets from his gun were coming from.

He tried to keep an eye on you while also paying attention to the altercation. The car wasn’t that far from your previous position, but considering the stray bullets raining all round, it was too damn dangerous. He was filing away in his head all the things he would say to you if- no, ONCE both of you were out of this mess. He wouldn’t let himself think of any other outcome, you were going to be fine and you would get out of this, both of you.

What was in reality a few seconds, felt like an eternity to him. You running alone, unprotected, straight into a firefight was a scene he’s only seen in his nightmares, the fact that this was really happening was worse than he had ever imagined.

He stopped breathing for a moment when he saw you stumble a little from the corner of his eye, but when he turned his full attention towards you, you weren’t there and the backdoor of the car was open. He sighed in relief, you made it.

Carrillo got there with backup in record time and these guys were still at it, they had the worst aim he had ever seen, it was laughable that the shooting lasted this long, but damn he was glad to see Carrillo and his men arriving. They blocked the escape routes, effectively cornering them and made quick work of subduing and cuffing any survivors.

He made his way towards you as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t get a bullet for stepping out from his cover, after all he would be of no use to you dead, but Carrillo noticed him first and stopped him halfway there.

You could hear the moment the backup arrived from your place on the floor of the back of the car. You were tired and probably in need of medical attention. You hadn’t felt the pain initially, too preoccupied with your madrun to get to the car and filled with adrenaline to notice. It wasn’t until things had quietened down significantly and the adrenaline began to seep from your body that you had time to assess your injuries and felt the searing hot pain blossoming in your arm and thigh. You weren’t sure if the bullets were still in there, if you had been hit anywhere else and just hadn’t felt the pain yet or how bad the bleeding was.

Slowly, you began to move in order to get out of the car. Hissing in pain when you had to use your leg to crawl to the opposite door, you figured it would be easier to keep moving forward and get out from that side than try to backtrack towards the one you used to get in.

The sudden movement of the door opening caught everyone who was close by off guard, some of the men actually pointed their guns at you.

“Whoa! Easy there, I’m friend no foe.” Scanning the area you spotted Javier with Carrillo, their attention focused on you, it seemed like they had been talking before you made your presence known. Javier walked towards you as the Colonel ordered his men to lower their weapons. “Hey, a little help please?”

He offered you his hand to help you get out of the vehicle. “Easy there, are you hurt?” He looked you up and down  searching for injuries and sure enough, he found them, “Fuck, you’re bleeding. Coronel, pida una ambulancia!” After telling the colonel to call for an ambulance he gently guided you away from the bullet hole ridden car to sit on the flatbed of one of the team’s trucks. 

Javier was uncharacteristically quiet considering the move you pulled off, you were expecting the scolding of your life, but he said nothing. He just hovered around you as the paramedics cleaned and treated your wounds, thankfully they weren’t life threatening, and gave one word answers when they asked him any kind of questions to find out if he was also injured. It was unsettling.

Anger you could deal with, you’ve done so on multiple occasions already used to his fiery personality, but this cold shoulder treatment...the only times he had ever acted like this had been when things got really bad or when he felt responsible for losing someone on the job. He would often shut himself out in situations like that,  but even then you were always able to get through to him and coax him into talking to you. 

Carrillo approached you once the paramedics’ job was done. “Mis hombres se encargaran de los malparidos. Yo los llevo de regreso a la base, necesitaran otro carro para ir a casa.” (My men will take care of the sons of bitches. I’ll take you back to base, you’ll need another car to get home.)

“Gracias por su ayuda Coronel.” You thanked him for the help, seeing as Javier still refused to speak.

“Al contrario, gracias a ti y tu llamada ahora tenemos arrestados no sólo a colaboradores de Escobar, sino también miembros del cartel de Cali.” (On the contrary, thanks to you and your call, we now have arrested not only Escobar’s collaborators, but also members from the Cali cartel.)

Javier went to retrieve any personal belongings from the car before following Carillo back to his truck. The ride back to base didn’t change anything, the three of you travelling in tense silence since Javier still refused to speak. It was a good thing the Colonel was never really a talkative man to begin with otherwise you’re sure he would have felt insulted by Javi’s current mood. 

Once back at base, Javier made quick work of the paperwork needed to take a provisional car while the one previously assigned to him was towed away and replaced. You decided to  put his odd behavior down to the stress of the night's events, thinking maybe that was what had him acting like this and hoping that maybe he would relax on the way home.

No such luck.

The car ride was infernally quiet and Javier’s mood only seemed to worsen by the minute, you could see his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He pulled up in the building’s garage, killing the engine without so much as turning his head in your direction. You couldn’t take it anymore, the silence was suffocating you.

“Hey, I got a new bottle of whiskey if you wanna grab a drink?” The only answer you got was the sound of the door slamming shut behind him as he got out of the car. At first you thought that was a no, but when you got out he was standing by the car’s trunk waiting for you. 

You made your way through the building to the door of your apartment; the slight limp from the wound on your thigh slowing you down somewhat. It wasn’t serious, the bullet only grazed the outer side of it. Your arm didn’t have the same luck; still, it was nothing time, a few stitches and bandages couldn’t fix, but it still hurt like hell, you’ll be sure to take some pain meds before going to bed. Javier was following behind you. If he ever decided to quit being a DEA agent, you were sure he’d be able make decent cash playing poker with the expressionless face he had going on  at the moment. Well, he would as long as he wore dark sunglasses, otherwise his expressive eyes would probably give him away. 

You opened the door and turned on the lights of the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get the bottle and the glasses.” You tell him as you toe off your shoes, leaving them in the entrance. You hear the door close and before you can make your way to the kitchen his hand darts up to grab the wrist of your uninjured arm.

“Javier? Wha-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Oh. So it was time for the scolding, he waited until you were alone for this, shit. Maybe you could play dumb?

“I was thinking about getting a little bit drunk before going to sleep.”

“You know what I mean. Back there, what the fuck were you thinking putting yourself in danger like that?” So, that was a no on the playing dumb thing then.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you were? You had no vest and still you ran headfirst into the open, you could’ve died!” He could feel the grip he had on his emotions slipping, all the fear, all the helplessness he felt the moment he saw you dive out into the rain of bullets rushing back to him.

“But I didn’t.” You knew he was right, it was a dangerous move, but it worked, it got you out of the tight spot. “Listen, I know it was dangerous, but it worked out.”

“So you were aware of how dangerously stupid that was and you still went ahead and did it!?” He let go of your wrist to pass his hand through his hair in exasperation,“To top it off, this isn’t even the first time you’ve pulled something like this, I don’t have enough fingers on my hands to count how many times your dumb luck has saved your ass.”

“Well excuse me for saving our asses back there!” You snap, your composure which you had managed to keep up until this point wavering, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You think I don’t know about your little endeavours with the other side of this war?” How dare he act as if he’s never put himself in danger, as if he wasn’t playing with fire himself, “How’s Don Berna? When’s your next coffee date?”

His eyes widened in horror and all the blood drained from his face. Any other day this kind of reaction from him would’ve made you laugh, but right now it only gave you a strange sense of satisfaction.

“How do you know about that?” His eyes fixed on yours, both of you locked in a staring match until you’re silent for a little too long and he speaks again, demanding an answer, “Huh? Answer me. How. Do. You. Know. That?”

“I saw you with him.”

“You followed me!? You fucking followed me!?”

“Yes, I did! What did you want me to do!? We were stuck, stressed as fuck, with no new leads and you were acting strange! I was worried!”

“That didn’t give you the right to go and fucking follow me! And that’s beyond the point, that’s different!” Your once tense, but relatively controlled, conversation was now a shouting match. A match that would most likely end with no winner and your friendship on the line, but you’ll be damned if you backed down from this.

“How!? How is it different!? I run once or twice towards some bullets to save our asses and you get to lecture me about it, but I can’t bring up the fact you’re meeting with a sicario, behind both of your partners backs, in your free time!?”

“We’re not talking about me!”

“OH! So YOU can make stupid and dangerous decisions, but I can’t!? And YOU can call ME out on them, but I can’t call YOU out on YOURS!?” Every time you stressed a word you made sure to poke him hard in the chest with your index finger as if you really needed to emphasise your point anymore.

He let out a heavy sigh trying to cool down a little. You had moved at some point during the heat of the argument, both of you trying to get into each other's faces as you yelled back and forth and you were so close to him now that the puff of air lightly ruffled your eyelashes. Deep down he knew you were right, but the night events still hung heavy in his mind. For a moment, he swore you weren’t going to make it, he should’ve known better- should have trusted you, but that didn’t mean he would support every single insane plan you came up with.

“I just-”

“You just what!?” You interrupted him. He was beyond frustrated with this situation. He just had to go and open his fucking mouth. He could have just stayed silent, shared that whiskey with you and drink until he forgot all about this whole stupid situation and then gone to bed.

“I just want you to understand-”

“Understand what!?”

“Goddamnit.” he muttered under his breath.

“Understand what Javier!? Maybe if you stopped stalling and just said what you want to say I would!”

“That I fucking love you!” Shit. He drags the palm of his hand over his face as he contemplates his options, it’s too late to go back now he decides, “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you!”  

“Well, I love you too!” 

The stunned silence that followed the unexpected confessions was deafening. Neither of you dared to move from your positions, until you saw his eyes flicker from yours to your lips and his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip.

You don’t know who moved first, but at that point you don’t care. Your lips came together with his in a passionate kiss, all thoughts of your argument forgotten for the moment. You could only think about how good it felt to finally kiss him, you always believed that he would be a good kisser, but this was beyond anything you ever imagined, all your previous fantasies of what kissing your partner would be like fell in comparison to the real deal.

It wasn’t perfect; no, nothing in real life is ever perfect, but at the same time it was everything and more. There was no fight for dominance, it was just a coming together of two people, two people trying to convey with actions what has never been said with words. Months of pent up feelings finally finding release.

His arms were around you, one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head, pulling you ever closer while your own hands held the back of his head, fingers losing themselves between his short locks of hair. You were so drunk on him, you never wanted to stop, unfortunately, oxygen was a necessity. Slowly, you pulled apart from each other, leaving little pecks on his lips as you went. 

“Fuck, we’re a mess.” He said, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, finally finding your voice after taking a few deep breaths.

“Every word.” He answered, pulling you into another much slower kiss.

“Good.” You said against his lips the next time you parted. “Because I do too.” You were going to go in for another kiss, but you felt the pull of the stitches on your arm when you tried to bring his head closer, making you flinch in pain.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing the sudden movement.

“Yeah, just...the stitches are bothering me.” You said with a grimace.

“Fuck. I forgot about them.” He slowly detangled himself from you as not to hurt you further. “Let’s sit down on the couch, there’s more light over there, let’s make sure you didn’t reopen the wound.”

“It’s alright, just a bit sore, that’s all.” You gingerly touched the bandage covering the stitches. He called your name, to get your attention back.

“Please. If only for my peace of mind.” With a sigh, you agreed. He left his hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to your couch. He began to remove the tape that kept the gauze in place over the stitches as carefully as he could manage. “Thank you, your plan really did save us.” You stared at him in surprise, you weren't expecting that. “But you really need to be more careful. Do you have any idea how I felt when you just ran out?”

You shook your head.

“I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“You’re not THAT old.”

“Excuse you, I’m not old at all.” His eyebrows raise at your words and there’s a look of mock offense written across his features.

“That’s not what your cracking back says.”

“If we didn’t spend so much time behind a desk my back wouldn’t sound like fireworks going off every time I stretch.” Your eyes found each other for a moment before both of you ended up laughing. “No, but seriously. I don’t know What I would’ve done if anything had happened to you. Please, don’t risk yourself like that, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“You know I can’t promise something like that...but I’ll try.”

“I can work with that.” He focused back on removing the tape without further upsetting the wound.

“I’ll be more careful, but in return, I want you to do everything you can to cut all ties with Don Berna. I don’t care how much information he gave you or keeps giving you, it’s not worth it if you’re going to end up in the middle of both sides.”

He took a deep breath before letting the air out. “I am trying, but it’s a delicate subject, I need to watch my steps. I reached out to him on a whim, and even if I got some good stuff from him, I’m not stupid, sooner or later he’ll cash in the favor.”

“Be careful, please.” He nodded.

Once the tape was out of the way, he looked at your stitches without touching the skin around them, not wanting to cause any kind of infection, once he saw that none of them needed to be redone, he covered them again.

“Alright, all’s good, let’s get you to bed.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“Javier, not today, I’m tired and my leg hurts and-” You’re cut off by his chuckle.

“To sleep. Jesus, get your head out of the gutter. Go get ready, I’ll bring you some pain killers and a glass of water. Whiskey’s not going anywhere, we can have it another day, you need to rest.”

When he came into your room you were already in your pajamas, taking your pants off had been tricky but you managed it without disturbing your wounds too much. He hands you two pills and a glass of water, you thanked him before swallowing the pills with some water. Leaving the glass on your nightstand, you make yourself comfortable in your bed.

“Well, I’ll umm...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods his head in your direction before turning to leave.

“Javi, wait.” You call before he reaches the door. He looks back at you over his shoulder, “Could you stay?”

His eyes widened in surprise before answering “Of course, sweetheart.” He’s quiet as he takes off his shirt, shoes, socks and moves to climb under the covers.

“Do you sleep in jeans? Isn’t that uncomfortable?” he freezes in place, one knee on the bed and one hand lifting the corner of the thin sheets covering the bed.

“No, I- I usually sleep in boxers.” he lowers his gaze to the bed, “I just don’t have any with me right now.”

There’s a moment of silence as you process his words before you burst into laughter.

“You- you mean- you’re not-” you try to talk in the middle of your laughing fit, but only manage to get a few words out.

“Yeah, I’m not wearing any underwear,” you swear he almost looks embarrassed “get over it.” he mutters.

“Sorry, I just-”you try to calm down, but can’t help the giggles that still escape your lips. “What, did you have plans for after the stakeout?” The question came out jokingly; maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to ask after what happened in your foyer, but deep down you wanted to know. You trusted him in any other way, could you also trust him completely with your heart?

“No.” He looks you in the eye and you notice that he understood the double meaning of your question. “I don’t do that anymore, for some time now. ”

“Oh.”

Once he settles, you reach over to the nightstand turning off the small lamp that sits there. You can’t see Javi in the darkness of the room, but you know there’s still something playing on his mind from the way you feel him fidget beside you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching out for him across the small distance that separates the two of you. Your hand finds his shoulder and you run your fingers up and down his arm, enjoying the way he relaxes under the touch. 

“It’s nothing, go to sleep.” 

“Javier.” You warn, much too tired to argue but determined not to sleep until you get to the bottom of whatever's bothering him.

“I’m still thinking about what happened earlier...loving you can be quite dangerous.” Javier sighs, “You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s just as dangerous as loving you.”

“What a pair we make huh?” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Your voice is laced with exhaustion and you shuffle closer to him, nestling your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around his body, “We’ll be fine.” 

He hums in agreement, his arm hovering over you but not quite touching.

“You can touch me you know?” You say with amusement.

“Your arm- I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. I promise.” You smile, pecking a kiss against the first patch of skin you can reach.

He lowers his arm tentatively, wrapping it around you and pulling you closer to him.

“Goodnight.” You mumble against his chest, sleep already beginning to pull you under.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair, listening to the way your breathing has evened out. Sleep has never come easily to Javier, but that night for the first time in months, it does.

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