#every thursday I get reminded that I'll have to work someday

[martyryo]

checking.

[marsdetective]

hi! dana!! book asks first and foremost how do you feel about children's classic the mistmantle chronicles? second ly, 10, 11, 16, & 25!

aksdjlkskfj well, I have to say that despite never reading the mistmantle chronicles, it cannot be denied that it has contributed to the literary discussion of eugenics and genocide, through the eyes of rodents, and used this medium to examine historical and current systems of oppression. so i have to respect it for that 😌

10. What was your favorite new release of the year?

My absolute favorite was Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed. If you decide to get into graphic novels, I'd really recommend this one. It was originally published in Egypt and is set in our world, except anyone can buy bottled genie wishes and use them to make what they want a reality. The author is SO clever with this concept and she uses it to explore colonialism, class, gender, religion, mental health, and more. I've thought about it all year.

I also really liked Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. It's a historical fantasy set on a wintery island with a romance that kinda reminded me of Howl's Moving Castle

11. What was your favorite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read?

Oh, it was for sure Doomsday Book by Connie Willis! It was written in the... 80s I think? And is set in the 2030s and also the 1300s, as a time travelling historian goes back to document the time period. something goes wrong, however, and she may be stuck in the past if she and her professor aren't able to work in their different times to figure out how to get her back. it's very slow build (and also unintentionally funny, since none of the 2030s characters have cell phones or the internet), but the ending was SO emotional and impactful

16. What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

Hmmmm, already mentioned this one but probably The Thursday Murder Club. Just wasn't my thing!

25. What reading goals do you have for next year?

Every year I try to read at least 2 classics, so I'd like to do that again

I also want to like. try to understand money better -_- so imma try to read a few books that don't seem like evil capitalism propaganda. just a basic 'here's how everything works and here's what you should do at certain points in your life.' we'll see how it goes

I want to try and read some old Hugo award winners/nominees! I have a list of all the books nominated for best novel, written by not men and it'd be cool to someday read all of them. but I'll just try to read like 2 or 3 this year

I'd also like to finish a couple series that I've started, that are already completely published - there's a few I'm behind on!

and I want to read at least 1 book I own per month!

[avalentina]

So... Unfortunately I got called in for a work emergency today, I just got home, and am finally sitting down to write the last 6ish thousand words, it won't be done in two hours unfortunately, but rest assured, I'm not leaving my computer until it's done. For now, you get a sneaky.

2.2k Sneak Preview! Enjoy!

"Darling, there are some perks to being a Baroness, although you are technically in line for the throne, as am I."

"Tell me you're not being serious right now, mother, I'm not a princess, I'm a lawyer who dabbles in songwriting with her boyfriend, just sang a song with him onstage at Coachella and lives a quietish life in Hampstead.

"Relax, you are not a princess, you're of royal blood, there's quite a difference. Believe it or not, there are a few hundred commoners in London who are of royal blood, most just are not aware. And it was my line that was of royal blood, so your father saw it as a way to increase his status. I was also not given a choice in my marriage, but unlike you I lacked the courage to do something about it for myself and if you are the result of that then I am very happy I went along with it."

"Thank you mother."

"Someday I hope to hear you call me mum once again, but until then I am just happy to speak to you."

"I would like that too, now for dinner next week, Wednesday or Thursday?" You reply and ask.

Let me speak with Lorraine and Fitzwilliam, and then I'll have a memo sent to you at your office, via your assistant, Amelia isn't it?"

"She prefers Mia, and she's not my assistant, but she is in my department. I don't keep an assistant, I prefer to manage it all myself."

"Well I will have it go to Mia then just to avoid violating the contact order."

"That won't be necessary, I'll have it fixed before the end of the day."

Over the next hour you asked your mother all the tough questions that you had been waiting years to ask and she answered every single one of them in detail, she told you more about Fitzwilliam, and how her and Lorraine are quite friendly. Having chosen to make light of the situation your father had put them both in. When you're getting ready to head out you pause to look at your mother, she too is standing and without letting your head convince you otherwise, you give her a quick, polite, appropriate hug.

"Thank you Mum, thank you for this, for everything we discussed today. I'll be waiting for your letter or call.” You say as the two of you walk out.

When you return home, H is waiting by the door to greet you like a lovesick puppy. The wet sloppy kiss you receive also reminds you of a puppy, of which you have two that are also begging for your attention and happy to have you home.

“I Can See You’re Lonely Down There”

It’s Thursday, the day you and Harry are having dinner with your mum, half-brother, and his mum. If all goes well H wants to do another dinner next week with the addition of his mum and his sister Gemma, maybe even invite his father.

Your nerves are starting to get the better of you, you know that you and H still have secrets between you, you especially, there are so many things that happened in your five years away from him that haunt you to this very day. Some of them you’re a little surprised he doesn’t seem to know about, but then again, your father had it buried in a snap of his fingers.

But tonight is about looking forward not dwelling in the past. Tonight is about the bond blood can create, reuniting as an albeit slightly dysfunctional family, but still a family. You’re going back to your roots and sharing them with the man you love.

“Morning Lovie,” H says as he brings you breakfast in bed this morning. He made pancakes, but not just any pancakes, these pancakes are stuffed with cheesecake, and are drizzled in chocolate and caramel sauce. You smile brightly at the gesture and the two of you spend the next hour cuddling and enjoying the delicious food. Once it’s gone you turn to H, just wanna change and then I’ll meet you down in the kitchen.

You knew this would take most of the day, you two have a lot to make, and cooking in the kitchen together with H is one of your favorite things to do. He wears skimpy shorts, no shirt, a pair of socks so he dance around the kitchen while cooking, and a damned claw clip holding back his messy curls. The damned clip gets you soaked every time but you wouldn’t change a thing, being horny and desperate just up the level of difficulty and amount of concentration needed to properly execute the recipe and you love the pressure just like you love a challenge, sides, H always fixes it. Today you decided to tease him a bit by wearing a y/f/c (your favorite color) bra and panty set, the set itself is basic and plain, but when you put on your white crochet mini over it you know it will drive him crazy, especially when you add the rose gold choker that has the letters ‘H��S’ in the middle. You also stick with socks only on your feet so you can dance around with H, knowing he’d pull you around regardless,

When you enter the kitchen, in addition to his standard cooking fit, he added the pink frilly apron you got him for his birthday the first year you were together. When you see how he also used a pink claw clip you can’t help but giggle which alerts Harry to your presence, not that he didn’t know you were there because he did, but he allowed himself to look at you after the giggle.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned seeing what you were wearing. “How am I supposed to cook when you look like that.” he adds, his eyes darkening with lust.

“Now you know how I feel watching you dance around the kitchen in skimpy shorts, sometimes just your briefs, without a shirt, a towel over your shoulder, and your hair in of those damned clips that make me fucking swoon, you dolt.” you counter and he just smirks.

“Ya know, it does feel like a brief kinda day,” he comments and slips his shorts and briefs off, right in front of you, turning around to show of his ass that you love.

“Is that the game we’re playing H?” you ask and even the score by removing your bra and panties, but leaving the cover on.

“Let’s start cooking before I end up fucking you on the cleaned and sanitized counters.” You bite back a moan and nod your head.

“Words, lovie.”

“Oh for fucks sake, just fuck me out of my misery H, please, we can re-clean them and still have enough time to do everything, plus have time for our oomph.” You are cut off by H melding his lips with yours and demanding access to your mouth. He pulls the tie on the front of the cover free and gives both of your ass cheeks a good slap before completely removing the cover.

“Open,” he demands, one you eagerly comply with, especially because you can tell he is feeling very much his dominant, alpha male self today. He spits directly onto your tongue, before resealing his lips with yours, his tongue spreading it all over the inside of your mouth. Pulling back just a bit, he smirks before running a single finger through your dripping folds, he brings it back up and smears it all over your lips before kissing them clean. Then he goes back for more, but this time he has you suck yourself off of his finger, repeating the last one again, only with two fingers and licking them clean himself. All while somehow keeping his eyes locked on yours, and yours locked on his, unable to look away even if you wanted to.

“S’ fucking delicious, baby, could eat you all fucking day for the rest of my entire fucking life and still not have enough.” You moan at his words and grip the sides of his apron to pull him flush against you. His hands return to your ass, then a bit lower where he slaps so you know to jump.

“Y’ve got me so fucking whipped I can’t even go 24 hours without fucking your tight, pretty little cunt.” his words are like pouring gasoline on a bonfire in the middle of a fucking forest, igniting every nerve in your body, to the point where it moves of its own volition, grinding your bare, drenched cunt against his brief covered cock, staining them with your arousal.

“Fucking drenching my cock and its not even out yet doll, fucks.” he says, his voice almost a moan.

“OH GOD, please H, please just split me in fucking half with your cock, can’t wait anymore.” You cry out, on the verge of an orgasm.

“Gonna come already baby, ‘ve barely touched your cunt.”

“DON”T FUCKING CARE H, JUST FUCK ME, WANNA COME SO BAD!” you whine and plead and beg. “PLEASE! FUCKING PLEASE H!” before your body even has time to register, his briefs are off and his cock is pressing at your entrance waiting for you to tip over that blissful edge before he slides in.

He knows your tight, you’re always fucking tight, but he also knows you like the initial bit of pain. He ruts once, twice, thrice, never entering you just rubbing against you and giving your ass cheeks a nice, rough pinch on each rut. That was all it took to tip the scales and send you tumbling over. Knowing he can build up a nice gush, he pinches at your clit before rubbing over your slit, left and right, only using two fingers, but moving them faster and faster. Just until he feels you stop pulsing with aftershocks from your orgasm and places his tip against you once again before finally slamming himself forward, giving you that rough first thrust which has you letting out a surprised yelp and a pleasured scream.

“YES! FUCK H!” you scream and pant, H never letting his pace or force falter. A quick glance to his face shows his gorgeous green irises gone, swallowed by his dark desire, and you know he’s chasing his own orgasm, still paying the slightest bit of attention to you, as he wants you to squirt all over his cock when he comes, he knows exactly how to get you there, and exactly how to time it with him, He knows your body better than he knows where the nearest Gucci store is. Better than he knows even his own fucking body. He can play yours like a fine tuned guitar, which string to pluck, when and where to strum, and what to press on when. So even though 99% of him is a primal, savage beast right now, there is always part of him focused completely on you. And when he slides against that spongey part inside you, over and over again, you know you’re done for, you know what’s going to happen, and he knows it too, knowing what he can do to you, how well he can play your body has his balls tightening, ready to explode, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, his movements becoming sloppier and more erratic, and as soon he feels that first bit of release, he pinches your clit again and takes you over with him. Gushing all over his cock, all over the counter and floor, turning the once clean kitchen into a sticky sexy mess. When you’ve both emerged from your orgasmic hazes, he can’t help but laugh and lick you clean as best as he can before grabbing a towel and helping you off the counter.

“Oopsies.” You say with your most innocent smile, which has him laughing again and the sound of his laughter is so contagious you can’t help but laugh with him.

“Don’t You Know That I Am Right Here”

After recleaning the entire kitchen(a deep, deep clean), changing out of your sticky clothes, and one last kiss, you and H actually get to work prepping dinner, he starts on the garlic bread, while you make the strawberry gelato so it can get into the freezer in time. Then you shift your focus to the alfredo sauce, and the baked chicken seasoned only with salt, pepper, a bit garlic, and a hint of onion.

When H finishes the garlic bread and gets it into the proofing drawer in your kitchen, he goes to town on the pasta. The two of you ended up deciding on linguine rather than fettuccine, you just like the way it cooks a little bit better. When the pasta is ready to cook he pulls the cheesy meatballs you prepped the previous day out of the fridge and rolls them in the seasoning you use, so they are ready for you to pan fry. Finally he turns his attention to hunting down some limoncello and one of his italian red wines that he thinks your mother will like. In addition to the sparkling white grape juice the two of you picked out for your half-brother.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!

Love Yas!

-Ava

I'M BACK BABY!

In celebration of Tumblr finally fixing my account...

Satellite: A Harry Styles Song fic releasing Saturday, July 1st, 2023 @ 7pm CST.

Hope you're ready, but you're probably not!😝

With Loves!

-Ava

PS: it will be my longest fic to date, ≈30k words (oopsies)

PSS: Comment if you want to be tagged!

[hbwbyniall]

I'll give you some wiggle room! 1, 20, or 48 please :)

Sorry for the waiting, I wrote this at 3 am so :) don’t trust me :)

It’s game night and the boys are at his place. Harry is not there yet but he can tell from the dozens of texts they keep sending in the group chat even though they know he is in a meeting right now making his phone vibrate for last ten minutes, so he turns it off the second he feels his boss eyes in the back of his neck of the fifth time.

It’s late, he’s very much aware of that but this is his first real job after college, he knew it would be hard being an associate in one of the most prestigious law firms of London. He’s been working for it since he started his internship two years ago, making copies, getting coffee and doing errands for almost every lawyer in the office, he met people in the Courthouse and the DA office, he earned his place and his desk as an associate, he studied his ass off in Law School and got good recommendations from teachers to get the internship in Kingsley&Foley, he was the first to arrive and the last one to leave and he never let work interfere with his grades so he could assure a job right after finishing college, which he did. Now the only thing left is to make a name of his own and to do that he needs to work.

Someday it will be me worthy, all of this, the late nights and early mornings; having to put up with pretentious, arrogant and narcissists attorneys that don’t even bother to learn his name of handle him things properly; having to prove himself every second passing and the excess of caffeine that only leaves him exhausted every single day when he gets home. He just hopes that one day all this tiredness will disappear and he’ll have one second to breath, people in his professional circle will respect him and clients will haunt him down, not the other way around.

It’s not like he’s a complete newbie, he has won some cases for the firm, every case that’s been handed to him actually, not very complicated ones, but still, he can handle child support and injuries cases, he’s good at it, but he doesn’t stand out for it. He’s trying, like he’s doing it right now, trying to talk in the middle of four seniors discussing a case and other three associates. They’re eating Chinese and even if he only wants to get home to watch Louis beat everyone in FIFA and then doing a fuss about it eating pizza or some other garbage, he’s too hungry to not pick up the box in front of him.

Harry keeps watching his phone and now they’re sending pictures and it makes him sad because he misses his friends and he hates being an adult. He remembers his conversations with Niall after graduation, when they decided to move in together, find a small apartment and then see what life has for them and Harry warn him, about the late nights and early mornings and Niall just smiled, because that’s him, that’s how he deals with problems, as they go, so he kissed him and made Harry relax for a second to look into his blue eyes and reminded him the reason he fell in love with him after the first week of the first year of university.    

He just wants Niall to be happy and he’s so scared of him getting tired of bored of these situations, it’s been eight months and Harry has come home to find him sleeping almost every night and has to get up before he wakes up, like they’re in some kind of love affair and not a six-year-old committed relationship. Harry wants to save money, he wants a bigger flat in the nice part of town, a bigger tv, some trips and then the ring, he wants stability before he proposes, he saw what the lack of money did to his parents’ marriage and he doesn’t want that or him and Niall, and he knows they’re not his parents, Niall has told him that numerous times, but the feeling stills there.

If he could, he would buy Niall themoon, the stars and the entire night sky.

And that’s when it hits him.

“The airs!” Harry screams, making everyone turn to seem him, standing up from his chair, holding the chopsticks in one hand and the noodles and chicken in the other hand, looking like a mad man in the middle of the night.

“Excuse me?” Asks Ronald Weiser, one of the seniors of the firm.

Harry looks around him and clears his head, leaving the food over the table and cleaning his hands on his pants.

“I think we should buy the airs,” he repeats, loud and clear, proud of the idea plotting in his head.

“If we could buy the Strike Industries airs, we wouldn’t be here,” Amanda Byres replies, not even lifting his eyes from her papers to look at him.

“I’m not talking about Strike’s airs but the Nicholson’s building behind,” and now he has his attention again but this time, they’re curious.

“They’re owned by the Robinson Construction firm, they won’t sell.” He hears Connor say, another associate next to him but he doesn’t have time to hate him right now as he does daily because he’s looking for a piece of paper everyone dismissed since the meeting started almost four hours ago.

“Not anymore,” Harry says, putting the paper over the table, right at the center so the attorneys in front of him could see it. “They sold two days ago to Burdon, they want to take the building down.”

The room in quiet for a couple of seconds before everyone stands up and starts giving directions and orders, picking up phones to make calls and yell to the other side of the line.

“Styles?” he looks up to Michael Bennett, his direct boss, he has a cocky smile on his face, like he just won something, “you can go home, get some rest.”

Well, that’s very thoughtful considering is almost eleven on a Thursday night, but Harry doesn’t complain, he picks up his briefcase and leaves the conference room before they could change their minds.

*

When he gets home and opens his door, he feels the entire day hitting him like a truck and his eyes almost close the second he leaves his briefcase on the floor and his keys in the table next to the door. He walks through the hallway only to find Liam and Louis sitting in the floor with a big bowl of popcorn watching a sappy movie as Niall lays all by himself in the couch, looking at his phone the whole time, he must’ve won FIFA this time.

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just melts into the sofa, taking Niall by surprise and dropping his phone in Louis’ face, making him yell and make a fuss. He hears Liam greeting him and asking him about his day, only to get a snarl as an answer. Harry hides his face into Niall’s neck and feels his finger caress his hair, letting a little whimper leave his lips.

“Did you just make that noise?” Louis’ voice is a numb noise in the back of his mind right now, so he just ignores him and dragging Niall into his arms, protecting him from the popcorn that is thrown to them.

“I missed you,” Harry whispers loud enough for everyone in a small place to hear, he kisses his neck and closes his eyes, letting himself rest since he woke up that morning.

Niall laughs, stroking his hair again, lulling him to sleep. “We’ve become the clingy couple that you used to complain about.”

Harry nods, holding him closer. “To be honest, I love those couples,” he says, smiling, “I was just trying to seem cool for the first few dates.”

“I know.” Niall pulls out to see Harry’s face for a second and leave a little kiss on his lips.

“Can you two shut up?” Louis says, “I’m enjoying this crap.”

[andreil-minyasten]

The Raven Killer

JereJean | T | 3755

This is my entry for the @aftgexchange Valentine round 2019. This little JereJean piece is for @fornavngoesexy who's absolutely AMAZING and keeps the fandom beautiful as f. I picked Jeremy/Jean an dark/angst with happy ending from your prompts. Hope you like it! Happy Valentine's Day <3 

Read on AO3  When asked, Jeremy Knox wouldn’t describe Jean Moreau with colors, like most people do. He wouldn't say, here, look at this coffee, Jean has hair like this. He wouldn't serve you a stick of butter and compare it to Jean's skin. He definitely wouldn't try finding a shade worthy of explaining the otherworldly luminosity of Jean's eyes.

 Instead, he would say this.         

 There is a moment before rain, before storm, when nature is holding its breath. A veil of hush is spread, suddenly the sky is backlit by the sun and then, the first flash of lightning, the first splash of rain.

 Jean Moreau is that moment, caught in a prison of flesh and blood.

This is what Jeremy Knox thought, every morning when he saw Jean Moreau cross the road to the minuscule coffee shop Jeremy owned. Ever since Jeremy started working as a barista/cafe owner, Jean has taken a liking to the chocolate croissants. Reminds him of home, he says and blushes faintly.

 Jeremy shouldn’t, really. He shouldn’t like that hint of pink on pearly skin, shouldn’t like the sight of Jean every morning. He shouldn’t even be thinking of Jean Moreau. It was very unprofessional. But it's been months and there had been a hundred mornings and Jeremy can't remember a morning without Jean.

 Today isn't an exception. Yes, Jeremy’s mind is restless with frantic worry. Yes, he feels desperate for a solution to his biggest predicament. Yes, he knows he can't do this anymore.

 But his smile doesn't falter. He brews Jean's coffee with care, serves it up with two croissants, as always. He takes out the blue tray that Jean likes. Jean returns Jeremy's smile with one of his rare ones.

 ‘Thank you, Jeremy,’ his voice is just a whisper, again, today. Jeremy can see a purple bruise almost completely covered by a bulky scarf. Almost but not quite.

 ‘How's your boyfriend doing?’ Jeremy asks when they're running out of small talk.

 Jean stiffens almost immediately, reaching up to wrap the scarf tighter around his neck.

 ‘Good, he's….. he's good, as always, Jeremy.’

 And Jeremy hates him. He hates Riko Moriyama, so much.          

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

 Here's what Jeremy knows about Jean Moreau's long-term boyfriend Riko Moriyama. Riko is the second son of the Business Tycoon Kengo Moriyama. Riko’s elder brother Ichirou is the crown prince of their empire, leaving Riko free to live a life of debauchery. Riko takes full advantage of it. He's called for modelling once in a while. But he doesn't actually work, as far as Jeremy can't tell. Yet, he's busy everyday, if partying could be called being busy.

 Jean is almost the exact opposite. He's never seen with Riko at his parties. Instead he works as cleric at the kindergarten opposite the shop Jeremy works at. He's been together with Riko for seven years.                    

 Jeremy also knows, every night that Riko spends in his own house, he leaves a bruise on Jean. Jeremy finds the bruises, catalogues them and wraps up the memory in a coat of fury.

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

 Jean views his life as a long, endless nightmare, interspaced by little moments when he feels awake, alive, hopeful. Moments like these, having a warm drink and basking in Jeremy's presence.

 When he was young, he used to hope for a life that would always be good. He hated his abusive parents. As soon as he could think for himself he had made plans to leave them someday. And he thought he'd done it, too. One fine morning in April, he met Riko Moriyama, a bright eyed teen just like him. Jean, young and naive Jean was fascinated. He thought it was love for sure. Riko let him believe it was love, too. In reality, Jean left one nightmare and entered another.

 It wasn't clear to him, at first. Riko was nicer than his parents. Riko was the place to call home, the face he wake up to, the person he centered his life around. It wasn't easy for him to see the bigger picture.

 Yes, Riko got angry, a lot. Yes, Riko hurt him, a lot. But Riko apologized and cried and said he loved Jean too much. Jean believed him.  Jean thought this was okay. He thought he could live this life.

 Then came the bloodshed.

 A few months after Jean moved in, Riko apparently deemed Jean loyal enough, or gullible enough, who knows. One night he simply came home with a stranger, proceeded to take him into Jean and Riko's bedroom and slaughter him like a pig.

 Jean couldn’t remember the first time quite well. The only clear thing was the boy's face. He was a fresh faced teen, wide eyed and innocent the way Jean himself was, once. His slit throat was leaking blood all over Riko's bedspread. Jean was too numb to cry. But he did what Riko told him to do. He cleaned up the blood. erased the cctv footage, burned the linens. But he didn't touch the body.  

 Riko was gone in the morning. There was almost no evidence left of that horrifying night. Jean spent hours and hours curled up in the attic wondering if Riko was sick? If it was a wrong decision he'd made?

 Jean didn’t have to wait long. Riko killed again in six months. This time it was a girl of perhaps sixteen. Jean tried to beg Riko and got a slashed wrist. After breaking the girl's neck, Riko took his boyfriend to the nearest hospital and got him treated for a mishap in the kitchen, I keep telling you be careful, love.

 Years passed, and this happened again, and again, and again.

                                                                                                                 -----------

 Jean often asks himself why he doesn't just leave and tell the police, tell anyone, that his lover is the serial killer known as Raven, because he always leaves a shiny black feather with the dead body dropped in a ditch somewhere. Jean didn't, couldn’t- tell anyone the first time mostly out of horror. But later? What stopped him from speaking up in the four years that Riko had been killing?    

 No, it wasn't the fear of prison or a death sentence. Jean had proof that it was Riko, he'd kept all the footage from the second time. He'd kept them safe. He'd saved a bit of blood from every victim while Riko went out. Their house was too big, Riko never moved a single finger to clean it. He would never find these evidences. These would be enough to prove what Riko did, what he was.

 A monster.

 But Jean kept adding to the pile of his evidence, never gathering up enough courage to show someone or leave.

 Why?

 ‘You have nowhere to go, Jean. What, you'd go back to your parents? You think they want you? No one wants you, Jean.’

 It was Riko's voice that said these things in his head, and they were all true, weren’t they? Where could Jean go? Riko was his whole world.

 Jean had thought about death, about offering himself up to Riko one of those nights when he raged about not finding a suitable lamb to slaughter. But then, who would remember the faces of all the boys and girls Riko killed? Who would keep gathering evidence?

 So Jean didn't kill himself and he didn't kill Riko, didn't stop him from killing others, didn't go to the police. Maybe his life would've gone on just like that, till Riko bored of him. But that sunny, airy Thursday, something changed.

 Riko brought home Kevin.

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

 Jean tried to plead, reason, coerce and even bribe.

 ‘Riko, Riko you can't!’ he hissed while Riko hummed a tune and added a crushed up sedative in Kevin's vodka. ‘Kevin is a policeman! He's our childhood friend! It's too risky, you could get caught! Please, just send him away. I'll go look for… for another one. For you. Riko, please! Not Kevin!’      

 Riko went on as if he hadn't heard Jean. The tea was served. Kevin was all smiles as he downed one drink after another.

 ‘Y’know Riko, e’ryone says you're a spoiled brat but I see, I see you,’ Kevin declared, well on his way to getting drunk . ‘Your life's ssso good! You have a home and lovely, lovely Jean to come home to, mmm hmm? You're so lucky!’      

 This was like all the nightmares that came before. But Jean could feel more and more terror trickle through his veins as he watched Kevin slowly fall asleep. Riko was in the kitchen, picking which knife to use. He was going to kill Kevin, their darling friend Kevin who was snotty and obnoxious and uptight but he didn't deserve to die. Riko was going to kill him like all the others and drop off his corpse like all the others….

 No.

 Not Kevin.

 Jean wouldn't let it happen, not this time.

 He entered the kitchen. Riko had his back to the door. He trusted Jean so much.

 ‘Babe, you didn't wash the serrated one properly last time, there's rust on the handle.’ Riko chided mildly, putting down a knife and picking up a larger one.

 ‘I'm sorry, Riko.’

 ‘That's ok, love. I'll just-’

 Jean felt a little foolish about hitting Riko with the cast iron pan. But it was heavy and knocked Riko out readily. Jean spent a moment worrying if he was dead. Then he shook himself and ran to get the car. He had so much work to do.           

                                                                                                                 ----------

 Jeremy's little coffee shop closed late on rainy nights as more people craved a warm drink in their palms. Jeremy closed it around 10 that Thursday, going up to the attic that was his living space. It was small and rather messy, but warm. Jeremy was about to get under the blankets when he heard someone knocking loudly on the door downstairs. Ugh, he has to go out in the cold again.

 He's cursing and shivering when he opens the door, only to find Jean Moreau. Jean Moreau, soaking in rain and shaking like a leaf, on Jeremy's doorstep.

 Is this reality?

 How many nights had Jeremy dreamt of Jean coming to him, to Jeremy, at the dead of night? But this isn't a dream, is it? Jean looks like death warmed over.

 ‘What are you doing here?’

 He doesn’t get an answer right away. Jean's eyes look wide with terror and pain. He lifts a shaking hand to touch Jeremy's face.

 ‘Nothing, I just, just wanted to see you. I'll…. I have to go.’

 Jeremy grips his wrist before Jean can move away. ‘No, don't. Stay here.’

 ‘What?’

 ‘Stay, stay here. It's not safe to drive in this downpour. And you'll catch your death in those clothes,’ Jeremy swallows down a wave of nerves. ‘Come inside, Jean.’       

 ---------

 In the dimly lit attic with it's sugar and cinnamon smell, Jeremy could almost believe this was a fantasy his stressed brain had conjured. Jean was in his shower while Jeremy struggled to find clothes big enough for the man. By the time he found a stretched out pair of sweatpants and a bulky hoodie, almost half an hour had passed and the shower was quiet.

 ‘Jean,’ Jeremy called. ‘Jean, are you okay?’

 No answer. Jeremy's felt worry clawing in his stomach. The door opened easily. He found Jean’s tall frame folded down in the bathtub. He looked over at Jeremy as he entered, face blank.

 Jeremy put the clothes next to the toilet sink. ‘Jean, why didn't you close the door?’ he asked.

 ‘Riko doesn't like it.’

 Riko doesn’t like it, he says. What else doesn't Riko like, Jeremy wonders. What had Jean done that made Riko mad enough to hurt him like this? Jean's torso was painted black and blue. Some week-old knife scars, some scars old and silvery, some mottled and wide bruises that could only come from a leather belt.   

 ‘Did Riko do that to you?’ Jeremy asks, knowing the answer. Jean looks at him for a long second.

 ‘Yes,’ Jean whispered, ‘Yes, Jeremy. It was Riko. Yes,’ he chuckled a little. ‘You know, I never told anyone, in the last seven years, that it was Riko. You're the first. Thank you.’

 ‘Is that why you came here tonight? To get away from him?’ Jeremy had to know. He was sitting on the floor besides the tub, getting his clothes wet but he could see Jean so well, could see the almost invisible silvery scars across his jawline. How had he not noticed before?

‘Tonight,’ Jean closed his eyes and looking green.  ‘Riko was, he was…’

 ‘It's ok,’ Jeremy touched his shoulder. ‘You don't have to tell me.’

 ‘I'll tell you, I promise I'll tell you  but not now.’ Jean leaned closer to Jeremy. ‘I came to you because you're the opposite of him. You're sunlight and warmth while he's pain and darkness and I'm so tired, Jeremy. You make me forget the pain. Just let me stay near you, tonight.’

 Jean's breath brushed over Jeremy’ lips. Did he imagine Jean looking down at his lips? Did he imagine the smoky want in those eyes?

 Jean's rosy lips parted, and Jeremy didn't stop to think, to ask. It was only a matter of closing the last few inches.

 Jean was waiting for the kiss, it seemed. He kissed back after a startled second, wet fingers clutching Jeremy's hair. Closer, closer. Jeremy wanted to soak Jean into his skin. Jean nipped at his lower lip and Jeremy groaned, the little stab of pleasure-pain going straight south. Jean pulled on his hair.

 ‘Climb up,’ he said, breathless and impatient.

 Climb… did Jean mean…. the bathtub? The bathtub where Jean is sitting, naked. Jeremy's brain went completely still.

 ‘Come on, Jeremy. I need you… closer, please.’

 And who was Jeremy to deny him? If it was a bad idea to kiss him, it was an worse idea to go further, he was someone else's, he was Riko's but Jeremy would rather die than allow an inch of space between them right now.

 Jean helped to pull of his vest and shorts, then Jeremy is stepping into the lukewarm water, settling on Jean's lap, skin to skin. Jean pulled him into a kiss again, but it was explosive, this time. Jeremy poured his desperation into it. Can't you see I need you, too? Can't you tell I love you? Can't you just be mine?   

 Jean came up for air with a gasp, his face glowing with a blush brighter than Jeremy had ever seen. Jeremy kissed down the pale column of Jean's throat, nipping over the throbbing pulse. Jean moaned, his hips bucking into Jeremy's and oh, oh, Jeremy's had enough.

 ‘Stand up,’ he urges. ‘Stand up, Jean. To the wall… yes….  that's it.’

 Jean stands, backed onto the tiles and he's so beautiful it takes Jeremy's breath away. He kisses a trail over Jean's less bruised thigh, stopping to suck his own mark just below his hip bone. Jean is a moaning, shivering mess already. Jeremy takes a few seconds to assess and admire his cock, then puts his mouth and a hand to work.

 It doesn't take too long. Jeremy is enthusiastic, almost impatient. Jean is incoherent and loud, his voice reverberating in the tiny bathroom, ringing like music in Jeremy's ears. He stiffens right before climaxing, giving Jeremy a chance to pull away. He slides down into the water again, pleasure and bliss written in his face.

 Jeremy drains the water out of the bath and cleans up both of them. He's still so hard, but finding his own pleasure can wait a little longer.

 Neither bother with clothes, choosing to  slip under Jeremy's pile of blankets instead. Jean spoons him from behind, rubbing a hand over his arm to warm him up. ‘Mon soleil,’ he whispers to Jeremy. ‘you don’t know, I have wanted you for so long.’

I have loved you for so long, Jeremy wants to say. I have wanted you for even longer. Jean's hands travel down Jeremy's shoulders, over his chest, stomach and down, down.

 Jeremy would just tell him in the morning.

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

The morning is fresh and crisp like newly washed laundry. It's still a little cold. Jeremy wraps the blankets a little tighter around himself. They smell like Jean.

 Jean!

 He's missing from the bed, from the whole attic as far as Jeremy can tell. He's up and dressed in a minute, rushing downstairs to check. Jean isn't in the shop either. But he's left a note, atop a nondescript plastic box .

 Jeremy,

 You have been the best thing in my entire life. I still can't quite believe last night was real. It was a beautiful dream, the most beautiful I've ever had.

 This box holds evidence that Riko Moriyama is the Raven killer. They can prove that he's murdered 13 innocent teenagers in the past 4 years. Take these to the local police station and tell them last night Riko tried to kill Officer Kevin Day, who is at the Allen Medical Center near the station.  -Jean Moreau

                                                                                                             -----------

 Every step Jean took away from Jeremy's little cafe felt like one more knife added to the wound in his chest.

 Last night was the only dream in his life full of nightmares and that is all Jean could afford, could allow himself to indulge in because he was just as guilty as Riko, wasn't he? He'd allowed Riko to kill so many people. What if one of them was someone's Jeremy, someone's Kevin? No, he couldn’t let this go on any longer.

 Jeremy was warm and pliant after sex, sleeping deeply. He was asleep when Jean had slipped out of the bed in the morning. Jean hoped he would wake up soon and take the evidence to police. Riko probably won't stay in the town after getting rid of Jean.      

 The front door is open. Jean slips in quietly.

 Riko is sipping coffee in the kitchen.

 ‘Hello, darling,’ he smiles at Jean. ‘Slept well? That's a lovely hickey, by the way. Where'd you get it?’   

 Jean doesn't answer. Perhaps Riko can read his confusion, because he lets out a short bark of laughter.

 ‘Why are you acting like the world is ending? So Kevin got away. Big deal. No one will doubt me when I say he'd just had too much to drink.’

 He stands and shoves the mug away.

 ‘But you, darling… Not only did you hit me, you also ran off to Jeremy. And on Valentine’s Day! How could you, Jean? I'm wounded,’ he widened his eyes in a parody of hurt and Jean wanted to throw up. Jeremy. Riko knows it was Jeremy.

 ‘How did you know?’ Jean grits out.

 Riko laughs. ‘How could I not? Do you have any idea how you two look at each other? Holy fuck, it's nauseating!’  he casually picks up a knife from the sink. ‘Look.A dirty knife for a faithless lover, isn't that perfect, Jean?’ he lunged.

 Jean almost didn't move in time. The knife grazed the side of his hip while he tumbled over the kitchen island, crouching down and picking up a light wooden stool. He swung it at Riko's hand. Riko cursed and backed away, clutching his hand. The knife slid under the fridge. But there was way too many knives in the kitchen, there was one or more in each drawer, cupboard and shelf. They were Riko's favourite weapon, after all. But Riko didn't go for a knife. He looked at Jean with wonder in his eyes.

 ‘You… you hit me!’

 The wonder disappears, black rage taking its place.

 ‘I have loved you all these years and you dare…!’

 ‘I don't love you anymore!’ Jean tells him. ‘I stopped loving you when you first killed Austin.’

 ‘Austin? You mean, that idiot back in- You remember their name?’ Riko cackles. ‘You sentimental idiot!’

 ‘Someone has to remember.’

 ‘No, no one has to remember. They just need to remember me, the raven killer!’

 ‘Thanks for the confession, Mr. Moriyama. Now put your hand up, slowly.’

 What the fuck.

 Riko recovered faster than Jean did. ‘Hello, Knox. What are you doing in my house?’

 Jeremy kept his gun pointed at Riko. ‘Oh, just arresting you for first degree murder, Moriyama. By the way Jean, get out of here. Kevin's waiting to have a word with you.’

 Riko's face contorted with fury. ‘You have no proof!’

 ‘I have four years of proof, actually.’

 Riko's eyes widened. ‘Four years? Four years! Jean!’

 He lunged at Jean with murder in his eyes, his hands closing around Jean's throat like a steel trap and Jean couldn't breathe, couldn’t shake him off. He could feel sight and sound slipping away.

 The last thing he could hear was a gunshot.    

                                                                                                                     ----------

 ‘You both are such idiots!’

 Jean and Kevin winced. They were waiting on the porch of Riko's house, recovering from the hellish  ordeal. Kevin looked a little green still, and Jean had a bandage wrapped around his head. purple bruises blooming on his neck. Just looking at them made Jeremy shudder. They could've died!

 ‘You could've died!’ he yelled at them.

 ‘But-’

 ‘No buts Kevin! We knew it was almost time for another Raven killing, yet you went drinking with a mafia brat! You'd be dead if Jean- and you! Don't look relieved! Why the fuck did you go back to Riko? You have a death wish?’

 Jeremy sat down on the porch floor, feeling ten years older than he was last night.   

 ‘We've been investigating the Raven Killer for a long time, only recently we tracked him back to this area. I've been undercover for, oh, about a year and a half, I think.

‘The thing is, everyone thought it was you, Jean. All the evidence pointed towards you. You're still not out of doubt.’

 Jeremy felt tears welling in his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face, incredibly tired. ‘He's dead now, though. He's dead,’ he sobbed. ‘He won't hurt anyone, ever again. He won't hurt you, Jean.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Kevin sighed and smiled, knocking his shoulder against Jeremy. ‘We're all safe now. You saved us. So calm down you crybaby.’

  Jeremy sniffed and reached out, hugging both of them. They clutched each other in relief, in newfound hope.  

 Yes, inside the house there was a corpse with a bullet in his head. And, yes, the Moriyama family would not be happy about this. There are more trials coming their way, Jeremy knows. But he's ready for whatever comes. They'll get through it together.