#he can’t cook but he provided a seven course meal

[theostrophywife]

green with envy.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

request: omg i need more of theo x reader with a hint of flirty draco

song inspiration: jealous by nick jonas.

author's note: ask and you shall receive. here's draco scheming to make theo jealous, which we all know won't end well. happy new year's my loves. we're staring 2024 off with a bang 😉

“Merlin, they can’t possibly be serious.” Draco muttered in disbelief. “Those two truly aren’t fooling anyone.”

Blaise glanced up from his book, searching for the cause of Malfoy’s offense. The Three Broomsticks was packed, but it wasn’t hard to spot the reason for his friend’s griping. Tucked into a secluded corner of the tavern, you and Theo gravitated towards each other like magnets, leaning into one another, foreheads pressed together, talking and laughing like you were the only people in the world. 

It had been this way ever since Blaise could remember.

As always, Theo wore that stupid love-struck expression on his face as he listened to you talk, chuckling softly as you waved your arms around animatedly. You, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the pining and yearning coming from Nott’s end. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that Theo was clearly in love with you, yet you remained blind to his affections. 

“They’ve made it very clear that they’re just friends,” Blaise replied, repeating the same tired words that you and Theodore declared over and over again over the course of your friendship.

“And you believe them?” 

“Of course not.” Blaise affirmed as he flipped through the pages of his book once more. “But who am I to burst their blissful bubble of ignorance?” 

“They’re clearly in denial,” Draco remarked, watching intently as you picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of Theo’s quidditch sweater. “It’s been seven years of this pathetic teetering between will they or won’t they territory. I can’t stomach another day of it, Blaise. Someone needs to do something.” 

“Whatever half-arsed plan you’ve cooked up in that ferret brain of yours, I want no part in it.” 

Draco tapped his fingers against the wooden table, a familiar smirk curving at his lips. Blaise sighed in exasperation. He knew that look. He hated that look. It usually meant that Malfoy was hatching a scheme that spelled nothing but trouble for Blaise. 

“I’m serious, Draco.” Blaise said in a stern voice.

“So am I,” the blonde replied. “Those two need a push and I’m more than willing to provide it for them.” 

“I already know that I’m going to regret asking, but what exactly are you planning?” 

Draco smirked. Blaise swore to Salazar that there was an evil gleam in his friend’s eyes as he turned over to face him. “I’m going to flirt with Y/N.” 

“Are you mental?” Blaise exclaimed. “Nott will send you to an early grave. Did you see what he did to Pucey for trying to chat Y/N up? Poor bastard had to eat his meals through a straw for weeks.”

“Then I guess it’s your job to prevent that from happening, Zabini.” 

There were a million protests on Blaise’s lips. Everyone knew that Theo was overprotective of his best friend. It was an unspoken rule that you were off-limits and Blaise had seen first hand the consequences that befell anyone that dared to hit on you. It usually ended with someone in the infirmary and that someone was never Theo. 

Draco was well aware of this fact as well, but he seemed to have a death wish. Before Blaise could stop him, Malfoy scooped two glasses of butterbeer from the counter and made his way over to you just as Theo excused himself for a smoke. You looked up just as Draco slipped into the booth, sliding beside you to take up the vacant spot your best friend left. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Dray.” You greeted the blonde with a smile. “I didn’t know you were here, too.” 

“How could you?” He drawled playfully. “Theodore seems content keeping you all to himself.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You could’ve easily just come over to join us.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, darling.” Draco set a mug of ice cold butterbeer down in front of you. “And I brought your favorite.” 

“How sweet of you.” You beamed, totally unaware of his schemes as you clinked your glass against his. “Cheers, Draco.” 

“Cheers, Y/N.” 

The sweetness of the butterbeer lingered on your tongue and the foam rested on your upper lip as you savored the taste. Your tongue peeked out, trying to lick the remnants away. Silver eyes flashed mischievously as he clocked the action, a smirk curling against his lips. 

“Here, let me.” Draco brushed his thumb over your upper lip, wiping away the foam with ease. His fingers were soft and featherlight and nothing like the calloused feel of Theo’s hands. 

Your best friend had a bad habit of burning his fingertips from the countless blunts and cigarettes he smoked. Despite the fact that you offered to heal them with magic, Theo always refused. He said it made him more manly. Though you rolled your eyes at him, you found that you didn’t really mind his scars and calluses. It only made him that much more endearing. Why you were thinking of Theo while another man was touching you, you had no idea. Or perhaps you did and you were just in deep, deep denial about it. 

“Have I lost you, love?” 

With a blink, you found yourself staring back at Malfoy. “Sorry, Draco. What were you saying?” 

“I asked if you were using a new shampoo,” said your friend. He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers, using the ends to tickle your cheek. “Your hair smells divine.” 

You paused, narrowing your eyes at Draco. “What are you doing, Dray?” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re up to something.” 

That much was obvious to you. Years of friendship told you just as much. Draco was currently plotting something. Before you could question him further, a shadow loomed over the both of you. When Theo had left for his smoke break, he was carefree and grinning, but now tension colored your best friend’s features. As he glared down at Draco, Theo clenched his jaw and balled his fists at his side.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Malfoy.” 

“Teddy, he was just helping me with—“ 

“Draco doesn’t need to help you with anything.” Theo’s eyes flashed with anger, the blues and greens of his irises turning stormy as his gaze dropped to the lock of hair tangled through Draco’s fingers. “What he needs is to walk away before I break his fucking jaw.” 

Draco raised his palms up. “I don’t want any trouble, Nott.” 

Despite his statement, you sensed that trouble was exactly what Draco was aiming for. Instead of walking away like he should’ve, Malfoy leaned over and kissed your cheek in parting, which only further incensed Theo. If you hadn’t grabbed hold of the end of his coat, Theo would’ve hurled himself at Draco and punched the cocky smirk off of your friend’s face. 

You tugged at Theo and placed yourself between him and Draco, watching as the blonde returned to the table Blaise was currently sitting at. For good measure, he winked at the two of you as though Theo wasn’t already pissed enough as it was. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Theo’s gaze flickered back to you, his eyes darkening as they met yours. 

“Why the fuck are you letting him touch you like that?” 

The bite in his voice puzzled you. Theo never snapped at you, so you weren’t quite sure how to react. He almost sounded…jealous. Not that Theo had any reason to be. Right?

“What are you on about? Draco was literally just wiping the foam off of my mouth. It’s not a big deal.” 

Downplaying the interaction seemed to rile Theo up even further. “Yes it fucking is,” he gritted out. “He’s flirting with you, Y/N. How can you not see that?” 

The accusation of Draco Malfoy flirting with you was entirely laughable. Though you were accustomed to Theo’s overzealous tendencies, you usually didn’t mind his overprotectiveness since it deterred creepy guys from making advances towards you. But this was Draco, for Godric’s sake. You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. There was no way in hell he was actually trying to make a move on you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Teddy. Malfoy was not flirting with me.” 

“Of course he was! Did you not see the way he looked at you? The bloody git was all over you, playing with your hair, touching your lips. I should his bash his fucking head in for even glancing in your direction.“ 

The rest of Theo’s rant was incoherent, a mixture between English and Italian curses that drew the attention of those around you. With a grimace, you tugged Theo towards the back of the Three Broomsticks. He continued swearing as you led him away, dead eyes filled with fury as you ushered him into the bathroom. 

There was a murderous expression on his face as he spewed threats and curses. You locked the door behind you, sighing as you surveyed the angry boy before you. Knowing Theo, his constant ranting would only fuel the fire of his anger. You needed to calm him down before he made good on his promise to pummel Draco into the ground. 

Unfortunately, Theo had already worked himself up to a fit. A frown was evident on his face, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists, the veins on his forearms protruding as violence threatened to spill over. You said his name a few times, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He was too angry to take notice. 

While dealing with an angry Theo was by no means a new occurrence for you, it seemed harder to pull him out of it this time. You had never seen him this furious. A small part of you was mad at his overreaction, but another part of you was oddly flattered that he cared so much. 

Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but you relished in the fact that such a small action could elicit such a response from him. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve surmised that Theo was acting out of jealousy. His possessive behavior had always given you a strange sort of thrill. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel desired, and that in itself was more dangerous than any drug. 

“Theodore.” 

Theo paced back and forth, contemplating acts of violence against one of his oldest and closest friends.

“Theo.” 

He wondered how much trouble he’d get into for beating Draco into a bloody pulp. Would they suspend him? Theo reckoned it would be worth it. 

“Teddy.” 

The sight of Draco brushing foam off of your lips flashed through his mind again, playing on a torturous loop. Malfoy didn’t get to touch you like that. No one got to touch you like that. At least not without Theo breaking every bone in their hand. 

“Oh for Salazar’s fucking sake.” 

You grabbed the front of Theo’s sweater and dragged him down to your level. There was absolutely no thought process behind your actions besides stopping his rant. With your lips pressed firmly against his, you accomplished just that. Theo froze for a second, his eyes fluttering close as you kissed him. The tension left his body, his anger melting away to give room for a different sort of heat to spread through him. 

The minute his body language changed, you pulled away. Theo looked down at you, his dead eyes burning with searing passion. You felt his gaze piercing right through you. There was danger lurking within him. Like he was the predator and you were the prey. You’ve never seen him look like that before. Theo looked…feral. Theo looked hungry. 

“I’m sorry, Teddy. I was just trying to calm you down—”

You reeled back as Theo cupped your face in his hands and smashed your lips together once more. This time, there was no surprise in the kiss. There was just fervent passion, arduous desire, and mutual destruction between you. Theo didn’t kiss you like he wanted you. He kissed you like he needed you. 

As he pinned you against the wall, Theo gripped your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kisses grew sloppy and desperate, the two of you scrabbling for more. You groaned as his erection brushed against your thigh, leaving him the perfect opening to slide his tongue past the seam of your lips. You were vaguely aware of banging into the pictures on the walls, the sound of them clattering to the ground registering somewhere in the back of your mind. 

The two of you were like a tornado, knocking decor and toiletries around as you continued to sloppily make out. You were sure that you were making enough noise to alert the whole tavern. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Theo bit down on your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he set you down on the counter. One hand gripped your throat while the other slipped underneath your skirt. 

Theo dragged you closer by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grinded his hardness against your throbbing core. 

“Malfoy couldn’t touch you like this, bella.” The low rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. His hold on you was possessive and utterly fucking sexy. Heat rushed between your thighs as his fingers tightened around your throat. “Only I can touch you like this. Do you understand, dolcezza?” 

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “It’s you, Teddy. Only you.” 

Pleased with your response, Theo smirked as he ripped off your tights. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he rubbed his hand against your clothed sex. He palmed you through your panties, swearing when he felt how wet you were for him. 

“You’re fucking mine,” he growled against your ear while he slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. Slender fingers curled inside of you, eliciting a filthy moan that echoed through the walls. “This is all for me.” 

Watercolour eyes seized the breath from your lungs. The declaration hung in the air with finality. There was no room for question or doubt. Theo was merely stating the truth.

You were his. You always have been. 

Theo withdrew his hand, fingers dripping with your arousal. He refused to break eye contact as he stuck them into his mouth, licking each digit clean. 

You whimpered, pulling him in by his belt loop. He moaned as you impatiently tugged his jeans down, palming him through his boxers. He felt big. Bigger than you’ve ever had before. 

But you wanted it. You wanted him. 

“I need you, Theo. Please.” 

“I’m yours, Y/N.” Theo panted into your mouth as you released his cock from the constraints of his boxers. “Always.” 

You swallowed thickly as you looked down at his impressive size. His cock was hard and throbbing in your hands, precum leaking from the tip. Theo was massive. You had no idea how he was going to fit. Still, the challenge thrilled you. 

Spreading your legs open, you bit your lip as Theo positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. He kissed your lips sweetly before pulling back and nuzzling his nose against yours. 

“Deep breaths, baby.” You nodded, inhaling and exhaling as he pushed the tip in. “You’re so tight. Gonna let me stretch you wide open, bella?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as he breached your walls, stretching you just between the line of pain and pleasure. “You’re so big, Theo. I don't—I don't know if it’s going to fit.” 

“We’ll make it fit, Y/N,” he promised, pushing further in and groaning as your walls hugged tightly around him. “Just like that. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” 

Once Theo was fully sheathed inside of you, his movements stilled. He caressed your cheek and pecked your lips. “Can I move, baby?” 

“Yes,” you exhaled. 

“Good girl.” 

You fluttered at his words and Theo cursed as your walls gripped him like a vice. “Fuck, pretty pussy’s squeezing me so tight. You drive me fucking insane, you know that? I get so jealous of anyone who even looks at you.” 

“I like when you get jealous,” you admitted, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” 

Theo flipped you over so that you were facing the mirror. As you gripped the marble countertop, he thrusted sharply inside of you and watched as your face contorted into pleasure. Whispering praises into your ear, Theo picked up the pace. He intertwined your fingers together and placed each palm against the mirror.

“Open your eyes, bella. I want you to watch while I ruin you.” 

Your eyes snapped to your reflection, taking in your flushed cheeks and mussed hair. Behind you, Theo fucked into you with a punishing pace. He groaned as he watched himself slide in and out of you, relishing at the perfect fit. It was like you were made for him. As your moans grew louder, Theo stuffed his fingers down your throat and gagged you. 

“God, fuck.” Theo hissed, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Harder, baby. You can take it. Let me fuck out my frustrations.” 

“You. Belong. To. Me.” 

Theo punctuated every word with a thrust, hitting the sweet spot within your walls with each rut. 

“I’m yours, Teddy.” You said breathlessly. “All yours.” 

He smiled, placing a tender kiss against your neck as his fingers slipped between your legs. Theo rubbed at your clit, urging you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Are you close, principessa? I can feel you squeezing me, milking me dry. Take it all, dolcezza. You’re mine, but I’m yours too.” 

“My hands are yours.” Theo squeezed your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples.

“My lips are yours.” He angled your chin towards him, claiming your mouth with open mouthed kisses.

“My cock is yours.” He drove deeper inside of you, making you arch as you cried out his name. 

Theo swallowed your moans before capturing your lips with his. “My heart is yours, too.” 

“It’s all yours, Y/N.”

Your heart squeezed at his declaration. Nothing had ever sounded more beautiful than Theo pledging every part of himself to you.  

“Oh god. Fuck, Theo. Please. I’m gonna cum.” 

“Cum for me, bella.” 

Stars dotted your vision as the orgasm rocked through your body. Theo kissed your neck, marking his territory, while you squeezed around him. The heat of his touch seared your skin as he held you. If it weren’t for his strong arms wrapped around you, you would’ve collapsed. 

“So fucking perfect,” Theo said between pants. “My beautiful girl.” 

Your name tumbled off of Theo’s lips as he came. It was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Coming from the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. 

The two of you slid down to the floor. Theo wrapped an arm around you, cheeks red and hair disheveled. His pretty eyes fluttered open as he traced over the hickies and bruises he’d left on your body, admiring each mark gently. With his brows scrunched with concern, he brushed a thumb over the bite mark on your shoulder. 

“Was I too rough?” Theo whispered, kissing over the spot. “Did I hurt you, Y/N?”

You smiled at his gentleness, smoothing at the worry lines creasing his forehead. “No, it was perfect. God, you're fucking hot when you're jealous.” 

Theo chuckled, kissing the inside of your wrist. The playfulness in his expression faltered as concern and hesitation bled through. “Did you—I mean, fuck, did you enjoy it? I didn’t—you still want to be my friend, right?” 

“No.” 

Theo felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He’d fucked it up. The one good thing in his life and he’d fucked it up. You brushed your fingers over his cheekbones, tilting his chin so that you were face to face. 

“I want to be so much more than just your friend, Teddy.” The sigh of relief that he released made you grin. You leaned in, giving him a soft peck on the lips. “My heart is yours, too. It’s always been yours.” 

The weight of his smile made your heart ache. “Now that you know how I feel, there’s no need to be jealous anymore.” 

“Are you kidding? I’m going to be even more insufferable now. I need everyone to know that you’re mine.” 

“They already know, Teddy. We were the only ones living in denial.” 

“We made it pretty damn obvious, didn’t we?” 

“You threatened every guy who dared to even look at me.”

“Please,” Theo started, a smile tugging at his lips. “I saw the dirty looks you gave to the girls who tried to flirt with me.” 

You chuckled. “Okay, so maybe we’re both a little…”

“Possessive? Obsessed? Head over heels insane for each other?” 

“All of the above.” You declared, tugging at his hand. “Now come on, Teddy. Before someone figures out what we were really doing in here.” 

“I think they know, love.” Theo teased. “You were pretty loud.” 

“Like you weren’t loud yourself, Nott.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly as he helped you up. Theo straightened your skirt and smoothed your hair down, kissing your temple. He reached for the doorknob with one hand and linked his fingers with yours with the other. 

Fortunately, there weren’t too many people waiting for the loo. You would’ve been embarrassed to walk out together hand in hand, but Theo made sure that every set of prying eyes quickly found something else to look at. With a cheeky grin, he lifted your knuckles to his lips and placed a lingering kiss upon your skin. 

As you walked out into the main hall, a wolf-whistle rang out from one of the tables. Draco raised a toast in your direction while Blaise shook his head. 

“Can’t believe that half-arsed plan of yours actually worked,” Zabini said. 

Theo furrowed his brows. “What plan?” 

“The one where Malfoy flirts with Y/N in an attempt to make you jealous.” 

“I knew you were up to something,” you said with narrowed eyes. “What an idiotic plan.” 

“Is it idiotic if it worked?” 

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “You’re mental, Malfoy. I truly considered tearing you to pieces.” 

“You’re welcome,” Draco said with a smirk. “Clearly that jealousy was put to good use.” 

The blonde winked at you, making Theo’s fingers tighten around yours. “Oh, Teddy’s going to kill you. This time, I have no plans of stopping him.” 

Draco’s silver eyes widened as you released Theo. “Zabini? A little help here?” 

“I’d start running if I were you, Malfoy.” 

Without hesitation, Draco bolted out the door. You snickered as the blonde disappeared down the snowy street, his platinum blonde head bobbing through the crowd. To his credit, Theo gave him a proper head start. 

“I’ll be right back, dolcezza.” 

“Don’t be gone too long, Teddy.” Theo smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. “And try not to hurt Draco too badly, yeah?” 

Despite his pout, Theo nodded as you tugged him down for a proper kiss. He smiled against your lips before peppering kisses on your nose and cheeks.

“Fine, but only because you asked nicely, principessa.” 

You smiled, watching as Theo chased after Draco. Beside you, Blaise grinned. 

“It’s about damn time.” 

With a flush, you rolled your eyes at your friend. “Oh shut it, Zabini.” 

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar@moonflowersandsparkles

[weevil-wallflower]

Touch

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: While away on a mission, Cal couldn't help but yearn for your touch.

Warnings/Tags: No warnings, SFW, no use of Y/N, no pronouns used, can be interpreted as gender-neutral, established relationships, during/post-Jedi: Survivor, no spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: My first entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! It follows the Day 1 prompt 'Touch'. I'm hoping to do one for all seven days but with work and studies, I shall see ;3 Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~600

Separated by the vast expanse of the galaxy, Cal Kestis found himself on a mission in the heart of Coruscant while his thoughts lingered on You, his beloved. Among the hustle-bustle of the city planet, his heart ached for the warmth of your touch.

While the redhead walked through the labyrinth-like streets, his mind constantly drifted to the memories of the tender moments you both had together. He missed the feeling of your hand in his, the soft stroke of your fingers against his cheek—which would be often followed up by your sweet words of admiration for his beard. He longed for your comforting embrace that grounded him in times of uncertainty.

Despite the skepticism of his companions—rebels who accompanied him to the mission, and ones who assumed that thoughts of his beloved would distract him from their mission, Cal discovered that the opposite was true; The memory of your touch only strengthened his motivation and propelling him to succeed in his mission, knowing that with each victory, he got closer to the moment when he could hold You once again.

With each passing moment, Cal’s yearning grew stronger, his desire to hold You in his arms overwhelming. He closed his eyes, willing himself to feel your presence, to imagine the sensation of your touch even from across the galaxy.

In the quiet moments between missions, Cal stole fleeting glances at his holocommunicator, wanting to send You a message but unable to find the time to do so during the stressful missions. The distance between you both often felt overwhelming, but he found comfort in the knowledge that the bond he shared with You transcended physical distance.

During a rare moment of respite, Cal sat alone in the cheap, dingy motel room—his temporary quarters while he stayed in Coruscant. He paid his gloomy environment no mind as his thoughts were occupied with You. With a deep breath, the Jedi activated his holocommunicator, your holographic image appearing before him after a few seconds.

“Cal!” You immediately greeted him with a bright smile. “I wasn’t sure when would be the right time to call you cause I didn’t want to distract you from your mission… So, I’ve been waiting for your call instead…” There was an apologetic look in your eyes. “I’m so happy to hear from you. How are you holding up?”

Hearing your sweet voice provided some relief from his stressful mission, like a soothing melody among the chaos, bringing a sense of peace to his tired soul. “My love…” he began, his voice full of longing. “I miss you. I miss your touch.”

In response, your expression softened and your eyes filled with understanding. “I miss you too, Cal,” You replied, your voice gentle and reassuring. “But remember, no matter where you are, my love for you remains unchanged. We’ll be together again very soon. I can’t wait to have you back in my arms, and I’ll make sure to cook all your favourite meals when you’re back. I know you barely feed yourself while you’re out on missions.”

Cal chuckled softly at your playful jab about his poor eating habits. “You know me too well, my love,” he said fondly. “I’m already counting down the days until I can enjoy your cooking again— among other things, of course.”

As you both spoke through the night, your words provided him with the warmth he desperately needed, soothing his restless heart. And in that moment, despite the distance between them, Cal found solace in the knowledge that the love you both shared was unwavering and your bond unbreakable, even in the absence of physical touch.

[dizzyedgc]

[ dev patel, man, he/him ] — whoa! GIDEON CHOWDHURY just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS, working as a LIBRARIAN & WRITER. that can’t be easy, especially at only THIRTY-THREE. some people say they can be a little bit INSECURE and TIMID, but i know them to be INTELLIGENT and DEVOTED. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (freddie, twenty-four, aest, they/them)

content warning - death of a parent, mental health issues.

BASIC INFO —

full name: gideon chatur chowdhury nickname/s: gid preferred name: gideon ( is happy / comfortable with anything though, really ) age: thirty-three birthday: may 14th zodiac: taurus gender: man pronouns: he/him occupation: librarian & writer sexuality: bisexual relationship status: single ( + open for ships )

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE —

faceclaim: dev patel hair colour: dark brown hair length / style: slightly grown out, curly, often slightly messy eye colour: brown height: 6'1" tattoos: none currently peircings: none currently scars: none noteworthy

PESONALITY -

positive traits: intelligent, devoted, considerate, imaginative, creative, clever, loving, selfless, aware, humorous, helpful, friendly, courteous, resourceful, entertaining negative traits: insecure, timid, weak, defeated, defensive, scared, submissive, anxious, avoidant likes: writing ( when inspiration hits ), the smell of books, warm weather with a cool breeze, kisses on cheeks and foreheads, books, music ( specifically orchestral music ), natural light, beautiful architecture, home cooked meals dislikes: film adaptations of books that are vastly different from the original source material ( "why didn't they just create their own story inspired by the book? with this many differences it's not like they'd get in trouble for plagiarising..." ), writers block, uncomfortable silences, spilled drinks, licorice hobbies: cooking, tending to his tiny indoor herb garden, writing ( if only inspiration could ever hit ), reading, watching films, listening to music, playing any instrument he can get his hands on, going for walks bad habits: not getting enough sleep, smoking, biting fingernails, procrastinating, stretching himself too thin, doubting himself

BACKGROUND —

gideon was born to starving artists; his mother was a musician, and his father was a writer.

his parents worked hard to provide a good life for their family, though at the same time, they never forgot to chase their dreams and put happiness above wealth.

they moved to new york when gideon was six years old, and there gideon found himself living a perfect life.

above everything else that kept gideon busy, he cherished his time playing music with his mother, and coming up with ideas for his father’s latest books.

unfortunately, gideon’s perfect life was cut short at the age of thirteen, when his father passed in a sudden and unprecedented accident.

to say that gideon was lost is an understatement; he experienced his first terrible bout of mental health issues, and the despair felt endless.

it didn’t last forever, no matter how bleak life felt at times; his mother was of particular help to him, as was reading through his father’s work - the ideas they had come up together, but that his father had never been able to realise into a completed novel.

life carried on, and gideon kept his father in his life by becoming fixated on his work. as a young adult, gideon began to dabble in completing his father’s work, and thus, gideon’s writing career began.

over the course of some years, gideon had three novels - a fiction trilogy - published ( sure to credit his father for his contribution ) and met with success, he felt as though he had never been happier.

like before, though, the happiness didn’t last. without his father’s books to complete, gideon found himself losing purpose - no matter how many great things he still had in his life - and his mental health issues returned.

he thought the solution was to keep on writing, but no matter how hard he tried, no inspiration hit enough for him to complete any other work.

gideon tried for a very long time - he still does try, in fact - but he lost his spark, and submitted to a job at the library instead, something he felt would make him feel closer to his father again.

WANTED CONNECTIONS —

best friend - this is a ride or die connection, they could have been friends as young as six, when gideon moved to new york, and they’re thick as thieves. they’ve been there for gideon through everything ( and there’s been a lot ) and vice versa ! any gender, similar age preferred.

childhood friends - they became friends as kids here in new york, and no matter how much they developed and changed and grown, they’ve stayed friends because of that. i think it’d be real funny if they were super opposite people, and if people had no idea why they’re even friends. any gender, similar age required.

regulars at the library - people who trust his opinions on what books they should check out, people who talk with him for far longer than they should while he’s working about books - or other stuff ! -, people who get their fees for overdue returns disappearing because they’re such nice people to gideon.

ex love interests - gideon was in a serious relationship for the past few years, but before that he also had a few other partners. he’s not the most experienced because he’s quite reserved with his love, but he’s a very good partner when his insecurities and mental health issues aren’t preventing him from being one. any gender !

book club - i’m not sure if this is an already established thing in this group yet or not, but gideon is definitely part of a book club. he wouldn’t have started it, but he would have joined it years ago and committed to it as anything literary related makes him feel closer to his father. he never misses a meet !

musician friends - while he might seem more literature focused due to his career, gideon is an extremely good musician, and i’d love for him to connect to others here in new york. he only typically plays for fun, jamming by himself or with these friends, but i could also see him jumping in on tracks or performances as a session musician when needed / when a friend asks !

gideon is also open to so much more, i'm happy to brainstorm or listen to any / all of your ideas !

[astaroth1357]

A Lazy Day with MC and the Brothers

I was just chilling one day and thought about how a lazy day in with our boys might be like… I like hijinks, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes we ought to slow down too, you know?

Check my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Slight NSFW-ish? I dunno how to tag innuendo...

Lucifer

First off, hats off for managing to convince the guy to just do nothing for any length of time. That’s some seriously impressive persuasive powers, MC, you sure you don’t know how to charm?

Lazy Lucifer=Sleepy Lucifer. He spends so many nights up late getting work done then follows it up by getting up early in order to wrangling his brothers. It's honestly like it all catches up with him... He’s sleeping in and he’s sleeping in HARD.

Might text one of his brothers to bring them in a late breakfast at some point (never mind the fact it’s practically dinner). Beel would be the one most likely to agree to it, but he also may just eat whatever he picked up on the way there so hopefully someone else is feeling charitable… Try Asmo.

Honestly, his entire goal is to not leave the bedroom at all. If he leaves, then he runs the risk of people seeing him… wait for it... relaxing. Oh, just imagine the scandal!!

Some classical music, a bit of conversation, and maybe a good book in bed would all sound like heaven to him. They may have to get up to make some tea to go along with it, just remind him that drinking coffee on your recharge days can have the opposite effect. The taste of coffee could always just end up reminding him of work anyway…

The evening can go one of two ways. Calm and peaceful or "stress relieving." If they chose the stress relieving option, best be prepared because he'll have a whole night's worth of stress to let out and he's going to need some help… 😏

Mammon

He’s going to want to be close to the MC the whole time, they can hold onto him or him onto them, whatever works. It doesn’t matter as long as there’s still some kind of contact happening.

A whole day with just him and the MC? And they don’t even have to be doing anything? Where can he sign up??

Cue a lot of doing nothing in particular with Mammon tangled up on them in some way: hugging their waist while he checks his phone, resting their legs on his lap during a gaming session, wrapping himself around them while they just have casual conversation. That kind of thing.

When they eventually get hungry then he might pop down to the kitchen and make them some instant noodles (I wouldn’t trust much else he tries to make since… well we know he kind of just adds whatever’s around to his food).

He might start getting a little restless part of the way through the day though, so they’re going to have to do something to get that energy out… 🤔

Use your imagination, I know this fandom can.

Leviathan

The reigning Prince of Lazy Days. Everything about Levi screams “goof off/game night buddy” (at least if the MC is a fellow otaku anyway).

He probably didn’t sleep the night before because he was playing/watching something so the morning will go down one of two ways: 1) He just pulls an all-nighter and begins to progressively lose his mind as the day goes on, or 2) He’s dead to the world until 2pm. Only one of those options is entertaining so you know what I'm going with.

Things will go pretty smoothly through the morning. They don’t have to go anywhere because his room has plenty of snacks so they can just chill out and watch anime or play video games.

Buuut stuff will get more dicey as the afternoon rolls around and his sleep deprivation sets in. He’ll start losing a lot of his filter and may ramble for even longer than normal with even less coherency. He’ll also get more um… "bold" than usual.

Or he may just want to cuddle with them while he babbles on about how much he loves them and how warm they are and how much they remind him of Henry, which reminds him have they seen the latest season of “My Life with Seven Demon Brothers Who All Love Me!” yet because the main character there also reminds him of them and-

He’ll pass out eventually, probably latched onto them somehow with his tail around them tenderly. Don’t bring it up to him in the morning because he will unsuccessfully try to deny it ever happened.

Satan

Not opposed to the occasional lazy day. It actually does good for his nerves since holding in all that pent-up anger can feel like stuffing an elephant into a tea kettle sometimes...

They’re going to want to get him out of his bedroom or the library if they don’t want to fight for his attention against whatever new book he’s eating through today. When the man gets engrossed then it’s like nothing else matters, the House could split in two and he'll only notice if he suddenly can’t reach his drink anymore...

May actually be advantageous to go outside with him, take a nice stroll around the House while having some interesting conversation. They could poke his brain about anything that suits their fancy while they’re out amongst the trees and nature.

If they don’t want to go outside and rather take their chances with the book then okay but the engrossment problem still applies. He may even forget to eat...

Best way to combat his lack of attention is to be a little brat that’s juuust cute enough not to piss him off. It’s a delicate balance. That means getting real close to him, like sitting on his legs, and just occasionally reminding him of their presence with longing looks while tapping, flicking, or messing with the book from time to time (yes, kind of like an attention-seeking cat).

Play it just right and they’ll get attention on them alright, but he may also be looking to punish his “needy kitty." Hope that’s what they’re aiming for... 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Really? They want to do nothing? Nothing at all? Are they sure they don’t want to do him instead...? 😏

A relaxing day with Asmo is more or less like a day spent wrapped up in mutual worship and adoration. The guy wants all of their attention and love but he’ll return it and then some. As long as they treat him like the love of their lives it will honestly be like having their own day spa day in Heaven.

If the MC wants to relax, then he’s just the sort to know how to provide for them both. The only question is how do they want it?

The man can give them a full treatment, I mean, just look at his bathroom alone! A good soak in a hot bath, facial masks, back massages, mani-pedis, just say the word MC and he’s more than willing to bestow whatever their little heart desires. That’s his job, isn’t it?

Asmo may be a party boy, but if it’s a little TLC you need, emphasis on the T, then look no farther MC. He’s the guru.

On the flipside if they’re looking for a little release well… who better to ask than Asmo right? He’ll make sure they’ll never want to leave that bed again. 🤭

Beelzebub

As long as snacks are still involved then he’s all in, babe. He’ll do nothing with them all day as long as they keep him fed.

Two words. Couples. Cooking. They can’t skip a meal with Beel so if they’re going to spend lazy time with the dude then they better be planning on being a tag along to the kitchen.

It doesn’t have to be a super strict though, it’s not like they’re not cooking with Barbatos or anything, so they can goof off and make a bit of a mess together. Chances are Beel will eat the ingredients to whatever they’re making anyway so... 😅

A lot of lingering touches and just being close to each other as they go. He might want to hold their waist while they stir or they end up feeding each other in cutesy ways... Really it’s a ridiculously wholesome time.

At one point a food fight may break out and they'll cover themselves in flour, tomato sauce, or some other kind of messy food substance...

Careful, MC. Whatever they get covered in will likely only make them look more delicious to him and he might want to "clean them off".... They'll need to take that out of the kitchen, though, like what if someone needs a snack??

Belphegor

The reigning King of Lazy Days. Take notes, MC, for you are watching the Master at work...

Sleeping in and cuddling is a must. He will not let them leave the bed all morning for anything less than a Category Four Emergency (i.e. “I’m going to starve to death” or “I really gotta go piss”). He will pin them under his sleeping body if he has to!

Once they’ve thoroughly missed breakfast and half past noon rolls around he might call in takeout from Hell’s Kitchen for them to eat in the attic room. Expect some cheeky conversation, probably jokes at the expense of his brothers. Cuddling is still absolutely happening, of course, they cannot shake him off.

May borrow an anime from Levi to watch while they snuggle on the couch. He has all the best blankets in the House so they will be neither cold nor uncomfortable throughout.

His hands get a little grabby during these kinds of cuddle sessions, especially during tense moments in the show because he likes to give them a little jolt to make them yelp, the jerk... 😖

If he manages to not drift off during the show (flip a coin on that chance) the night will end in the planetarium, backs on a pile of blankets while they draw pictures in the stars… All hail the King. 😏

[keiwritesstuff]

Hopeless

Ishikawa Yuki AU

Summary : When the pieces started to fall together, she knew she had no choice but to let him go.

Genre :  slice of life, angst

Notes :  long.  Self-indulgent. 3rd person POV. Not sure if I got the characterization  right. I wrote this all in one night. Not proofread, so there might be  misspelled words and grammatical errors. Based on a prompt. Best read on pc/laptop/browser (if you’re on your phone), since the layout changes when it’s read/opened on the phone tumblr app.

When did she start noticing it?

Was is sometime after their relationship reached the eighth month?

Or was it when he started showing strange signs or started doing things that were very much unlikely for him to do?

                                                         +++

Even before they started dating, when they were just friends, Yuki had always listened. Whether she’s venting, or just simply talking about how her day was; he would always, always listen.

And so, when she caught him staring into space that day, just as she was   talking about her thoughts on one of the matches she recently watched, she felt a little odd.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He shook his head lightly. “I’m just a little bit exhausted. I stayed up watching the team’s past matches. For reference.”

She chuckled. That sounds just like him. Always finding opportunities to   improve. He never thought of anything or anyone lightly. He always believes that there is always something new to learn from everyone regardless of age and experience.

She gave him a little smile and brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek. “You’ll do well. Your teammates got your back. You know that, right?”

He nodded.

And she brushed off the odd feeling. Yuki was just being…. Yuki.

_________________________________________________________

On  their date the following week, Yuki suggested that they go to their usual place for dinner; a restaurant with tatami rooms for private dining, surrounded by luxurious green landscaping to cater to the demands of the many wealthy patrons who frequent the restaurant. She’s not used to at all, since she grew up in an ordinary, middle-class family, but the food is heavenly, and the restaurant provides a safe space for the both of them to spend some time together.

Yuki was reading the menu, seeming unsure of what he would have that evening.  He was probably being cautious of his diet, she thought.

“I think I’ll have the usual.” she spoke first while Yuki was still scanning the menu. It’s the same food that she always had every time they went to the restaurant. Yuki was the one who suggested it when he first brought her to this restaurant, and she was teased a lot by him for not wanting to try anything else other than that particular menu, to the extent where he no longer needed to ask her what she would have whenever they go to this place for a meal.

She stifled a laughter when she remembered how Yuki used to tease her all   the time about it, how he used to attempt to steal her food and cutely asked her to finish the tomatoes in his plate, and how they often argued about the secret ingredients in the menu. This restaurant held all those memories.

She was happily smiling at the thought, until Yuki asked,

“Hold on… which one is it again?”

_________________________________________________________

Two weeks.

They didn’t see each other for two weeks after that last date. Yuki had a busy schedule, filled with practice, meetings, interviews and photoshoots. It wasn’t the first time they couldn’t see each other for a long period of time.

But it was the first time that Yuki couldn’t respond to a lot of her calls.

She was probably calling at the wrong time. His schedule usually ends at 10 p.m, but he must’ve had extended meetings with his manager after that. Or he just wanted to rest. After all, not all of her calls were left unanswered. He did answer some of it. And as she suspected, he was just exhausted. Of course he was. After all, he was the team’s ace.

She understood her position. She understood his as well. This is as normal as their relationship would allow. Who he is… does not allow them to  have what other couples have. They could not have that stroll at a park under the cherry blossom trees. They could not have those cheesy movie dates. They could not even go to the beach to watch the sun set, since there is a high risk of fans and paparazzi finding him.

Regardless, she was content. She loves him, and she would go above and beyond to  make sure his career is not jeopardized by their relationship in any   way, even if it means that she could not eat sundaes on broad daylight with Yuki.

                                                           +++

[Hey, how was your day? How was practice?]

She texted him.

[It was good.]

Came his reply.

[Did you have fun? Is Takahashi still messing with you since that day you accidentally ate his bread? Haha]

He responded,

[No, not really.]

Strange. It wasn’t like him to give that kind of replies. He usually would talk a  lot, even in his texts. He would vent about how his teammates kept teasing him for being so popular, or how much he wanted to eat greasy, deep-fried food.

This time, it was really strange.

[Hey.. are you alright?]

She hit ‘send’.

Two minutes later, a reply came.

[Yeah. Just dead tired. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m going to bed. Good night.]

_________________________________________________________

This went on for a week more. The short replies, the unanswered calls, the brief conversations. To say that she was not upset was clearly a lie, since things weren’t like that before. And it’s not like he didn’t respond to her calls and texts AT ALL. He did. It’s just that.. it has become somehow different.

Or was she the one who became strange? Has she become… clingy? Could it just be her mind playing tricks on her? Or perhaps… this is what to be expected when one is dating a famous athlete?

Then again, beggars can’t be choosers.

She should be more understanding of his job. She should be supportive. There are things that she herself has not understood yet about how the industry works and she’s sure that Yuki already has a lot on his plate. He isn’t just an athlete. He is an ambassador, a representative, and to an extent, an idol to many.

She shouldn’t ask too much of him.

_________________________________________________________

It  was on one Friday morning where she had to call in sick after waking up in  shock, immediately running to the toilet and vomiting. She knew right away that she caught a high fever.

Has she not been taking care of her health lately? Was she stressed at work?

Overthinking?

Regardless,  with shaking hands, and with the little consciousness she had left, she left a voice message for a close friend. She had promised him that she’d join him in a co-op expedition on Monster Hunter later that night.

“Hey, Yuji.. I can’t join you tonight.. high fever.. Need to rest. Sorry.. I’ll join you some other time, okay?”

With that, she hung up, mustered as much strength as she could, pulled up the covers and fell into an uneasy sleep.

                                                         +++

She was awoken by the sound of plates being handled. Her eyes shot open.

Burglar?

Terrified,  she turned around slowly, only to breathe out a sigh of relief when she  saw the person in her house. She had forgotten that she gave him the  spare keys to her house.

“Gosh..Yuki.. You scared me..”

“Oh, hey, you’re awake.” he replied, arranging something on the kitchen counter.

“W..what  time is it? How long have I been sleeping?” her hand roamed around for  her phone. She found it and checked the time. To her surprise, she was  out cold for a good seven hours and it’s already 3 in the evening. She  groaned. Her whole body still felt heavy, but that sleep was very much  needed.

“Are you alright?”

Yuki came to her and sat next to her on the bed.

On his lap, was a bowl of soup.

She stared at the bowl, and then.. at her boyfriend.

“Did you come here and….cook?”

“Yes..?  And.. I know you’re sick and all, but how come I only found out about it from Nishida? Why didn’t you call me?” he asked out of sheer curiosity while helping her to sit up straight. She remembered the phone call this morning.  “Oh.. I told him I couldn’t join our gaming session tonight.. he needed help taking down a boss. I didn’t have much strength to call anyone after that.”

“Taking down a boss..? Is it that important? You guys are ridiculous.” he teased.

She let out a weak chuckle. “Hey, Shara Ishvalda is not ridiculous. What’s ridiculous is you, suddenly showing up in my place after God knows how long we haven’t properly talked to each other.”

She meant is as a joke, but despite the fever flowing painfully in her veins and biting painfully at her joints, she could still notice the change in his expression. Oops. Did she say something wrong?

“I understand you’re busy. I shouldn’t ask too much of you.” she added, but  Yuki was silent. The expression on his face was unreadable.

Was  he upset?  What exactly happened to him lately? Is he exhausted?   Stressed? What is he hiding from her? Was something bothering him? Was it work?

Was it guilt?

Her thoughts were cut off when Yuki handed her a spoon. “I hope it tastes okay.” he spoke.

“Well... unfortunately, my tongue is currently deprived of its senses… and therefore, I deem your soup…”

She took a sip and imitated Gordon Ramsey’s face expression as best as she could,  “…mediocre in terms of its taste.”

Her attempt to lighten up the mood worked.

Yuki was laughing softly.

Ah, there he was. Her Yuki.

The person who had made her heart pound like a  drum, the man who  often put others before him, the man who made her realize just how much she could love someone. She hasn’t seen that smile for such a long time. She missed that smile.

She missed him.

All  she could do was stare at the man in front of her. With trembling fingers, she touched his cheek. “I missed this, Yuki. I missed you.” she said meekly. He took her hand in his own, but was silent for some time before saying,

“I’m here.”

“I know you’re busy. I know people expect a lot from you. I know you tend to carry the burden all on your own. I respect that. But-- I also  want you to know that if you need any help, all of us are here for you. Me, your teammates, your family.. I want you to always remember that  you---”

Yuki’s phone on the night stand vibrated, signalling an incoming call.

Yuki immediately answered the phone call and walked towards the kitchen, where she couldn’t hear him.

It  was a short phone call. After it ended, Yuki went back to sit next to her on the bed. But this time, she could no longer form any words.

As  much as she was surprised that she was interrupted mid-conversation,   she couldn’t stop the chills that ran down her spine. Immediately, that feverish burn in her veins was replaced by something much, much more agonizing, and she could feel blood rushing to her head, trying to make sense of what she had seen.

She saw the caller ID, and she knew who it was.

She knew that name. She noticed that Yuki probably didn’t realize that she had already seen it, considering how he was trying to act normal after that phone call, but somehow… just somehow…

Everything started to fall into place. Everything started to make sense.

_________________________________________________________

Of  all Yuki’s friends and teammates, only a few had personally known her.  She had grown close to Yuji after she and Yuki started dating (especially when he found out both of them loved games), and Takahashi texts her every now and then, spilling tea about the things her boyfriend do during training, and sometimes sent her pictures of young Yuki because he absolutely loved it when she teased Yuki about it.

Masa, though, is the only one who knew her way before she met Yuki. In fact, he was the reason they met in the first place. She and Masa coincidentally shared the same social circle, and their passion and interest in volleyball and manga made them friends.

When  Masa heard her voice over the phone in all seriousness, he knew   something had definitely happened. She was not the type who talks about what happens in her relationship to others. She had always tried to resolve any conflicts on her own first. It was her way of protecting herself and Yuki.

When she had finished talking, he became silent, mainly due to shock and disbelief. Several things were running through his mind. What was Yuki doing? Has that boy lost his mind?

“Or maybe I’m the one overthinking? I’m not sure what to think of anymore, Masa.” she spoke. She wanted to believe that she was indeed overthinking. That she saw wrong. That everything happened was either just a coincidence or just Yuki feeling exhausted because of work. She wanted to believe in Yuki.

But it was hard. It was hard when the pieces just somehow…fit together.

“Hey,  I’ll try and talk to him somehow and find out what’s going on. You should try to calm down and save your worries for later, okay?” he assured her.

They  had been friends for a long time. She knew she could count on him.   Plus, Yuki had always looked up to Masa. If there is anyone in the team who could get Yuki to talk about his feelings and thoughts in all honesty, it would definitely be Masa. She trusts him.

She trusts his judgment.

She wished she didn’t.

Because four days later, she received a phone call from Masa, confirming all her worst fears.

_________________________________________________________ 

Other than the restaurant, they have another secret spot where they could meet without the prying eyes of others.

It  was at a small, empty playground on the hills. During daytime, the place would be crowded with children and the elderly who found the place suitable for walks and light jogs. At night, the playground is completely silent due to its not-so-close distance from the nearest neighborhood, and because of it’s location on the hills, the playground is a lot colder and eerier at night.

It was ideal enough for Yuki and her. They would sit on the swings and talk about many things while looking at the view from the hills. On colder nights, they would stay in his car, eating snacks and enjoy each other’s company. She was happy enough to have him next to her, healthy and smiling. She couldn’t ask for more.

This  time, however, when she looked at him as he got out of his car and   walked towards her, she knew that she will no longer be able to even ask  for anything more.

“Hey,” she started.

“Hey,” he replied the same.

No hugs. No kisses.

It had really dawned on her that everything was ending right there and then.

Where do they start?

Where do things start to end?

Can it end quickly?

It’s starting to feel really, really painful.

She looked at him. Stared at him. His eyes, that see the best in everyone.  His nose, that he loves to scrunch. His lips.. that had showered her with soft kisses. His hands... that had given her warmth for so many times.

How did things turn out this way?

But  she knew she had to do it. It had to be done. What’s the use of a having a relationship if only one of them is committed to it?

“You know I’m breaking up with you, right?”

The words unexpectedly came out smoothly. She didn’t know she could be so… composed.

Inside, however, she felt as if every inch of her was slashed with a knife.

It seemed that he had already anticipated it. She could read the expression he wore on his face.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked.

He paused for some time. And lightly nodded.

She  stared at the view. The city used to look so vibrant from where they were. Now, it just looks like random lights piling on top of each other.

It’s making her dizzy.

She turned around to face the other way.

Calm down. Calm down.

“I figured it out early on.” she added.

She heard Yuki taking a deep breath. He didn’t look at her.

Guilt.

He was about to say her name, but she was quick to stop him. “No. Don’t. Don’t apologize. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t..need to hear it. I already know you’re sorry, Yuki.”

Don’t call my name. This is already hard . If you call my name, I’m not sure if I would be able to let you go.

“Instead  of saying you’re sorry… I just hope that you would treat her better.   Treat her nicely. Appreciate her. Respect her. Make things work, no matter what happens.”

Yuki stayed silent, and she continued,

“I realized that it is no use holding on to you, on this relationship, when it’s obvious that your heart is clearly with someone else.”

Breathe. It is for the best. Breathe.

“And  so, Ishikawa Yuki… I release you from this bond.” she spoke. Her lips formed a little smile, attempting to diffuse the heavy tension in the air. Yuki could only stare at her, wondering how could she stay cheerful despite  knowing what he had done. He was amazed at how calm and level-headed she  was at that moment despite the obvious pain in her voice.

“So..  you should go now. Tell her that we broke it off. Assure her, and yourself, that we ended things on good terms. And move on, Yuki. I will move on as well.”  she spoke again, giving him a light push on the shoulder.

Go. Please, just go.

“I… I can’t just leave you here.” he finally spoke.

“I won’t be here all night, silly. My car is right there, and  I have work tomorrow.” she chuckled.

Breathe. Breathe. Just… breathe.

Their eyes met for the last time, and with a strain in his voice, Yuki finally said, “Thank you. For everything.”

She forced a smile.

It  felt like an eternity. When will this end?

She smiled, almost bitterly.  “Go.” she insisted.

And he did. She watched his back as he walked away. She watched him as he got into his car. And she waved her hand lightly as he drove off.

Breathe.

However,  as soon as his car was out of sight, her knees buckled, and she knelt on the the ground. Biting her hand, she tried to stifle her cry as much as she could as she could no longer stop the tears streaming down her face.

It hurts. It hurts!

Help me. Anyone. Please. It hurts..

Please stop this pain.

How did things turn out this way? What did she do wrong? What exactly went wrong? What could’ve she done better?

Did she not love him enough?

Why couldn’t he give her his heart?

What did she do wrong?

What did she do wrong?

What did she---

“Hey.” a voice came from behind her and she looked up in shock.

“M…Masa?”

Masa read her tear-stained face as he knelt next to her. “He told me this   afternoon that he was meeting you here tonight. I told him to come clean about the whole thing.” he spoke as he took out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

“God, you’re a mess.”

“S…shut  up and let me grieve.” she managed to retort in between sobs. The tears haven’t stopped. How could they when she had held them back for so  long?

“Alright, alright.” Masa calmly spoke and sat next to her on the ground. She looked at him as if he was insane.

“C..Can’t a girl cry alone?” she stifled another cry.

“In  this place? Gosh, no. What if a couple comes here to have a good time and suddenly saw a girl crying on the ground? Good Lord, you’re going to scare the living daylights out of some poor souls. Have mercy on them, will you?”

She knew he didn’t mean it. She knew he meant well, judging from the hand on her shoulder that hasn’t left since he sat down.

She  clicked her tongue as a joke. Words have seemed to fail her by now. She  wasn’t sure what to do next. The love of her life has left her. What  will she do now? How will she move on? Can she move on to begin with?

The thought alone scared her, and she found herself sobbing uncontrollably again.

“I..loved him, Masa.. but.. it wasn’t enough…”

She  felt him pull her closer and she felt his hand gently guiding her head to lean on his shoulder. “Here, I’ll lend you my shoulder. The first 30 minutes is   free. After that, you will be charged 500 yen per minute.”

She chuckled a little, but said nothing further. She let herself cry as much as she wanted to on his shoulder, the handkerchief was no longer of use at that point. His jacket was stained by her tears, but he made no noticeable expression of discomfort. He had been such a great friend despite his mean jokes, and she appreciated his presence next to her. She wasn’t sure what she could’ve done if Masa wasn’t there. Probably something really, really stupid and reckless.

                                                   +++

She woke up the next morning in a mess. She felt horrible, her eyes were still swollen, and her head felt unbelievably heavy.

Nevertheless, she woke up.

Just then, she received text messages. They’re from Nishida and Takahashi.

[Good  morning! I heard from Masa-san that you and Yuki-san broke up. No   worries! Let’s take down another boss tonight! I’ll let you curse as   much as you want!]

[Mornin’! Hey, look at this silly photo of Nishida.]

She  looked at the photo Takahashi sent. Yuji was getting hit by a ball while he was tying his shoelace. It was a bit blurry, but Yuji’s expression was definitely silly. She chuckled.

It turned out that Masa really didn’t waste any time to spread the news. Well, it’s better if  everyone knew. It would save her from many awkward moments in the future.

And then came another text. This time, it’s from Masa.

[Oi, good morning. How are you feeling?]

She chuckled. She felt a slight warmth from the text messages.

[I feel like shit]

[Of  course you do. I would be surprised if you suddenly said you’re fine, especially after what you put my jacket through last night. I found dried snot on it this morning.]

She unexpectedly laughed out loud.

[I’ll buy you another one. Sheesh.]

She managed to smile a little more.

She still wasn’t so sure how she was going to move on, but she will take the first step.

And she got up.

[lihikainanea]

I never watched anything with this man (yet), I can't write anything for or with him and since I enjoy your writing...maybe you will work on a fluff and smut imagine or something with my idea...

Bill going with Tiger at a maybe not exactly Scandinavian hotel but some comfy vintage villa . At first everything it's all fluffy and they enjoy their time together knowing that soon he will have to leave for new scenes / work so after they enjoy their meal (preferably) alone something sparks in Bill's eyes and things get intense on or around the table...

okay first off, YOU'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING WITH BILL? Low key, I kind of think that's awesome. Admittedly I've seen a small selection of Bill's works because I just can't handle blood and horror, and also some movies are just meh not really my thing. I do love his face though, which is why I'm still here, and I appreciate that other people perhaps love his face too.

And second of all--Ohhhh my god, how I love this aesthetic so much. Listen, I could literally talk forever about Bill and tiger in some secluded cabin somewhere--north Finland? perfect. Somewhere in the middle of Norway? Fantastic. Way on the tip of northern Sweden? Even better. I am all about that cabin life and ESPECIALLY all about that Scandinavian cabin life because god, you'v never seen something so pretty in your life. And the photo above is just...oof, it's beautiful babes.

I like this idea that tiger insists on some break time for Bill after each shoot. It's not always possible but tiger is pretty adamant about it--just a week or two--if Bill has some back to back projects lined up. And she's adamant because not only does she miss her Big Dude, but she also knows Bill's workaholic side and knows that he NEEDS the break between shoots and between characters, but that he would never insist upon it himself. So instead, tiger imposes a little. Hits all of the right buttons--tells him that she misses him, that she wants to spend some time with him. It turns Bill to mush and it's a win all around--tiger gets her time in with her Good Dude, and Bill gets a week or two vacation that he wouldn't have taken otherwise.

Sometimes he just wants to be home, after having been gone so long. But sometimes tiger wants a change of scenery, so they book something--and they have criteria, you know? It has to have a full kitchen, because they love to cook. The more secluded it is, the better. A big bathtub is preferable. A sauna is a bonus. Really, all they want is a ton of privacy and a fully equipped kitchen to work some magic in--oh, and a king-size bed, because Bill physically can't fit into anything smaller--even though he tries.

And I'll bet there's this whole other atmosphere to it when they do this, right, because it has been so long since they were together but they also know that their time is limited. Everything just seems so much more sacred, more intimate--and definitely more supercharged.

Even in regular circumstances, tiger turns into a ball of mush when she's getting a lot of affection from her Good Dude, a lot of good food, and a lot of relaxing evenings spent in the bubble bath with him. And simultaneously, Bill gets all hopped up on those protective vibes when he's able to provide those things for her, and see her reaction to it--but add in the element of borrowed time, the element of knowing that this will end sooner than they want, and it lends a whole lot of electric energy to the air around them.

And like, picture it, right? They've been cooking all day. It's a seven course meal that they made from scratch for themselves. Tiger has been mixing her famously strong drinks--some real good drinks--since the early afternoon. Everything smells incredible, and as tiger is putting the finishing touches on some dishes Bill is getting the table ready in inherently beautiful Scandinavian fashion. He lights the fire place. He pours the wine. He lights the candles. He puts a blanket on the chairs. Before dinner is served, they think a quick dip in the cold lake followed by a stint in the sauna is the perfect way to freshen up and relax a little.

They go back inside and start dishing up the food--just piling it into big bowls, setting out a few different plates. Bill is in a fluffy bathrobe, tiger is in one too but with his shirt under it, and big fluffy socks on her feet. Some soft jazz plays through the speakers as the candles flicker, and they set down to eat.

And it's so cozy, you know? It's so intimate. Even though there's no reason for it, both of them speak in a tone that's barely above a whisper.

But like, look--here's the thing. Like I mentioned above, tiger gets all small and all feeling good over good food, good wine and the company of her Good Dude any day. But in this little cabin, out in the woods? In the seclusion of it all? Knowing that he'll be gone again in a few days? Tiger is not only feeling good, but she's feeling needy. And Bill is noticing. Because seeing her there, with her feet on his lap, enjoying her food, seeing her all bundled up in his t-shirt, seeing that slight hint of demure take over her gaze, the small hunch of her shoulders? Oof, it starts to get Bill going. And all of a sudden this cozy, relaxing dinner alone in the middle of nowhere is taking on a new tone, the air is shifting, and both of them can feel it. Bill can see it on her, how small she's getting for him, and tiger can see everything she needs in the set of his jaw, the sudden square of his shoulders.

Tiger is having a hard time focusing. Bill suddenly has a knot in his stomach that jolts all the way to his balls and he's standing at attention--something that tiger notices. Her breath picks up just a little, her eyes getting wide, and that's something that Bill notices. And suddenly these two are locked in a stare down, each of them turned on beyond belief for no reason, and both about to pounce.

"Finish your dinner," Bill orders, "You didn't eat much today."

"But--"

His look from beneath his brows cuts her rebuttal off, but she can't help the small whine of despair from escaping and god it goes right to his groin. She takes a few more bites, tries to reel in her breathing, but even Bill has that vein popping from his forehead and she knows that even her Big Dude is having a hard time reeling it in.

"Dessert?" she finally offers meekly, after putting her fork down. Bill pats his mouth daintily with his napkin, setting it on the table before rising.

"Yes please," he says, "If you're offering."

And then in a flash, two big hands are on her waist and she's lifted in the air. Her ass is plunked down hard on the table, a hand on her shoulder shoving her down and then spreading her knees.

"But I made--"

Two fingers are promptly shoved in her mouth to quiet her, as his wet tongue swipes up between her folds. There's not a single protest she can utter as she moans, his own groan even louder as he licks at her again.

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 13

Chapter title: Finale

Word count: about 4200 words

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this fic. From the ones who were here at the beginning to the ones who joined in along the way, and even to the ones who are just reading this for the first time now: thank you! I really appreciate your support and willingness to read all about this idea of mine. I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

Warnings for nightmares and vague descriptions of violence, just in case.

First  | Previous 

...

In the end, another week or so was needed to finally get everything sorted out with G.U.N.- seven days which began to feel less and less stressful and more like an extended sleepover as time flew by. Eventually, though, the organization was shut down and most of their contacts closed off, leaving the country as safe as it could ever be for Teams Dark and Sonic to return.

Even as the former team began to move back into Club Rouge, setting up what little personal artifacts they had left (the suitcase they’d had was being shipped back to them from the motel in Central City where they’d left it), the club itself remained dark and empty, the three residents living above it still too wary to feel ready to reopen. Rouge, Shadow, and Omega spent about four days just living off their considerable savings and watching TV, attempting to get used to a somewhat normal life again after so long without it. 

Rouge got to enjoy those late mornings she’d been hoping for, Omega was able to do his favorite activities without taking responsibility for the team anymore, and Shadow…

...there were good times and bad times, with him.

He would often find himself utterly at peace in some moments, cooking a meal after insisting that Rouge couldn’t eat takeout all the time as his two best friends shouted wildly at their newest favorite show, and he couldn’t help but smile at all the cheerfulness that surrounded him. But at the same time, he woke up screaming nearly every night, unable to stop seeing Rouge and Omega dragged off to an unknown fate by G.U.N., or worse, seeing them lifeless and sprawled on the floor, unable to do anything to save them at all….

Both his friends would always come into his room (they’d actually started sleeping in there now to help him better) and hold him until the panic dissipated, assuring him that they were alright and that there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.

This, however, wasn’t entirely true just yet.

One night, a would-be attacker (one of the last remnants of G.U.N.’s influence guiding them, most likely) picked the lock on the door and entered the club, sneaking across the ground floor. Rouge heard them first with her hyper-sensitive ears, whispering the situation quickly to Shadow. Suddenly, before she could stop him, he darted silently to the door, prepared to fight if necessary. The bat could defend herself just fine, of course, but he was still very much on edge.

It turned out that he didn’t need to worry, though, because as the intruder began to creep up the two flights of stairs, they glanced to their left on the darkened first floor. And spotted an absolutely terrifying pair of glowing red eyes staring at them from the darkness.

That alone would have been enough to make them scream and leave rapidly (they weren’t by any means as trained as some of G.U.N.’s other contacts) but Omega saw fit to point two charging laser cannons at them, too, and quite honestly even Sonic would’ve been surprised at the speed with which that intruder ran.

After that, Rouge decided that she’d had enough relaxing for a while and that she needed some structure in her life, so she opened up the club again and started it working (albeit on a limited basis, she wasn’t quite prepared for a full schedule yet). The well-known hotspot had been sorely missed, as evidenced by the large number of customers- and tips. The bat was delighted to see some of her favorite regulars again, and they were more than happy to accept the shortened hours just so long as it stayed open.

Eventually, though, as it became clear that the bat was fully prepared to just sweep the stress of this adventure under the rug and go back to daily life as it was before, she ended up subjected to quite a few discussions from Omega, Knuckles and even Sonic about her...habits. They were all too aware of how much strain she’d been under during their time on the run, not to mention all of the verbal attacks and physical stress she’d had to deal with beforehand. At first, she managed to brush it off, insisting that she was perfectly fine and that this sort of thing wasn’t necessary at all.

Omega had cornered her one day in her room though, with only a single sentence to say: “Think about the example you’re setting for Shadow.”

Rouge’s ears drooped slightly in guilt as she realized just how much a) Shadow based some of his behaviors off of her and b) how vehemently he had opposed the idea of therapy when it was first mentioned. 

She sighed quietly. “Just one. For Shadow. And nothing’s going to come of it, you hear me?”

Two days later, she walked into the office calmly, her cool business face on and her skepticism high. The therapist she met with was young, friendly, and quite earnest and eager to help her in any way they could. As they listened to the story of her life, though, their face twisted in concern. “I understand you enjoy your job and the risks that come with it...but all those awful things people have said to you- that’s terrible!”

Rouge shrugged her shoulders. “It’s part of the job, y’know? Just have to grin and bear it.”

They looked down at their desk quietly. “How long have you been ‘grinning and bearing it’ for, exactly?”

“....a while.”

Rouge left the office after a little more talking with a distinct feeling of unease in her chest. She drove home quietly, with none of the usual music or radio that she liked on. The bat remained absolutely silent as she entered the house, too, which was the first major sign to both of her friends that something was wrong.

Shadow and Omega appeared at her side quickly, asking her what had happened and what was wrong (with quite a few threats of violence to the person who had upset her) which unfortunately had the opposite effect to what they were hoping for and instead just made her eyes start to water a little.

“Rouge, what’s going on?” Shadow asked, worried, as he pulled her over to the couch. 

She managed to calm herself relatively quickly, and eventually found the words to explain how  the biting words she heard every day cut deeper than she let on. How she took on mountains of emotional stress because she was the leader, and the oldest, and it was her responsibility. 

The bat quickly tried to add that neither of them needed to worry about this, it was fine, that she was still the oldest and she’d accepted that responsibility and she could work out the stress on her own. As Omega began to insist on providing various objections to every last one of those arguments, Shadow vanished, only to return within a couple of minutes with a bag of mystery supplies.

“Today’s your off day, right?” he asked, with a determined look in his eyes.

“Yes, hon.” she said quietly. “I should probably go do the shopping at some point-”

“After therapy? No way.” Omega declared, putting a hand on her head and pushing her back down onto the couch after she’d started to get up. 

“I’ll go shopping tomorrow.” Shadow said calmly. “I remember you haven’t been to the spa in a long time, and even if we can’t make you an appointment this late, we can still do something else.”

Omega pulled a packaged ‘hydrating and exfoliating face mask’ from the bag, holding it by the corner and looking as confused as he could possibly get. “I have no idea what this does, but if you like it then that’s fine, I suppose.” he said, handing it back to Shadow gingerly.

“Aww, guys, you don’t have to-” she insisted, disliking the idea of them having to do any work regarding her own emotional burdens.

“Yes we do.” they said in sync. 

“And this needs to be at least a biweekly occurrence, too.” Omega declared.

“A Rouge day?” Shadow asked. “I agree.”

The bat protested weakly, but allowed herself to be dragged upstairs, and various soaps with relaxing scents to be placed in her hands. “And here’s a bath bomb. Or, uh, three.” The hybrid looked sheepish. “I don’t know which kind you like.”

“And do not come out until you are sufficiently relaxed.” Omega ordered her, before pushing her into the bathroom gently.

Rouge gave a quiet yet fond sigh as she looked down at the various self-care items in her hands. Those two could really be stubborn sometimes, whether about fighting or friendship.

Quickly, she swung open the door and gave them both a hug, then vanished back inside the bathroom before either could react.

The rest of the day was spent taking care of Rouge, whether it was Shadow painting her nails or Omega agreeing to watch her favorite show that night (even if he couldn’t seem to understand why people in drama shows didn’t just do what they wanted instead of agonizing about it so much). That definitely wasn’t the end of it, though.

Eventually, she managed to go back for a few more sessions just to straighten things out and figure out how to care for herself better in the long run. It didn’t hurt, either, that anytime Shadow or Omega caught someone insulting her (and her ignoring it), whether it be for her looks or her interest in a store’s jewelry, they would verbally tear into the person with such fury that Rouge was nearly embarrassed…

...but not quite. It felt good to be looked out for, she had to admit, and they were showing how much they cared about her in their own way.

It turned out that Shadow was showing it in another way, too, albeit one she didn’t notice at first. One day, as she checked through her finances, the bat realized that her bank account had begun to grow too quickly to be normal. When she checked through her balance, she discovered that someone was adding mystery payments every Friday.

Rouge found out why one afternoon when she came back from shopping early to discover Shadow standing in the living room, pulling off some sort of light green shirt and draping it over the back of a chair as he moved to the kitchen (probably for some coffee beans).

“Something you need to tell me, hon?” she asked, and was only slightly surprised when he yelled in shock, hands crackling with Chaos energy before he realized it was her. 

“Ugh...Rouge, don’t scare me like that…” he sighed.

“You didn’t answer my question, Shadow.” she shot back.

He shuffled around nervously, seeming unwilling to provide her with a straight answer. Once he realized that there was no getting out of this, though, her sensitive ears picked up the sound of the hybrid gulping briefly before taking a deep breath. “I...I’ve been working part-time arranging flowers.” he said, rushing the words out as though that would keep her from understanding them.

“Honey, you know you don’t have to do that- we still have enough money to handle the club’s current hours for a while longer…” she began, worrying that he was pushing himself too hard.

Shadow folded his arms. “Keeping us afloat isn’t all up to you, remember? And I actually enjoy it- it’s kind of calming.” he said, almost defiantly.

“If you insist.” she replied. “But make sure not to mess up your schedule, you know you need to make sure you’re getting your rest after everything.”

The hybrid rolled his eyes. “I’m the Ultimate Lifeform, I don’t need-”

“Wrong answer.” Omega said from the doorway, folding his arms and glowering at Shadow. Rouge had an expression to match, seeming pretty distressed by what he’d said.

“Shadow, hon, you keep using that title as an excuse not to take care of yourself, and that’s just as unhealthy as me ignoring people who try and bother me.” she said softly. “I...think you should really consider talking to the same person I did- it’s really helped, you know that.”

The hybrid sulked in the car on the way to the office a couple days later, but didn’t actively attempt to resist, so he probably knew that Rouge was right. He told his story to them in the most calm, nonchalant manner he could pull off, though his friends did take over the story occasionally when his voice trailed off.

By the end of it, the young mouse was frowning at their desk again. “Honestly, I’m...I’m speechless. The fact that so many people were willing to treat you so badly- it’s horrible. So...I’m really glad you’re here, and I’ll do my best to help you however I can.”

Shadow was a little touched by this amount of concern from what was essentially a stranger, though he remained resistant to their suggestions at first. However, a day or two later, he had yet another nightmare- and a bad one too. Ordinarily, he’d just ignore it and lie awake for hours trying to get back to sleep, but this time, he happened to recall what the therapist had said.

“It’s okay to ask for help, Shadow. You deserve it just as much as anyone else- no matter what some people may have said.”

He tried to avoid the thought, but his mind wouldn’t rest and he couldn’t even begin to relax. (Truthfully, he was too scared to, in case the nightmares came back.) Guiltily, he got up, shuffled over to Rouge’s room, and opened the door quietly. It took him a long moment to even work up the nerve to walk over to her bedside, but eventually he did. He shook her awake gently by the shoulder, unwilling to meet her eyes.

“Oh, Shadow….” was all she said, before pulling him gently under the blankets with her and holding him tight.

The hybrid felt so pathetic and childish, yet he still buried his face in the crook of her neck, letting out a quiet sniffle. He could smell a mixture of her perfume and shampoo, and it calmed him slowly, as did the feeling of her arms around him. Eventually, he managed to fall back asleep to the sound of her breathing, and spent the rest of the night in relative peace.

When Shadow woke up early in the morning and Omega was right beside the bed, one of his hands resting comfortingly on his side, he didn’t even question it. He just placed his hand right over one of the giant metal fingers before resting a while longer, a small smile on his face.

As the days continued and the two Mobians started taking care of themselves more- with lower stress levels and many more peaceful nights as a result- Shadow finally even worked up the nerve to spend some time with Omega at the firing range. 

They had made careful plans. There were noise-canceling earmuffs available for free upon entry, and Shadow wouldn’t even be in the same room as most of the weaponry. He had a katana sword and he knew where the practice dummies were, and that was enough.

They’d be able to see each other through a glass window and wave (and show off, of course). So while Shadow approached the building with a slight air of trepidation, he also felt rather excited to be able to work on his fighting skills once again, especially with his friend.

That is, until the attendant at the desk refused to give him the headset when he asked for it.

“You have to rent an item to get the free headphones,” the young woman said, looking bored and generally unsympathetic. “That’s the rule.”

“I don’t see anything saying that.” Shadow shot back, but inside he felt more nervous than anything. He couldn’t stay here if he didn’t get that equipment, but he’d really wanted to spend some time with Omega today…

The robot appeared behind him surprisingly quickly, wrenching aside the attendant’s computer to glower at her better. “I have seen others come in here and get headsets for free while bringing their own weapons, so you had better have a good explanation for why you refuse to give him one.”

“He’s got a sword,” she pointed out unhelpfully, “so he shouldn’t even need one. Headsets are only for people with projectile weapons, anyway.”

Omega’s fingers tightened on the counter until they made a noticeable scraping sound. The attendant winced and even the otherwise impassive Shadow’s ears twitched at the noise.

He lifted up his hand, revealing deep scratches in the stainless steel. “You should think about being fair and providing Shadow with a headset now. Before I become really irritated.”

“That’s- I shouldn’t have to make an exception, he isn’t going to be on the firing range!”

“He does and you should. My friend does not do well with the sound of gunfire, so he deserves to have one. Right. Now.” Omega insisted, glaring at her.

“Well, if he doesn’t like guns then he shouldn’t be here.” she said irritably. “I’m not giving him one. And that’s final.”

The robot turned away suddenly and stalked towards the door. “Then I refuse to spend one moment longer in this building. Congratulations on losing your establishment some money.”

Shadow followed his friend, feeling more than a little like he’d just experienced some sort of verbal whiplash. “Wait...what just happened?”

“I decided that this place is clearly not good enough to deserve our patronage. We can find somewhere else to spend our time.”

“But I thought this was the best place in the area- I don’t want to make you miss out…” Shadow said, feeling bad for his friend.

Omega put a heavy arm around Shadow’s shoulders. “Amenities mean nothing to me if the people there insist you suffer in the process.”

The hybrid leaned against his friend, grateful. “Thank you, Omega.”

(They did eventually find a new- if slightly less upscale- place to go, and Omega managed to hit fifteen bulls-eyes in a row before being informed that they didn’t quite have the money for prizes there. Shadow enjoyed being able to use his sword, and he got significantly more respect on the way out of the building as opposed to the general confusion and mild derision he’d received on the way in...particularly after he defeated one of the most respected patrons in five minutes flat.)

…

Nearly a month and a half after Team Dark left Angel Island, Sonic set up a little party with some friends to celebrate their general success, as well as their slow steps to getting better, day by day. The team had been pretty reclusive and slightly paranoid as of late, so this was their first proper social outing in a long while.

Once they got over to Sonic’s house, all three members of Team Dark were immediately greeted with a shriek of “GUYS!”, followed by the sudden appearance of one cheerful pink hedgehog. “Rouge, Omega, Shadow, hi! How are you guys? Do you need anything?” Amy Rose asked, managing to simultaneously be cheerful, sympathetic, and doting in a way only she ever could.

“We’re doing better all the time, hon. Thank you.” Rouge answered kindly, while Omega waved at her and Shadow offered up a quiet nod. 

Amy wasn’t deterred by the latter’s behavior- she’d spent enough time with him to know that they were pretty good friends and that he was probably just a little overwhelmed, so she gave him his space. Blaze greeted them all politely as they entered the living room as well from her seat on the couch, but was quickly overshadowed by the other spacetime traveler present for the party.

Silver dashed over to the group, looking them all up and down worriedly. Upon seeing that they were mostly unharmed, albeit tired, he focused his attention on his personal hero and occasional mentor on Chaos techniques (Shadow).

“Are- are you going to be okay?” he asked worriedly, hovering (both literally and figuratively) around the other hedgehog. “Silly question, sorry, I just, if you’re not okay then I’m here if you need-”

“Silver.” Shadow cut the psychic off, but in a gentle manner. “I think I’ll be alright. If I’m ever not, though, I’ll keep your offer in mind. Thank you.”

“Okay.” He sighed, his nervous energy dissipating. It was replaced by a smile almost instantly, though, as he added, “Okay! I’m just so glad you guys managed to stop G.U.N. and everything. And that you’re alright now!”

Shadow offered him a small smile. “So am I.”

Soon after, Omega hurried down to Tails’s workshop with a shout of “What have you been working on? I need to see everything right now” and Rouge busied herself with scaring the living daylights out of Knuckles by sneaking up on him from behind. Meanwhile, Sonic stepped into Silver and Shadow’s conversation, at ease with both of them and enjoying the party. “You got some food yet?” he asked the hybrid, smiling warmly at him.

“No…?” Shadow said cautiously.

“Oh, man! There’s so much, you’ve gotta try everything!” Sonic exclaimed, dragging Shadow into the kitchen with one hand while Silver did the same with the other.

Moments later, he found himself with a plate filled with every kind of food available in the kitchen, from french fries to mini-sandwiches to cupcakes. Shadow startled slightly upon realizing that everybody else seemed to have brought several nice foods, and all his team had thought to bring was a bottle or two of soda. “I apologize for our lack of food-” he began, feeling somehow as though he should have done better, but Sonic silenced him quickly.

“Dude, no way! We’re having this party for you guys anyway because of all the stressful work you went through!”

Silver chimed in quickly. “We didn’t ask you guys to bring food because we didn’t want you to worry- you’ve done more than enough work for a long time.”

Shadow, in response, quickly shoved a mini-sandwich into his mouth to keep himself from saying anything too emotional.

Later, as they all settled down to watch the pilot episode of an old but well-known TV show, the hybrid found himself squeezed in between Rouge on one side, still flirting with Knuckles (punctuated by the occasional check-in on Shadow) and Sonic on the other side, in a surprisingly intense argument with Blaze about whether or not this show, Nebula Expedition: The Following Age, was better than the original.

Omega, meanwhile, was trying his best not to utterly crush the beanbag chair on the floor he’d been given after the couch had nearly tipped over the moment he sat down. Tails was leaned against him, while Amy, Blaze and Silver shared the other sofa.

Suddenly, Sonic turned to him, his expression intense and serious. “Shadow. This is the most important question you’re gonna answer all week. Which show is better: The Following Age or the original?”

The hybrid shook his head, a smile appearing on his face despite his best attempts to ignore it. It was crazy to think that he’d gone from the most important question of the week being “Am I going to be captured by G.U.N. and imprisoned?” to “Which show is better?”, and he couldn’t help but allow a laugh to escape him. It was just a quick little snicker, but it was enough for Sonic’s eyes to widen and for him to grin. 

“What’s that all about?” he asked, half joking and half serious, leaning his shoulder on Shadow’s. “You think this question’s a joke? Your answer’s really important here, y’know!”

“Well, for your information…” the hybrid began.

Sonic leaned in a little closer. “Yeah?”

“I like Asteroid Battle the best. Only the originals, though.”

The hero gave a cry of dismay and flopped back against the couch, throwing his hands up in the air. “Asteroid Battle? Asteroid Battle?? That wasn’t even an option!” he cried. “It’s not even in the same franchise, for Chaos’ sake!”

“Too bad.” Shadow replied smugly, folding his arms and still smiling. “Because that’s the one I like best.”

Sonic smacked him on the arm and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, too bad to both you and Blaze, because it’s my TV and I get to pick the show.”

Shadow wasn’t the least bit bothered about that as he settled in to watch, surrounded by his friends and safe as he could be. This atmosphere- of cheer and kindness and laughter- this was what he’d wanted to be able to enjoy all along.

He wasn’t entirely there yet- and maybe he would never be able to know the freedom that came when people didn’t carry the memories he did. But in the end, he couldn’t say that he regretted that burden too greatly. Even through all the bad, he had enough good in this world that it was all worth the struggle in the end, if he got to be here, now, in this place with the people he cared for most.

Shadow met Rouge’s eyes briefly, and then Omega’s, hoping that the words he couldn’t say right now would be understood.

Thank you both so much. For being there for me, through the good times and the bad. For being happy with me and sad with me. For standing by me when I decided to take on the largest military organization in the world, and afterwards as well. Just...thank you.

For everything.

[sproutsgcrden]

sentinel of naruhata | chapter one

all might hoodies and a random cashier

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, manga spoilers for my hero academia: vigilantes

word count: 2959

masterlist | read on ao3 | next chapter

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There used to be a time when Izuku could remember feeling nothing but love towards his father. Before quirks mattered, Izuku’s father was very involved. Hisashi spent every waking moment he could allow with Izuku and his mother; when he wasn’t working, he was home. It was simple. Domesticated. It was a life Izuku looks back on with a bitter fondness. He was happy, then. But knowing that it was all an act? Those few memories he could recall of loving parents and a happy childhood were poisoned, left to rot under the guise of being a victim of All for One.

After spending years underneath his father’s thumb, he knows exactly why Midoriya Inko was All for One’s priority. Her quirk, Pull, was really a perfect fit for a favorable genetic combination. Hisashi’s use of All for One relied on touch- really, that is the only drawback of his quirk, if you don’t count the pain on the other party’s behalf (Hisashi sure didn’t). It’s no wonder why he would pursue a romantic relationship with a woman who could theoretically provide him with the cure to his greatest ailment.

But, as is usually the case with genetics, there was a major problem for Hisashi. Inko’s quirk gave her the ability to pull objects toward her body- she could not push objects away, only bring them close. When Izuku developed his quirk, Hisashi’s initial plan was to take the quirk and leave. He would have no more use for his wife and son afterwards, so really there was no point in staying. So, when Inko had left the apartment and he tried to take Izuku’s quirk, he was of course met with disappointment. Pull had merged with All for One, and unless Izuku deemed otherwise, the quirk stayed with him.

One last final “fuck you” from his brother. Hisashi had a habit of making mistakes when it came to his family.

So instead of taking the quirk that he so desperately desired, Hisashi was forced to take a different approach. It didn’t take long for his frustration to boil over, and he managed to wrangle Izuku to the bar. Kurogiri took like a fish to water when it came to caring for Tomura, and Hisashi hoped it would be no different with Izuku. His son already reminded him too much of his brother, what with his heroic ideals already formed, best not get too attached and make the same mistakes a second time around.

Perhaps that was another error on his end. Maybe if Hisashi had been a bit more careful, a little more parental, he wouldn’t be in the position he was in now.

Oh, there’s no doubt that All Might and All for One would’ve met when they did, in a clash of blood, guts, and horror. The carnage was unavoidable, as was the comatose state the villain was in.

Which served as the perfect distraction for Izuku to make his get away.

The small convenience store on the edge of the street was lit up like a beacon, drawing Izuku closer and closer. The journey from Kamino Ward all the way to Tokyo took a lot out of him- his father would be disappointed in his lack of progress in just a few days. What should have been merely a seven hour trek on foot took approximately three days. Not only did he find himself having to stop for breaks quite frequently, but he also had to stop every so often in order to hide from his father’s lackeys.

Izuku wasn’t sure what Tomura and Kurogiri thought had happened. He had tried his best to make it seem like he was forcibly taken, even going as far as hiring a low level thug to act like he had knocked him out and taken him somewhere. With the state the underground Boogeyman had been in the last few months, it wouldn’t be shocking that someone would go after his son. But, with the tracker he had ripped out of his neck and the funds he took from the stash in his bedroom, he wasn’t sure if the set-up had worked. What he did know was that his father’s very large army was on the lookout for him.

Which is why he had to find Eraserhead as soon as possible. Izuku had thought about looking for All Might, but even he knew there was no way that a union between the two of them would go well. Plus, he was sure that the number one hero was still healing, even if he had begun making appearances again. He wouldn’t be in the state to take on the seemingly kidnapped child of his most-hated enemy, even if he wanted to. But Eraserhead? Izuku knew that the underground hero would help, even if he had to push a little hard.

The Erasure Hero was always appealing to Izuku, and his quirk was always appealing to his father. Hisashi had been after the man’s quirk for as long as Izuku could remember, though it was put on the backburner once the Noumu project began in earnest. But Izuku was awed by the hero’s ability to defeat multiple enemies, even if his quirk didn’t allow him an even playing field with everyone. And from personal stories of those who frequent Kurogiri’s bar, Eraserhead is much more terrifying in person.

It wasn’t hard for Izuku to narrow down where Eraserhead patrolled; with a little cross-referencing between the few short clips he could find, it led him right to Naruhata Ward.

Izuku pushed forward, barely registering the jingle of the bell positioned above the door to the convenience store. The worker behind the counter gave a half-hearted welcome, clearly distracted by something. Izuku gave it no mind and made his way to the aisles in the back, where he knew they would keep the hygiene items. He grabbed the necessities, crowding them in his arms as well as he could. He also picked up a box of black hair dye; if anything were to give him away it would be his bright green hair.

Izuku meandered through the aisles, picking up small snacks and easy meals. He didn’t know how long he’d have to be on the streets before he found a sliver of activity from Eraserhead- best to be safe. It would be nice to have a bowl of katsudon sometime, hopefully he would be able to find a place soon. He knew it wouldn’t even hold a candle up to his mother’s cooking, but it would be lovely to eat his favorite dish without it being a manipulative gift from his father.

The doorbell jingled again, and Izuku spared a small glance just in case. It didn’t seem to be anyone who was looking for him in particular, but it was best to try and hurry out of here quickly. The trio who had just walked in were talking to each in obscenely loud voices, but what had caught his attention was how the cashier had greeted them. A soft welcome in greeting was cut off abruptly, and Izuku heard the bell jingle once again, this time in a more aggressive manner.

Shrugging, Izuku rearranged the multitude of items in his arms. He really should’ve grabbed a basket when he walked in. He huffed his way to the front of the store, nearly throwing his purchases on the cashier’s counter before he realized the man he had seen earlier was nowhere to be found. Twisting his head, he did a quick sweep of the store, not seeing where the cashier could’ve gone. Izuku thought that maybe he had gone to the restroom- that was, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh and bone.

It was a sound Izuku was intimately familiar with- All for One did not hold back in his training whatsoever- so it was easy to pick up on. With a sullen sigh, Izuku made his way through the door once again, leaving his items on the counter. As he turned the corner to the alley next to the building, he saw the trio that had walked in earlier towering over the cashier.

“Like my quirk? It’s called Spike.” The man talking seemed to be the ringleader of the little group, red spiky hair and an attitude to match. The other two were just standing behind him laughing. Izuku felt his eyes narrow as the man continued to speak. “Getting stabbed hurts real bad, y’know. Scared yet?” He moved his leg up as if he was going to kick the cashier in the stomach, and that’s when Izuku decided that he had had enough.

The thing about quirks like All for One, is the feeling of emptiness that settles in your bones once your quirk is gone. It’s jarring, and it definitely throws you off balance. Izuku, luckily, has never experienced it, but a man who traded quirks with his father once described it as “someone throwing you into the deep end of a pool and not knowing how to swim. You don’t know if it hurts or not, but it’s uncomfortable and terrifying.” Izuku’s quirk is different in one major aspect from his father’s- he can only pull quirks to him, he can’t give them back. However, in his multitude of training exercises with his father, the two of them had found a loophole of sorts. Before the quirk fully makes its way to Izuku’s and integrates within All for One, he can let go, and it will snap back to the original owner. So, when Izuku threw his hand out, he fully expected the sight that greeted him.

Instead of landing the kick to the cashier’s stomach, the spiky man faltered. His eyes grew impossibly wide as he sputtered profanities in his shock. Izuku chose this moment to step forward, hand falling to his side as he let go of the quirk. He felt the snap that signified that he had lost hold of the other’s quirk- good, he hadn’t gotten rusty.

“Why don’t you leave the dude alone? He’s at work, I’m sure he’s had a shitty day without you bozos in the mix.”

The man with the spike quirk growled, to which Izuku could only cackle in response. “What the hell is an eight year old doing out here so late? Don’t you have curfew?”

Izuku’s glare deepened. “I’m nine, so shut the fuck up. Unless you want me to take your quirk for good?”

The way the man’s face paled instantly nearly made Izuku feel bad. He hates instilling fear the way his father is so used to doing. It isn’t at all what he wants to be in life. But also, he’s not the kind of person who can just watch an innocent get beat to hell for no good reason.

“No way a little kid like you could take my quirk.” Spiky man shook his head, putting on his tough guy act once more. “So why don’t you stop at playing hero and go home, yeah? The grown-ups have some talking to do.” He let out spikes from his knuckles and held them out towards the cashier, making him gulp in fear.

Izuku, tired and impatient, thrust his hand out once more. The spikes instantly disappeared, and the look of fear returned in full force. “I’m not going to warn you again.”

The groupies in the back began to drag away their leader, who was frozen in disbelief. His eyes were clouded over with an emotion Izuku could recognize so clearly. Everyone who interacted with All for One had glazed-over eyes soaked in petrification. It was hard to miss, and it made Izuku feel awful, even as he felt the quirk snap back into proper place once more.

The group left the alleyway quickly, probably searching for someone else to harass. Izuku did his best to ignore the mutterings of names they were calling him. He was no stranger to being perceived as a freak. That was Tomura’s favorite nickname for him. Izuku let his eyes trail over to the cashier, half-hidden in the shadows. Hardened green eyes met soft brown, and everything seemed to click back into place. Izuku shook his head free of his thoughts and walked the short distance to the hunched over man.

“Are you okay, sir?”

The man looked up at Izuku- not a very far distance, he was merely hunched over and Izuku is still quite short- and gulped. “Oh yeah, I’m fine! Not terrified at all! Everyday I work I’m cornered by a group of dudes I somehow pissed off earlier in the day, ya know? It’s totally normal!”

The green haired child blinked slowly, and the cashier shook his head softly. “Uh, I’m sure you’re ready to get checked out, yeah? It’s pretty late, I’m sure your parents are worried.” He began to walk back towards the entrance of the building, fixing his smock and not waiting on Izuku. After standing still for a few seconds in thought, Izuku slowly followed him.

The monotonous beeping of Izuku’s items being rang up did nothing to cut the tension between the cashier and the glare the owner was giving him. Izuku felt bad, but his shy and awkward nature prevented him doing anything but hopping in place and glancing around the store. His green eyes landed on an All Might hoodie hanging on a rack near the window. Izuku quickly bounded over to it, and decided that, while it was a little big, it was worth the price. Plus he needed a new hoodie after a few days of slumming it on the streets.

Izuku walked back over to the cashier and plopped the hoodie on the counter next to his other items. He didn’t miss the fond look the man gave it before he rang it up and put it in the bag. “This jacket is super comfortable- plus it’s based on his Silver Age costume, which is obviously the best version. I never understood why he changed it.”

“No way! The Bronze Age costume is obviously superior! How is this even a discussion!” The green haired child’s eyes lit up in mock defiance as the two had a short debate over what made each All Might costume better than the other. Many things changed in Izuku’s life once his father took him away- but his love for All Might and All Might related things did not. Though he did have to be more careful in how he was able to show it- neither his father nor Tomura appreciated it when he brought up the hero in a positive light. It was nice to talk about him with a normal person.

The cashier announced his total, and Izuku cringed as he provided the necessary yen for his purchase. He was going to have to be more frugal in the future until he found a way to skimp more money.

“Take care, kid.” Izuku grabbed the plastic bags off the counter and gave the cashier a nod in thanks. Sparing one last glance at the owner, Izuku felt a shiver run down his spine in fear. He did not envy the conversation that the poor man was going to have once he left the establishment.

As soon as Izuku exited through the door, hearing that jingle once last time, he began to stuff the plastic bags inside of his worn yellow backpack. He quickly shrugged off his ragged hoodie, dirty and grimy from being worn on the road for three days, and threw on the brand new All Might hoodie. He would have to find someplace he can dye his hair in peace soon, but that can wait until tomorrow. Looking around quickly, Izuku made sure no unwanted eyes were on him as he stepped into the nearby alleyway. Closing his eyes, he let the power of a stolen quirk flow through his veins. Bending his legs, Izuku hopped as high as could, bouncing from wall to wall until he landed on the roof.

Enhance was what the previous owner of this particular quirk liked to call it. It did exactly what one would think. By using this power, Izuku could enhance his physical abilities, making him stronger, faster, more lithe. It was the very first power that Hisashi had “given” him. Of course, at the time of the quirk being stolen, Izuku didn’t know that he was taking anything from anyone unwillingly. And he most assuredly was not aware of the fact that Hisashi had killed the original holder moments after Izuku left the room.

Despite the dark origins of how he received it, Enhance was one of the only quirks Izuku felt comfortable using. Not only was it helping him get away from the tyrannical hold of his father, but it was also one of the only quirks he had that didn’t affect others. It wasn’t something that could be directly used to harm someone unless he was aiming for it. The other quirks in his possession were destructive and hard to handle. They reminded him of his father, so he tried to push them down whenever they fought to be released.

Izuku narrowed his eyes as he forced Enhance to increase his speed, bounding from roof to roof. He had escaped his father, for now. There was no telling when Tomura would get fed up with the so-called NPCs bringing back failure after failure, and decide to go find Izuku himself. He was on a very tight time limit, though he wasn’t sure of the limit itself. As he raced across the rooftops of Naruhata, only one thought was in his mind.

He needed to find Eraserhead. And quick.

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Let It Snow - Chapter 1/4: Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Word Count: 4,049

Warnings: Dark!Steve Rogers, stalking, ABO dynamics, mating cycles/heat, noncon and dubcon, very explicit sexual content in future chapters (18+ ONLY)

A/N: Remember when I said I had an ABO one-shot planned and it was gonna be really filthy? Remember when I said that I would have it out before Christmas? Well it took me like three weeks but I did it and I basically piled all my kinks into one story hahahah sorry guys. 

Here is the first installment of this new story!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

X

She hadn’t wanted to go—not that day, not on a Friday, not with all this snow. There were a few other reasons that she was too shy to tell him about, but Steve knew. He knew everything about her.

Compared to when they left the city, the snow was coming down heavy when they finally reached the cabin an hour away from Lake Placid. Steve’s speeding had cut the six-hour drive into three, and throughout the entire trip he had feigned ignorance of her white-knuckles on the door handle, the sound of her racing heart, the blood draining from her face as he took sharp mountain turns at fifty miles per hour. 

He had insisted on the whole thing, really.

“Steve, it’s just a really inconvenient time.”

“I know, but it’s the only day I have available until after January. I need you to see the inside so you can choose some furniture.”

“That can wait, Steve—"

“And I was really hoping to have the plans for the backyard done by next weekend so we can start arranging it with the landscaper. I have an appointment with him in two weeks.”

She sighed, heavy. Long fingers plucked her reading glasses from her face and they fell with a clatter against her desk. “I already have so much to plan for the barracks Tony wants to add to the compound.”

He mimicked her sigh, laced with just a hint of annoyance. “Well… If you can’t help me out I suppose I could hire someone else, but you’re really the only person who knows what I like and need.”

Steve hit his mark, her face crumpling with guilt. “It’s just so far away.” A thumb pressed against the bridge of her nose and her eyes fluttered closed, long lashes brushing her cheekbones. “It’s six hours, Steve.”

“Then we’ll leave early,” he said simply. “Seven o’clock? You know how fast I drive. We’d be back by evening.” When she still seemed unconvinced, he kneeled down in front of her and took her hand in his, locking her gaze to him with the earnest expression in his vibrant blue eyes. “Please? You’ve got me on my knees. I’m begging now.” A hint of a smile flashed across her face and he continued. “Are you happy? The woman to topple Captain America—and it’s his architect. Please? How much more do I have to beg?”

By the time he finished, the teasing lilt to his tone had gotten to her, and she was giggling and trying to pull away. “Fine!” she finally cried and her hands slipped from his as she got to her feet, pacing away from him and his intense gaze, trying to put more space between them in her small office.

“You’ll go?” he asked brightly, turning to face her.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she acquiesced. Then she pointed at him with a lilac-painted fingernail. “But you owe me, Rogers.”

He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

X

It had taken months, but he had planned everything perfectly—he hoped. He was a master tactician, could formulate and revise logistical plans blindfolded. Each component was perfectly laid out, his strategy flawless. He had a backup plan, and a backup plan to his backup plan, and potential solutions to every possible contingency. The espionage he had undertaken, the careful preparation of the day before them—it had been in the works since the previous spring, but it would be worth it.

He had met Tony’s personal architect first when she was planning out the additions to the Avenger’s Compound. She was responsible for most of the new buildings, and as they had been built, he had seen more and more of her as she oversaw the construction. Immediately he had been drawn to her—kind, competent, certainly adept at overseeing architectural projects, but with a docile streak running through her.

When he had introduced himself, she had looked down, respectfully avoiding his eyes, giving a polite smile, shaking his hand with a delicate grip. The scent coming off of her was delectable, sweet and fresh, earthy and cozy, something distinctly homey.

Out of all the women Steve had ever met, the perfect Omega for him showed up at just the right time.

Then the third time he had seen her, there was something more. Something a little heady, something rich in her scent. Of course, he recognized it at once. She had looked a little tired, a little flushed, and her hand was so warm when he shook it. When he had run his thumb along her knuckles and his index finger up across the inside of her wrist, he had felt the fluttering of her radial pulse, more rapid than usual, and that’s when he realized that her heat was coming on and he had barely restrained himself from taking her right there.

He didn’t, of course, nor did he say anything to her about the change in her scent or the way her body was preparing to be bred.

Next time he saw her, a week later, he had simply smiled and asked, “How do you feel?”

She had looked at him with a tilt of her head, a nervous smile, but he moved on before she could respond and asked her if the materials and support structure of the training facilities would hold up against a team of superheroes.

X

It took time, but they became acquainted more and more. She was almost always on the grounds, overseeing building, or meeting with Tony about new plans. She made him feel at home, but frustratingly, their relationship remained professional at all times, one-sided, even. It was as if he didn’t affect her the same way she affected him, her scent wrapping around him every time he was in her vicinity like smoky tendrils, a homemade meal, custom-made just for him.

But he knew, in his heart, that she would feel the same about him, if she just gave him a chance.

Then he overheard Natasha asking about any potential significant others in her life, and she replied that she doesn’t date while she’s working on big projects.

Steve didn’t want to admit his initial anger at that, the hurt deep inside his heart, as if it was a personal rejection of him. For a few days afterwards, he had even ignored her, avoiding running his routes around the new constructions, turning away every time he saw her in the meeting rooms or cafeteria. Then, he came up with a plan.

That was all over a year ago.

The first step of Steve’s plan was to hire her to plan and build a house for him in the Adirondacks. A hefty investment, sure, but one that would be worth it in the end. At the very least, it ensured that she remained single, off the market to any other Alphas threatening to swoop up a beautiful sweet little Omega like her.

Now, more than six months after he approached her with the initial proposal, the house was almost completed. It had provided more than enough time for Steve to get to know her. Bringing her breakfast or lunch during their scheduled planning meetings, finding out all of her tastes and preferences as they went through the process. He deferred to her judgement on the house more often than not.

“What would you do? I can’t decide on an open or closed floor concept. I don’t know enough about this stuff.”

She had flourished under his gentle praise and request for guidance. It certainly helped that every time he praised her, he sensed her getting warmer, her heartrate increasing.

“This is perfect. This plan looks so great. You’re so good at this.”

Every shy smile and mumble of thanks was his undoing. 

Like a flower growing throughout the sudden appearance of spring, she had opened up to him, telling him about her friends, her family, her interests, her hobbies. Gradually, she let him into her life—only ever as friends, not anything more, but the promise was there. Once, he had asked her out to dinner, but she had declined and explained to him, an apology on her lips, that she doesn’t date clients, and she doesn’t date during projects.

“Then I guess I’ll have to ask again once the house is done and I’m not your client anymore, won’t I?”

Oh, he loved how flustered she got.

X

It was easier to get into her house than into her mind or soul—of course, it helped that she worked from home, a little brownstone in Brooklyn.

When he had complimented the house, she mentioned it was her childhood home, renovated recently once she took ownership. Raised in Brooklyn, as if she couldn’t be more perfect for Steve.

It didn’t take much to break into the house when she was out—off overseeing construction of the cabin, or getting groceries, or going for a run. When he visited her for their appointments, he usually only saw the front entrance and the hall leading to her home office. When he got the chance to be in the house unhindered, he thoroughly explored the entire place.

Mediterranean-themed interior décor, which she had done all by herself. Beige and cream color palate with bright pops of color, teals and yellows and vibrant green house plants everywhere. A slight coastal theme, bright and airy and still so cozy.

The kitchen, everything immaculate. She liked to cook and bake, and she had countless tools and appliances for it. One time, she had given him a taste of her homemade almond cookies, nutty and sweet, crystalized almonds on top that melted in his mouth.

Most of the living room was commanded by a cozy sectional sofa with soft cream blankets and more throw pillows than he could count. A vase full of lavender flowers, a few candles with wooden wicks. Vintage sconces and a restored fireplace. A grey cat laid on the back of the sofa, blinking up at him disinterestedly. Still, it let Steve pet it, a few brisk strokes behind the ears and it was purring.

The bedroom smelled like her. It was so potent, he almost blacked out with how quickly the blood rushed to his cock. She had scent diffusers downstairs, but upstairs, her scent permeated the air, the linens, the walls.

He bent before her bed and sniffed the scent on her pillow. She hadn’t made the bed that morning—she had to be in the mountains by noon to receive updates from the construction manager, and it clearly hadn’t crossed her mind in the rush.

Steve appreciated it, as the sheets still had a slight hint of that sleepy Omega smell. There was a duvet and at least five fluffy blankets, along with a handful of feather pillows scattered across the bed. He inspected each blanket and pillow, their different designs and fabrics and pillowcases. He found one pillow tucked underneath the duvet, twisted around, a hint of that heady scent wafting up towards Steve.

He brought the pillow to his face, breathing in deeper, scenting her arousal concentrated in one part in particular. It was still a little damp and he could only imagine her rubbing her slick pussy against the soft silk pillowcase until she came, crying out, clutching the makings of the nest around her, cozy and warm and so, so domestic—sweet little Omega, yearning for an Alpha to take care of her—

It took all his concentration to not come in his pants right there.

After taking care of the aching problem in his trousers, Steve explored her bathroom, looking individually at each toiletry and makeup product strewn across her vanity. 

All of her food, her cleaning supplies, her cosmetics—everything in her home was natural, organic, and eco-friendly. She had mentioned once that she tried to be environmentally conscious, and he could see it manifested everywhere in her life. Steve liked that about her—it reminded him of a simpler time, before plastic covered the entire planet, before mass production of pointless garbage littered everyone’s lives.

He suspected that had something to do with her not being on suppressants, either—which he confirmed over some months based how potent her scent seemed to be and how it changed in depth and tone over her cycle.

Not until his third walkthrough of her house alone—she was out with a friend doing yoga and getting coffee, a Saturday morning ritual for her—did he see the calendar. It was pinned to the wall next to her bed, each month with different pastries as the cover photo. There, in blue pen, from the 12th to the 16th, five little H’s marked in the corner of each date.

He knew it must signify her heat. And he knew she wasn’t on suppressants, that she had heats before—and looking back through her calendar, her heats were very regular, every month on the dot. But now he knew, now he had a way to find out when her monthly mating period would begin, when she would be ripe for his taking.

Another piece of his plan fell into place.

Designing the outline of the cabin took less than a month and from that point until the end of construction, five months, Steve took a great effort to get to know her more. 

He would bring her treats to their meetings; scones, cookies, coffee. Often, he would try to schedule the appointments for midday, if only to have the opportunity with each meeting to ask her for lunch after they had finished discussing all their business. 

She showed him so much of Brooklyn that he didn’t realize had changed, and he showed her a few places that hadn’t, since the war. 

Sometimes she would dress up for him. Instead of dress pants and blazers, she would wear long skirts and dresses that accentuated her curves—not too sexy, though; sweet, but still modest. Although he loved when she wore pink lipstick—simple and elegant—she would sometimes don darker shades, deep reds and purples, and he had to admit it made his Alpha rumble inside.

By the time the house was built, it was only November. Tony contracted her to build a new barracks near the compound, and Steve was running out of time. The perfect circumstances never arose. He had asked her on dates, but she was too busy, out of town for most of December for a conference and then for the holidays, always declining his advances with a soft smile and regretful apology. 

Time passed into the New Year and Steve still hadn’t claimed her heart.

Steve needed some kind of excuse to keep her in his life. He was getting desperate.

When he had asked her to do the interior decorating for his new house, she blanched. 

“I’m not much of an interior decorator, Steve.” It had taken months to get her to call him Steve instead of Captain Rogers. It was necessary for the progression of their relationship although Steve’s cock twitched every time she used his formal title.

“I like the way your house is decorated. Can’t you do something like that for me?” The look of sweet hope on his face was too overbearing, she had to look away.

“You haven’t even seen the rest of my house. Only the office.”

“Then why don’t you show me?” 

Of course, he had already seen the entire house—many times, in fact. Still, he let her give him a full tour of the house, and at the end, he asked her again to do the decorating for his house. Mercifully, she accepted.

X

Her next heat was coming up—he knew based on her calendar and her delectable scent. It was scheduled over the long weekend, and much to Steve’s delight, there was also a blizzard coming their way for the exact same dates, the middle of January and the peak of winter providing the perfect conditions for his plot. 

Getting her to agree to the journey up to the Adirondacks was easier than he had anticipated; the guilt-trip worked wonders on her, his submissive, sweet Omega. 

He had picked her up early that morning, his big truck parked illegally in front of her brownstone as he knocked on the door and waited for her, coffee and pastries in hand to gain her favor.

When she opened the door, she looked perfect, dressed in a collared white dress and black tights, classy and beautiful, skin vibrant with that pre-heat glow, lips painted a berry pink. 

“Hi, Steve,” she breathed, clearly having rushed downstairs for the door. Her scent wafted through the house and out the door, burying him in her sweet scent, more woodsy than usual with her impending heat. “Let me just get my shoes and a jacket. Oh—is that for me?” Her eyes zeroed in on the coffee.

He nodded, handing it to her. “Got your usual.”

She sipped from the cup and let out a contented sigh, perfect pink tongue darting out to lick a droplet from her upper lip. Steve didn’t know how he managed to contain himself. “Perfect. Thank you, Steve. Just give me a minute—oh—come on in. I won’t be long.” She came back downstairs minutes later in pointy heels and a peacoat, and she was ready to go.

The truck was lifted rather high off the ground, necessary for off-roading in the Adirondacks, so she always needed a little boost, and he helped her this time with his hands on her hips, lower than he would usually place them. From the breathless smile she gave him before he closed the passenger side door, she didn’t seem to mind.

Throughout the car ride up to the cabin, she was tense and stiff; whether it was due to his speeding or her heat, Steve wasn’t sure. However, he could smell her scent growing heavier by the minute, and he made sure to crank the heat up in the car to amplify it. He was rock hard in his pants the entire way, but she had been distracted from that by his reckless driving and the snow coming down from the sky. 

He had lost count of the number of times she asked him to slow down, only to be silenced when he pointed out that he would have to drive fast if she wanted to be back in the city by nightfall. 

“It’s snowing pretty hard.” Her voice was soft as she looked out the window at the ice piling up on the side of the road. It was almost whiting out the windshield, and Steve would have been worried about driving in this weather if Tony hadn’t decked out the truck with plenty of enhancements, to include chains on the wheels and sensors to enhance navigation in dangerous conditions.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” he said, keeping his tone casual, unconcerned. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you.” She was thrumming with worry and it was starting to take over her heat scent, the sharp tinge of anxiety growing stronger. He tried to distract her with conversation. “You know, I stayed up here the other weekend. It was pretty nice. You did a great job.”

She looked flustered at the praise, and he could already smell that heady scent again. “Oh?”

“I was sleeping on an air mattress, though. It was kind of cold until I got enough wood for the fire. I’ve brought some supplies up with us today because I’ll be staying there over the weekend.” True to his word, in the back of his truck, he had plenty of blankets, pillows, and food supplies for them to use over the next week.

“That sounds nice…” she mumbled. 

“Yeah, I think it’ll be relaxing. Not having to be around so many people. What’re your plans?”

She seemed embarrassed, looking down at her knees, picking at the black tights she wore. “I’ll be alone, too. It’s not… not a great time…”

Steve knew, because of her heat, she wouldn’t be able to be around others for the long weekend. However, he feigned ignorance and frowned. “Oh, why is that? Everything okay?”

She nodded hastily. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine…” He didn’t push her because he could smell the scent on her growing stronger. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he noticed she was squirming in her seat every now and then. He could smell her building arousal, sense her quickening heartbeat, hear her heavy breathing. 

Her pre-heat was hitting her hard, which meant her heat was approaching faster than he had anticipated.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… It’s hot in here… is it hot in here?”

Her hand shot out to lower the temperature in the car, but he caught her hand in his. “I thought it was cold.” The concern in his tone was contrived but sounded convincing to her. “You’re so warm.” His fingers brushed along her wrist, and he could hear the way her breath shuddered in her chest. One eye still on the road, he brought his hand up to feel her forehead, pressing the back of his fingers against her temple, her cheek, her neck. “You’re burning up.”

He could feel her tremble, the flutter of her heartbeat in her carotid artery. All too suddenly, she pushed his hand away, voice shaking as she spoke, “Y-yeah, I’m okay, Steve. I’m fine. Just a little under the weather.”

“How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Uh—uhm… not long… but I don’t want to… to… get you sick.”

By that point, they were pulling up the long road to the cabin. Steve sent her a reassuring smile. “I have the serum, sweetheart, you can’t get me sick. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of you.”

She was silent then, but every bump on the rocky dirty road made her squirm in her seat, thighs clenching together. Her breathing was still labored, and when he parked, he quickly rushed to her side of the car to help her get out, hands on her waist making her shiver. 

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath, hands clinging to Steve’s jacket as she let the cool air consume her. Snowflakes fell down into her hair, on her cheeks and eyelashes, a crown of crystalized ice piling on her head, but she didn’t seem to notice the blustery weather as she relaxed into Steve’s arms. 

“Is the cool air helping a little?” he asked, lips close to her ear so she could hear him over the heavy winds.

She nodded absently, eyes closed, but he knew it wasn’t the cool air. It was his touch—skin contact with a strong Alpha, exactly what she needed right now. After a moment or two, he adjusted his grip, arms encompassing her, and she didn’t notice herself when she turned her face in towards Steve’s neck, deeply breathing in his scent, drifting closer and closer until her nose was pressed against his scent glands through his sweater.

“Omega,” he growled, half in questioning and half in warning. It was enough to snap her out of her trance, movements sharp as she pulled away from Steve’s embrace and distanced herself from him.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, pressing her hands to her heated face. “I—I—I—” She was shaking, shocked at her behavior, nervous about the implications. 

“It’s okay, darling,” he said, approaching her with hands raised. “How do you feel?”

Closing her eyes again, she took another few deep breaths, this time faced away from Steve. Finally, she sighed, and nodded. “Better. The fresh air is helping.” He maintained a concerned expression until she turned back towards the house. “Let’s get going. It’s snowing pretty hard.”

Indeed it was, fat flakes coming down harder and harder the more they stood outside, falling on their heads and shoulders and soaking into their hair and clothes. The ground was covered in a thick blanket already, and the wind was picking up more and more.

She hadn’t realized yet, but Steve knew that by the time they were finished looking over the house, the snow would be too deep to drive in, and they would be trapped here for the duration of her heat.

[scarletwinterxx]

Timeless Finale - Doyoung AU

First of all, I’m so sorry it took a while to finish this series. To be honest I struggled with writer’s block during this whole story, but those moments when ideas pop in my head I rush to my computer and get as much work done as possible so I hope you like it! Second, Resonance pt. 2 !! this whole era gave us so many memories, it’s a bit sad to think that it might take a while before we see all of the boys work together again but for now let’s enjoy and appreciate all of their efforts and hardwork 💚💚 

How about you lovelies, which track has been your favorite for this whole NCT 2020 era? Deja Vu is definitely up there for me. okay okay moving on. hope you enjoy this last chapter!!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART TWO.5 || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX || FINALE

“Doie, you’re going to be late”

The early morning sun peeking between the blinds, It’s probably a good time to get up but the bed is all warm and cozy it’s a literal struggle to get up. That and this whole human being currently laying on top of me

“Five more minutes” he answered, the same one he’s said about three times now. Then I felt a kiss on my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, and just about every part of me he could reach. After that he just nuzzled his face on the crook of my neck, my arms automatically hugging him closer to me 

I don’t have it in me to tell him to stop when he’s being this adorable, who knew the Kim Doyoung could be this adorable? I wanted nothing more than keep him here with me but I remembered he has a few important meetings to attend so the next kiss he was supposed to give me was blocked by my hand

“Yah, what are you doing?” He asked, swatting my hand away so now we’re face to face again. I smiled at the sight, he had this little pout on that makes him look like a cute little bunny

“I’d love to stay with you here all day, but you have meetings to go to”

“I’m the boss, I can cancel it” he said then went in for another kiss but this time I pushed him off me

“I’m sure you can but you won’t, we’re going to be responsible adults. We don’t want your dad thinking it’s a bad decision handing the company over to you”

“Maybe after this he won’t call me in, I can just spend the whole day in bed with you” he said, his arm pulling me to him so this time I was the one on top of him

“And what about your work?”

“You can just provide for me” I rolled my eyes at his answer knowing full well he’s just joking

“Come on, we can cuddle more later” I said then kissed him on the chin before pushing myself of him

“Cuddle and more later?” 

“You won’t find out unless we get on with our day” I called back to him as I make my way to the bathroom. 

That’s how our mornings usually starts. 

After everything that had happened and after getting back with Doyoung, we can finally say we’re on the same page. No more doubts, no more walls in between us, no more hidden glances and secrets. I can truly say that we’re happier this time. 

Of course we’ve talked about what happened: my reasons for running away, what I did in the past year, what he did in the past year. And now we’re here, a couple of months after I returned. 

We both feel more at ease after finally admitting our feelings, we decided not to jump back to being engaged. Like Doyoung said, it didn’t feel like a real relationship. Now we do things as we want, at our own pace.

“You’re all smiley this morning” I hear Doyoung say, looking up to see him leaning by the doorway

“Just thinking, you’re still making dinner for tonight right?”

“Mhm, don’t forget Jeno’s visiting this weekend” he told me while walking to where I was, picking up his own toothbrush from the shelf

“I didn’t forget, and that was one time”

“You forgot that your brother was visiting?”

“I was busy moving!” it was around the time I moved in my new apartment, which is pretty pointless now. I mostly stay over at Doyoung’s nowadays. Like last night when I said was going back at my place but he kept on insisting it was too late and I should just spend the night. 

He knows I can’t say no to him when he shows me the occasional cute pout, the one he’s reserved for times like that.  

After getting ready for the day we went our separate ways to work, It went as it normally would. I was happy with my decision of moving back here. I talked to my parents and they were just glad I was fine and happy. I couldn’t be more thankful of how supportive they are of me. 

Slowly but surely things were going back to normal, this time I know there’s no running away. 

“What do you mean I was the embarrassing sister? who said I couldn’t cheer you on your first basketball game?” I asked Jeno who was sheepishly smiling at me, his adorable eye smile on full display making him look all innocent

“It was a kid’s game. You almost fought another kid when they nudge me a bit too hard” he chuckled, meanwhile Doyoung was just looking back and forth between us with a fond smile on his face “You feel on the floor, he’s lucky he’s seven”

“Only you would fight a kid” Doyoung said making Jeno laugh

“I wasn’t going to let him do that to my baby brother!” 

“Noona” Jeno dragged on, he always cringes whenever I call him a baby.  It doesn’t matter if my little brother’s in college now, in my eyes he’s still my little baby

“You should hear about that time she went to my debate competition” Doyoung said with a little smirk on, the memory suddenly resurfaced making my cheeks turn red

“You didn’t say it was a debate! You just said you were competing in something so I showed up with a banner and all that” I justified, this time the two boys laughed at my reasoning

“I remember when you had a big crush on Doyoung hyung you would purposefully wake up early to get on the same bus as him” Jeno said, at this revelation Doyoung looked over at me. It was a story unknown to him, the look on my face said it all.

“Did she now?” “Don’t ask questions, you weren’t suppose to know about that. And you, eat your dinner” I said giving both of them pointed looks. 

For the rest of the night we just shared more stories, it’s always been a comforting sight to see Doyoung and Jeno when they’re together. Some would even think they’re actual siblings. I’m happy they get along well. 

It was pretty late so instead of going back to his place, Doyoung decided to stay over. More like I couldn’t stop the two from playing games so I let them hang out while I relax in the bedroom. Around midnight I finally hear the tv shut off, I hear the door of the guest room open and close before my bedroom door opened to show a sleepy looking bunny

“Tired?” I asked him 

“Not really, just a bit sleepy. We didn’t see the time” he said while walking towards the bed, throwing himself on his usual side of the bed. Immediately he hold his arms out for me making me chuckle at his cuteness

“You two looked like you were having fun” I mumbled as I rolled over to his side, laying my head on his chest. Immediately his arms wrap around me and mine rest across his chest. 

“It was a good day, wasn’t it?” I mumbled, my eyes already closing as I feel his fingers draw patterns on my hip underneath his hoodie I was currently wearing

“It was, mind telling me more stories about the time you had a crush on me?”

I just smiled at his question because I know he was just teasing me, “Maybe one day”

“You know what  I’ve realized that you were there for most of my days and, holy shit, do I love it. I missed you so much when you weren’t there I was just too big of a coward to admit it” I hear him say, his words a bit muffled since his lips are pressed against my forehead

“It’s okay, we’re here now. I’m not going anywhere” “I know, I won’t let you go anyways” I feel a kiss on top of my head, then just like that we were both drifting off to sleep. The steady beat of his heart and his warmth lulling me into sleep like my favorite lullaby. 

Usually on the weekends, Doyoung and I try to avoid doing any work and spend some time together. From going to trips outside the city to the most mundane things like doing the grocery, watching shows and just relaxing. 

Sometimes we go out for date nights but I told him I prefer it when we’re just at home, the two of us with some good home cooked meal. After that it became a tradition. 

“I don’t think we need that much cookie dough” Doyoung said as he sees walking back from the freezer aisle to get some stuff, “Wrong, too much cookie isn’t a thing. Not in my household” I said then threw the bags on the cart

“Just don’t eat all of it in one sitting” he reminded me making me roll my eye at him “it was one time” I mumble, feeling his hand hold mine then pull me along with him as we continue with grocery shopping

“Can we get some apple juice?” I asked so we went to the drinks aisle next, while he picked the drinks up I look over at the family on the other end of the aisle. They looked like they were doing grocery errands to, the guy holding a tiny baby while the lady push the car. The smile on their faces got me smiling too

I didn’t notice that Doyoung is now ooking at me looking at them, making him look over where my attention was

“What are you smiling at?” He asked, 

“Them, they look so happy. And look, that baby looks so cute” I  cooed before looking over at him, his gaze already on me

“You want one?” 

“Want one?”

“A baby?” I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not so I pinched his side making him yelp

“I was just asking, no need to be mean” he said then took my hand in his, probably to stop me from pinching him again. I look over at him, imagining a tiny version of him running around. His tiny cute bunny smile on a little boy.

After paying for our groceries we went back to his car to drive back to his place, I was still about lost in thought. A little Doyoung not sounding bad at all.

“You’re in a good mood, you keep smiling” I hear him say,

“I’m just thinking about a tiny version of you and how cute he would be, just imagine our little boy in cute bunny pajamas” I said, it took me a quick second before realizing what I just said. When I did my eyes were as big as saucers. 

It’s not that we haven’t talked about having kids, we’ve discussed about the topic briefly. We both said we wanted kids, and we’re lucky enough to be financially stable to be able to support our future kids when that eventually happens. 

“So you do want one” he chuckled, “Only if they look like you” I answered, I can see the slight pink tint on his cheeks. Not being to help my self I leaned over to give his cheek a kiss,

“You’re so cute, Doie” I said making him laugh and jokingly push me away, taking my hand on his before giving my hand a peck

“We’d have to get married first, don’t you think?”

“I mean sure, we almost did that so we’re kind of experienced in that area” I joked “You’d have to propose first though”

“and I will, when you don’t expect it” I smile at his answer. 

I already know that with Doyoung there’s no need to rush. We already know we’ll spend the rest of our lives together, even if we’re not married yet. We both know that’s a stop along the way, there’s no need to rush this time. 

“Doie” I called out

“Mhm?”

“I can’t wait to spend the rest all of my days with you, I’m so excited to live more days like this. Talk about our future and be able to live it. I want to be happy and feel love like this for as long as we can” 

I can see the smile he had on, his hand giving mine a squeeze

“Me too, don’t worry we’ll take those steps together. I’ll hold your hand every step of the way”

“You can’t hold my hand when I walk down the aisle” I rebutted, I couldn’t help but joke around making him roll his eye. I just laughed before bringing our intertwined hands closer to me. Giving the back of his hand a kiss. 

“Okay apart from that time then”

“I’m just joking, I love you”

“I love you, and this will be the cheesiest thing I will ever say but you should know I love more than yesterday but less than tomorrow. Up to this day I honestly don’t know how you manage to make me fall in love with you more and more but you do” his revelation now got tears in my eyes

As we drive down the road I see the journey we still have yet to take, holding his hand in mine I know I wouldn’t mind how long it would take as long as I have him. 

[daydreamindollie]

𝟙𝟘.𝟘𝟞.𝟚𝟘 ⏤𝙝𝙮𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙖𝙪

❥ hello again!

❥ so this is another imagine and possible multichapter fic/long oneshot inspired by an online manga

❥ it's called 'Milady Just Wants To Relax'

❥ so if any of you would like to give it a read - which I would highly recommend - please do :3

❥ this is unedited so please don't come after me about grammar and spelling, I just really wanted to get this out as soon as possible while I'm still inspired!

❥ Anyway~ I hope you enjoy!

✚          ✚          ✚

❥ you come from a family of mages. You're actually quite powerful with your magic but you're so powerful that many humans and other mages are seeking you out so as to try and convince you to work for them or do something for them.

❥ Some of their methods of requesting your assistance are pretty tame but there are also a considerable number that go beyond a knock at the door and a polite appeal to do something with appropriate, even outstanding, payment.

❥ Ironically, those that attempt to ask for the impossible rarely provide sufficient remittance.

❥ As a result, you and your family thought it best that you fake your own death and start a new life elsewhere, at a place where they themselves don't know so as to eliminate all potential risk of you ever being found again.

❥ You were able to successfully fake your death by pretending to die during a dangerous task that you were requested to do. Of course, since the people who 'asked' for the job to be done were the rudest, most disgusting people you had ever met, you didn't give them what they wanted by never returning to them and stealing what they were so desperate to have for yourself.

❥ It was the perfect opportunity for you. You delivered karma on those that deserved it whilst also acquiring the freedom you desperately wanted.

❥ Now, you reside at the border of the country, housing in a two-story, quintessential cottage where you are the host of a tea house on the ground floor, with the upstairs being your place of residence. It was a cute little place.

❥ The only thing that warranted any of your concerns was the fact that at the border, there is a lot of tension; there are multiple daily attempts at crossing the border by individuals or groups with intentions of invading the country.

❥ Thankfully, there was a group of seven hybrid mercenaries to patrol the border on a regular basis during times where attempts to cross over the border were the most predictable and opportune for the opposing side.

❥ So, although tensions were high, you knew you'd be safe, which only further expresses how ideal of a get-away place this little town was. Nobody would suspect you of being alive, let alone choosing to live in a place that was so dangerous should you have survived your mission.

❥ You had the hybrids to thank for the safety, however, it appeared as though those living in the town took their services for granted.

❥ Hybrids were fascinating creatures to you. With sharing the DNA of another animal, they themselves procure the strength of over ten men, enough to rip an ordinary human in two, even multiple, pieces.

❥ The majority of the population is led to believe that hybrids are, therefore, barbaric and dangerous and run away at the mere sight of them.

❥ Tales of the consequences humans face when mistakingly acting out against a Hybrid sends shivers down one's spines but you know better.

❥ At heart, they were still very much human. Their animal characteristics only seemed an additional accessory for them to utilise at will so it always irked you hearing people gossiping badly about them whilst walking around town. Many times, you hear of them being turned away at restaurants, cafes, bakeries, and many other stores.

❥ You can only guess that they have been wanting to eat proper meals at a decent place but end up getting turned away.  Shaking your head at the behavior of ungrateful humans, you hope that the hybrid mercenaries pay your newly opened tea house a visit despite you wanting very little attention. Hence why your advertising for its opening was very minimal.

❥ Despite being a very gifted mage/sorceress and being part of a prestigious family, you had always wanted to live a normal, calm, and happy life.

❥ To get away from the attention, stress, and pressures of being a part of the Damiani family, you developed a hobby of cooking to ease your worries. It always left you in good spirits, following the instructions of new recipes step by step and having the food turn out perfectly well. It was like alchemy but much more enjoyable since you could eat it right away and savor in the sweet taste of your hard work - even if the food you made was savoury.

❥ Eventually, your hobby made you crave a simpler life where you owned a quiet, comfortable cafe with not a lot but just enough customers to sustain your living. A place where your customers found comfort as well as yourself.

❥ As fate would have it, you were granted that wish. Now you were no longer Elana Damiani, the gifted daughter of Fauques and Othelia Damiani, the talent of the century in magic, sorcery, and alchemy but (Y/N) (Y/L/N) the beautiful, young tea house owner that found residence in the small town of Raoluire.

❥ You couldn't be happier and so, you named your tea house after that sentiment, 'Happier'.

❥ It was a place that you wanted people to feel merriment because that was what it made you feel and you wanted to share that feeling with all that walked through your tea house's door.

❥ As soon as you opened up your tea house, you were more popular than you had ever anticipated but you suppose it was inevitable. Seeing the demographic of your regular customers, you quickly realised that they weren't there for the quaint and cosy atmosphere, but instead, for you.

❥ In truth, they were shameless in admitting the fact.

❥ "You're so beautiful, of course, I would regularly come here~" one of your regulars commented. He was the local baker's eldest son. You had, at first, assumed his regular visits were his way of starting a business partnership between you and the bakery. You had read about businesses sharing each other's profits through certain means that benefit both sides, in your case, it would be having the bakery's goods sell in your cafe as a way of advertising their products whilst their bakery spoke about your tea house as well as display posters of your business on their windows or walls.

❥ It would have been the perfect partnership but you suppose that that wasn't what had preoccupied their minds.

❥ The flattery wasn’t new to you so you handled yourself well enough around the flirtatious men vying for your constant attention. This attention, they had learned could only be achieved through ordering more food and drinks so that was what they did.

❥ Business at your tea house was booming as a result.

❥ However, that meant that you were always on your feet and didn’t have much time for yourself to relax and, possibly, read a good book. That was what you had really wanted after starting your new life - some peace and quiet - but you suppose a good business can’t be something you turn away.

❥ The only additional problem was the rotten looks some village women sent your way whenever you would go to the markets to buy fresh ingredients every day. You made an effort to dress as plain and dull as possible so as to attract less attention but that only seemed to make things worse.

❥ “Even though you dress so humbly, you’re as beautiful as ever, aren’t you (Y/N)?~” the baker’s son commented after directing you towards where they usually buy their supply of flour, sugar, and any other baking necessity.

❥ “Th-thank you,” there was nothing you could do but bashfully accept his compliment before heading off on your own once again using his directions as you avoided the sneers of antagonistic women around you.

❥ Of course, not all women were like this, many of the elderly favoured you actually. It was for your polite nature, kindness and thoughtfulness towards them. However, many times, they were also trying to convince you of your compatibility with their son or grandson.

❥ You didn’t give them a direct answer of rejection but you avoided that topic as much as possible.

❥ Nevertheless, despite the lows, there were also highs. Even though you were no longer the renowned mage/sorceress, you never lost touch with your magic, which you were grateful for, but that was only so running your tea house by your lonesome was easier.

❥ While you were tending to customers, your kitchen and utensils were occupied with cooking up the orders you collected at the front of house. It was then your job to finish the plating of the dishes once you made your way back to the kitchen again.

❥ Overall, things were going better than you expected. At first, you thought people would have begun suspecting you of being from a noble family as they always commented that your appearance and mannerisms rival an aristocrat but you supposed that was just mere flattery.

❥ Thank goodness

❥ It’s almost been two months and banter at your tea house was as raucous as usual. At first, it was an overwhelming atmosphere but you were quick to adapt to it.

❥ However, gasps of shock sped through the tables at the tick of half-past two in the afternoon. The second of absolute silence was curious but what was more intriguing was the sudden exiting of your customers. Their frantic escape was like a tidal wave that extended from a tsunami.

❥ “Thank you for the coffee, (Y/N), here’s the bill!”

❥ “We’ll see you tomorrow!”

❥ They had made their escape so swiftly that you were left still trying to process everything that happened in what felt like half a second. Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the stupefying bewilderment before turning around at face the doorway, where your eyes met those of a hybrid mercenary.

❥ “I apologise for your loss of business,” the wild cat apologised with little remorse, his voice monotone.

❥ It took you a moment but you’re eventually flashing him a wide smile, “Welcome to the Happier Tea House, will it just be you today? Let me clear up a seat for you.” you chatter happily, “Would you like to sit anywhere in particular?”

❥ As you tilt your head, blinking with smiling eyes at Yoongi, he was sent into a daze of astonishment.

❥ Were you really willing to allow a hybrid into your cafe? That’s a first…and with such a welcoming smile and greeting too. This had to be some sort of dream.

❥ “Um…sir?” you even addressed him so politely as well. Usually, greetings from humans were dubbing him and his kin as ‘savages’, ��abominations’, ‘barbarians’, and the like. Not only that but you had to be the most beautiful human girl he had ever seen.

❥ “I’m sorry, once again,” Yoongi bowed and voiced with real guilt this time. Usually, he wasn’t bothered about his apology but made an effort to do so each time despite knowing the mistreatment he’d be faced with.

❥ “There’s nothing to be sorry about, sir. Let me go and get you a menu,”

❥ With a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, Yoongi pointed your attention towards a partially cold latte a customer had left in their rush to leave the vicinity, “It’s alright, I’ll just have that. What is it?”

❥ “I-It’s called a latte, I’ll get one made for you right away,”

❥ “No no, I’ll just have that one,” Yoongi then went and brought the mug to his lips and took several sips before flicking a gold coin at you with his thumb.

❥ Catching the coin in clumsy hands, your jaw dropped as you immediately went to protest, “th-this is far too much-!”

❥ “Don’t worry. My presence cost you your earnings for the rest of the afternoon. I apologise,” as you went to protest once more, Yoongi had already turned his back towards you and left.

❥ It was at that moment at you registered that he would be one of the hybrid mercenaries hired to patrol the border. It was strange how his tone was turned on its head after your greeting but you hope he’ll return soon so that you’d be able to serve him good food and drink properly.

❥ For now, you’ll have to deal with the leftover orders and cleaning up. Thankfully, your magic made the clean up much easier and faster. You thought your regular customers would be back after an hour, at minimum, however, you were proven wrong after the third hour had passed.

❥ It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as you could finally get to reading a good book and relaxing in peace until the very late evening, however, it really made you think.

❥ Were humans really that fearful of hybrids? It was a ridiculous fear to have. The hybrid that had arrived that afternoon was very polite and even compensated you for lost business. It worried you the way they were being treated in this small town despite being the mercenaries that were responsible for protecting it.

❥ It took a lot of tenacity and self-restraint to take such discrimination and continue doing the job they were doing.

❥ Your heart ached with sympathy and admiration for the hybrid and his group but, as a result, you were filled with determination to serve them well should they ever enter your tea house doors again.

❥ “I could use some good food right now,” Jungkook groaned as the others made a sound of agreement.

❥ “But you know no restaurant is fond of allowing hybrids in through their doors, let alone providing their service.” Namjoon reasoned with a shake of his head.

❥ At the end of a hard day’s work, even though they can cook, they sometimes sustain injuries from being out on the field and so can’t cook for themselves. Additionally, even if they’re at their cramped home, they never feel truly safe as their hybrid senses are always making them aware of the hostility the townspeople have towards them.

❥ This was how they lived, even from a very young age so they should already be used to such treatment but that’s just never the case. It was undeniable, their desire to be accepted into society and treated fairly for once.

❥ “You know…” Yoongi’s voice cut through their grumbles of disappointment, “there’s a new tea house that opened a month or two ago,”

❥ “Oh yeah!” Jimin perked up, “Didn’t you already visit that place, Yoongi-hyung?”

❥ “Yeah, and,” Yoongi looked at their hopeful faces with a small smile, “I think the owner would be willing to serve us something,”

❥ It took a week until the cat hybrid arrived at your tea house door once again but this time with the rest of his team as well. Of course, the same scuffle to exit as quickly as possible and avoid the hybrids happened once again with your customers - thankfully, they all paid before leaving, shouting their goodbyes as they exited.

❥ “Welcome to The Happier Tea House,” you greeted right away, accustomed to the rushed exit of all your previous customers, “Party of seven?”

❥ It came as such a complete shock to them (well, except for Yoongi) that such a beautiful and young tea house owner was greeting hybrids so kindly without a second glance at your retreating customers. Truly, this was the first time that they felt guilt for causing a cafe owner to lose business because of their presence.

❥ “S-sorry about this,” Namjoon coughed as he blushed in apology, not expecting the kind smile directed at him.

❥ “It’s not your fault they decided to run off,” your eyes softened with an unknown warmth that Namjoon and the other six hybrids couldn’t take their stare away from, “they could have very well stayed had they wanted to,”

❥ After handing over some menus, you left them to chose what they wanted. Seeing as yours wasn’t a regular cafe, your menu was quite diverse and left you a reason to leave them to decide their orders for longer as you prepared a good book for the afternoon once more.

❥ With time, they finally gave you their order to which you noted down swiftly before making your way to the kitchen. You got their drinks ready for them first as you cast a charm to have your utensils cook their meals once again.

❥ “Here you go,” you set down their drinks with a smile as their curious gaze at you persisted.

❥ It was certainly a pleasant surprise to be welcomed with such open arms.

❥ “I can’t believe this,” Hoseok, the red fox hybrid whispered in awe, somewhat breathless as Yoongi nodded along.

❥ “And she’s so beautiful too,” Jimin grinned beside Taehyung and Jungkook who hummed in agreement.

❥ “We lucked out that she decided to make business here,” Namjoon agreed with a gentle smile weighed down with his fatigue.

❥ “I just can’t wait until we finally eat real food,” Seokjin’s dreamlike trance for the upcoming food was a mutual sentiment. It had been so long since they had a warm, home-cooked meal that could really fill their stomachs with enjoyment.

❥ It took you quicker than they expected but they were grateful, their stomach had been rumbling but they could also feel themselves falling victim to their fatigue and border on sleep as their exhausted bodies relaxed into your soft, wonderfully scented cushions and chairs.

❥ “I’m sorry it took so long,” you apologised with a timid smile. They would have assured you of being timely had they been in a better state of health but they were practically drooling just from the smell so you let them eat their meal as you smiled and tucked yourself away at the back with your book.

❥ Almost an entire hour had gone by before you were pulled away from the world your fictional book had confined you in.

❥ “Um, miss owner,” a bashful snow-coloured lynx called for your attention as he leaned against the counter separating the kitchen from the main area.

❥ “Y-yes?” you stuttered in surprise as Jimin gave you a look of apology.

❥ “I’m sorry but is it alright if my friends and I stay for longer? Most of them had fallen asleep,” he looked embarrassed but your reassuring smile made him awe at you.

❥ “Don’t worry, stay for as long as you like,” your eyes crinkled in happiness, “you’re all pleasant to have as customers,” you weren’t lying. They weren’t rowdy or flirtatious or ordered you around too much just to get your attention. They had manners and carried themselves like true gentlemen, the complete antithesis of how they were portrayed on peoples’ tongues.

❥ “Even so, we shall pay you extra for your stellar service and generosity,” Jimin grinned widely, placing several gold coins on the counter before making his way back to his teammates, leaving you no place to protest.

❥ With a sigh and a smile, you peered over the corner and smiled all the more at the sight you were greeted with.

❥ Even though the lynx hybrid had been awake and grinning moments ago, he was fast asleep now, leaning into a tiger’s shoulder as the black jaguar you had first met leaned into the sofa chair with folded arms beside them.

❥ It seemed everyone was asleep now.

❥ In an act of kindness, you went to your room and pulled out several blankets to drape over their slumbering forms. After doing so, you set about quietly decluttering the area using your magic. They had cleaned the plates of their meals, which made you grin because those were your recipes, and so you were smiling for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

❥ Thankfully the magic you used kept you from making any noise that would disturb their light siesta. This would be your thanks for their hard work out at the borders. And you would continue to thank them in this way every time they came to your teahouse.

❥ “I’m worried about the tea house owner,” Jungkook mused one day. Although refreshed from your hospitality and amazing food, he couldn’t help the worry plaguing his thoughts.

❥ “I agree,” Jin elaborated with furrowed brows and pushed down bear ears, further expressing his concern, “she is a young lady that’s not only polite and kind but extremely beautiful,” his comrades nodded beside him, remembering your external but also internal beauty, “she’s also alone in a town with many vicious men,”

❥ “She’ll need protection,” Hoseok suggested.

❥ “Our protection,” Yoongi nodded to everyone in the team before they all looked towards their canine leader, Namjoon, who laughed.

❥ “It’s not as if I’m going to say no,” he gave a nod of approval, “I worry for her too. She is in a vulnerable position.”

❥ “It’s decided then!” Jimin clapped in glee, eagerness bubbling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of meeting you again as soon as possible.

❥ “Let's not get ahead of ourselves though,” Taehyung reasoned as another concern fabricated itself in his mind, “we’ll have to be subtle about it or else she’ll lose even more business because of us.”

❥ With a sigh, Jimin nodded, “You’re right,”

❥ If they visit you too often, you’ll end up losing customers and profit. Yes they had the money to pay you compensation for lost business but you needed to interact with other humans or else you’ll end up isolated. Not to mention, they had their own patrols to make.

❥ “Subtle protection it is then,” Hoseok grinned, never one to let any negativity into his heart, “we’ll take turns watching over her from the background. One for every day of the week.”

❥ “Like undercover guards?!” Jungkook beamed in excitement, being a mercenary had been a delight at first but that thrill had died quickly with the unrelenting prejudice of humans.

❥ Protecting ungrateful individuals didn’t leave much excitement in Jungkook’s stomach. This, however, was an entirely new type of elation. He was protecting someone that cooked him good food, served delicious drinks, and draped blankets over him and his family.

❥ He’s sure all of them were more than willing to set their lives down on the line for the one human that had shown them the genuine kindness and acceptance they have been covertly earning for many years.

[infinites-chaser]

today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay) | mlqc | gavin/mc | domestic fluff

Gavin and MC spend a sleepy Sunday together.

The first rays of warm, buttery dawn light are  barely brushing the edges of the half-open blinds when Gavin stirs, eyes blinking open, mouth stretching wide in a quiet yawn, MC still fast  asleep in his arms, her hair like a soft silk blanket across his chest. Carefully, trying his best to not disturb her, he reaches over her head  to grab at the top of the nightstand, where both their phones sit,  charging, hers quiet, his buzzing softly but insistently with his morning alarm.

With an easy, practiced swipe, he silences it, placing it next to hers once more. He brings his hand back to caress her cheek, then begins the slow process of freeing his body by gently shifting her onto the bed itself. At his touch, she murmurs something. Soft and unintelligible as it is, it still manages to bring a small  smile to his face.

For a moment, he lets himself lie there, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbones, the edge of her lips, lets the warm rise and fall of her chest and the beat of her heart in time with  his complete him— she's the only peace he’ll ever want, the only peace  he thinks he’ll ever need.

Another alarm sets his phone off, and the moment’s over. But as he reaches to silence his phone again, MC stirs, turning her head just the slightest so her lips brush the tip of his thumb.

“What time is it?” comes her sleepy mumble.

“Just past five.”

He  lets his phone fall back onto the nightstand, pulls her close as she wriggles around in his arms to bring her face to his, their noses a breath apart.

“I was about to go on my morning run,” he explains. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. The sun did.”

As  she shakes her head, their noses bump. He laughs, and feels the gentle  tremor of her laughter, too: warmth and light given voice, given music.  He presses a kiss to her forehead and she smiles, eyes curling into little half-moons, then slipping closed.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, stifling another laugh. “You had a late night.”

“Did not.”

Her eyes are still closed, but she’s grinning. He scoffs.

“Did too.”

He’s expecting another, more indignant did not, but a long minute passes, and her breathing evens out, the grin on her face softening to a gentle smile as her head pillows in the crook of his arm.

Good, he thinks, even as he’s trapped by her again. She needs the sleep more than he needs to run.

She’d been up past midnight the night before, despite it being a weekend— the company had wrapped shooting for the next installment of City News late Friday night, but Minor, who was slated to edit the footage, had come down with a cold, and she’d volunteered to do it instead. Twenty-five hours and many a frustrated moment later, she’d finished, with Gavin doing his best to support and not hover the whole while (Though in his defense, even if he hadn’t actually had a case report to work on at the table, too, she’d appreciated the constant supply of coffee he’d provided her, and had eaten the meals he’d tried to make for her).

He’d chastise her for it, a short, well-intentioned lecture about how she really should consider herself and her own health before taking on even  more work and responsibilities, but he’s sure the same could be said  about him, too. And, exhausted as she may be, he knows she’d have been equally stressed had the work gone to someone else, and now she’s  finished, and satisfied with the work she’s done, so really, more than  anything else, he’s proud of her.

Now she has all of Sunday to rest— and even if it means sleeping half the morning away, he’s glad to  be with her while she does it.

The sound of her breathing, slow and even, lulls him back into a light sleep until seven am, when the summer sunlight streaming in through the blinds is blanketing the  bottom half of the bed, too bright for him to ignore. He drops a kiss on  the top of MC’s hair before carefully sliding out from under her, and  this time she’s sleeping so deeply that she doesn’t stir, not even when he settles her head atop a pillow, and pulls the sheets a little more tightly around her to make up for his absent warmth.

Despite how  bright it is outside— too bright, and therefore too hot, he decides, for  a run— the kitchen floor’s cool under his feet, even through the soles of his slippers.

Hot coffee it is, he thinks, filling  up the well-used coffee machine, then poking around in the pantry for  the jar of grounds, only to find it’s nearly empty. There’s enough  coffee for two more cups, maybe three, but he makes a mental note to buy  more the next time they’re out shopping.

While the coffee brews, he crosses the kitchen to open the fridge, then frowns at its contents. Shopping will have to be soon, there’s not much left in it, either, but  for now, it’ll do.

The coffee machine beeps, satisfied after filling the first mug to the brim. He takes it, though the first cup’s  normally for MC, gulps down a few sips with a grimace, then stirs in two sugars— it’s how she likes hers, he’s used to taking his black, but it seems her sweet tooth’s contagious.

In the time it takes her to finally wake up, he manages to prepare brunch with whatever’s left in the fridge. The cornerstone, of course, is the coffee, in the second of their matching mugs, as sweet as she likes it, two sugars, no milk. There’s a blueberry muffin he leaves her, and he fries up a couple  of eggs, puts them on some toast with butter and jam as options for spreads, then adds the last of the strawberries, tries to make the whole thing presentable, or at the very least, vaguely cute, if only because it’ll put the brightest smile on her face when she sees it.

It  does— her sleepy eyes widen as she first takes the sight of the laden tray in, then comprehension lights her whole face up, and her lips stretch into a still-tired, but broad grin.

“Gavin,” she protests even as he slides back into bed next to her, stealing a kiss, “you shouldn’t have!”

He smiles, tapping the rim of his mug to hers as she takes a big sip, then sighs, content.

“It’s only because you went to sleep so late last night. I had to.”

“It wasn’t that late! And it’s only because it was a lot of work that I didn’t wake up ‘til now.”

‘Wasn’t that late’ is two am and ‘now’ is one pm, and he points both out with a chuckle. She pouts, hiding behind another sip of coffee.

“I’ll go to sleep earlier from now on!” She vows.

“How early?”

“Um, one am?”

“That’s not early enough.”

He flicks her forehead and frowns, but she only laughs.

Despite his worry and gentle admonition, though, he can’t say he minds this at all: a weekend afternoon spent in bed, no deadlines or stress to think  of, just her smile, her warm laugh and the bright summer sun in the  window, a universe they’ve created between the folds of the covers, a universe of breakfast smells, soft pillows, and coffee, a universe just for them.

Dinner, a few lazy hours later, is takeout oden hotpot. His excuse is that there’s nothing left in the fridge, and possibly, also the fact that he’s uncertain his cooking skills are  passable enough for a good Sunday dinner, but he’ll take any reason to  treat MC to her favorite, so he does.

Her eyes flick from the familiar logo on the takeout bag up to his when he sets it on the kitchen table. He can read the ‘Gavin, you shouldn’t have,’ in them a heartbeat before she says the words.

“Eat  up while it’s still hot,” is his only reply, and with a smile, he hands her a pair of disposable chopsticks after breaking them apart with a small snap. She looks from him to the steaming pot of food. When he doesn’t move, she picks up a fish cake and a piece of vegetable, and holds it out to him with an answering smile.

“You first. You really like the fish cakes from here, right?”

He nods, fighting another smile and the smallest blush, then takes the bite, gesturing for her to eat, too, as he chews and swallows.

While she’s busy filling her own bowl, he takes his own chopsticks and picks out a few choice pieces, then holds his first bite out to her, too. She takes it without protest, but then tries to give her second bite to him, and he counters by trying to give her both his second and his third—

The hotpot’s finished, in that manner, within the next hour and a half. When the pot’s full of only broth, they take a look at each other, then MC begins to laugh.

“My stomach’s stuffed— are you prepared to take responsibility for this crime, Officer Gavin?” she manages, between laughs, trying and failing to put on a pitiful expression as she rubs her belly.

“Only if you start eating proper meals regularly,” he replies after a heartbeat, clearing his throat, and she huffs, but there’s a matching spark of amusement in both their eyes.

They wash the dishes from the day together, MC with the sponge, Gavin behind her, his arms not quite around her, taking each dish and drying it with a towel before putting it to rest on the dish rack. Once the last bowl is scrubbed and shining, nestled firmly in place, they settle together in a comfortable tangle of limbs on the couch.

It’s a gentle sort of quiet for all of five minutes before someone tickles the other— Gavin’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him— and it turns into a full-scale tickle war.

He gets in a few good ones, her breathless laughter mingling with his,  warm and loud and bright, but then her elbow slips, (“it wasn’t on purpose!” she claims later) devious, into his gut.

“Do you surrender?” she asks, perched atop his chest, mischievous glint in her  eyes. He starts to raise his arms, thinks better of it, then settles for a resigned nod.

“You got me,” he replies, then smiles when she leans in to brush her lips against his.

He doesn’t use the opportunity to tickle her again— he’s far more mature than that. He doesn’t.

And if they collapse into giddy giggles later, sides aching, breath spent, the couch pillows strewn across the plush white carpet, the coffee table askew, well, that's both their faults, not just his.

The sun’s long since slipped below the horizon by the time they’ve cleaned up the living room and taken a seat again, tired out. The room's wide windows give them both a glimpse into an otherworldly dimension, one made of night and stars and the soft glow of city lights far below, a universe at their feet, though the only one he cares about is right beside him, chin on his shoulder, the rest of her stretched out on the  sofa while he sits on the floor.

“Play something for me?” she murmurs into his ear as he fiddles with his guitar, the two of them illuminated by the glow of his lamp of stars and the moonlight.

He  lets his fingers dance across the guitar strings until it turns into  music, a soft, warm melody that somehow tugs on the edges of his memory though he’s sure he’s never played it before in his life, and he’s humming along before he even realizes it, the notes familiar, nostalgic, like coming home.

MC’s head tips up, eyes wide, and his fingers slip from the strings. The music stops.

“Play that again?”

He  nods, obliges instinctively, and there’s the melody again, chords like  his life given new meaning, breathed alive in the spaces between the  start of one note and the end of another, slow and quiet at first, then  building, gently lingering.

“Do you know the song?” he asks. “It feels familiar, somehow—”

His voice trails off. The words, once spoken aloud, seem almost silly. It’s more than familiar, it’s something deep, significant, more than he could ever put into words.

She shakes her head with a slight frown. At her silence, he picks through the notes again, humming them, memorizing their sound, their shape, their feel until the snippet’s over again, fading, a song left unfinished, perhaps because its (his, their) story hasn’t yet come to an end.

“I think I’ve heard it before,” she says at last with a small, wistful smile, then leans over the guitar to press a kiss to his lips. Reflected in her eyes, he fancies, is not just the lamplight, but the light of  all the universe, a hundred galaxies, a thousand stars.

“Maybe it was in a dream.”

[stiltonbasket]

In which Wei Wuxian needs a break, Jiang Cheng is smitten, and Xiao Xingchen finally makes his way to a safe haven.

Unfortunately for Wei Wuxian, twenty-five-year-old father of two and co-owner of Lotus Pier Bakery, his days always start at four o’clock in the morning. 

Right after his alarm rings, he showers (sometimes) brushes his teeth (if he remembers to) and combs his hair (if he can’t get away with wrangling it into a messy braid, which works for three days out of every five) before stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen, where he spends the next two hours mixing pastry dough and preparing enormous rows of stuffed baozi. After the buns and pastries are done—and pastry is always finicky, even for him—he takes out his pans of bread dough and bakes until his hands are numb from kneading and mixing, right before whipping up a sponge batter and making four different flavors of cake with it: plain, chocolate, a green tea sponge that is ridiculously popular despite only smelling like tea (though it’s still a good cake, as proven by his sister’s fondness for it) and strawberry. He also puts on a pot of lotus and pork rib soup, since the bakery serves meals during lunch and provides a free cup of soup with every order.

At seven-thirty, he hears the sleepy sounds of his brother moving about on the second floor, going about his own preparations for the day. Jiang Cheng’s morning responsibilities include getting himself ready, making sure Wei Wuxian’s six-year-old-son (an actual ray of sunshine, brought to life in the shape of a boy called Wen Yuan) is dressed and packed for school, and giving baby Xiao-Yu his first bottle before the breakfast rush begins. 

Wei Wuxian’s children are utter delights, though, so he counts that part as one of the many privileges that come with being an uncle to the two most precious baby boys in the world. 

“There’s also A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng says grumpily, when he comes down with shaving foam still stuck to his ears and A-Yu wriggling in his arms. “And I don’t have to change his diapers, Wei Wuxian.”

“It’s only once a day,” Wei Wuxian coaxes. He grabs the baby from Jiang Cheng and gives him a smacking kiss on the nose, his heart melting all over again as Xiao-Yu tries to imitate him and ends up licking his face instead. “How’s the most perfect baby in the universe doing today, baobei?”

Xiao-Yu only babbles at him, since he only just passed his tenth-month birthday and can’t really manage speech outside of the occasional “baba,” (directed at Wei Wuxian, of course) or the odd “mama,” which is also directed at Wei Wuxian because he is, as he tells everyone who asks him out and then runs the second he explains, very much a single father. Parenthood’s very bad for the dating scene, but he’ll gladly remain single for the rest of his life to make sure he can give his best to A-Yuan and Xiao-Yu. 

Not that any of them but Yanli ever thought about anything like romance or marriage, after the Jiang estate burned to the ground with their parents in it and left them dependent on a family friend’s charity for the next year and a half. 

A-Yuan comes bounding into the kitchen five minutes later, dressed in a tidy little button-up and neat grey shorts with a backpack strapped to his shoulders. “A-Die!” he cries, flinging his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and nuzzling against his stomach until his father bursts out laughing at how much it tickles. “A-Die, I’m ready. What do I get for lunch today?”

“First things first,” Wei Wuxian tells him, as A-Yu observes them through the mesh walls of his playpen with one chubby finger in his mouth. “Did you and your shushu finish all your breakfast!”

“Mm, we did! Shushu made eggs!”

“Then you can go pick out one of the buns in the cooling rack for you, and one for A-Ling. And two for your peacock uncle, since he always eats too much.”

Once A-Yuan makes his choices—a soft baozi with mushrooms in it for him, and and a green onion pastry with tomatoes for Jin Ling—Wei Wuxian fills up two tiny thermoses with hot soup and then fills up A-Yuan’s Spiderman water bottle, which is completely covered in the rabbit stickers he hoards every time someone takes him to the doctor’s office. 

“Lunches packed,” Jiang Cheng drones, starting up the various drinks machines behind the bakery counter as A-Yuan grabs his cousin’s lunchbox and tries to pack it himself. “I am now going to make coffee. And tea. And milk tea, since my elder brother is a cruel, cruel man.”

“The McDonalds down the street would have put us out of business if we hadn’t started serving bubble tea,” Wei Wuxian scolds. “And Wen Qing likes the way you cook the tapioca, so don’t even complain.”

He leaves Jiang Cheng blushing in front of the gargantuan coffee-maker and hustles A-Yuan out through the little door that separates the staff-only area from the dining room just before a large, expensive car pulls up just outside the sign in the window that reads Lotus Pier Bakery. 

“It’s Peacock-uncle,” A-Yuan pipes up, still amazed by the sight of Jin Zixuan’s luxury sports car, as if he doesn’t ride to and from school in it every day. “And A-Ling, and Auntie!”

Yanli breezes in half a second later, pouncing on A-Yuan the moment she crosses the threshold and covering his face with kisses. “Good morning, Yuan-bao,” she sings, as A-Yuan turns into putty in her arms and tucks his face against her shoulder. “Are you ready for school?”

“I’m always ready,” he informs her, before proudly displaying the two lunchboxes hanging from his elbow and the brown-paper bag held carefully in one hand. “See, I packed A-Ling’s lunch, all by myself! And Peacock-uncle’s!”

“Peacock-uncle’s going to be hungry again by lunchtime,” Jiang Cheng calls, sticking his head up over the espresso maker. “And he’ll be here at noon with the rest of the Jin crowd, just wait.”

“A-Yuan won’t be here at lunchtime,” Wen Yuan says peacefully. “A-Yuan will be at school.”

After that, Wei Wuxian gets A-Yuan settled in his booster seat, squeezes A-Ling, and waves at his brother-in-law with Jiang Yanli until the car vanishes down the street, leaving Yanli to put up her hair and march back into the kitchen to start cooking for rush hour. 

“A-Cheng, you’ve got the drinks and the registers covered, right?” she asks, before grinning from ear to ear as a young woman with a badge clipped to her shirt comes in and stares at Jiang Cheng across the counter until his face looks more like a roasted beet than anything remotely human. “Good morning, Wen Qing!”

“I’ll take my usual coffee order and a spinach roll,” Wen Qing says, sending a short, small smile at Yanli—which is more than anyone else except Jiang Cheng ever gets, because Wen Qing is a medical resident with no sympathy for anyone but her patients, A-Yuan, and inexplicably Wei Wuxian’s bad-tempered brother, who loses most of his senses whenever she walks into Lotus Pier and only gets them back about an hour after she leaves. 

“You’ve just missed A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian complains, stocking the display case next to the cash register. “He kept asking when we could see you yesterday, you know.”

“I’ll try to get up earlier tomorrow,” she yawns, carefully not paying attention when Jiang Cheng overturns a box of sugar packets in an effort to wrap up her spinach roll as neatly as he can. “Or you could video call me at night, when those of us who aren’t bakers are most active. Like normal people do.”

“I go to bed at eight o’clock like an old man, thank you very much,” he sniffs. “My schedule’s murder on my old lifestyle—”

“You mean spending all night gatecrashing sorority parties like you used to back in college?”

“—and I have children to look after,” he finishes sagely. “Do you want soup, too, Wen Qing? I can throw in a free bowl.”

“We won’t make any money that way,” Jiang Cheng scolds him, providing a wonderful show of hypocrisy as he hands Wen Qing a cup of coffee with three protective sleeves on it to make sure she doesn’t burn her hands, a heat-safe straw jammed down the side, and a warm paper bag containing at least one more fresh pastry than Wei Wuxian remembers her ordering. “Here. Good luck today, Miss Wen.”

Wen Qing tosses a mouthful of coffee down her throat and then turns to stare at Jiang Cheng.

“If it weren’t for you and your perfect coffee,” she says, “I would have dropped out years ago.”

And then she strides out the door and climbs back into her car, leaving Jiang Cheng dumbstruck in her wake as Wei Wuxian doubles over and screams with laughter until he cries. 

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng mutters, when Xiao-Yu’s adorable baby giggles ring out alongside his father’s. “Look, now Xiao-Yu’s doing it.”

“He knows denial when he sees it,” Wei Wuxian tells him. “Honestly, A-Cheng. A-Yu’s just trying to help!”

The rest of the day goes on much as days at Lotus Pier Bakery usually do; happily, but so very busily that Wei Wuxian ends up staggering back upstairs for a second shower with Xiao-Yu when the lunch rush ends. The eatery serves coffee and baked goods from opening to closing, and is open for dine-in restaurant meals from eleven to two-thirty; Yanli does most of the cooking, while Wei Wuxian does the prep work, and Jiang Cheng handles the take-out baked goods sales and the drinks and helps wait tables until time comes to wipe down the tables in the dining area after the lunch customers finally finish eating—and the result of it all is that all three of them are so drained that they can hardly keep their eyes open, especially after dealing with parties bigger than about four or five. 

“How is it only three-thirty,” Wei Wuxian moans, slumping wearily over the counter with Xiao-Yu tied to his back when Jin Zixuan comes by to drop A-Yuan off and pick Yanli up later that afternoon. “I want to sleep, A-Jie.”

“Have you looked into getting any more part-timers?” his sister asks, pressing a cool, soft hand to his cheek. “I know Xue Yang’s doing well, but he only comes three times a week.”

“A-Yang’s a gremlin,” Wei Wuxian dismisses. “And he barely talks, it scares the customers. I was thinking of having someone move into your old bedroom, but of course it isn’t so easy with Yuan-bao and A-Yu here.”

“What about Wen Ning?” Jin Zixuan suggests, absentmindedly turning A-Yuan upside down and swinging him back and forth while Jin Ling begs for a turn on his other side. “A-Yuan’s his cousin, and he dotes on A-Yu, so it could work out, couldn’t it?”

“Not until he finishes his degree. And he’s got a job lined up after that, so there wouldn’t be any point,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. Wei Wuxian and his siblings all went to college, graduating with degrees in dance performance, mechanical engineering, and economics, in order of age—but then the fire came along and ruined everything about a year before he and Jiang Cheng were set to graduate, and all the three of them wanted to do after that was spend as much time together as they possibly could, so they ended up opening the bakery instead. “And we don’t know anyone else well enough.”

“Well, something will turn up,” Yanli soothes him, tiptoeing up to kiss his forehead and then Wei Wuxian’s before lifting A-Ling into her arms. “Promise me you’ll get some rest, A-Cheng. And A-Xian, you have to promise, too.”

“We promise,” they say dutifully, before watching her leave with her husband and son. 

Letting her go doesn’t seem half so bad these days, since they know how loved she is at home, and that she’s always going to come back to them in the morning. 

“She’s right, you know,” Jiang Cheng sighs, after a long pause. “We really do need to get some new staff, or we’ll run ourselves into the ground.”

“I’ll start making ads tomorrow night,” Wei Wuxian promises, sending A-Yuan upstairs for his afternoon nap and dearly wishing he could go have a nap, too. “Let’s get through the rest of the day, and then I’ll put in a call to the printers’ so we can put up flyers.”

___

As it turns out, however, the answer to their quandary comes about two hours later, after Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng put the “closed” signs in all the windows and shutter the blinds behind them. Jiang Cheng is just about to unroll the blinds on the reinforced glass doors when he takes in a sharp breath and shouts for Wei Wuxian, who comes rolling out of the dining room in five seconds flat before trotting over to stand beside him. 

“Is it just me,” he says, “or is there someone staring at me outside?”

Wei Wuxian looks. There definitely is someone outside, dressed in shabby, misshapen clothes and holding a dark little bundle to his chest, and that someone looks more than a bit familiar. 

Almost, he realizes, like a certain long-absent member of his family, from whom he has not heard anything in the past two years save for three very hurried phone calls. 

“No way,” he breathes, unlocking the door and running out into the street just in time for the someone to fall straight into his arms and burst into tears. “Xingchen!”

[lucy-268]

Revelations

A/N - This is ‘the talk’ and it takes place a week after Regrets. You can find that on my masterlist. Also, this meets the requirement for the @choicesweeklychallenge​. You belong to me can be found in bold.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to PB

Warnings: none? I don’t think even language.  

Series/Pairing: Open Heart - Ethan x f!MC (Charley Valentine)

Word count: 4,466

*****Thursday*****

“Has Denver General sent us any more information, or will I just find out when I get there?” June asked.

Consulting his notes, Ethan answered her. “Dr. Morgan said that he would send us the remaining test results as soon as he gets them. He’ll be sending them to all of us, so if you want to discuss the case with any of us we’ll all have the same information.”

June never looked up from the report she was reviewing. “I doubt it will be necessary.”

“Regardless of whether you think it’s a necessity, you will keep me informed of the case.” Ethan reminded her.

“Of course, Ethan.” June said. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to get ready for my flight?”

“You don’t want to hear about my new patient?” Baz asked her.

June glanced at him. “My flight leaves in less than three hours, so no. At least not right now.” She gathered her files and left saying goodbye to the rest of the team.

“Baz, what is going on with your new patient?” Charley asked.

“Late-onset Chediak-Higashi Syndrome. For me as an immunologist, I find it extremely interesting, especially as the patient is thirty-two and just diagnosed.”

Charley looked between Baz and Ethan. “Is this a team patient?”

“No. This is a patient of Baz’s. We will have a new patient coming in on Monday for which you will be primary.” Ethan held up a folder.

Baz briefed them on his patient, excusing himself when he received a page saying the patient was being admitted.

“And then there were two,” Ethan handed her the folder.

She flipped it open and read through the file. “Twenty-five year old male. Diabetic. Joint pain and muscle weakness.” Charley looked at him. “Do you know what it is and you want me to figure it out?”

Ethan shook his head. “I have a couple of ideas but I don’t know for sure what it is. You should have several ideas right now.”

“The symptoms can be just about anything. You said he gets here on Monday ?”

He nodded. “He’s already been to Mass Kenmore several times. Even though we have sent a release signed by the patient, Terrance hasn’t sent the files to us. So we may start with spinning our wheels testing for things that they have already tested for and eliminated.”

Charley studied the file again. “Did you see the iron levels here? I think the first thing is a liver biopsy?”

“Are you telling me that’s what you are going to do, or asking me if I think that’s the right choice?” Ethan asked her.

Her head snapped up. “That’s what I’m going to order. I’ll even have the order written so the test is run as soon as he’s admitted.” Charley met his eyes. “What?”

Ethan smiled. “There aren’t a lot of doctors who could have figured out to start with that test after reviewing a file for less than fifteen minutes. Let alone a second year resident. So I am impressed.” He reached over and stroked the back of her hand. “You often impress me.”

She turned her hand and laced their fingers. “It’s Thursday.”

“So it is.”

“Last week you texted me and said we would talk on Saturday.”

“Yes. And we decided we’d have dinner at six.”

Charley met his eyes. “You aren’t going to change your mind?”

“We’re meeting at my apartment. I’ll be there. We are long overdue for the talk. And I’m sorry for that.”

Charley smiles. “Will I finally get my chicken?”

“You will not. We’ve made the chicken together,” he held up his hand when she was going to interrupt, “this time, we’ll make something else. You plan the meal.”

“We may have made the chicken together but I never got to try it.”

“I want to see what you come up with. You can create any menu you want. Email me what we need and I’ll go shopping.” Ethan smiled at her.

Charley considered for a minute. “Anything?” When Ethan nodded, she continued, “My grandma had an amazing pot roast recipe. We could roast it in the oven or use a crockpot. It’s always best if it cooks on low in the crockpot, so that would take about seven or so hours. I’ll email you the list, and I guess I’ll be there late morning. I guess we’ll also have lunch together, too. That’s alright, isn’t it Ethan?” She didn’t even wait for his answer before she left the office.

Charley watched the office door to see if he was going to come after her and inform her they would not be spending the entire day together.

Ethan sat at his desk, he smiled as he realized that life would never be boring around Charley Valentine.

*****Saturday*****

Sienna pushed open Charley’s bedroom door. “Are yo-” Sienna stopped mid-sentence. She heard several loud thuds and  wanted to ask if Charley was okay, but she did not expect the scene she witnessed. She also didn’t see her roommate. “Charley!”

“I’m here,” Charley called, pushing herself out from under the bed. “I was looking for this shoe. That I can’t wear now. Thank you, Lucy!” The shoe had become a chew toy for their pet.

Lucy, their fennec fox, sat in the middle of Charley’s bed, looking proud of herself.

“Forget the shoe, we understand what happened to it.” Sienna looked around the room. “Was there a bomb? Are you telekinetic? Did your closet and dresser decide to vomit every article of clothing you own into your room?”

“I’m looking for something to wear, and I don’t have anything! I got off at five yesterday, I should have gone shopping!”

Sienna remembered the day a couple weeks ago when Charley got home late clad in someone else’s clothes. Based on her own conversation with a certain someone, Sienna had a pretty good idea who. Now she was frantically trying to find something special to wear. “What’s his name?”

Charley froze. “What’s whose name?”

“Obviously, the guy that you’re spending your day with. The same one you were with when you came home wearing clothes that were way too big for you. So, who is it?”

“No one,” Charley stated. “I’m not spending the day with anyone.”

“Yet you canceled on Bryce and me for today.” Sienna picked up a Columbia t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a rip in the knees. “Here, put these on.” She smiled. “I mean, if you aren’t doing anything special today, it doesn’t matter what you have on.”

Charley looked at the clothes that Sienna tossed on her bed. She had to leave for Ethan’s before Sienna would be leaving to meet Bryce, and she still didn’t know what she was going to wear.

Sienna watched her. “I heard that Dr. Ramsey also has today off. And he did when you had your second day off two weeks ago.”

Charley froze and looked to the door. “Everyone else is working today and they’re gone?”

Sienna nodded and sat down on Charley’s bed. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“So it wasn’t just the one night when he spent the night here?”

“That day we went to the country club and later I went to his apartment to talk to him? That was the first time, and the night after my hearing was the second. It was also the last time.” Charley sighed. “Then he went to the Amazon so we could ‘reset’ since he would be my director supervisor.” Charley sighed. “Since he’s been back he says we need to stay away from each other, but then he’ll kiss me. Today we’re going to ‘talk.’ We’ve been supposed to talk since right after the softball game, but it kept getting delayed.”

Sienna smirked at her. “You had on his clothes the day you came home.”

Charley's face turned red. “We spent the day together with his dad in Providence. We took his dog for a walk and I fell into a mud puddle.”

“You’ve met his family!”

“His dad. He hadn’t told Alan that he was bringing me with him. Ethan had never taken anyone home with him before, not even Harper Emery.”

“Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Emery were a thing!” Sienna’s mouth dropped open.

“I don’t know if it’s really common knowledge. Aurora probably knows. I saw the two of them talking once and it seemed intimate. It was the day before they announced the opening on the diagnostics team. I did ask him about it later and he said he likes to keep his private life private, but he did say they had an on-again, off-again thing but it ended permanently when she became chief.” Charley rested her head on her hand. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t tell anyone.”

Sienna mimed sealing her lips. “I thought that you and Bryce were kind of together.”

“We hooked up a couple of times but we both agreed to be casual.”

“And with Ramsey, you don’t want casual?”

“I don’t.” Charley chewed on her lip. “Sienna, I’m terrified about today. I know that everything is going to change.”

“Well then, let’s get you ready.” Sienna picked up the t-shirt and jeans. “This probably won’t do; we’ll find something else.”

Charley was just getting ready to leave when her phone rang. She looked at the caller id and sighed. “If you’re calling to cancel-” she started.

“I’m not,” she heard his rich baritone as well as a smile in his voice. “I had to go to the hospital to pick up something. If you haven’t left yet you can ride with me. I’m outside your building.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Charley disconnected, smiling.

Soon they were in his apartment. She kicked off her shoes at the door and stood there when he walked further into the apartment. He got half way through the living room when he realized she wasn’t with him. He turned to find her at the door. “If we want to make this pot roast we need to go to the kitchen.”

Charley gave a nervous laugh and stepped away from the door. She tossed her purse on the couch as they walked into the kitchen. They washed their hands and Ethan pulled his crockpot out of the pantry while Charley pulled the roast out of the refrigerator. She saw the printout from her email with the image of her grandma’s recipe. Ethan gathered the rest of the ingredients while Charley brewed a pot of coffee.

“Why the crockpot instead of a roasting pan in the oven? I saw the recipe had directions for both with cooking times for either low or high in the slow cooker.”

“It tastes better and is more tender.”

Ethan smirked. “It does not. And we need to use the Dutch oven even if it’s just to brown the roast.”

“Maybe it doesn’t do a lot for the taste, but it is more tender.” Charley watched as the coffee finished brewing, standing  with her back to him. “It takes longer to cook in the slow cooker on low and I wanted to spend more time with you.” She gave a short laugh. “Funnily enough, now that I’m here, I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

She turned to face him. “I think that today may change everything, and I’m hopeful but I’m also scared. I’ve been wanting to sit down with you away from the hospital with just the two of us for so long, but now that we’re actually going to do that...” She bit her lip.

“Now you understand why I’ve been putting it off. But I’ve done a lot of thinking. And I talked to Naveen. We are long overdue. Today will change everything but we will be in agreement with it, I think.”

Charley nodded. Ethan turned back to the counter.  “Let’s get this set for dinner, fix lunch, and talk.”

Charley browned the roast in the Dutch oven while Ethan chopped the vegetables and herbs. Once the roast was in the crockpot, Charley cooked the onion. Once they started to soften, they added the rest of the ingredients, including the coffee. “Why coffee?” Ethan asked.

Charley smiled, watching the mixture simmer. “Is this a quiz, same as ‘why neat’ that first night at Donahue’s?”

“Genuine curiosity. As much as I love coffee, I’ve never had pot roast cooked in coffee. I found the recipe interesting.”

“It helps to tenderize the meat and gives the gravy a richer flavor.”

Once the gravy and onion mixture was cooked, Ethan poured it over the meat and set the timer. While Charley washed the accumulated dishes, Ethan fixed salads for lunch. They took their plates to the living room and sat side-by-side on his sofa.

“You talked to Naveen about us.” When he nodded, she continued, “I talked to Sienna.”

They fell into a silence while they ate. Charley glanced at him every so often.

He pushed the last piece of lettuce around on his plate before finally setting the plate on the coffee table. He turned to her; she mimicked his moves and faced him.

“Ethan, I’ve said for a while that a relationship with you is an easy decision for me. It’s what I want. I think that we could be good together, amazing even.”

Ethan nodded. “I know. You aren’t the problem, I am. I want to be able to push you to be the best doctor you can be.”

“You can do that professionally, regardless of any personal relationship we have. I can take criticism from Dr. Ramsey and know that it isn’t coming from Ethan.”

“You’re assuming that I can also have that division.”

That got Charley’s attention. “You’re Ethan Freakin’ Ramsey. You can do anything you try to. If you want to make the distinction you will. And if you cross the line, I’ll let you know.”

“Another problem-”

Charley put her hand on his arm. “If you just want to list a lot of potential possible problems, why are we even having a discussion? Earlier you said that today would change everything and you thought we’d be in agreement.” She folded her arms across her chest and focused on a picture hanging on the wall. “If you thought that I’d change my mind about us, you’re wrong. If you thought you could list all the reasons why we can’t be together and why you won’t be with me, I was right to be nervous about this. If that’s-”

Ethan reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him. “What I want to do is identify the obstacles or potential obstacles we face so we are both aware of them, and to decide how we need to handle them in the future.” He wiped a tear out of her eye. “Because in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I very much do want to be with you.”

Charley grabbed his hand and kissed his palm before lacing their fingers together. She smiled at him. “I’m sorry for my outburst. Continue, please.”

“Another problem is the board. They don’t like interoffice romances. Naveen seems to think this won’t be an issue. He seems to think that as long as it isn’t impacting the care of the patients, or the bottom line of the hospital, they wouldn’t care, nor would they even need to be aware. I disagree with him on this. I think the board makes it their business to know what goes on in the hospital.”

Charley interrupted again. “I know that there are married couples at the hospital. Was it a problem when you and Harper were together?” Ethan drew in a deep breath when she asked that. “If you don’t want to answer that you don’t have to.”

“I will. It was not a problem and the board did not have an issue with it when she was head of neurosurgery and I was a fellow on the diagnostics team. If our relationship would have continued when she was chief or if I had been a surgeon, it would have been a problem. Any other couples at Edenbrook do not work in the same area, and one member of the couple is not another’s supervisor.”

Ethan continued, “I don’t want anyone to think that you got the position on my team because of our relationship. I don’t want anyone to have any doubt about that. You earned it.”

Charley nodded. “I did earn it. You weren’t even the one who put me on the team. Naveen did.”

Ethan agreed that while that was true, many people at the hospital could have thought that he asked Naveen to do that.

“If anyone has doubts, I graduated at the top of my class at Columbia. Not near, I was ranked first. In fact if anyone had ranked all med school graduates my year from around the country, I’d probably be in the top fifty.”

Ethan laughed. “Someone did. And you are higher than that. You are somewhere in the top twenty. I’m not going to narrow it down more than that for you.”

“Based on that, I think I earned the right to be on the team. Not to mention helping to cure Naveen last year. Our relationship had nothing to do with it. Well except for the fact you inspired me to go to med school in the first place. And I wanted to work with you, which is why I came to Edenbrook.”

“We probably don’t want to advertise our personal relationship at work. The hospital has a wonderful gossip network and we’ll need to be careful. That being said it probably won’t be long before everyone knows about us.”

“That sounds okay. But some people will know. I told Sienna and you told Naveen. My roommates will know I’m seeing someone, and will make it their mission to find out who.” Charley wasn’t sure if she should mention the next part, but figured she might as well. “June does, or she thinks she does. At least that was what she implied the day I caught her with my personnelle file.”

Ethan froze. “She had your file?”

Charley nodded. “She said that she reads the files for everyone she works with. She tried to tell me you asked her to get it for you, but I knew you wouldn’t have.”

“I’ll deal with her when she gets back from Denver. Your roommates and Naveen are fine.”

“If my roommates know Bryce will also know; and if Aurora does, Harper might.” Charley looked up at him. “Can we talk about Harper?”

“I thought we already had.”

“You ended things when she became chief. If she wouldn’t have, would you still be together, do you think?”

“We would not. We were together because it was mutually beneficial to the both of us. But we were never going to last.”

She smirked at him. “By ‘mutually beneficial’ do you mean it was convenient and the sex was good?”

“Yes.” Ethan said. “But then last year something happened that I knew would never lead Harper and I together again.” When Charley tipped her head to show she was interested in his answer, he continued. “Last year, an intern showed up and turned my life inside out. And I can’t get her out of my head.”

Charley started to move towards him, and he stopped her. “What about the scalpel jockey?”

Charley lips twitched. “His name is Bryce.”

“I’m aware, and you didn’t answer the question.”

“We hooked up twice, once at our housewarming party and again once after we were at Donahue’s. We almost did the night we researched treating Mrs. Martinez, but you’d already kissed me in Miami. I wasn’t interested in anyone else at that point.” She looked at the ground before meeting his eyes. “Bryce is a friend and a good one. I trust him. I also know if I ever did want a relationship with him, I’d have that choice. I don’t, and Bryce respects that.”

“As long as he knows that you belong to me.” Ethan pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her.

“And you belong to me!” Charley shifted slightly on his lap and felt his hardness under her thigh. “We could continue this in the bedroom.”

“A very good idea.” As Ethan stood and lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom.

Several hours later, they were laying with their legs tangled together, voices soft in the quiet room when an alarm on her phone beeped.

“Somewhere you need to be?” He kissed the top of her head.

She pushed herself up. “Actually, yes. The kitchen. I need to start the vegetables.”

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a robe that on him would reach mid-thigh. He tossed it to her, before grabbing another for himself. This one hit him at mid-calf. “You could have this one if you wanted.” She indicated the robe she hadn’t yet tied. It fell below her knees.

He snorted. “Be responsible for you tripping in this one? I don’t think so.”

As Charley gathered what she needed for the roasted cauliflower, Ethan grabbed the green beans. Charley explained that sometime they would fix potatoes with the roast, but her grandfather grew up near Idaho and often decided he wanted anything other than potatoes, so they would have cauliflower. “I don’t like raw or steamed, but I really like them roasted with this mustard sauce.”

Charley watched Ethan pull a cake plate out of the refrigerator. “Dessert?” At Ethan's acknowledgment she asked what it was. He wouldn’t tell her, saying he wanted it to be a surprise.

They worked efficiently together in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Ethan selected a red wine for them and opened it to let it breathe. He carried their plates to the dining room table.

“This is good; the coffee does make the gravy richer.”

“Grandma knows best. My grandfather grew up in Spokane and grandma in Seattle. They had a restaurant in Seattle that my dad and all my aunts and uncles worked in while they were growing up.”

“You have a big family?”

“My dad had three brothers and two sisters. But even though they had six kids, my grandparents only had four grandchildren. There was my brother and me; we grew up in Pennsylvania. My one uncle had two boys and they were in Oregon. All of my dad’s family is in the northwest and we didn’t see them often. My dad moved there after he retired and I started med school.”

Ethan watched her. “Are we going to talk about your mom’s family?”

Charley shrugged. “Not much to tell. Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was in college. She was an only child and you know why I don’t talk to her.”

As they cleared the table and kitchen he asked her what he had been wondering about. “Why did you decide to do your residency in Boston with most of your family now out west?”

“It doesn’t feel like home to me there. I figured I could do my residency anywhere; it wasn’t a commitment to stay somewhere for my life. It’s only three years.” She smiled at him. “Besides coming here let me learn from the best.”

Ethan poured coffee and set the mugs on a tray with two dessert plates. Charley watched as he lifted the cover off the cake.

“Lemon! How did you know lemon was my favorite?” Charley couldn’t resist. She swiped her finger on the edge of the cake to collect a sample of icing. She popped it in her mouth.

“I asked Sienna the other day and she told me.”

Charley stared at him. “She helped me get dressed this morning and she didn’t say anything!”

Ethan laughed. “You need help getting dressed in the mornings?”

She felt her face redden. “I… well… um. I didn’t know what to wear this morning.”

“I would have gone with clothes, but I understand that some people are fussier than others.”

“I wanted to look nice.”

“You always look nice.”

“I thought that I always looked satisfactory.”

Ethan cut two pieces of cake and added them to the tray with the coffees.

“I thought we could take these into the bedroom. If that would be satisfactory to you?”

She nodded and he carried the tray to the bedroom and set it down on the bed. He flipped a switch causing the gas fireplace to spring to life. Charley picked up her cake and snuggled back against Ethan. “I like the fireplace here.”

“I don’t often use it.”

“Why tonight?”

“Must be the company I’m keeping.”

Charley turned and straddled his lap. “You better be careful. This company could end up corrupting you.”

“I look forward to it, if that’s the case.” Ethan rolled her unto her back.

Several hours later, Charley looked at the clock. “I should go home. I have to work tomorrow and my boss can be tough if I’m late.”

“If you stay with me, I’ll be sure you’re not late,” Ethan buried his head in her neck.

“I don’t have clean clothes for tomorrow.”

“You can either grab some scrubs from the locker room or ask your roommate to bring something for you.” Ethan pointed to his dresser. “I cleared both of the bottom drawers for you, if you want them.”

Charley chewed on her bottom lip. “You knew what the outcome of our talk was going to be before we actually talked today. When did you decide you wanted-”

“The night of the softball game, when I kissed you.”

Charley stared at him. “Then why did you keep putting me off when I wanted to talk?”

“Because I kept coming up with all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together. And I decided not to do that anymore. I’m tired of avoiding whatever it is we have.”

“Why do I get the two bottom drawers?”

“You’re shorter than me!” He indicates the drawer on the right. “You actually do have clean clothes in there. What you wore when we went to my dads. You at least have something to wear to the hospital.” Ethan watched her. “Any other concerns for tonight?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

Ethan shrugged. “Yes, but it’s one of the standard ones dentists hand out. It should be fine until we can get you one to keep here.”

Charley put her head on his pillow. “Then I can’t think of a single reason to get out of the warm bed right now.”

He turned off the light and slipped under the covers with her. “Neither can I.”

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[whirlybirbs]

all I can think abt is how cozy obi looks in that one gifset in his robes in rots & now I’m thinking about sith!obi just looking like a cute lil thing in his huge dramatic sith robes.,

a/n: this spurred the next installment in “fortem is tiptoeing around his feelings while the senator leaps around them”, read the whole work on ao3!

He wakes to sound of something sizzling in a pan on the oven, the smell wafting over to his perch among the cushions on your sofa. 

The Sith inhales long and slow, pulling his eyes open as he shifts in the small nest he’d burrowed himself into throughout the night -- the two blankets you’d provided, plush and soft, are around his legs and his robe is balled up beneath his head, making him look like he’s drowning in a river of bedding. He can feel a crick in his neck from the odd angle he’d dozed off in, having been guarding the apartment with more seriousness than he’d originally anticipated. 

He couldn’t help it, though, after you’d ambled from your room at an odd hour with anxiety painted over your usually stoic features. It was... out of character for you. Though, the Sith couldn’t blame you. There’d been an attempt on your life earlier that night. Sleep, for many, wouldn’t come easy after a threat to that degree. Even for an icy, powerful, young Senator who has a Sith Lord wrapped around her very thumb. 

Fortem exhales. He pulls himself upright and blinks blearily over the back of the couch at the morning sun streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. 

When in the seven hells did she pull the shades up? Had he really slept through that?

The morning traffic has already begun, the sound of the air-lanes humming by. It dances on the plush, maroon carpet. The light is soft, warm and sweet -- the exact opposite of how Fortem looks right about now. 

He has to fight the temptation to fall back into the cushions. 

Fortem’s hair is strewn about, with his auburn cowlick pointing straight up, yet simultaneously in every direction possible. His black under-tunic is the only thing around his shoulders. After all, he’d hucked his top robes off his body in a flash of heat in the middle of the night. Your apartment had been freezing one minute, then unbearably hot the next. He was trying to get comfortable. 

Fortem scratches his beard as he swings his legs off the couch. Woolen socks meet the carpet and he cracks his neck, rubs his face, all before being greeted with a soft laugh from your direction.

You’re slipping a prevva egg omelette onto a plate for him as you speak, gaze lingering on the sleepy Sith from your spot at the kitchen’s island.

“I was worried you’d gone and died in your sleep, Darth Fortem.”

Fortem groans and stands, moving to snatch his tunic and tug it over his head. As he does, you spy the hem of his long-sleeve lift, showing a trail of hair up his abdomen that matches that of his beard along with dark Dathomirian tattoos -- you pretend having not caught the sight, lowering your eyes as you fix yourself a plate for breakfast while he clears his throat and moves to fix the mess he’d made of the couch in his sleep.

And his hair. Gods, his hair is a mess. Atrocious. He fusses it down.

His is hoarse with sleep when he finally speaks. “I might as well have. How long have you been up, then?”

“Not long,” you tut, switching off the oven and gathering the two plates. You move gracefully across the apartment, dropping the plates at their spots on the dining table outlooking the air-lanes of Coruscant’s morning traffic. It’s practiced, and Fortem wonders if you’ve made breakfast for many overnight guests before.

He steps from the sofa, moving towards the table that you’ve settled at -- you sit unlike he’s seen before. One leg pulled to your chest, arms leaned around to dig at the omelette on the delicate china plate. Your fork and knife tinker softly against the setting as you drop a bite into your mouth and chew.

You look softer -- less... dangerous. Fortem wonders if it’s the warm light of the morning, or the domesticity radiating from your actions. He settles down at the table without a word, golden eyes glued to you the entire time he moves.

You shift in your seat as Fortem chews, happily realizing you are a good cook; he spares you a sheepish look as he digs in for another bite. 

“Hungry?” you ask softly after swallowing your mouthful, a polished example of etiquette even in the informal setting of a hit-man and his employer eating breakfast together, “There’s another carton in the fridge --”

“You didn’t need to feed me.”

“I don’t have guests often,” you shrug, “It’s rare I cook for someone aside from myself -- and you did pluck me from a free-fall last night. This is the least I could do for saving my life.”

You gather your napkin from your lap, placing your fork and knife down as you stand -- Fortem continues his endeavor on finishing his plate, stealing a side-ways glance as you move across the apartment. You snatch something from the counter, then sit back down. 

You’re still in your robe from the night before, hair relaxed and face bare -- he spies a glimmer of gold along your neckline and tries his best not to stare at your décolletage as you slide a platinum card his way. 

Manicured nails recoil as his face warps in confusion.

“Your payment.”

His mouth is full. He chews quickly, eyeing you and the card and you again, before snagging the credit crypto-card with a measured level of scrutiny. 

He’s only seen these a handful of times before -- but it makes sense. It’s an account, essentially, operating off your usual banking chain-code and heavily encrypted. Maul had once copped a collection of these little beauties; not even the best cryto-pirates in the guild had been able to slice the binds off the credit transfer system. 

Reliable, clean, secretive. 

Perfect payment for a man of Fortem’s caliber.

His brows are knotted. “I’ve not delivered my end of the --”

“The deal has changed,” you mutter, “I think it’s fair to say.”

His fork wavers in the air. Golden eyes blink at you. 

“I’d like to keep you around,” you say finally, digging around your omelette and pushing the egg about on your plate, “Until this is sorted and I find out who is trying to ensure I end up dead... For the price of triple our original agreement, if you agree.”

“Forget the price.”

You balk. 

He doesn’t even look up, just forks another mouthful and chews. Fortem’s jaw tightens as he does which gives you a better view of the tattoos along the column of his throat and neck. They’re jagged and puzzle-like, running like deep rivers across his skin. They disappear beneath his collar and the stubble of his beard. You wonder if they’re everywhere; his chest, of course, but his arms? Legs? Back?

You can see the edges of some peeking out from the hem of his under-tunic’s cuff, darting up his wrist. Typically, his hands are hidden beneath jet-black, leather gloves. But now, in the morning sun, you can see the callouses and scars alongs his knuckles from years of fighting.

His gaze meets yours. “I am serious, stop looking at me like that.”

“... Why?”

A shrug. He tosses his napkin onto his now empty plate and sits back. He crosses his arms and shrugs. Fortem speaks slowly, ignoring the annoyed wane of his heart and mindful logic as he does. 

“Wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me to take advantage of a kind Senator in need, would it?”

You narrow your eyes, albeit playfully. “And what of serving your best interest?”

Fortem shrugs. “You said it yourself; things have changed.”

His lips quirk and your face plays at something just as amused. Your lashes flutter, a scoff on your tongue, when suddenly, there’s a call at the door. 

A sharp knock, followed by the buzzer announcing loudly:

“-- Senator, Sir Praze from the Financial District is here for you.”

Your head whips up from the meal. 

Fortem makes a face.

Instantly, you’ve sprung up; your eyes are wider than ever, face contorting into an expression that fleets between worry and fear and anxiety all at the same time. Fortem screws his brow as you usher him up with hushed words and gentle hands.

“Get up,” you hiss, “Into the bedroom.”

“What?”

You move quickly across the room, hands pressing the buzzer as you speak cooly into it. “One moment. Send him up.”

Fortem is confused -- but suddenly realizes that you’re about to receive a guest... and can’t help but snort. You swat away any remarks he’s about to croon your way with your hand, opening the door to your bedroom and nearly shoving him in. 

“Stay here and,” you bite your tongue, “Just... be quiet, Fortem, please.”

He leans on the door frame. 

“So ashamed of me, dear?”

“Terribly,” you bite, smacking his arm away as you close the door, grumbling as you do, “Please! This... of course he’d show up --”

Fortem is then left with the sight of your door as you hurry away and slam it quickly in a haze. 

From the other side of the door, he hears you greet someone -- this Sir Praze character, he assumes -- rather stiffly before a moment of silence washes over the room and Fortem has to lean his ear to the door to get a good listen.

“My love, I’d been so worried.”

... Oh. How curious. 

[7-wonders]

Terms and Conditions May Apply

Summary: As if being presented as the wife of the Antichrist to the most influential people in the world at an exclusive event wasn't enough for you to handle, Satan may have a special surprise in store for you as well.

Word Count: 3548

A/N: I have no excuse for not having updated for a month other than the fact that my senior thesis has taken up basically ALL of my time. Special thanks to @trelaney​ for all of your help on this (and every) chapter of Mad Love! Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 

The night after your first day of classes, Michael utters the words that you were hoping never to hear. It had been such a nice evening, too. You had finally worn Michael down enough about cooking that he agreed to let you cook dinner for an evening. It was just a simple meal, pasta and marinara that your dad used to always make, but it was familiar, and made you feel at home in a way you hadn’t yet while living at “Langdon Manor,” as you call it. Ending up on the couch with Michael, your head in his lap as he reads some business papers and strokes your hair, smiling every time you laugh at the videos on your phone (you’re saving Michael’s introduction to Vine and TikTok for another day), was the perfect way to end the night. Of course, he had to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“I think it’s time for you to attend an official Cooperative function with me,” Michael says. You look up at him in horror, of which he can’t quite tell is real or fake.

“Michael!” you groan, sitting up so you’re level with him.

“(Y/N)!” he mocks, refusing to back down. “We’ve been married for, what, seven months now?”

“Nearly eight,” you remark dryly.

“Over half of a year. And in the time of our marriage, you’ve never once met with the Cooperative. You haven’t engaged with my father’s congregation since our wedding.” Michael sees the look on your face as you prepare to make a snarky comment about the congregation, so he hurries to make his next point. “These are necessary duties that you, as the wife of the Antichrist, must undertake. Need I remind you of our ‘contract?’ You had agreed to attend Cooperative functions and meetings with me. That time, my love, has come.”

You bristle at the pet name (no matter how long you’ll be married to Michael, you’ll never come to be a fan of them), but ignore it for now. “I don’t want to do it.”

“I understand that. I don’t want to either, but it’s something that we both must do.”

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t want to do it?’ Being worshipped by these people and commanding a room aren’t things you enjoy?”

“It’s a part of the title my father bestowed upon me. There is...a certain beauty to being the one prophesied in ancient times, but the blind devotion that a lot of these influential members of society who have sold their souls in order to gain power is disgusting, in a way. I don’t quite enjoy having them fawn over me in the hopes that I’ll grant them favors of some kind.”

“So then why do you go to these events if you don’t like them?”

“It gives my father’s followers something tangible to worship. In a way, my existence lets them know that selling their souls was not in vain. I am proof that my father’s plans are coming to fruition.” Michael tentatively reaches his hand out, slowly grabbing yours when you don’t pull away. “So? Will you come?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I’m afraid not, but I figured I should at least ask you.” “Fine, but I don’t want to wear black to this thing. Or red. I want to be me, not the wife of the Antichrist.”

“You’re both, but I think we can work something out. The color scheme isn’t a requirement, merely...a suggestion.”

“A suggestion you make sure to enforce.” Standing up from the couch, your face softens slightly at the hurt look on Michael’s face. “I’m not mad, I’ve just gotta get some syllabus tests out of the way before I forget about them.”

“Don’t make plans for Friday, okay?” You nod, Michael kissing your hand before letting you leave for your room, where you proceed to sulk about having to go to a Satanist party while watching Netflix. 

//

Friday arrives, much to your displeasure, bringing with it an army of stylists that the Cooperative has at its disposal. You somehow manage to stop them when they attempt to do your makeup heavily, conceding only to a semi-prominent eyeshadow look and lipstick. The dark pink, almost red shade goes with the one dress you didn’t automatically veto, a silky, emerald A-line dress with spaghetti straps that cinched at your waist before falling down to your ankles. The hairstylist, a man with platinum hair and the attitude to pull it off, had decided to leave your hair down after you had nearly yelled at him for trying some fancy updo. Looking in the mirror after they’ve forced you into a pair of heels, you have to admit that you do look pretty nice. It’s not a look that you would ever come up with yourself, but it suits you well.

Although Michael would never rush you, you’re sure he’s been waiting for a few minutes now. While his hair is always better than yours, his Antichrist powers probably provide him some extra minutes when it comes to getting ready. The stylists give you one last check before deeming you good to go, placing a clutch in your hands and ushering you out of your bedroom. 

Michael’s waiting patiently in the foyer, idly checking his phone until he hears movement from the floor above. Pocketing the device, he glances up the stairs only for his eyes to widen as he fights to keep his jaw from dropping. You descend the stairs looking every bit the goddess he’s known you to be since the moment he laid eyes on you, and you smile shyly at his awed expression.

“Did they screw up that bad?” you joke, desperate to break him out of his stupor.

“No, you’re...stunning, (Y/N). Words could not possibly express just how beautiful you are.”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, and you gaze up at the ceiling to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Didn’t know you could be a sweet talker, Michael. Thanks. You clean up well yourself.”

He looks down at his outfit as if just now realizing he’s dressed. “I pale in comparison next to you.”

Considering he’s wearing a designer cloak and suit, you doubt that. Michael holds his arm out for you and you gratefully take it, ankles feeling weak from the heels that you’re in. Of course the Antichrist wouldn’t be rolling up to an event dedicated to him and his father in a car he’s driving, so the chauffeured vehicle is not a surprise.

Michael does an excellent job at distracting you on the drive to the classified location where the gala/event/rich people benefit will be held. Between playing you at 8 Ball on your phones--a game that he’s getting surprisingly good at--and debating you on the nuances of selling a person’s soul, you don’t realize you’ve arrived until the car comes to a stop. 

“Just a moment,” Michael says to the driver, who puts the car in park and exits the vehicle, presumably so you and Michael can be alone. “Before we go in, there’s a few things you need to be aware of.”

“Please tell me there’s not going to be a human sacrifice in there,” you mutter.

“No sacrifices, I promise. I’ll handle most of the talking, but you might get a few questions from some curious members. Feel free to answer them if you would like, and if I deem their questions to be appropriate.”

“And if I don’t want to talk to them?”

“Just squeeze my hand and I’ll get rid of them.” Your eyes widen, and Michael chuckles before shaking his head. “Not like that, I’ll just tell them that they should enjoy the evening.” 

“Anything else?”

“Cooperative members like to be very secretive about everything. Many who will be attending tonight are fine with fellow members knowing their identities, but some may be wearing masks. Don’t be alarmed at that, but definitely don’t ask them who they are.”

“Alright,” you smile. “I think I can handle that.”

“Oh, and don’t smile.”

“Don’t...smile?”

“While I love your smile, everyone here is beneath you. They’re not our friends, or people who deserve our kindness. Unless I smile, please try not to act friendly.”

“O--okay.” You’re less sure of yourself now, and it obviously shows as Michael takes your hand.

“Hey, you’re going to do great.”

“And if I don’t?”

Michael shakes his head. “Impossible. Are you ready?”

“No, but let’s go.” The door of the car swings open, the chauffeur innately knowing when Michael’s ready. He climbs out ahead of you and helps you out, making sure you’re not going to trip over your own feet before he lets go of your waist.

You grab his arm tightly as he leads you inside of what looks like some lavish country club. Two stoic guards stand on either side of the main entrance, staring straight ahead like you’re walking into Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult to hide your shock when you see the petite figure of Ms. Mead standing in the entryway, dark lips turned up in a smile.

“Ms. Mead,” Michael greets, kissing the woman who’s like his mother on the cheek.

She smiles, patting his face lovingly. “My sweet boy,” she says before turning to you, “and you look lovely as well, (Y/N).”

“Um, thank you?” You’re a little apprehensive, considering the last time you saw her, she stuck a needle in your neck.

“They’re ready to begin, Michael.” He nods, giving Ms. Mead one last smile before moving away with you.

“She didn’t seem to be nearly as angry as she usually is,” you note.

“She probably needs a new upgrade.” At your bewildered look, Michael elaborates. “The real Ms. Mead was taken from me by some enemies who believed that killing her would give them the chance to ‘convert’ me to good. The Ms. Mead you see today, and that you saw the night of our wedding, is an AI copy.”

“Holy shit, she’s a robot?”

Michael cringes at the term, but nods. “Yes, basically.”

A flurry of activity signifies that the Cooperative is ready for the son of their Lord to make his grand entrance. Michael looks you over once more, waiting until he’s absolutely sure that you’re ready to face his followers before he nods once to signal that you’re both ready. The voices that fill the room spill out once the doors are opened, Michael giving you hardly a moment to get nervous before walking in with you.

The voices fall silent when the doors open, eyes cast eagerly to Michael and, by extension, you. There’s two long tables that stretch the length of the room, chairs on either side of each one. A smaller table sits raised on a platform at the other end of the room, just big enough for two ornate chairs. Michael squeezes your hand, providing a much-needed grounding tool as you try not to look like your eyes are darting around the room. 

Michael was right about some of the Cooperative members; their silver masks reflect the light of the room off of the surface, their entire faces obscured from view. Some of the members who decide not to mask their identity are not surprising to see here (you’re pretty sure you would have been more surprised if Donald Trump wasn’t a member of the Cooperative), but others make you internally squeal from excitement. Although Jared Leto’s always seemed like an intense guy, you didn’t think he was the type of person to have sold his soul to the Devil. 

The room remains standing until you and Michael have taken your places at the table in front of everyone. Even after they sit, Michael’s firm hand keeps you from taking a seat. If he’s standing, you guess you’re standing as well. 

To anybody watching from afar, Michael’s face is unreadable. Having spent so much time with him, however, you watch as something akin to a mask descends across his features. The Michael that you know--awkward, easily excited, and passionate to a fault--is gone, replaced by someone distant, perpetually angry, who knows for a fact that everyone here is beneath him. 

“Welcome, esteemed members of the Cooperative. We are gathered here tonight at the request of my father, who wishes for me to convey to you his plans as we move ever closer to our end goal. As many of you are aware, plans are being drawn up for the Outposts and the Sanctuary, which is where everyone here, along with others who we deem valuable to the continuation of life on Earth, will ride out the end of the world.”

At this, you feel the blood run from your face. Although you’ve known that Michael, as the Antichrist, had plans to end the world on behalf of Satan, it’s jarring to hear him talk about it so plainly. If you’re being honest, you had almost forgotten that the apocalypse was a thing. After getting over being kidnapped to be his bride, you and Michael have become friends. Plus, it’s not as if he talks about Armageddon in front of you. This is the first you’re hearing, in detail, of his plans.

Next to you, Michael is still talking. “--I encourage you all to not worry too much, as we still have a couple of years, at least, until the world can be remade in Satan’s image with the cleansing fire of nuclear bombs. I imagine you may have a few questions. If they are not ignorant, answers you can learn from your colleagues, or flat-out stupid, then please feel free to ask.”

There’s a small murmur from the crowd as Cooperative members converse about the timeline, Michael narrowing his eyes at those in front of him. A couple of people raise their hands, asking questions about fortifications and possible side effects of fallout, which Michael answers effortlessly. It seems as though he’s been prepped on these possible questions, but you wouldn’t be too surprised if this was stuff he just inherently knew.

“Last, before you return to your cocktails and various material pleasures,” Michael squeezes your hand, and you look at him before realizing he wants you to be a part of whatever he’s saying, “my father had revealed to me a woman, who was meant to serve as my consort and stand by my side. Eight months ago, his wish was fulfilled when I married (Y/N), who stands here with me today. Everything else regarding our coupling is none of your goddamn business. Anything else?”

The room is dead silent, everyone being too petrified of their savior to even think of saying anything.

“Wonderful. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening with the bounties that Satan has provided us.” It takes a moment for the room to go back to normal, but you let out a sigh of relief when all of the pairs of eyes are off of you.

“Can we sit down now?” you whisper to Michael, who immediately nods and pulls your chair out for you.

“What did you think?” Michael’s eyes are wide and eager for your approval.

“If I didn’t know you, I would have been terrified of you.”

Michael smiles. “Good, that’s what I was going for.”

“Whoa, is that--” you’re ready to point out two very prominent celebrities doing coke off of each other when Michael shakes his head.

“Remember, these people are beneath you. You can be excited but don’t show it.”

“Fine,” you huff, “but why are people just doing drugs and kissing each other? That seems a little too crazy, even for a room full of Satanist celebrities.”

“Satan preaches giving into any of your desires. Even if it’s material things that only provide fleeting moments of what they believe to be pleasure, my father encourages it. I don’t enjoy watching these activities take place at every single Cooperative meeting, but as long as it doesn’t get out of hand, I don’t put a stop to it.”

There’s so many more questions that you want to ask him about the members of the Cooperative, but a couple of those said members approaching the table to pay their respects to the Antichrist cuts the conversation short. You play the part of the dutiful wife for Michael, greeting his followers and listening to the dull conversations of people starstruck to be in front of their messiah. It’s extremely easy to get overwhelmed in a situation like this, and you seize your chance during a slight lull after nearly an hour of talking to people.

“Michael,” you say gently, “I’m going to go and get some air.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just wanna go outside for a minute and check my phone.” Michael nods, kissing the back of your hand before letting go so that you can stand up. 

The lobby’s much less crowded than the room you just came out of; a few stray Cooperative members linger and wait staff are in and out, but other than that you’re basically alone. You already feel like you can breathe again, a weight being lifted off of your chest now that you’re away from so many curious, intimidating people. Feeling how cold it is outside, you adapt your original plan and choose to sit on one of the benches inside instead.

There’s not much going on this Friday night, you notice as you check your phone. Everybody’s still getting back into the swing of school, and most of your friends opted to stay in and treat themselves instead of going out. You wish you were at home right now, snuggled up in a large blanket with your cat curled up next to you.

(You ignore the thought of Michael being there too, sitting on the other end of the couch and trying to get the cat to sit by him instead of you).

“Drink, ma’am?” Looking up from your phone, you see a waitress smiling and holding a tray with a single drink on it out towards you.

“Oh, I don’t know.” You’re unsure of what to do, Michael not having instructed you on whether you could or couldn’t drink at this event.

“It’s our house special tonight! And as you can see, it’s the last one I have.”

The drink, a red cocktail in a tall glass, does look pretty appealing, and one drink would surely help you to get through the rest of the night. “Mm, might as well! It’s only one drink, and I’m not a lightweight.”

Laughing lightly, the waitress hands you the cocktail. “Enjoy!”

“Thank you!” 

She turns the corner, which means you’re not able to see as her eyes turn pitch black and her body starts convulsing. The waitress collapses to the ground as black smoke pours out of her mouth, ears, and nose, dissipating into the air just as quickly as it left her body. After a moment, the waitress stands back up, looking extremely disoriented as she grabs her tray and unsteadily walks towards the kitchen.

Sniffing the cocktail to make sure you’re not downing something especially disgusting, you’re instead greeted by the pleasant scent of cinnamon and apples. You shrug before taking a hesitant sip, happily finding that the drink tastes just as good as it smells. It’s almost better than any other cocktail you’ve previously tried, and you find yourself thinking that you’ll have to find the waitress and ask her for the name of this cocktail as you continue to consume the addictive drink. You’re enjoying your moment of solitude, sitting on your phone and enjoying a drink, so much that you don’t realize something’s wrong until it’s too late.

 It starts with a slight ache in your head, followed by a ringing in your ears that begins to drown out any background noise. You feel dizzy, and drop your phone so you can place a hand on the bench to steady yourself. Your eyes can’t focus on anything, the walls seeming to morph in front of you as you close your eyes to assuage the nausea.

“Was I drugged?” you mutter to yourself, attempting to stand up but barely straightening your legs before you fall back down to your seat. “Maybe I should find Michael.”

The moment you think of Michael, it’s as if explosions start to rock your brain. You can’t think, and the ringing in your ears reverberates until it’s the only thing you can hear. All of your senses are gone, replaced by the pain of a thousand jackhammers in your head.

The explosions disappear just as quickly as they appeared, leaving you confused and disoriented. Everything feels off, like the world’s tilted before righting itself once more, but overcorrecting in the process. Trying to remember what you were doing before your sudden headache, the only thing you can come up with is Michael.

The name brings a smile to your face as your heart starts to beat quickly. Michael, the love of your life and your other half. What are you doing out here, when he’s in there by himself? You stand to return to him, the entire time not being able to shake the feeling that something’s extremely wrong.

//

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